Cousins for Christmas

Chapter One: Land of Goshen

As Amelia dusted the night tables and dressers, a thrill of excitement bubbled inside her.

“Tell me again, mother, about receiving the letter. Did you read it first or did Aunt Harriet? What did you say? What did she say?”

Mrs. Conroy smiled as she removed sheets from a twin bed and unfolded clean ones.

“I opened the letter and read it. Harriet was in the kitchen . . .”

“Where were you?”

“In the living room. I opened the letter and had to read it three times before what it said sank in.”

Amelia folded her dust rag, set it on the dresser, and helped her mother with the bedding. The sheets they removed were clean, but had been on the beds for several years.

“Then you called to Aunt Harriet?”

“Yes. She came from the kitchen wiping her hands on a dishtowel. I said, ‘You had better read this. But sit down first.'”

Amelia turned a pillowcase inside out, put her arms in it all the way, and grasped the end of a pillow. She gave a couple of quick jerks, and the pillowcase righted itself, sliding down over the pillow. She tossed the pillow to her mother then put a case on the pillow from the other twin bed.

“Why did she have to sit down before she read it?”

“I was afraid the shock would make her fall over.”

Amelia laughed. “Really?”

“No, not really,” her mother said smiling. “Harriet is not the fainting kind. But that’s what I said to her.”

“Did Aunt Harriet sit down?”

“Of course not. She took the letter from me and read it, moving her lips the way she does. Then she sat down and read it a second time.”

Mrs. Conroy looked about the bedroom. Satisfied, she gathered the old bedding and bundled it up. Amelia followed her from the room, picking up the dust rag as she went.

They entered a second bedroom and set to work. Instead of twin beds, this one had a queen-size.

As they swept, dusted, and changed the sheets, Amelia asked what happened next. Her mother paused. “Harriet said, ‘Land of Goshen!’ You know she was shocked if she said that.”

Amelia had lived all her 15 years with her mother and Aunt Harriet in this house. Her father had died in the war months before she was born, so all she had ever seen of him were pictures.

He had been a tall man with a bushy mustache and kind eyes. You could see from his photos he had kind eyes. His name had been David. David Andrew Conroy.

When news of his death came, Amelia’s mother had collapsed. There was danger of her losing the baby she was carrying, but Harriet, Mrs. Conroy’s sister, was there to help. Mrs. Conroy, whose first name is Margaret, needed complete bed rest, and Harriet was a saint, arranging time off from her job at Franklin Memorial to care for her sister.

When the baby was born, it was Harriet who suggested the name Amelia.

“David admired Amelia Earhart, Maggie, you know he did,” Harriet had said. “It might be fitting to name the baby after her.”

“I was thinking of naming her Harriet,” Margaret had said.

“Don’t you dare,” her sister replied. “Don’t saddle that sweet girl with such a horrid name. Call her Amelia.”

And so the baby was named Amelia. Amelia Harriet Conroy. And the two sisters raised the child together.

Chapter Two: The Letter

In September, a letter had arrived addressed to Mrs. David Conroy. It said:

Philadelphia, Pennsylvania
August 26, 1958

Dear Mrs. Conroy,

My name is Edward Conroy. My wife and I and our three children live in Philadelphia. David Conroy, your husband, was my younger brother.

I would have contacted you sooner, but we have only recently learned of David’s marriage to you and of his death.

Following an argument with our father, David left home and disappeared. I was away at college and didn’t learn about this for several months. David and father were always at odds with each other, and father, being an austere and unforgiving man, forbade us to even speak David’s name.

Our mother and father have now both passed away, and I have been overcome with a desire to locate my brother.

After much effort, I finally discovered that David became a pilot and flew airplanes during the war. It was with much sadness that I learned of his death, but with much joy that I learned he had married.

I wonder if you would be so kind as to allow me to contact you by telephone so that I might learn more about my brother’s life.

Sincerely,
Edward Conroy.

It was after Harriet had read the letter then read it again that she had said, “Land of Goshen.” To which Margaret had replied, “Indeed.”

When Amelia got home from school that day, her mother and aunt had sat her down at the kitchen table and read her the letter.

Chapter Three: A Letter in Return

Amelia had stared at the phone number Edward had included with the letter. “Can we call him now?” she’d asked.

Margaret decided instead to write him a letter in reply and the three of them worked on it together.

Farmington, Maine
September 1, 1958

Dear Mr. Conroy,

I was amazed to receive your letter. Amazed and might I say, thrilled.

