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diff --git a/28308-h/28308-h.htm b/28308-h/28308-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..4813a76 --- /dev/null +++ b/28308-h/28308-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,11876 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Children's Book of Christmas Stories, edited by Asa Don Dickinson and Ada M. Skinner. + </title> + <style type="text/css"> + + p {margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + text-indent: 1.25em; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + img {border: 0;} + .tnote {border: dashed 1px; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; padding-bottom: .5em; padding-top: .5em; + padding-left: .5em; padding-right: .5em;} + ins {text-decoration:none; border-bottom: thin dotted gray;} + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; + } + hr { width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both; + } + + table {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;} + + body{margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + } + + .pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ + /* visibility: hidden; */ + position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: smaller; + text-align: right; + } /* page numbers */ + .copyright {text-align: center; font-size: 70%;} + .blockquot{margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 10%; text-align: justify;} + + .bbox {border: solid 2px; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; padding-bottom: .5em; padding-top: .5em; + padding-left: .5em; padding-right: .5em;} + + .center {text-align: center;} + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + + .caption {font-weight: bold; font-size: 70%;} + + .figcenter {margin: auto; text-align: center;} + + .figleft {float: left; clear: left; margin-left: 0; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-top: + 1em; margin-right: 1em; padding: 0; text-align: center;} + + .figright {float: right; clear: right; margin-left: 1em; margin-bottom: 1em; + margin-top: 1em; margin-right: 0; padding: 0; text-align: center;} + + .unindent {margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + .right {text-align: right;} + .poem {margin-left: 30%; margin-right: 10%; text-align: left;} + .poem2 {margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 10%; text-align: left;} + .sig {margin-right: 10%; text-align: right;} + + .footnotes {border: dashed 1px;} + .footnote {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-size: 0.9em;} + .fnanchor {vertical-align:baseline; + position: relative; + bottom: 0.33em; + font-size: .8em; + text-decoration: none;} + .hang1 {text-indent: -3em; margin-left: 3em;} + .cap:first-letter {float: left; clear: left; margin: -0.2em 0.1em 0; margin-top: 0%; + padding: 0; line-height: .75em; font-size: 300%; text-align: justify;} + .cap {text-align: justify;} + + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +Project Gutenberg's The Children's Book of Christmas Stories, by Various + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Children's Book of Christmas Stories + +Author: Various + +Editor: Asa Don Dickinson + Ada M. Skinner + +Release Date: March 11, 2009 [EBook #28308] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CHILDREN'S CHRISTMAS STORIES *** + + + + +Produced by David Edwards, Emmy and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was +produced from images generously made available by The +Internet Archive) + + + + + + +</pre> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_i" id="Page_i">[i]</a></span></p> + + + + +<h1>THE CHILDREN'S BOOK OF<br />CHRISTMAS STORIES</h1> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_ii" id="Page_ii">[ii]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 448px;"> +<img src="images/i013.jpg" width="448" height="500" alt="CHRISTMAS JOLLITY (John Leech's "Mr. Fezziwig's Ball," from Dickens' "Christmas Carol.")" title="" /> +<span class="caption">CHRISTMAS JOLLITY<br />(<i>John Leech's "Mr. Fezziwig's Ball," from Dickens' "Christmas Carol."</i>)</span> +</div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_iii" id="Page_iii">[iii]</a></span></p> + +<h1>THE CHILDREN'S BOOK<br /> +OF<br /> +CHRISTMAS STORIES</h1> + +<h3>EDITED BY</h3> + +<h2>ASA DON DICKINSON</h2> + +<h3>AND</h3> + +<h2>ADA M. SKINNER</h2> + +<div class='center'><br /><br /><br /><small>GARDEN CITY, NEW YORK</small><br /> +DOUBLEDAY & COMPANY, INC.</div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_iv" id="Page_iv">[iv]</a></span></p> + +<div class='copyright'> +<small>COPYRIGHT, 1913, BY DOUBLEDAY &</small><br /> +<small>COMPANY, INC. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.</small><br /> +<br /> +PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA<br /></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_v" id="Page_v">[v]</a></span></p> + +<h2>ACKNOWLEDGMENT</h2> + + +<p>The Publishers desire to acknowledge the kindness of +the J. B. Lippincott Co., Houghton Mifflin Co., D. C. +Heath & Co., The Bobbs-Merrill Co., Milton Bradley +Co., Henry Altemus Co., Lothrop, Lee & Shepherd Co., +Little, Brown & Co., Moffat, Yard & Co., American +Book Co., Perry, Mason Co., Duffield & Co., Chicago +Kindergarten College, and others, who have granted +them permission to reproduce herein selections from +works bearing their copyright.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_vii" id="Page_vii">[vii]</a></span></p> +<h2>PREFACE</h2> + + +<p>Many librarians have felt the need and expressed +the desire for a select collection of children's Christmas +stories in one volume. This book claims to be just +that and nothing more.</p> + +<p>Each of the stories has already won the approval of +thousands of children, and each is fraught with the true +Christmas spirit.</p> + +<p>It is hoped that the collection will prove equally +acceptable to parents, teachers, and librarians.</p> + +<div class='sig'> +<span class="smcap">Asa Don Dickinson.</span><br /> +</div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_ix" id="Page_ix">[ix]</a></span></p> +<h2>CONTENTS</h2> + + + + +<p>(<i>Note</i>.—The stories marked with a star (*) will be most +enjoyed by younger children; those marked with a dagger (+) +are better suited to older children.)</p> + + + + +<div class='center'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="Contents"> +<tr><td align='left'><div class='hang1'> </div></td><td align='right' valign='bottom'><small>PAGE</small></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><div class='hang1'>Christmas at Fezziwig's Warehouse. <i>By Charles Dickens</i></div></td><td align='right' valign='bottom'><a href="#Page_3">3</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><div class='hang1'>*The Fir-Tree. <i>By Hans Christian Andersen</i></div></td><td align='right' valign='bottom'><a href="#Page_6">6</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><div class='hang1'>The Christmas Masquerade. <i>By Mary E. Wilkins Freeman</i></div></td><td align='right' valign='bottom'><a href="#Page_19">19</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><div class='hang1'>*The Shepherds and the Angels. <i>Adapted from the Bible</i></div></td><td align='right' valign='bottom'><a href="#Page_34">34</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><div class='hang1'>+The Telltale Tile. <i>By Olive Thorne Miller</i></div></td><td align='right' valign='bottom'><a href="#Page_36">36</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><div class='hang1'>*Little Girl's Christmas. <i>By Winnifred E. Lincoln</i></div></td><td