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Hamish had pretended not to notice that Jock had hung the
mistletoe, as he always did at this time of year.
He silently busied himself, shovelling coal, but there was
no avoiding it. Sooner or later, the Goodwill welling up
inside him, Jock would get that look in his eye, and Hamish
would have no choice but to get into the Christmas
Spirit.