David and I met in 1940 and were married a year later. He worked here in Farmington managing a lumber mill. We were quite happy.

In early 1943, he joined the Army Air Forces and was accepted for pilot training. You now know, no doubt, the circumstances of his death. What you probably don’t know — and David didn’t know either — is that I was carrying his child when he left for the war.

I wrote to him, but he never received my letters. Or if he did, his replies didn’t make it back to me.

David’s daughter, Amelia, was born on September 27 of that year. She will turn 15 in a few weeks. She has his eyes (though, thankfully, not his wondrous mustache.)

We would be most pleased to talk with you and learn about your family as you learn about ours.

Sincerely,

Margaret and Amelia Conroy.

The mustache comment had been Amelia’s idea. Aunt Harriet had tried to discourage the line, but Margaret had smiled and included it, along with their phone number.

The letter led to several exchanges of phone calls, as well as of letters.

It was Constance Conroy, Edward’s wife, who had suggested they come to Maine for a visit. The idea was immediately accepted. Edward was a federal judge, and professional obligations made scheduling such a trip difficult.

Again, it was Constance who came up with a solution.

“Would it disrupt your lives too much if we were to come at Christmas time? There must be a hotel nearby where we could book rooms.”

“It wouldn’t disrupt our lives at all,” Margaret had replied. “There are a number of inns in the area, but there’s no need for you to stay in one, we have plenty of room here.”

And so rooms were being readied. Built in the 1800s for a farm family, the house was large. There would be a bedroom for Edward and Constance and a bedroom for the two boys, David and Oliver. The daughter, Polly, would share Amelia’s room.

As Amelia and her mother finished preparing the room where the two adults would sleep, Amelia said, “My cousins are coming. I have cousins and they are coming here and I can meet them. And an uncle. And another aunt.”

She paused and said, “Do you think Aunt Harriet will be sad not to be my only aunt?”

Her mother smiled. “I think her nose is a tiny bit out of joint at the thought. Don’t lose sight of her in all the excitement. Make sure she feels included.”

“I will,” Amelia said.

Chapter Four: Salt

That evening as the three were washing up after supper, the phone rang and Margaret left the kitchen to answer it. When Amelia dried the last dish and handed it to her aunt, who put it in the cupboard, she said, “Aunt Harriet, I’d like to tell you something.”

Harriet closed the cupboard and faced her niece.

“I call you Aunt Harriet, but to me you’ve always been a second mother. If I should suddenly get 42 new aunts, none of them could ever replace you in my heart.”

Harriet’s eyes became shiny, and she silently pointed to the kitchen table. She used the hem of her apron to dab at her eyes, then took it off and hung it on a hook by the door.

She sat down opposite Amelia and smiled.

“When I was your age I was a silly, senseless girl, unaware of the feelings of those about me. I only thought of myself and my dreams and the places I would go and the things I would do.

“I was nothing like you, Amelia. Or rather, you are nothing like I was. Thank you for what you just said. It’s something I would never have thought to say when I was your age.”

Amelia reached her hands across the small table and Harriet took them in hers.

“You were living in Boston. Did you come back here when my father died??”

Harriet withdrew her hands and shook her head. “No, I came back here years earlier, before your mom and dad even met.”

Harriet glanced down and noticed three grains of salt on the checkered table cloth. She poked at them with a finger, nudging them into a line. Slowly she maneuvered the tiny granules into a small cluster.

“When I graduated high school, I couldn’t wait to get out of this house. Out of this town. Out of this state. A girlfriend and I left the very next day. We took a bus to Boston and got jobs and an apartment.”

Amelia watched as Harriet spread the salt grains back out, then herded them together again. The woman stopped playing with the granules and raised her eyes.

“I hated living in the city. It wasn’t anything like I thought it would be.

“It wasn’t long before I missed this house. I missed this town. I missed my mother and father. I missed my little sister. But I was too proud to come home.”

“Why did you come home?” Amelia asked.

Before Harriet could answer, Margaret came into the kitchen.

“All done?” she asked looking around. “Sorry I didn’t come back sooner. That was Mrs. Mildron. She’s having a knitting emergency.”

She smiled at how absurd that sounded.

“It really is an emergency. She’s trying to finish a sweater — a Christmas gift for her granddaughter — and has made a mess of it. I’m going to drive over and see if I can figure it out. Be back soon.”