align='right' valign='bottom'><a href="#Page_48">48</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><div class='hang1'>+A Christmas Matinée. <i>By M. A. L. Lane</i></div></td><td align='right' valign='bottom'><a href="#Page_57">57</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><div class='hang1'>*Toinette and the Elves. <i>By Susan Coolidge</i></div></td><td align='right' valign='bottom'><a href="#Page_68">68</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><div class='hang1'>The Voyage of the Wee Red Cap. <i>By Ruth Sawyer Durand</i></div></td><td align='right' valign='bottom'><a href="#Page_86">86</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><div class='hang1'>*A Story of the Christ-Child (a German Legend for Christmas Eve). <i>As told by Elizabeth Harrison</i></div></td><td align='right' valign='bottom'><a href="#Page_96">96</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><div class='hang1'>*Jimmy Scarecrow's Christmas. <i>by Mary E. Wilkins Freeman</i></div></td><td align='right' valign='bottom'><a href="#Page_103">103</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><div class='hang1'>Why the Chimes Rang. <i>By Raymond McAlden</i></div></td><td align='right' valign='bottom'><a href="#Page_113">113</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><div class='hang1'>*The Birds' Christmas (founded on fact). <i>By F. E. Mann</i></div></td><td align='right' valign='bottom'><a href="#Page_120">120</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><div class='hang1'>+The Little Sister's Vacation. <i>By Winifred M. Kirkland</i></div></td><td align='right' valign='bottom'><a href="#Page_126">126</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><div class='hang1'>*Little Wolff's Wooden Shoes. <i>By François Coppée, adapted and translated by Alma J. Foster</i></div></td><td align='right' valign='bottom'><a href="#Page_139">139</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><div class='hang1'>+Christmas in the Alley. <i>By Olive Thorne Miller</i></div></td><td align='right' valign='bottom'><a href="#Page_146">146</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><div class='hang1'>*A Christmas Star. <i>By Katherine Pyle</i></div></td><td align='right' valign='bottom'><a href="#Page_158">158</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><div class='hang1'>+The Queerest Christmas. <i>By Grace Margaret Gallaher</i></div></td><td align='right' valign='bottom'><a href="#Page_165">165</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><div class='hang1'><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_x" id="Page_x">[x]</a></span>Old Father Christmas. <i>By J. H. Ewing</i></div></td><td align='right' valign='bottom'><a href="#Page_179">179</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><div class='hang1'>A Christmas Carol. <i>By Charles Dickens</i></div></td><td align='right' valign='bottom'><a href="#Page_193">193</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><div class='hang1'>How Christmas Came to the Santa Maria Flats. <i>By Elia W. Peattie</i></div></td><td align='right' valign='bottom'><a href="#Page_196">196</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><div class='hang1'>The Legend of Babouscka. <i>From the Russian Folk Tale</i></div></td><td align='right' valign='bottom'><a href="#Page_208">208</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><div class='hang1'>*Christmas in the Barn. <i>By F. Arnstein</i></div></td><td align='right' valign='bottom'><a href="#Page_211">211</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><div class='hang1'>The Philanthropist's Christmas. <i>By James Weber Linn</i></div></td><td align='right' valign='bottom'><a href="#Page_216">216</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><div class='hang1'>*The First Christmas-Tree. <i>By Lucy Wheelock</i></div></td><td align='right' valign='bottom'><a href="#Page_230">230</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><div class='hang1'>The First New England Christmas. <i>By G. L. Stone and M. G. Fickett</i></div></td><td align='right' valign='bottom'><a href="#Page_232">232</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><div class='hang1'>The Cratchits' Christmas Dinner. <i>By Charles Dickens</i></div></td><td align='right' valign='bottom'><a href="#Page_242">242</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><div class='hang1'>Christmas in Seventeen Seventy-Six. <i>By Anne Hollingsworth Wharton</i></div></td><td align='right' valign='bottom'><a href="#Page_253">253</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><div class='hang1'>*Christmas Under the Snow. <i>By Olive Thorne Miller</i></div></td><td align='right' valign='bottom'><a href="#Page_261">261</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><div class='hang1'>Mr. Bluff's Experience of Holidays. <i>By Oliver Bell Bunce</i></div></td><td align='right' valign='bottom'><a href="#Page_273">273</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><div class='hang1'>+Master Sandy's Snapdragon. <i>By Elbridge S. Brooks</i></div></td><td align='right' valign='bottom'><a href="#Page_284">284</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><div class='hang1'>A Christmas Fairy. <i>By John Strange Winter</i></div></td><td align='right' valign='bottom'><a href="#Page_297">297</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><div class='hang1'>The Greatest of These. <i>By Joseph Mills Hanson</i></div></td><td align='right' valign='bottom'><a href="#Page_303">303</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><div class='hang1'>*Little Gretchen and the Wooden Shoe. <i>By Elizabeth Harrison</i></div></td><td align='right' valign='bottom'><a href="#Page_316">316</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><div class='hang1'>+Christmas on Big Rattle. <i>By Theodore Goodridge Roberts</i></div></td><td align='right' valign='bottom'><a href="#Page_329">329</a></td></tr> +</table></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[1]</a></span></p> +<h2>THE CHILDREN'S BOOK OF<br /> +CHRISTMAS STORIES</h2> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[3]</a></span></p> +<h2>I</h2> + +<h3>CHRISTMAS AT FEZZIWIG'S WAREHOUSE</h3> + +<div class='center'>CHARLES DICKENS<br /><br /><br /></div> + + +<div class='cap'>YO HO! my boys," said Fezziwig. "No more work +to-night! Christmas Eve, Dick! Christmas, +Ebenezer! Let's have the shutters up!" cried old +Fezziwig with a sharp clap of his hands, "before a man +can say Jack Robinson. . . ."</div> + +<p>"Hilli-ho!" cried old Fezziwig, skipping down from +the high desk with wonderful agility. "Clear away, +my lads, and let's have lots of room here! Hilli-ho, +Dick! Cheer-up, Ebenezer!"</p> + +<p>Clear away! There was nothing they wouldn't have +cleared away, or couldn't have cleared away with old +Fezziwig looking on. It was done in a minute. Every +movable was packed off, as if it were dismissed from +public life forevermore; the floor was swept and watered, +the lamps were trimmed, fuel was heaped upon the fire; +and the warehouse was as snug, and warm, and dry, +and bright a ballroom as you would desire to see on a +winter's night.