Chapter 14

Jared shifted restlessly on the hard wooden chair. There was an odd-shaped piece of chinking directly in front of him and he scowled fiercely at the innocent daub of plaster. It wasn't fair!

"Sit still, little boy," Ethan ordered calmly from across the room, and Jared bit back the hot flow of words that rose to his lips. He could still taste the soap from the last time he'd let the words escape.

It wasn't fair! He was tired of being sick and tired of staying in bed and there was nothing to do. It had snowed off and on for the past few days so Gideon couldn't come over, and he was *bored*. He couldn't go out and work with the horses, he couldn't shuffle cards with one hand, he couldn't practice writing or cook or bake. He was tired of checkers, tired of being read to, tired of being shut up in the cabin, tired of Ethan's cooking--

"You ready to get out of the corner now? You think you can behave yourself for a while?" Ethan interrupted his silent litany of complaints.

/No, I think I'll just sit here and stare at the wall the rest of the day. It's such a nice change from the bed,/ Jared thought sarcastically. "Yes, Ethan," he said out loud.

"I have to go out and check the stock," Ethan said as he lifted him from the chair and carried him back to bed. "I printed some words on your slate. See if you can figure them out while I'm gone." He arranged the pillows behind Jared, laid the slate next to him, then set a wide board across his lap. "I shuffled and dealt a game of patience for you. I think you can manage to play if you're careful. You have a mug of tea next to you, the fire is built up, and I'll make supper when I come back in. You should be fine until then. Don't get out of bed."

"I don't see why I have to stay in bed," Jared muttered rebelliously. "I could get around all right with a crutch. I've done it before."

"We're not going over this again, little boy," Ethan told him sternly. "You either stay in bed while I'm outside or you sit in the corner. Your choice."

"Bed," he chose unwillingly. "But--" Seeing the look on the older man's face, he bit back the words again. His partner was getting all too free with the soap lately. If he kept it up, they wouldn't have any left for washing. He thought about pointing that out, then decided not to. Ethan didn't look like he'd appreciate the observation.

He didn't mean to be a pain in the butt, he thought mournfully after Ethan had left the cabin. He just got so tired of being so helpless. And he knew he could do more than Ethan was allowing him to, if the man would just give him a chance to prove it.

Sighing, he picked up the slate and looked at the words. "B-ook, book. C-ook, cook. H-ook. Hook. L-ook. Look..."

He slowly worked his way through the list, then looked up at the clock on the mantel. Shouldn't Ethan be back by now? He wished the bed was by the window so he could at least see what was happening outside. Sighing, he set the slate to one side and started on the game of patience.

Trying to play one-handed was awkward, but with perseverance he found that he could turn the cards without having them slide across the board. He put a black eight on a red nine, feeling a sort of pride in being able to do something for himself, even if it was only playing a card game. He finished that hand and did a makeshift shuffle by spreading the cards out in a pile, pushing them around for a minute, then stacking them up one at a time. He could do this, he thought with a glow of satisfaction. He laid out the next hand, then took a sip of comfrey tea while he admired the cards spread on the lap board in front of him. He absently attempted to put the mug back without looking and caught the bottom of it on the slate lying next to him. The slate in turn hit the edge of the board, the board tilted and sent the cards sliding into his lap, and his startled jump poured the tea into his lap, as well.

"My cards!" He dropped the mug and tried frantically to get the sopping cards out of the puddle of tea, but it was a futile effort. The thin cardboard quickly absorbed the liquid and his deck of cards became a soggy mass hopelessly pasted together. "God DAMN it!" he swore violently. Those were his only cards! He HATED this! He hated being helpless, he hated being trapped in this bed, he hated not being able to pull his own weight and he hated being dependent on Ethan for everything!

How long was it going to be before Ethan got tired of taking care of someone who spent more time hurt than healthy? Oh, Ethan wouldn't say anything. He'd just quietly go on taking care of Jared, because that was the way he was made. He couldn't do anything else. But Jared couldn't bear it. He couldn't bear to be nothing but a burden to the man he loved more than anything in the world. And he wasn't going to!

In a fit of temper, he picked up the offending mug and threw it as hard as he could. Flying across the room, it hit the wall with a satisfying thud, bounced to the floor, and shattered - just as Ethan opened the door.

"Did that make you feel better, little boy?" the man asked, raising one eyebrow.