Margaret was the area’s knitting expert. She made scarves and mittens that sold in local shops. She helped teach needlework in the high school’s home economics class. Also, women would sometimes hire her, either for lessons or to diagnose projects that had gone awry. Between all this and Harriet’s job at the hospital, they had managed over the years to make ends meet.

As soon as Margaret left the kitchen, Harriet continued.

“When mom and dad both took sick, I came home to help out. It made me seem like a dutiful daughter, but really it was the excuse I needed to come back without sacrificing my pride. I was 20 and your mom was 16.”

She paused and looked at the salt granules. Wetting a forefinger, she dabbed them, one two three, then put the end of her finger briefly in her mouth.

“They both got the flu, which turned into pneumonia. They died within days of each other.”

Harriet looked about the tablecloth as if hunting for more stray salt.

They heard the front door open and close and the car start up.

Harriet smiled briefly. “I’ll tell you something funny.”

She noticed a stray grain of salt and flicked it with her finger.

“Three years later, when your mother was 19, she met a handsome young fellow named David Conroy. A year after that, he proposed to her. She was 20, and I was 24.

“I thought that after they were married, they should have this house. By that time, I had been working at the hospital for almost three years and was happy there, so planned to find a place in town to live.

“The funny thing is this: one evening, about two weeks before the wedding, David — your father — sat down with me at this very table and told me there was no need for me to move out. He said this was my house as much as Margaret’s and it would be fine with him and my sister if I kept my room and continued to live here.”

Harriet laughed and looked at Amelia. “He had a way of talking about awkward situations in a kind, straightforward manner. You have that same ability. You are very much your father’s daughter.”

Amelia reached for the salt shaker and sprinkled a tiny bit on the table. She then flicked it at her aunt, which made the woman laugh.

Chapter Five: Arrival

The Conroys traveled by train from Philadelphia to Boston, arriving on December 17th. They stayed the night in the home of a friend, who, by previous arrangement, loaned them a car — a roomy Chevrolet Bel Air — for the trip to Maine.

It was late afternoon on December 18th when the Conroys made it to Farmington. They had started early from Boston, but snow had slowed their drive up.

Amelia had been watching for them for hours. She grabbed her coat and hat and dashed outside.

“Aunt and uncle, cousins, welcome to Maine! You made it!”

The three children, ages 14, 13, and 12, opened the vehicle’s back doors and got out.

“We’re here!” Polly, the youngest of the three said. She held her arms out from her sides and twirled around a couple of times.

The two boys smiled happily.

“What a long trip. But we are here at last,” David, the older of the two said.

“Here at last,” Oliver echoed. “Hello, cousin.”

“Hello to you,” Amelia said. “Hello to all three of you. To all five of you.” She opened the front passenger door and helped Aunt Constance out. The woman was slim and pretty and had a pleasant smile.

“Amelia, my dear,” she said. “It’s lovely to see you.”

By this time, Margaret and Harriet had come out. Harriet hung back a bit, allowing her sister to meet the new relatives.

As Constance and Margaret greeted each other, Mr. Conroy got out and came around to join them. He hugged Margaret and kissed the side of her head.

“You get one, too,” he said to Amelia, and she stepped forward to be hugged and receive a similar kiss.

Mr. Conroy looked at Harriet, who smiled but gave a small shake of the head indicating that she was fine, thank you, and not interested in such a greeting. So instead, he came over and shook her hand. Before she could realize what was happening, he raised her hand to his lips and kissed it.

“Wonderful to meet you, Harriet,” he said.

She smiled as color rose in her face, but said nothing.

Soon the luggage was unloaded and everything carried inside. Water had been heating on the stove since noon, so there were hot beverages for those who wanted them, as well as sandwiches.

The travelers were tired and it was decided that an early night was in order. All the pent up questions and talk would be put off until morning. Everyone was shown their rooms and the house quieted down.

Chapter Six: Night Visitors

Amelia took Polly to her room. It had two twin beds and two chests of drawers. Amelia had removed her things from the second chest so her cousin could use it.

“If it’s all the same, I’ll unpack in the morning,” Polly said.

“Not a problem at all,” Amelia told her. She showed her guest the bathroom and pointed out a clean towel and washcloth for her to use.

Once Polly had unpacked her pajamas and spent some time in the bathroom, she came out and got into bed. The beds were close enough that it was easy for the girls to face each other and talk.

“Why did your parents name you Polly?”

“It was my grandmother’s name. I never met her. And I’ve always been sorry to be named Polly. It’s such an old fashioned name. Not nearly as pretty as Amelia.”