</p> + +<p>In came a fiddler with a music book, and went up to +the lofty desk and made an orchestra of it and tuned +like fifty stomach-aches. In came Mrs. Fezziwig, one<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[4]</a></span> +vast substantial smile. In came the three Misses +Fezziwig, beaming and lovable. In came the six followers +whose hearts they broke. In came all the young +men and women employed in the business. In came +the housemaid with her cousin the baker. In came the +cook with her brother's particular friend the milkman. +In came the boy from over the way, who was suspected +of not having board enough from his master, trying to +hide himself behind the girl from next door but one who +was proved to have had her ears pulled by her mistress; +in they all came, anyhow and everyhow. Away they +all went, twenty couple at once; hands half round and +back again the other way; down the middle and up +again; round and round in various stages of affectionate +grouping, old top couple always turning up in the wrong +place; new top couple starting off again, as soon as they +got there; all top couples at last, and not a bottom one +to help them.</p> + +<p>When this result was brought about the fiddler struck +up "Sir Roger de Coverley." Then old Fezziwig stood +out to dance with Mrs. Fezziwig. Top couple, too, +with a good stiff piece of work cut out for them; three or +four and twenty pairs of partners; people who were not +to be trifled with; people who would dance and had no +notion of walking.</p> + +<p>But if they had been thrice as many—oh, four +times as many—old Fezziwig would have been a +match for them, and so would Mrs. Fezziwig. As to +her, she was worthy to be his partner in every sense of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[5]</a></span> +the term. If that's not high praise, tell me higher and +I'll use it. A positive light appeared to issue from +Fezziwig's calves. They shone in every part of the +dance like moons. You couldn't have predicted at +any given time what would become of them next. And +when old Fezziwig and Mrs. Fezziwig had gone all +through the dance, advance and retire; both hands to +your partner, bow and courtesy, corkscrew, thread the +needle, and back again to your place; Fezziwig "cut"—cut +so deftly that he appeared to wink with his legs, +and came upon his feet again with a stagger.</p> + +<p>When the clock struck eleven the domestic ball broke +up. Mr. and Mrs. Fezziwig took their stations, one on +either side of the door, and shaking hands with every +person individually, as he or she went out, wished him +or her a Merry Christmas!</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[6]</a></span></p> +<h2>II</h2> + +<h3>THE FIR-TREE<a name="FNanchor_A_1" id="FNanchor_A_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_A_1" class="fnanchor">[A]</a></h3> + +<div class='center'>HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN<br /><br /></div> + + +<div class='cap'>OUT in the woods stood a nice little Fir-tree. The +place he had was a very good one; the sun shone +on him; as to fresh air, there was enough of that, and +round him grew many large-sized comrades, pines as +well as firs. But the little Fir wanted so very much to +be a grown-up tree.</div> + +<p>He did not think of the warm sun and of the fresh air; +he did not care for the little cottage children that ran +about and prattled when they were in the woods looking +for wild strawberries. The children often came with +a whole pitcher full of berries, or a long row of them +threaded on a straw, and sat down near the young tree +and said, "Oh, how pretty he is! what a nice little fir!" +But this was what the Tree could not bear to hear.</p> + +<p>At the end of a year he had shot up a good deal, and +after another year he was another long bit taller; for +with fir-trees one can always tell by the shoots how +many years old they are.</p> + +<p>"Oh, were I but such a high tree as the others are!" +sighed he. "Then I should be able to spread out my<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[7]</a></span> +branches, and with the tops to look into the wide +world! Then would the birds build nests among my +branches; and when there was a breeze, I could bend +with as much stateliness as the others!"</p> + +<p>Neither the sunbeams, nor the birds, nor the red +clouds, which morning and evening sailed above them, +gave the little Tree any pleasure.</p> + +<p>In winter, when the snow lay glittering on the ground, +a hare would often come leaping along, and jump right +over the little Tree. Oh, that made him so angry! +But two winters were past, and in the third the tree +was so large that the hare was obliged to go round it. +"To grow and grow, to get older and be tall," thought +the Tree—"that, after all, is the most delightful +thing in the world!"</p> + +<p>In autumn the wood-cutters always came and felled +some of the largest trees. This happened every year; +and the young Fir-tree, that had now grown to a very +comely size, trembled at the sight; for the magnificent +great trees fell to the earth with noise and cracking, +the branches were lopped off, and the trees looked long +and bare; they were hardly to be recognized; and then +they were laid in carts, and the horses dragged them out +of the woods.</p> + +<p>Where did they go to? What became of them?</p> + +<p>In spring, when the Swallows and the Storks came, +the Tree asked them, "Don't you know where they +have been taken? Have you not met them anywhere?"</p> + +<p>The Swallows did not know anything about it; but<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[8]</a></span> +the Stork looked musing, nodded his head, and said: +"Yes, I think I know; I met many ships as I was flying +hither from Egypt; on the ships were magnificent +masts, and I venture to assert that it was they that +smelt so of fir. I may congratulate you, for they lifted +themselves on high most majestically!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, were I but old enough to fly across the sea! +But how does the sea look in reality? What is it like?"</p> + +<p>"That would take a long time to explain," said the +Stork, and with these words off he went.</p> + +<p>"Rejoice in thy growth!" said the Sunbeams, +"rejoice in thy vigorous growth, and in the fresh life +that moveth within thee!"</p> + +<p>And the Wind kissed the Tree, and the Dew wept +tears over him; but the Fir understood it not.</p> + +<p>When Christmas came, quite young trees were cut +down; trees which often were not even as large or of +the same age as this Fir-tree, who could never rest, but +always wanted to be off. These young trees, and they +were always the finest looking, retained their branches; +they were laid on carts, and the horses drew them out +of the woods.</p> + +<p>"Where are they going to?" asked the Fir. "They +are not taller than I; there was one indeed that was +considerably shorter; and why do they retain all their +branches? Whither are they taken?"</p> + +<p>"We know! we know!" chirped the Sparrows. "We +have peeped in at the windows in the town below! +We know whither they are taken! The greatest<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[9]</a></span> +splendour and the greatest magnificence one can imagine +await them. We peeped through the windows, +and saw them planted in the middle of the warm room, +and ornamented with the most splendid things—with +gilded apples, with gingerbread, with toys, and many +hundred lights!"</p> + +<p>"And then?" asked the Fir-tree, trembling in every +bough. "And then? What happens then?"</p> + +<p>"We did not see anything more: it was incomparably +beautiful."