The brief spurt of dismay was lost in a flare of temper. "No. It didn't," he announced defiantly, then proceeded to explain exactly how he felt about the whole situation.

"Are you finished?" Ethan asked five minutes later, when Jared finally paused for breath.

Jared considered it. "Yeah, I think so," he said at last.

"Good," the older man replied. "Then I think we need to repeat our earlier discussion on temper tantrums."

"Ethan! That's not fair!" Jared protested vehemently as the big man loomed over him.

"What's not fair about it? You know how I feel about uncontrolled tantrums, and you know how I feel about the language you were using."

"I was mad. And you swear," Jared muttered sulkily as Ethan cleaned up the mess in his lap, then picked him up.

"You can be angry without losing control, and I swear occasionally but I don't curse like a dock worker." He set Jared back on the chair in the corner, then went to get the soap.

"We're going to run out, you know," the young man informed him bitterly. "When spring comes and we smell like mating polecats, I hope you remember whose idea it was to use up all the soap."

"We may smell like mating polecats, but you'll have a nice, clean mouth," Ethan replied. "Open up."

Jared screwed up his face, but slowly opened his mouth.

Ethan had dipped the soap in water and now he put the slightly foaming bar into Jared's mouth. "Bite down and turn back toward the corner."

Gagging around the bar, Jared turned back toward the corner and tried to keep as much of his tongue away from the bitter taste as possible. A minute later, Ethan's deep voice broke through his misery.

"Turn back around," Ethan ordered as he gently removed the soap.

He'd done it again, Jared thought mournfully, staring at the wall. It was bad enough for Ethan to have to take care of him all the time, without him being ungrateful and having tantrums about it. Slow, silent tears trickled down his cheeks, but he kept his hands at his sides where they belonged, not reaching up to wipe them away. He was going to do better, he swore to himself. He was going to be patient and grateful and not swear or lose his temper or make Ethan wish he didn't have to deal with him anymore.

"Jared?" Ethan asked, seeing the small shudder that the young man tried to suppress. "What's wrong, little boy?"

"I'm sorry," Jared gulped. "I'm trying not to."

"Trying not to what?" Ethan carried a bowl and glass of water over and helped the young man rinse and spit several times. Then, picking Jared up and holding him close, he sat in the big chair by the fire, cradling the young man and gently pressing the blond head against his shoulder. "Tell me what's wrong, sweetheart. Why are you crying?" he asked, smoothing the tangled hair.

"I-- I--" He gulped back another sob, then, as if a dam broke, it all came rushing out, all of the feelings of helplessness, the anger and frustration and worry. "Don't get tired of me, Ethan," he ended, begging shamelessly. "Please don't get tired of me."

"Shhh, it's all right, little boy," Ethan soothed him, holding him tighter and stroking his hair. "I'll never get tired of you, sweetheart. You're the joy of my life, whether you're sick or healthy, and you always will be. "