“I was named after Amelia Earhart.”

“Really? Want to trade names?”

“Sure. For the whole time you’re here, you be Amelia and I’ll be Polly.”

“I was only joking.”

“I’m not. I think Polly is a great name. You take my name and I’ll take yours.”

“Okay,” Polly said in an uncertain tone. Then quietly she added, “I like you. I wasn’t certain that I would, but I do.”

Before Amelia could reply, there was a tapping at the door.

“That’ll be the boys,” Polly said.

Amelia got up and invited them in. She was surprised to see that their pajamas were the same colors and pattern as their sister’s.

“The three of you have matching pajamas,” she said.

“That’s mom’s doing,” David said. “No one’s told her yet that we’re not triplets.”

Amelia laughed out loud. A bit too loud. She put a hand over her mouth. The four kids were silent, listening for any approaching adults.

“Sorry,” Amelia said. “But that was funny.”

“She doesn’t really think we’re triplets,” Oliver said. “She grew up poor, and when she finds a good price for material, she’ll try and save money by buying enough for three. Kids at school call us the Conroy triplets because we often have clothes made from identical material.”

The girls sat cross-legged on one bed and the boys in a similar fashion on the other.

“Your sister and I have decided to trade names for the time you’re here. So now I’m your triplet sister and she’s your cousin.”

The boys thought this was hilarious and everyone had to again go silent and listen for adults. None came.

There was another outburst of laughter when Oliver asked his sister what she had on the bottom of her toes. Polly stretched out her left leg toward the boys so they could see.

“It’s us. I painted our faces on my toes because we are all so happy to be here.”

The faces were not very realistic, just dots for eyes, a downward line for each nose, and a curvy line for the smiles.

“Who’s on your other toes?” Amelia asked.

Polly stretched out her right foot to reveal another set of five faces.

“That’s Uncle David,” she said pointing to the big toe. “That’s Aunt Margaret, that’s Aunt Harriet, and that’s Amelia.”

“You have a toe left over,” David said. “Who’s that?”

“I don’t know,” Polly replied. “I didn’t want my baby toe to feel left out, so I gave her a face, too.”

Amelia put an arm around Polly and gave her a sideways hug. “Tomorrow, I’m doing the same thing on my toes. How about you boys? Will you do it, too?”

The two girls smiled at how firmly the boys shook their heads no.

After awhile, weariness hit them all and the boys got up.

“Good night, sister,” they said waving at Amelia. And then waving to their sister, “Good night, cousin.”

The girls waved back.

When the boys were gone, Amelia said,”Those are two good brothers. I’m a lucky triplet.”

Polly, however, had her doubts. “They can be annoying sometimes. But I guess I don’t mind having them for cousins.”

The two girls smiled at this and said goodnight.

The next day, the exchange of names took a little getting used to. The girls were quick to answer for each other, and soon Constance knew to call for Amelia when she wanted Polly, and Margaret called for Polly when she wanted Amelia. The boys, of course, had no problems, but Mr. Conroy and Aunt Harriet couldn’t keep it straight. He tried saying daughter-of-mine and niece-of-mine, but the wrong one still answered. Harriet solved the problem by calling them niece one and niece two.

Chapter Seven: More Changes

On December 21st, the adults went out to tour the area and have lunch at a rail car diner. Edward and Constance wanted to see some of the historic homes, as well as any buildings designed by George M. Coombs, who was a relative by marriage.

Margaret wanted to show them the sawmill where David had worked, and Harriet was anxious for them to see Franklin County Memorial Hospital where she worked as a nurse.

Also on the list was Farmington High School and the Titcomb Ski area.

David, Oliver, and Polly had had enough traveling and begged to stay home. While the adults were out and about, the four children sat at the dining table playing Monopoly.

Amelia rolled, moved her top hat five spaces, and settled on Baltic Avenue, which she already owned. David, the banker, gave her $200 for passing Go.

As Amelia handed the dice to Polly, she said, “Why didn’t you boys come visit us last night?”

David frowned. “Yesterday morning, Father spoke to Olly and me and said we are not allowed to leave our room at night.”

Amelia looked sad for a moment, then glanced at Polly. “Did he tell you the same thing?”

“No.”

A light shown in Amelia’s eyes, but David, seeing it, quickly said, “Not a good idea.

“Father is a judge and a stickler for the law. He would not be happy if instead of us visiting you, you visited us.”