</p> + +<p>"I would fain know if I am destined for so glorious +a career," cried the Tree, rejoicing. "That is still +better than to cross the sea! What a longing do I +suffer! Were Christmas but come! I am now tall, +and my branches spread like the others that were +carried off last year! Oh, were I but already on the +cart. Were I in the warm room with all the splendour +and magnificence! Yes; then something better, something +still grander, will surely follow, or wherefore +should they thus ornament me? Something better, +something still grander, <i>must</i> follow—but what? Oh, +how I long, how I suffer! I do not know myself what +is the matter with me!"</p> + +<p>"Rejoice in our presence!" said the Air and the Sunlight; +"rejoice in thy own fresh youth!"</p> + +<p>But the Tree did not rejoice at all; he grew and grew, +and was green both winter and summer. People that +saw him said, "What a fine tree!" and toward Christmas +he was one of the first that was cut down. The<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[10]</a></span> +axe struck deep into the very pith; the tree fell to the +earth with a sigh: he felt a pang—it was like a swoon; +he could not think of happiness, for he was sorrowful +at being separated from his home, from the place where +he had sprung up. He knew well that he should never +see his dear old comrades, the little bushes and flowers +around him, any more; perhaps not even the birds! +The departure was not at all agreeable.</p> + +<p>The Tree only came to himself when he was unloaded +in a courtyard with the other trees, and heard a man +say, "That one is splendid! we don't want the others." +Then two servants came in rich livery and carried the +Fir-tree into a large and splendid drawing-room. +Portraits were hanging on the walls, and near the white +porcelain stove stood two large Chinese vases with +lions on the covers. There, too, were large easy chairs, +silken sofas, large tables full of picture-books, and full +of toys worth hundreds and hundreds of crowns—at +least the children said so. And the Fir-tree was +stuck upright in a cask that was filled with sand: but +no one could see that it was a cask, for green cloth was +hung all around it, and it stood on a large gayly coloured +carpet. Oh, how the Tree quivered! What was to +happen? The servants, as well as the young ladies, +decorated it. On one branch there hung little nets cut +out of coloured paper, and each net was filled with +sugar-plums; and among the other boughs gilded apples +and walnuts were suspended, looking as though they +had grown there, and little blue and white tapers were<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[11]</a></span> +placed among the leaves. Dolls that looked for all the +world like men—the Tree had never beheld such +before—were seen among the foliage, and at the very +top a large star of gold tinsel was fixed. It was really +splendid—beyond description splendid.</p> + +<p>"This evening!" said they all; "how it will shine +this evening!"</p> + +<p>"Oh," thought the Tree, "if the evening were but +come! If the tapers were but lighted! And then I +wonder what will happen! Perhaps the other trees +from the forest will come to look at me! Perhaps the +sparrows will beat against the window-panes! I wonder +if I shall take root here, and winter and summer +stand covered with ornaments!"</p> + +<p>He knew very much about the matter! but he was +so impatient that for sheer longing he got a pain in his +back, and this with trees is the same thing as a headache +with us.</p> + +<p>The candles were now lighted. What brightness! +What splendour! The Tree trembled so in every bough +that one of the tapers set fire to the foliage. It blazed +up splendidly.</p> + +<p>"Help! Help!" cried the young ladies, and they +quickly put out the fire.</p> + +<p>Now the Tree did not even dare tremble. What a +state he was in! He was so uneasy lest he should lose +something of his splendour, that he was quite bewildered +amidst the glare and brightness; when suddenly +both folding-doors opened, and a troop of children<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[12]</a></span> +rushed in as if they would upset the Tree. The older +persons followed quietly; the little ones stood quite +still. But it was only for a moment; then they shouted +so that the whole place reëchoed with their rejoicing; +they danced round the tree, and one present after the +other was pulled off.</p> + +<p>"What are they about?" thought the Tree. "What +is to happen now?" And the lights burned down to +the very branches, and as they burned down they were +put out, one after the other, and then the children had +permission to plunder the tree. So they fell upon it +with such violence that all its branches cracked; if it +had not been fixed firmly in the cask, it would certainly +have tumbled down.</p> + +<p>The children danced about with their beautiful playthings: +no one looked at the Tree except the old nurse, +who peeped between the branches; but it was only to +see if there was a fig or an apple left that had been +forgotten.</p> + +<p>"A story! a story!" cried the children, drawing a +little fat man toward the tree. He seated himself +under it, and said: "Now we are in the shade, and the +Tree can listen, too. But I shall tell only one story. +Now which will you have: that about Ivedy-Avedy, or +about Klumpy-Dumpy who tumbled downstairs, and +yet after all came to the throne and married the +princess?"</p> + +<p>"Ivedy-Avedy!" cried some; "Klumpy-Dumpy!" +cried the others. There was such a bawling and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[13]</a></span> +screaming—the Fir-tree alone was silent, and he +thought to himself, "Am I not to bawl with the rest?—am +I to do nothing whatever?" for he was one of +the company, and had done what he had to do.</p> + +<p>And the man told about Klumpy-Dumpy that +tumbled down, who notwithstanding came to the +throne, and at last married the princess. And the +children clapped their hands, and cried out, "Oh, go on! +Do go on!" They wanted to hear about Ivedy-Avedy, +too, but the little man only told them about Klumpy-Dumpy. +The Fir-tree stood quite still and absorbed +in thought; the birds in the woods had never related the +like of this. "Klumpy-Dumpy fell downstairs, and +yet he married the princess! Yes! Yes! that's the +way of the world!" thought the Fir-tree, and believed +it all, because the man who told the story was so good-looking. +"Well, well! who knows, perhaps I may fall +downstairs, too, and get a princess as wife!" And he +looked forward with joy to the morrow, when he hoped +to be decked out again with lights, playthings, fruits, +and tinsel.</p> + +<p>"I won't tremble to-morrow," thought the Fir-tree. +"I will enjoy to the full all my splendour. To-morrow +I shall hear again the story of Klumpy-Dumpy, and +perhaps that of Ivedy-Avedy, too." And the whole +night the Tree stood still and in deep thought.</p> + +<p>In the morning the servant and the housemaid +came in.</p> + +<p>"Now, then, the splendour will begin again," thought<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[14]</a></span> +the Fir. But they dragged him out of the room, and +up the stairs into the loft; and here in a dark corner, +where no daylight could enter, they left him. "What's +the meaning of this?" thought the Tree. "What am +I to do here? What shall I hear now, I wonder?" +And he leaned against the wall, lost in reverie. Time +enough had he, too, for his reflections; for days and +nights passed on, and nobody came up; and when at +last somebody did come, it was only to put some great +trunks in a corner out of the way. There stood the +Tree quite hidden; it seemed as if he had been entirely +forgotten.