Mary Christmas

Long years ago, in those speedless days of the late nineties when children dropped homemade curtsies and said, “Yes, ma’am” and “No, sir” quite as a matter of course, when they...

Mary Christmas talked not only with her lips. She talked with her brows, her eyes, her hands, her whole body, in a mighty effort to convey by means of harsh, newly found words t...

But just before the roads were really dry from the spring mud, before the falling of the apple blossoms told them that they might begin to watch with some certainty of fulfillme...

Here were pastimes of which they never tired, pageants which the State of Maine in the late nineteenth or in any other century could not afford them. Here, as they ransacked the...

It was no easy matter to disclose all the miserable details of the affair to Mary Christmas, whose piercing black eyes sought out every jot and tittle of the truth; but hope, so...

There were among the guests at Mary Wescott’s wedding, which was held on a Mary Christmas day the year following her graduation from college, those who wondered not a little cri...

In the college town where Cynthia lives there are Mary Christmas days. When one steals over the campus and lures students from their books, Cynthia, too, is lured from Jeremy Ta...