The three small girls scrambled to their feet, awed into
silence by their breaking of the wagon.
For a moment the hush was impressive. Then the gravity began to go
from the face of little Carson. Something was dancing in his eyes.
His quaint little face wrinkled oddly in mirth. His head went back,
and the sweetest conceivable chuckle of baby laughter came from his
lips. Like joy of bubbling water in a brook, it rippled in music never
before awakened. Old Jim and Miss Doc looked at each other in complete
amazement, but the little fellow laughed and laughed and laughed. His
heart was overflowing, suddenly, with all the laughing and joy that had
never before been invited to his heart. The other youngsters joined
him in his merriment, and so did the preacher and pretty Mrs. Stowe;
and so did Jim and Miss Doc, but these two laughed with tears warmly
welling from their eyes.
It seemed as if the fatherless and motherless little foundling laughed
for all the days and weeks and months of sadness gone beyond his baby
recall. And this was the opening only of his frolic and fun with the
children. They kissed him in fondness, and planted him promptly in a
second of the wagons. They knew a hundred devices for bringing him joy
and merriment, not the least important of which was the irresistible
march of destruction on the rough-made Christmas treasures.
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