</p> + +<p>"'Tis now winter out of doors!" thought the Tree. +"The earth is hard and covered with snow; men cannot +plant me now, and therefore I have been put up here +under shelter till the springtime comes! How thoughtful +that is! How kind man is, after all! If it only +were not so dark here, and so terribly lonely! Not +even a hare. And out in the woods it was so pleasant, +when the snow was on the ground, and the hare leaped +by; yes—even when he jumped over me; but I did +not like it then. It is really terribly lonely here!"</p> + +<p>"Squeak! squeak!" said a little Mouse at the same +moment, peeping out of his hole. And then another +little one came. They sniffed about the Fir-tree, and +rustled among the branches.</p> + +<p>"It is dreadfully cold," said the Mouse. "But for +that, it would be delightful here, old Fir, wouldn't +it?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[15]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I am by no means old," said the Fir-tree. "There's +many a one considerably older than I am."</p> + +<p>"Where do you come from," asked the Mice; "and +what can you do?" They were so extremely curious. +"Tell us about the most beautiful spot on the earth. +Have you never been there? Were you never in the +larder, where cheeses lie on the shelves, and hams hang +from above; where one dances about on tallow-candles; +that place where one enters lean, and comes out again +fat and portly?"</p> + +<p>"I know no such place," said the Tree, "but I know +the woods, where the sun shines, and where the little +birds sing." And then he told all about his youth; and +the little Mice had never heard the like before; and +they listened and said:</p> + +<p>"Well, to be sure! How much you have seen! How +happy you must have been!"</p> + +<p>"I?" said the Fir-tree, thinking over what he had +himself related. "Yes, in reality those were happy +times." And then he told about Christmas Eve, when +he was decked out with cakes and candles.</p> + +<p>"Oh," said the little Mice, "how fortunate you have +been, old Fir-tree!"</p> + +<p>"I am by no means old," said he. "I came from +the woods this winter; I am in my prime, and am only +rather short for my age."</p> + +<p>"What delightful stories you know!" said the Mice; +and the next night they came with four other little +Mice, who were to hear what the tree recounted; and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[16]</a></span> +the more he related, the more plainly he remembered +all himself; and it appeared as if those times had really +been happy times. "But they may still come—they +may still come. Klumpy-Dumpy fell downstairs +and yet he got a princess," and he thought at the +moment of a nice little Birch-tree growing out in the +woods; to the Fir, that would be a real charming +princess.</p> + +<p>"Who is Klumpy-Dumpy?" asked the Mice. So +then the Fir-tree told the whole fairy tale, for he could +remember every single word of it; and the little Mice +jumped for joy up to the very top of the Tree. Next +night two more Mice came, and on Sunday two Rats, +even; but they said the stories were not interesting, +which vexed the little Mice; and they, too, now began +to think them not so very amusing either.</p> + +<p>"Do you know only one story?" asked the Rats.</p> + +<p>"Only that one," answered the Tree. "I heard it +on my happiest evening; but I did not then know how +happy I was."</p> + +<p>"It is a very stupid story. Don't you know one +about bacon and tallow candles? Can't you tell any +larder stories?"</p> + +<p>"No," said the Tree.</p> + +<p>"Then good-bye," said the Rats; and they went +home.</p> + +<p>At last the little Mice stayed away also; and the +Tree sighed: "After all, it was very pleasant when +the sleek little Mice sat around me and listened to what<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[17]</a></span> +I told them. Now that too is over. But I will take +good care to enjoy myself when I am brought out +again."</p> + +<p>But when was that to be? Why, one morning there +came a quantity of people and set to work in the loft. +The trunks were moved, the Tree was pulled out and +thrown—rather hard, it is true—down on the floor, +but a man drew him toward the stairs, where the +daylight shone.</p> + +<p>"Now a merry life will begin again," thought the +Tree. He felt the fresh air, the first sunbeam—and +now he was out in the courtyard. All passed so quickly, +there was so much going on around him, that the Tree +quite forgot to look to himself. The court adjoined a +garden, and all was in flower; the roses hung so fresh +and odorous over the balustrade, the lindens were in +blossom, the Swallows flew by, and said, "Quirre-vit! +my husband is come!" but it was not the Fir-tree that +they meant.</p> + +<p>"Now, then, I shall really enjoy life," said he, exultingly, +and spread out his branches; but, alas! they were +all withered and yellow. It was in a corner that he +lay, among weeds and nettles. The golden star of +tinsel was still on the top of the Tree, and glittered in +the sunshine.</p> + +<p>In the courtyard some of the merry children were +playing who had danced at Christmas round the Fir-tree, +and were so glad at the sight of him. One of the +youngest ran and tore off the golden star.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[18]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Only look what is still on the ugly old Christmas +tree!" said he, trampling on the branches, so that they +all cracked beneath his feet.</p> + +<p>And the Tree beheld all the beauty of the flowers, and +the freshness in the garden; he beheld himself, and +wished he had remained in his dark corner in the loft; +he thought of his first youth in the woods, of the merry +Christmas Eve, and of the little Mice who had listened +with so much pleasure to the story of Klumpy-Dumpy.</p> + +<p>"'Tis over—'tis past!" said the poor Tree. "Had +I but rejoiced when I had reason to do so! But now +'tis past, 'tis past!"</p> + +<p>And the gardener's boy chopped the Tree into small +pieces; there was a whole heap lying there. The wood +flamed up splendidly under the large brewing copper, +and it sighed so deeply! Each sigh was like a shot.</p> + +<p>The boys played about in the court, and the youngest +wore the gold star on his breast which the Tree had had +on the happiest evening of his life. However, that was +over now—the Tree gone, the story at an end. All, +all was over; every tale must end at last.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[19]</a></span></p> +<h2>III</h2> + +<h3>THE CHRISTMAS MASQUERADE<a name="FNanchor_B_2" id="FNanchor_B_2"></a><a href="#Footnote_B_2" class="fnanchor">[B]</a></h3> + +<div class='center'>MARY E. WILKINS FREEMAN<br /><br /></div> + + +<div class='cap'>ON Christmas Eve the Mayor's stately mansion +presented a beautiful appearance. There were +rows of different coloured wax candles burning in every +window, and beyond them one could see the chandeliers +of gold and crystal blazing with light. The fiddles +were squeaking merrily, and lovely little forms flew +past the windows in time to the music.</div> + +<p>There were gorgeous carpets laid from the door to the +street, and carriages were constantly arriving and fresh +guests tripping over them. They were all children. +The Mayor was giving a Christmas Masquerade to-night +to all the children in the city, the poor as well +as the rich. The preparation for this ball had been +making an immense sensation for the last three months. +Placards had been up in the most conspicuous points in +the city, and all the daily newspapers had at least a +column devoted to it, headed with "THE MAYOR'S +CHRISTMAS MASQUERADE," in very large +letters.