He held and comforted the younger man, gently rocking him until the sobs died away and Jared slept.

~~~~~~~~~

Jared lay in bed and watched drowsily as Ethan dressed and built up the fire. He had slept well after the emotional outburst the night before, but he still felt drained and content to lie still and let his thoughts drift idly.

"I'll be back in as soon as I finish chores," Ethan said, getting his coat. "Do you feel like sitting at the table and guiding me through the Christmas baking later this morning? I can handle biscuits all right, but I'm not sure about baking bread and I don't even know where to begin with the pies."

"Is it Christmas already?" Jared asked in surprise. "I lost track of the days. Are Fox and Gideon coming for Christmas dinner? Can I really help with the baking?" he continued eagerly, his lassitude forgotten.

"It's tomorrow," his partner smiled. "Fox said they'd come if the weather isn't too bad, and yes, you can help with the baking."

Jared waited impatiently for Ethan to finish the chores, then change his bandages and help him dress and have breakfast. Sitting at the table with his injured leg propped on a chair, he supervised cutting up the small pumpkin Ethan brought in. When it was done cooking they'd mash it and mix in eggs, sugar, milk and spices.

Next, Ethan soaked dried apples and mixed raisins in with them for an apple pie. "We have some cranberries, too," he said, bringing a small paper bag out of the pantry. "Do you know what to do with them?"

"I've never done it before, but I think you just chop them up and stew them with sugar and a little water," Jared directed, watching as Ethan followed his instructions.

"Now what?" Ethan asked, when the pan had joined the others on the stove.

"Oh, you missed some cranberries." Jared shook the bag sitting on the table.

"No, those are for later. Now what?" the older man repeated.

Jared was puzzled, but continued the cooking lesson without comment. "Pie crust. Put a couple handfuls of flour in the bowl," he instructed. "No, that's too much. Your handfuls are bigger than mine."

"That's because my hands are bigger than yours," Ethan pointed out as he removed some of the flour. "Now what?"

"Add a pinch of salt. No, not that much. Now you have to add more flour."

"I had more flour and you told me it was too much."

"That was before you added too much salt."

Ethan sighed and added more flour, a little at a time, until Jared nodded. "Ok, that's fine. Now take a knob of lard--"

"How much is a knob?"

"More than a pinch and less than a lump," Jared replied with a grin.

With another sigh, Ethan pushed the lard bucket over to Jared. "You measure it."

Jared obligingly measured out the lard and handed it to him, watching critically as he worked it into the flour and salt. "Now sprinkle water over it and work it in."

"How much water?"

"Until it feels right."

"How the hell am I supposed to know when it feels right? I've never made it before!"

"Don't swear, Ethan, or I'll have to wash your mouth out with soap," Jared said sternly, then burst into laughter at the expression on his partner's face.

"If I didn't have pie dough all over my hands..." Ethan threatened. "Here, feel this and tell me if it's right."

Rolling out the crust was another stumbling block, since it either wanted to curl around the rolling pin or stick to the table, but after several tries and more threats of soap, they finally had four pies ready to go into the oven. While they were baking, Ethan mixed the bread dough and suffered through Jared's criticism of his kneading technique.

"No, just push it back and forth. Don't pound it. You're kneading it, not beating it to death."

"Like this?" Ethan asked with exaggerated patience as he moderated his pummeling of the dough. "Is it done yet?"

"How does it feel?"

"Sticky."

"Then it's not done yet. Add more flour."

"Hell."

"Not too bad," Jared said later, admiring the flaky crust on the pies, the rich golden-brown bread, and the glass bowl of ruby-tinted cranberry sauce.

"Not bad at all," Ethan echoed, eyeing the pile of dirty dishes with a grimace. "I think you need to go back to bed for a while, little boy. You look tired."

"I am, a little," he confessed, putting his arm around his partner's neck as he was lifted from his chair. "I had fun, though."

"Good," Ethan said as he tucked the younger man into bed. "I did, too."

Jared snuggled down under the quilts and closed his eyes. Ethan was softly whistling a Christmas carol as he washed the dishes, and Jared listened quietly, allowing the homey sounds to lull him into sleep.

He was alone in the cabin when he woke up, but he heard Ethan thumping something on the porch before he had time to get worried. "What are you doing?" he asked curiously as Ethan opened the door.

"Knocking the snow off our Christmas tree," Ethan told him, wrestling a small evergreen through the door. He placed the 3 foot tree on a low chest by the window, balancing it on the wooden crosspieces he had nailed to the bottom.

"We're going to have a tree? I've never had a Christmas tree before."

"Never?" Ethan asked. "We had one every year."

"No, never. I saw one once, though. I was delivering a message to the banker's house and he had one. It was beautiful."