Polly rolled a four and landed on Atlantic Avenue.

“That will be $260, please,” Oliver said.

Polly gathered the money and handed it over. “There you go, Olly.”

“Wait a minute,” Amelia said. “Polly and Olly. I just noticed that.

Polly nodded. “When we were younger, David was called Dolly. So we were Polly, Olly, and Dolly.”

David made a groaning sound.

“You didn’t like being called Dolly?” Amelia asked, teasing him.

“No,” he said firmly.

Oliver started to roll the dice, but his sister stopped him.

“If we traded back our names,” she said to Amelia, “I could be Polly, you could be Molly, Oliver could be Olly, and David could be . . .”

“What’s your middle name?” Amelia asked.

“Garrett.”

“You could be Golly. How about that?”

David nodded.

“Let’s vote on it,” Oliver said. They all four raised a hand.

At supper that night, Polly made the announcement.

“Amelia and I have traded names again. I’m going to be Polly, she’s going to be Molly, David will be Golly, and Oliver will be Olly.”

Mr. Conroy looked relieved. “I like that much better. By the authority vested in me I decree that you shall be called . . .” He pointed to each child . . . “Polly, Olly, Golly, and Molly.”

“All in favor?” Oliver asked.

“It’s a decree,” Mr. Conroy said. “A vote is not necessary.”

“All in favor?” Oliver said again, and all hands went up. With some reluctance, Mr. Conroy raised his as well.

In the silence that followed, Aunt Harriet suddenly said, “I want to be Holly.”

All eyes turned to her. Amelia shifted her gaze from her aunt to Mr. Conroy.

“If she’s going to be Holly,” Amelia asked, “What are you going to be?”

Before he could answer, his wife said, “Wally. His name is Edward, but when he was young, he was called Wally.”

Mr. Conroy shrugged in agreement. “If I am to be called Wally, then Constance, you should be Collie.”

Mrs. Conroy barked twice in response.

Laughter erupted to such a degree that it was awhile before Amelia could say, “What about you, mother?”

Margaret thought for a moment, then went through the letters of her name. “M won’t do because you are Molly. M-A-R. I don’t want to be Rolly. G won’t do, we already have a Golly. Which brings us to E and T. I’ll be Tolly.”

Oliver looked at Mr. Conroy. “Father, we need another official decree,” he said.

“Okay. But understand that this is a decree. Voting is not necessary.

“By the authority vested in me I hereby decree that for the rest of the time we are together in this house, we shall be known as Polly, Olly, Golly, Wally, Collie . . .”

Mrs. Conroy responded with a quick bark.

“. . . Tolly, Molly, and Holly.”

“All in favor?” Oliver said, receiving a withering look from his father. Nonetheless, all hands went up.

There was a moment of silence, which was broken by Oliver, who reached in his pocket and took out a nickel and a penny.

“A contest. Six cents to the person who can say all eight names the fastest.”

Mr. Conroy took a quarter from his pocket.

“I up the prize to 31 cents and say that we go from youngest to oldest.”

Polly made a face at her father, then quickly, without stumbling, said, “Polly, Olly, Golly, Wally, Collie, Tolly, Molly, Holly.”

She did it so fast, Mrs. Conroy didn’t get a chance to bark.

“I concede,” Mr. Conroy said and pushed the money across the table toward his daughter.

Amelia raised a hand.

“I do not concede,” she said and took a deep breath. “Polly, Olly, Golly, Wally, Collie . . .” She hesitated for half a second at her mother’s name, then continued “Tolly, Molly, Holly.”

Amelia smiled in defeat and slid the money to her cousin.

Chapter Eight: The Two Become One

Over the next few days, the two households merged completely. Constance was often seen standing next to Harriet with an arm around her waist as the two made Christmas baking plans or watched their nieces and nephews having fun.

Edward and Margaret spent hours in quiet conversation, talking about the departed David Conroy. He told her tales from his brother’s childhood, and she, incidents from their brief, but happy marriage.

The four children were near inseparable. Whether building a snowman in the yard, doing household chores, or engaging in epic games of Monopoly, David, Oliver, Polly, and Amelia were together more often than not.

Harriet, who had managed to take two weeks off at Christmas for the first time in four years, was called in one evening to assist with patients from a three-car pileup. David, who was interested in becoming a doctor, went with her.

On a cold, clear afternoon, Amelia and her uncle went on a long walk and talked about everything from her favorite subject in school (history) to the time her father, at age five, was riding a camel at a children’s zoo and got into a fight with a fellow passenger over the camel’s name.

