“Now, we'll know,” he said, coming back to their corner. So with heads together they consulted and counted up till they found that eight weeks and three days remained in which to get ready. “Dear me!” said Polly. “It's most a year, isn't it, Ben?” “'Twon't be much time for us,” said Ben, who thought of the many hours to be devoted to hard work that would run away with the time. “We'd better begin right away, Polly.” “Well, all right,” said Polly, who could scarcely keep her fingers still, as she thought of the many things she should so love to do if she could. “But first, Ben, what let's do?” “Would you rather hang up their stockings?” asked Ben, as if he had unlimited means at his disposal; “or have a tree?” “Why,” said Polly, with wide open eyes at the two magnificent ideas, “we haven't got anything to put in the stockings when we hang 'em, Ben.” “That's just it,” said Ben. “Now, wouldn't it be better to have a tree, Polly? I can get that easy in the woods, you know.” “Well,” interrupted Polly, eagerly, “we haven't got anything to hang on that, either, Ben. You know Jappy said folks hang all sorts of presents on the branches. So I don't see,” she continued, impatiently, “as that's any good. We can't do anything, Ben Pepper, so there! there isn't anything to do anything with,” and with a flounce Polly sat down on the old wooden stool, and folding her hands looked at Ben in a most despairing way. “I know,” said Ben, “we haven't got much.” “We haven't got anything,” said Polly, still looking at him. “Why, we've got a tree,” replied Ben, hopefully. “Well, what's a tree,” retorted Polly, scornfully. “Anybody can go out and look at a tree outdoors.” “Well, now, I tell you, Polly,” said Ben, sitting down on the floor beside her, and speaking very slowly and decisively, “we've got to do something 'cause we've begun; and we might make a tree real pretty.” “How?” asked Polly, ashamed of her ill-humor, but not in the least seeing how anything could be made of a tree. “How, Ben Pepper?” “Well,” said Ben, pleasantly, “we'd set it up in the corner--” “Oh, no, not in the corner,” cried Polly, whose spirits began to rise a little as she saw Ben so hopeful. “Put it in the middle of the room, do!” “I don't care where you put it,” said Ben, smiling, happy that Polly's usual cheerful energy had returned, “but I thought.--'twill be a little one, you know, and I thought 'twould look better in the corner.” “What else?” asked Polly, eager to see how Ben would dress the tree. “Well,” said Ben, “you know the Henderson boys gave me a lot of corn last week.” “I don't see as that helps much,” said Polly, still incredulous. “Do you mean hang the cobs on the branches, Ben? That would be just dreadful!” “I should think likely,” laughed Ben. “No, indeed, Polly Pepper! but if we should pop a lot, oh! a bushel, and then we should string 'em, we could wind it all in and out among the branches, and--”