While Jared sat at the table and ate a late lunch, Ethan popped a large pan of popcorn and got out the cranberries he had saved. Getting out a spool of sturdy thread and a needle, he sat down across from Jared. "I think six popcorn and then a cranberry," Ethan decided. "Can you hand them to me one at a time?" As Jared selected the plump kernels of popcorn, Ethan strung them on the thread, creating a long chain.

"What was your Christmas tree like when you were growing up?" Jared asked, watching with interest. He inspected a kernel of popcorn, decided it wasn't good enough for the chain, and ate it. "Where did you get it?"

"Father always chose a pine tree from our woods, one about 10 feet tall. We had two uncles nearby, and the families would make an all-day trip to the woods. We'd cut the trees and collect all kinds of greenery and pine cones and mistletoe to decorate the houses. We always brought lunch along, and one of the servants would build a big fire and heat soup and make mulled cider. It was a good time." He held the string up. "I think this is long enough for our tree."

He laid it aside, went into the pantry and brought back a small stack of can lids that he'd been saving. Getting out his tin snips, he cut them into Christmas shapes, then used his awl to punch a pattern of perforations into each one.

"What else did you do?" Jared asked, fascinated by this glimpse of Ethan's past. "When did you decorate your tree?"

"We decorated the rest of the house early in the month, but we always did the tree on Christmas Eve. We'd have a houseful of company by then and we always had a big, formal dinner, then went to church. After church, the little ones went to bed and the older children helped the adults trim the tree."

"With strings of popcorn?" Jared put another handful in his mouth.

"With strings of popcorn and cranberries and with candy and ribbons and ornaments. We made a lot of the ornaments, but Mother had some blown-glass ornaments from England that she treasured. God help us if we broke one of them."

Finishing the tin ornaments, he got out a bowl of walnuts and cracked them carefully, removing the nutmeats and saving the perfect half shells. When he was through, he took his awl and made a small hole in each shell and tied a thread through it.

"What are those for?" Jared asked, snagging some of the shelled nuts and popping them into his mouth.

"Colored ornaments." He got out flour and water and made a paste, then found the sheets of red, green, and yellow paper he'd bought in town. Cutting small circles from the paper, he pasted them over the open side of the shells.

"Pretty," Jared approved. "Do we get to put them on the tree now?"

"After supper. I need to go do chores now, and you need to drink some more tea and take a nap."

Jared made a face, but didn't argue. After he'd finished his herbal tea, he lay in bed and looked at the little tree, trying to imagine what it would look like with the decorations on it.

"Now?" he asked as soon as they'd finished supper.

"Now," Ethan replied.

He hung the popcorn chain around the small pine, then placed Jared's chair close to the table. He handed each ornament to the younger man, who carefully placed it on the tree, and, as an area was filled, he turned it so that Jared could reach a new spot.

"It's beautiful," Jared whispered when he'd hung the last ornament.

"It isn't finished yet," Ethan smiled at the awed tone. Taking a box of small candles from the pantry, he carefully wired each one to a branch, making sure that there weren't any needles close to the wicks.

"Now is it done?" Jared asked. "Can we light the candles now?"

"Not yet," Ethan frowned. "It's still missing something." He thought for a minute, then draped a blanket over Jared's shoulders. "Cover up. I'm going up into the attic and I don't want you to get chilled from the draft."

As Jared pulled the blanket around him, Ethan opened the trap door into the attic and hoisted himself up. Jared could hear him rummaging around in the boxes stored up there, and then he dropped back to the floor, a wide roll of red plaid ribbon in his hand. Closing off the attic again, he held it up triumphantly. "This was in the things the former owners left behind." He cut off a long length of it, tied it into a large bow, and placed it on the top of the tree. "My mother had a Nuremberg angel, but this will work just as well."

"What's a Nurmburg angel?" Jared asked, fingering the long streamer hanging down from the bow.

"It's a special angel made to go on top of a Christmas tree. Ours was all white and gold, with a china head and wings made of spun glass. Mother always put it on the tree herself. She wouldn't let anyone else touch it." He smiled at the memory of the small ritual.

"Ethan?" Jared touched his arm after a moment. "Can we light the candles now?"

"Just a couple more things first," Ethan told him. After making more popcorn and heating apple cider, he opened the chest by the bed and took out two brown-wrapped parcels and a small bag and set them on the table under the tree. Finally, he lit the candles and sat down.

Jared curled up on his lover's lap, drinking cider and gazing at his first Christmas tree. Ethan's other trees might have been bigger, and had more expensive decorations, but they couldn't possibly have been as beautiful as this one, he thought proudly.

Ethan, watching his lover's starry-eyed gaze at the simple little tree, agreed.