Polly, who was learning to knit, went with Margaret on a house call to an elderly widow and figured out that the problem wasn’t in the woman’s needlework, but was caused by a mistake in the knitting pattern itself.

Chapter Nine: Gifts

Early on, in a phone conversation, the adults had decided not to make a big deal over Christmas. Each family would give the other family a single gift. The adults had explained the arrangement to the children, saying that other presents would wait until each family was back on its own.

Harriet and the boys cut a Christmas tree and sledded it in from the woods. When it was put up and decorated, there were, as had been agreed, only two presents under it. One was labeled, “From the Philadelphia family to the Farmington family.” The other, “From the Farmington family to the Philadelphia family.”

Christmas morning, everyone gathered at the tree. They had hot chocolate and coffee cake, then exchanged the two gifts.

Amelia took Philadelphia’s present to Edward and Constance. Their children gathered around as the package was opened. Inside was a photo album. It contained pictures of Margaret and Harriet as teenagers, David and Margaret at their wedding; David with his shirt off, working in the lumber mill; Amelia as a baby, and a drawing of a large black caterpillar.

“What’s this?” Edward asked.

Amelia raised a hand. “It’s my interpretation of my father’s mustache.”

There was also a picture of David next to a picture of Amelia.

“Oh my,” Constance said. “When I see the two of you side by side, the similarity of your eyes is very striking.”

The Farmington present was handed to Margaret. It, too, was a photo album, which caused some laughter.

“Great minds think alike,” Margaret said looking at Edward and Constance.

Harriet, Margaret, and Amelia crowded together to look at the pages, which had photos of David and Edward — separately, together, and with their parents. There was also a page with a clump of dark hair fastened to it.

“Is that my father’s childhood mustache?” Amelia asked.

“No,” Edward said. “It’s a lock of his hair from when he was a baby.”

Tears came to Margaret’s eyes as she touched the hair. Amelia touched it, too. Harriet put a cheek against her sister’s cheek and put a hand on her niece’s back.

“Thank you,” Margaret said.

“Yes, thank you,” Amelia said.

Constance looked at her husband, then smiled at Margaret. “I know what we agreed, but we have a few more presents. This,” she said,” is for Amelia. I mean, Molly.”

She produced a package from behind her and held it out. Amelia took it and tore it open. Inside were a pair of pajamas that matched those belonging to her cousins.

Amelia held them up to her body, laughing.

It was Polly who explained. “Mom had plenty of that fabric at home. She brought enough with her to make a pair of triplet pajamas for you.”

“I love them,” Amelia said. “What do you call four identical kids instead of three?”

“Quadruplets,” Edward said. “But I think the word we are looking for here is sextuplets, which is six.”

With that, he pulled two packages from behind him.

“Here’s yours,” he said, tossing one to Harriet, “And yours,” tossing the other to Margaret.

The two opened their gifts to find pajamas made from the same black, white,and blue material.

“How in the world did you do this?” Harriet asked.

“I made all three pair before we came,” Constance said, “and altered them by hand after we got here.”

Margaret wanted to know if Edward and Constance also had the same pajamas.

“We do,” Edward said.

“With you?”

“Yes.”

“Tomorrow,” Margaret said, “I want a picture of us all in our . . . ”

“Octuplet,” Edward said.

“. . . octuplet pajamas. I’ll ask a friend of mine to take the picture. Okay?”

“Absolutely,” Constance replied.

Margaret smiled and said. “By the way, you’re not the only ones who can cheat.” She looked at Harriet, who reached behind the couch and pulled out five packages. She delivered one to each of the guests.

“Polly, you first,” Amelia said.

Polly opened the wrappings to find a blue knit hat with the word Maine knitted in gold. There was a pair of blue mittens, and a blue and gold scarf.

“Blue and gold are my favorite colors,” Amelia said.

Each package contained the same thing, differing only in size.

“Did you knit these?” Constance wanted to know.

“I did the hats and mittens,” Margaret said, “Harriet — I mean Holly — and Molly did the scarves.”

Three days later, the visitors left for Boston to return the Chevy and spend a couple of days with friends before starting the trip back to Philadelphia. With them, they took a framed photo of eight people wearing identical pajamas, each person sporting a Maine hat, a blue and gold scarf, and blue mittens. Also, each person wore a sign. From left to right, they said Wally Collie Holly Tolly Golly Olly Polly and Molly.