</p> + +<p>The Mayor had promised to defray the expenses of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[20]</a></span> +all the poor children whose parents were unable to do +so, and the bills for their costumes were directed to be +sent in to him.</p> + +<p>Of course there was great excitement among the +regular costumers of the city, and they all resolved +to vie with one another in being the most popular, and +the best patronized on this gala occasion. But the +placards and the notices had not been out a week before +a new Costumer appeared who cast all the others into +the shade directly. He set up his shop on the corner +of one of the principal streets, and hung up his beautiful +costumes in the windows. He was a little fellow, not +much bigger than a boy of ten. His cheeks were as +red as roses, and he had on a long curling wig as white +as snow. He wore a suit of crimson velvet knee-breeches, +and a little swallow-tailed coat with beautiful +golden buttons. Deep lace ruffles fell over his slender +white hands, and he wore elegant knee buckles of glittering +stones. He sat on a high stool behind his +counter and served his customers himself; he kept no +clerk.</p> + +<p>It did not take the children long to discover what +beautiful things he had, and how superior he was to the +other costumers, and they begun to flock to his shop +immediately, from the Mayor's daughter to the poor +ragpicker's. The children were to select their own +costumes; the Mayor had stipulated that. It was to +be a children's ball in every sense of the word.</p> + +<p>So they decided to be fairies and shepherdesses, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[21]</a></span> +princesses according to their own fancies; and this new +Costumer had charming costumes to suit them.</p> + +<p>It was noticeable that, for the most part, the children +of the rich, who had always had everything they desired, +would choose the parts of goose-girls and peasants and +such like; and the poor children jumped eagerly at the +chance of being princesses or fairies for a few hours in +their miserable lives.</p> + +<p>When Christmas Eve came and the children flocked +into the Mayor's mansion, whether it was owing to the +Costumer's art, or their own adaptation to the characters +they had chosen, it was wonderful how lifelike their +representations were. Those little fairies in their short +skirts of silken gauze, in which golden sparkles appeared +as they moved with their little funny gossamer wings, +like butterflies, looked like real fairies. It did not +seem possible, when they floated around to the music, +half supported on the tips of their dainty toes, half by +their filmy purple wings, their delicate bodies swaying +in time, that they could be anything but fairies. It +seemed absurd to imagine that they were Johnny +Mullens, the washerwoman's son, and Polly Flinders, +the charwoman's little girl, and so on.</p> + +<p>The Mayor's daughter, who had chosen the character +of a goose-girl, looked so like a true one that one could +hardly dream she ever was anything else. She was, +ordinarily, a slender, dainty little lady rather tall for +her age. She now looked very short and stubbed and +brown, just as if she had been accustomed to tend geese<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[22]</a></span> +in all sorts of weather. It was so with all the others—the +Red Riding-hoods, the princesses, the Bo-Peeps +and with every one of the characters who came to the +Mayor's ball; Red Riding-hood looked round, with big, +frightened eyes, all ready to spy the wolf, and carried +her little pat of butter and pot of honey gingerly in her +basket; Bo-Peep's eyes looked red with weeping for the +loss of her sheep; and the princesses swept about so +grandly in their splendid brocaded trains, and held +their crowned heads so high that people half-believed +them to be true princesses.</p> + +<p>But there never was anything like the fun at the +Mayor's Christmas ball. The fiddlers fiddled and +fiddled, and the children danced and danced on the +beautiful waxed floors. The Mayor, with his family +and a few grand guests, sat on a daïs covered with blue +velvet at one end of the dancing hall, and watched the +sport. They were all delighted. The Mayor's eldest +daughter sat in front and clapped her little soft white +hands. She was a tall, beautiful young maiden, and +wore a white dress, and a little cap woven of blue violets +on her yellow hair. Her name was Violetta.</p> + +<p>The supper was served at midnight—and such a +supper! The mountains of pink and white ices, and +the cakes with sugar castles and flower gardens on the +tops of them, and the charming shapes of gold and +ruby-coloured jellies. There were wonderful bonbons +which even the Mayor's daughter did not have every +day; and all sorts of fruits, fresh and candied. They<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[23]</a></span> +had cowslip wine in green glasses, and elderberry wine +in red, and they drank each other's health. The +glasses held a thimbleful each; the Mayor's wife thought +that was all the wine they ought to have. Under each +child's plate there was a pretty present and every one +had a basket of bonbons and cake to carry home.</p> + +<p>At four o'clock the fiddlers put up their fiddles and +the children went home; fairies and shepherdesses and +pages and princesses all jabbering gleefully about the +splendid time they had had.</p> + +<p>But in a short time what consternation there was +throughout the city. When the proud and fond parents +attempted to unbutton their children's dresses, in order +to prepare them for bed, not a single costume would +come off. The buttons buttoned again as fast as they +were unbuttoned; even if they pulled out a pin, in it +would slip again in a twinkling; and when a string was +untied it tied itself up again into a bowknot. The +parents were dreadfully frightened. But the children +were so tired out they finally let them go to bed in +their fancy costumes and thought perhaps they would +come off better in the morning. So Red Riding-hood +went to bed in her little red cloak holding fast to her +basket full of dainties for her grandmother, and Bo-Peep +slept with her crook in her hand.</p> + +<p>The children all went to bed readily enough, they +were so very tired, even though they had to go in this +strange array. All but the fairies—they danced and +pirouetted and would not be still.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[24]</a></span></p> + +<p>"We want to swing on the blades of grass," they kept +saying, "and play hide and seek in the lily cups, and +take a nap between the leaves of the roses."</p> + +<p>The poor charwomen and coal-heavers, whose +children the fairies were for the most part, stared at +them in great distress. They did not know what to do +with these radiant, frisky little creatures into which +their Johnnys and their Pollys and Betseys were so +suddenly transformed. But the fairies went to bed +quietly enough when daylight came, and were soon +fast asleep.</p> + +<p>There was no further trouble till twelve o'clock, +when all the children woke up. Then a great wave of +alarm spread over the city. Not one of the costumes +would come off then. The buttons buttoned as fast +as they were unbuttoned; the pins quilted themselves +in as fast as they were pulled out; and the strings flew +round like lightning and twisted themselves into bowknots +as fast as they were untied.</p> + +<p>And that was not the worst of it; every one of the +children seemed to have become, in reality, the character +which he or she had assumed.