~~~~~

"Ethan, it's morning." Jared poked his partner in the ribs.

"Jared, the sun isn't up yet," Ethan groaned. "We don't have to get up for another half hour."

"But it's Christmas!" the younger man protested.

Ethan debated being hard-hearted and getting another half hour of sleep, then sighed, got out of bed, and built up the fire. He made a strong pot of coffee, then dressed and set about getting Jared ready for the day.

Once the bandages were changed, Ethan helped Jared slip on one of the bigger man's shirts and buttoned it over the arm still strapped to Jared's chest. Used to the routine by now, the young man held up his free arm and Ethan rolled up the sleeve until his hand could be seen. Getting his pants on over the bulky bandage on his knee was always difficult, and normally Jared pouted about it, but today he submitted with good grace. "Can we light the candles again and open gifts now?" he asked eagerly as Ethan pulled his socks on for him.

"Not yet. I have to make breakfast and do chores first," Ethan told him.

"Ethan!" Jared exclaimed indignantly. "Can't the horses wait for once?"

"It will only take a few minutes, little boy, and then we'll have the whole morning free."

"But I don't want--"

"Jared, I'd hate for you to begin Christmas morning in the corner," the older man said warningly. "Or have your Christmas candy taste like soap."

"Candy?" Jared's bad mood evaporated like magic. He never got enough sweets.

"Candy," Ethan repeated with a laugh. "Breakfast and chores first, though."

Jared waited as patiently as he could, but he was reaching his limit when Ethan finally came in from doing chores.

"Now?" he asked, as soon as the door opened.

"As soon as I get my coat off and build up the fire a little," Ethan replied, dropping an armload of wood into the woodbox. "It's snowing hard."

"Does that mean Fox and Gideon won't come?" Jared asked disappointedly.

"No, I'm afraid not, little boy. We already have a good foot of new snow and it's still coming down. We'll have to give their gift to them later." He moved Jared to the rocker and lit the candles on the tree. "Candy first, or presents?" he asked.

"Presents," Jared replied decisively. "Can you get yours out from under the bed for me?"

Ethan retrieved the two paper-wrapped parcels and placed them under the tree, then handed a package to Jared. "Open this one first," he requested.

Jared took the rectangular package from him, held it on his lap, and awkwardly ripped off the paper. "It's a book," he said almost reverently. The cover of the small, thick volume was a rich cream color, with a gold embossed border and green lettering. There was a picture below the title, of a basket lying on its side with fruits and vegetables spilling out. He ran his finger over the letters almost reverently, picking out the words that he knew. "Cook...book? Is that what it says?" he asked Ethan.

"Very good," Ethan approved. "The full title is 'Boston Cooking School Cookbook'. It's a recipe book."

"These are all recipes?" Jared asked in amazement, leafing through the book.

"Recipes and tips on cooking. I thought you might like it."

"I do," Jared told him with a catch in his throat. "Thank you, Ethan." He leaned forward and kissed his partner. "Now open one of yours. The bigger one first."

Ethan neatly took the paper off his package and set it to one side, revealing another book. "Treasure Island, by Robert Louis Stevenson," he read.

"I hope it's a good one," Jared said anxiously. "I asked Doc Baker to pick one out for you. Dash said it's about pirates."

"I'm sure it will be. I've read some of his newspaper articles, but I didn't know he wrote fiction." Ethan looked through the pages with interest. "We'll read it together."

He handed Jared his next gift and the young man opened it eagerly. "A deck of cards!" he cried. "And a board with little holes in it?" he added in confusion.

"It's a cribbage board," Ethan laughed. "It'll give us something to play besides checkers and backgammon." He picked up his second package and removed the paper, revealing a small gold box. "Oh, Jared," he said as he opened it.

"Do you like it?" Jared asked as Ethan lifted the heavy silver pocket watch and chain from the box.

"Yes, I do. Very much." He flipped open the watch and compared the time to the clock on the mantel, noting that there was a spot for a picture or lock of hair inside the cover. He'd have to save a bit next time he cut Jared's hair, or maybe they could have their pictures taken in town someday. "I'll treasure it," he said huskily, gathering the young man into his arms.

Sometime later, Jared pointed out that there was still a package under the tree.

"Your Christmas candy," Ethan told him with a smile. "But I have another gift for you first. Wait here while I get it from the barn."

He returned a few minutes later, wrapped Jared in a blanket and carried him out to the porch.

"Where?" Jared asked in puzzlement as he peered through the swirling snow. "There's nothing out here but snow and Dulce--" He looked at the horse standing tied to the porch rail and his eyes widened. "Dulce?" he exclaimed. "You're giving me Dulce??"

"Dulce and her saddle and tack," Ethan confirmed. "You need a horse of your own, and the two of you get along well."

"Oh, thank you, Ethan," Jared murmured, almost overwhelmed by his partner's generosity.

"Let's get you back inside before you catch a chill," the dark-haired man said prosaically, carrying him back in and putting him down on the bed. "I need to put Dulce back in the barn and check the stock. You rest while I'm outside and then we'll cook dinner."