</p> + +<p>The Mayor's daughter declared she was going to tend +her geese out in the pasture, and the shepherdesses +sprang out of their little beds of down, throwing aside +their silken quilts, and cried that they must go out and +watch their sheep. The princesses jumped up from their +straw pallets, and wanted to go to court; and all the +rest of them likewise. Poor little Red Riding-hood<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[25]</a></span> +sobbed and sobbed because she couldn't go and carry +her basket to her grandmother, and as she didn't have +any grandmother she couldn't go, of course, and her +parents were very much troubled. It was all so +mysterious and dreadful. The news spread very +rapidly over the city, and soon a great crowd gathered +around the new Costumer's shop for every one thought +he must be responsible for all this mischief.</p> + +<p>The shop door was locked; but they soon battered it +down with stones. When they rushed in the Costumer +was not there; he had disappeared with all his wares. +Then they did not know what to do. But it was +evident that they must do something before long for +the state of affairs was growing worse and worse.</p> + +<p>The Mayor's little daughter braced her back up +against the tapestried wall, and planted her two feet +in their thick shoes firmly. "I will go and tend my +geese," she kept crying. "I won't eat my breakfast. +I won't go out in the park. I won't go to school. I'm +going to tend my geese—I will, I will, I will!"</p> + +<p>And the princesses trailed their rich trains over the +rough unpainted floors in their parents' poor little huts, +and held their crowned heads very high and demanded +to be taken to court. The princesses were mostly +geese-girls when they were their proper selves, and their +geese were suffering, and their poor parents did not +know what they were going to do and they wrung their +hands and wept as they gazed on their gorgeously +apparelled children.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[26]</a></span></p> + +<p>Finally the Mayor called a meeting of the Aldermen, +and they all assembled in the City Hall. Nearly every +one of them had a son or a daughter who was a chimney-sweep, +or a little watch-girl, or a shepherdess. They +appointed a chairman and they took a great many votes +and contrary votes but they did not agree on anything, +until every one proposed that they consult the Wise +Woman. Then they all held up their hands, and voted +to, unanimously.</p> + +<p>So the whole board of Aldermen set out, walking by +twos, with the Mayor at their head, to consult the Wise +Woman. The Aldermen were all very fleshy, and +carried gold-headed canes which they swung very high +at every step. They held their heads well back, and +their chins stiff, and whenever they met common people +they sniffed gently. They were very imposing.</p> + +<p>The Wise Woman lived in a little hut on the outskirts +of the city. She kept a Black Cat, except for +her, she was all alone. She was very old, and had +brought up a great many children, and she was considered +remarkably wise.</p> + +<p>But when the Aldermen reached her hut and found +her seated by the fire, holding her Black Cat, a new +difficulty presented itself. She had always been quite +deaf and people had been obliged to scream as loud as +they could in order to make her hear; but lately she had +grown much deafer, and when the Aldermen attempted +to lay the case before her she could not hear a word. +In fact, she was so very deaf that she could not distinguish<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[27]</a></span> +a tone below G-sharp. The Aldermen +screamed till they were quite red in the faces, but all +to no purpose: none of them could get up to G-sharp +of course.</p> + +<p>So the Aldermen all went back, swinging their gold-headed +canes, and they had another meeting in the +City Hall. Then they decided to send the highest +Soprano Singer in the church choir to the Wise Woman; +she could sing up to G-sharp just as easy as not. So +the high Soprano Singer set out for the Wise Woman's +in the Mayor's coach, and the Aldermen marched +behind, swinging their gold-headed canes.</p> + +<p>The High Soprano Singer put her head down close +to the Wise Woman's ear, and sung all about the +Christmas Masquerade and the dreadful dilemma +everybody was in, in G-sharp—she even went higher, +sometimes, and the Wise Woman heard every word. +She nodded three times, and every time she nodded she +looked wiser.</p> + +<p>"Go home, and give 'em a spoonful of castor-oil, all +'round," she piped up; then she took a pinch of snuff, +and wouldn't say any more.</p> + +<p>So the Aldermen went home, and every one took a +district and marched through it, with a servant carrying +an immense bowl and spoon, and every child had to +take a dose of castor-oil.</p> + +<p>But it didn't do a bit of good. The children cried +and struggled when they were forced to take the castor-oil; +but, two minutes afterward, the chimney-sweeps<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[28]</a></span> +were crying for their brooms, and the princesses screaming +because they couldn't go to court, and the Mayor's +daughter, who had been given a double dose, cried +louder and more sturdily: "I want to go and tend my +geese. I will go and tend my geese."</p> + +<p>So the Aldermen took the high Soprano Singer, and +they consulted the Wise Woman again. She was +taking a nap this time, and the Singer had to sing up +to B-flat before she could wake her. Then she was +very cross and the Black Cat put up his back and spit +at the Aldermen.</p> + +<p>"Give 'em a spanking all 'round," she snapped out, +"and if that don't work put 'em to bed without their +supper."</p> + +<p>Then the Aldermen marched back to try that; and +all the children in the city were spanked, and when that +didn't do any good they were put to bed without any +supper. But the next morning when they woke up +they were worse than ever.</p> + +<p>The Mayor and Aldermen were very indignant, and +considered that they had been imposed upon and +insulted. So they set out for the Wise Woman again, +with the high Soprano Singer.</p> + +<p>She sang in G-sharp how the Aldermen and the +Mayor considered her an impostor, and did not think +she was wise at all, and they wished her to take her +Black Cat and move beyond the limits of the city. +She sang it beautifully; it sounded like the very finest +Italian opera music.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[29]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Deary me," piped the Wise Woman, when she had +finished, "how very grand these gentlemen are." +Her Black Cat put up his back and spit.</p> + +<p>"Five times one Black Cat are five Black Cats," +said the Wise Woman. And directly there were five +Black Cats spitting and miauling.</p> + +<p>"Five times five Black Cats are twenty-five Black +Cats." And then there were twenty-five of the angry +little beasts.</p> + +<p>"Five times twenty-five Black Cats are one hundred +and twenty-five Black Cats," added the Wise Woman +with a chuckle.</p> + +<p>Then the Mayor and the Aldermen and the high +Soprano Singer fled precipitately out the door and back +to the city. One hundred and twenty-five Black Cats +had seemed to fill the Wise Woman's hut full, and when +they all spit and miauled together it was dreadful. +The visitors could not wait for her to multiply Black +Cats any longer.