The rest of the day passed pleasantly. After Jared's nap, they stuffed the goose and put it in the oven, then shared Jared's Christmas candy and had his first cribbage lesson while it roasted.

"What did you do on Christmas Day?" Jared asked as he sat at the table and watched Ethan carve the goose.

"The younger children and their parents were always up first, and they got to have their stockings. By the time they'd finished, the other relatives were downstairs and we opened our gifts. Everyone would be talking and laughing and the room would be littered with colored paper and boxes and toys. There was never time to play with them, though. We had to have breakfast and get ready for church. Oh, it was hard to sit quietly through the church service when we had so many new things to play with at home." He placed slices of the rich, tender meat on each plate, then cut Jared's into bite-size pieces before adding mounds of stuffing, mashed potatoes and gravy, and cranberry sauce. "Milk or cider?"

"Cider, please." He eyed his plate hungrily.

As they ate, Ethan regaled Jared with more stories of past Christmases. "...so Alex took his marbles to church in his pocket, thinking that no one would ever know. And they wouldn't have, if the bag hadn't come open and cascaded marbles across the floor right in the middle of the sermon. The church was so quiet that everyone could hear them, bouncing and rolling all across the wood floor," he concluded.

"Did they know whose they were? Did he get in trouble?" Jared asked, laughing appreciatively.

"Oh, yes," Ethan grinned. "Everyone in the church knew which pew the marbles came from and my uncle was quite humiliated by the experience. Alex made a trip out to the barn as soon as we got home from church, even though it was Christmas, and he didn't sit comfortably for the next couple of days." He cleared their plates away and cut into the pumpkin pie. "What about you? What did you do for Christmas?"

"It depended on where we were," Jared replied, then took a bite of his pie. "Ma usually had to work Christmas Eve, but she'd get up early in the morning and we'd look through my stocking together and sometimes we had gifts, too, if it had been a good year." He looked down and pushed his plate away. "I miss her, Ethan," he said softly.

"I know, little boy," Ethan replied sympathetically, laying his hand over the smaller one. "I miss my family, too, sometimes." Clearing his throat, he stood up and filled the kettle. "Why don't we try another cribbage game while the water is heating for your tea? I think the dishes can wait for a while."

"That's one thing I'm not missing," Jared observed as Ethan dealt the cards.

"Washing dishes?" he asked with a smile. "I didn't miss them when you did them, either."

They both laughed.

They played one game of cribbage, then Ethan decided to do chores. "Don't worry if I'm gone longer than usual," he said, looking out the window. "There's at least two feet of snow. I'll have to make a new path to the barn. Then I'll have to clear the water troughs and break the ice along with the rest of the chores, so it might take me a while."

"I wish I could help," Jared said wistfully.

"I know, little boy. But there will be plenty of opportunity later this winter." He carried Jared back to the bed and added more wood to the fire so it wouldn't burn down before he got back inside. "Stay put while I'm gone," he ordered.

"Yes, Ethan," Jared said dutifully.

It took quite a bit longer than usual to do chores and Jared was growing worried by the time Ethan returned. In fact, he was picturing Ethan hurt and lying helpless in a snowdrift, and trying to figure out how to go rescue him when he heard footsteps on the porch. He hurriedly settled back against the pillows and tried to look innocent as Ethan came in.

"Sorry it took so long," he apologized, taking his coat off. "I had to shovel the snow away from the barn door to get it open. Are you hungry?"

"Not really," Jared admitted. "Maybe for some pie, but not for another meal."

"How about a sandwich first?" Ethan suggested. He made them both sandwiches and cut slices of apple pie. They ate quickly and Ethan helped Jared get ready for bed and tucked him in.

"This was a good day," Jared said contentedly as he settled down under the covers. He watched Ethan as the older man barred the door and banked the fires.

"Yes, it was," Ethan replied, blowing out the lamp on the table, leaving the cabin in darkness except for the pool of light near the bed. He undressed and slipped under the covers, gently pulling the young man over to his side.

Jared snuggled comfortably against him as Ethan picked up his new Christmas book.

"Merry Christmas, Ethan," he said softly.

"Merry Christmas, little boy," Ethan replied lovingly, then began to read aloud, "Squire Trelawny, Dr Livesey, and the rest of these gentlemen having asked me to write down the whole particulars about Treasure Island, from the beginning to the end, keeping nothing back..."