</p> + +<p>As winter wore on and spring came, the condition of +things grew more intolerable. Physicians had been +consulted, who advised that the children should be +allowed to follow their own bents, for fear of injury +to their constitutions. So the rich Aldermen's daughters +were actually out in the fields herding sheep, and +their sons sweeping chimneys or carrying newspapers; +and while the poor charwomen's and coal-heavers +children spent their time like princesses and fairies. +Such a topsy-turvy state of society was shocking.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[30]</a></span> +While the Mayor's little daughter was tending geese +out in the meadow like any common goose-girl, her +pretty elder sister, Violetta, felt very sad about it and +used often to cast about in her mind for some way of +relief.</p> + +<p>When cherries were ripe in spring, Violetta thought +she would ask the Cherry-man about it. She thought +the Cherry-man quite wise. He was a very pretty +young fellow, and he brought cherries to sell in graceful +little straw baskets lined with moss. So she stood in +the kitchen door one morning and told him all about +the great trouble that had come upon the city. He +listened in great astonishment; he had never heard of +it before. He lived several miles out in the country.</p> + +<p>"How did the Costumer look?" he asked respectfully; +he thought Violetta the most beautiful lady on earth.</p> + +<p>Then Violetta described the Costumer, and told him +of the unavailing attempts that had been made to find +him. There were a great many detectives out, constantly +at work.</p> + +<p>"I know where he is!" said the Cherry-man. "He's +up in one of my cherry-trees. He's been living there +ever since cherries were ripe, and he won't come down."</p> + +<p>Then Violetta ran and told her father in great excitement, +and he at once called a meeting of the Aldermen, +and in a few hours half the city was on the road to the +Cherry-man's.</p> + +<p>He had a beautiful orchard of cherry-trees all laden +with fruit. And, sure enough in one of the largest,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[31]</a></span> +way up amongst the topmost branches, sat the Costumer +in his red velvet and short clothes and his diamond +knee-buckles. He looked down between the +green boughs. "Good-morning, friends!" he shouted.</p> + +<p>The Aldermen shook their gold-headed canes at him, +and the people danced round the tree in a rage. Then +they began to climb. But they soon found that to be +impossible. As fast as they touched a hand or foot +to a tree, back it flew with a jerk exactly as if the tree +pushed it. They tried a ladder, but the ladder fell back +the moment it touched the tree, and lay sprawling upon +the ground. Finally, they brought axes and thought +they could chop the tree down, Costumer and all; but +the wood resisted the axes as if it were iron, and only +dented them, receiving no impression itself.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile, the Costumer sat up in the tree, eating +cherries and throwing the stones down. Finally he +stood up on a stout branch, and, looking down, +addressed the people.</p> + +<p>"It's of no use, your trying to accomplish anything +in this way," said he; "you'd better parley. I'm +willing to come to terms with you, and make everything +right on two conditions."</p> + +<p>The people grew quiet then, and the Mayor stepped +forward as spokesman, "Name your two conditions," +said he rather testily. "You own, tacitly, that you are +the cause of all this trouble."</p> + +<p>"Well," said the Costumer, reaching out for a handful +of cherries, "this Christmas Masquerade of yours<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[32]</a></span> +was a beautiful idea; but you wouldn't do it every year, +and your successors might not do it at all. I want +those poor children to have a Christmas every year. +My first condition is that every poor child in the city +hangs its stocking for gifts in the City Hall on every +Christmas Eve, and gets it filled, too. I want the +resolution filed and put away in the city archives."</p> + +<p>"We agree to the first condition!" cried the people +with one voice, without waiting for the Mayor and +Aldermen.</p> + +<p>"The second condition," said the Costumer, "is that +this good young Cherry-man here has the Mayor's +daughter, Violetta, for his wife. He has been kind to +me, letting me live in his cherry-tree and eat his cherries +and I want to reward him."</p> + +<p>"We consent," cried all the people; but the Mayor, +though he was so generous, was a proud man. "I will +not consent to the second condition," he cried angrily.</p> + +<p>"Very well," replied the Costumer, picking some +more cherries, "then your youngest daughter tends +geese the rest of her life, that's all."</p> + +<p>The Mayor was in great distress; but the thought of +his youngest daughter being a goose-girl all her life was +too much for him. He gave in at last.</p> + +<p>"Now go home and take the costumes off your +children," said the Costumer, "and leave me in peace +to eat cherries."</p> + +<p>Then the people hastened back to the city, and found, +to their great delight, that the costumes would come<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[33]</a></span> +off. The pins stayed out, the buttons stayed unbuttoned, +and the strings stayed untied. The children were +dressed in their own proper clothes and were their own +proper selves once more. The shepherdesses and the +chimney-sweeps came home, and were washed and +dressed in silks and velvets, and went to embroidering +and playing lawn-tennis. And the princesses and the +fairies put on their own suitable dresses, and went about +their useful employments. There was great rejoicing in +every home. Violetta thought she had never been so +happy, now that her dear little sister was no longer a +goose-girl, but her own dainty little lady-self.</p> + +<p>The resolution to provide every poor child in the city +with a stocking full of gifts on Christmas was solemnly +filed, and deposited in the city archives, and was +never broken.</p> + +<p>Violetta was married to the Cherry-man, and all the +children came to the wedding, and strewed flowers in +her path till her feet were quite hidden in them. The +Costumer had mysteriously disappeared from the +cherry-tree the night before, but he left at the foot some +beautiful wedding presents for the bride—a silver +service with a pattern of cherries engraved on it, and a +set of china with cherries on it, in hand painting, and +a white satin robe, embroidered with cherries down +the front.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[34]</a></span></p> +<h2>IV</h2> + +<h3>THE SHEPHERDS AND THE ANGELS</h3> + +<div class='center'>ADAPTED FROM THE BIBLE<br /><br /></div> + + +<div class='cap'>AND there were shepherds in the same country +abiding in the field, and keeping watch by night +over their flock. And an angel of the Lord stood by +them and the glory of the Lord shone round about +them: and they were sore afraid. And the angel said +unto them, Be not afraid; for, behold, I bring you good +tidings of great joy which shall be to all the people: for +there is born to you this day in the city of David a +Saviour, which is Christ the Lord. And this is the sign +unto you; ye shall find a babe wrapped in swaddling +clothes, and lying in a manger. And suddenly there +was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host +praising God and saying:</div> + +<div class='poem'> +Glory to God in the highest,<br /> +And on earth peace,<br /> +Good will toward men.<br /> +</div> + +<p>And it came to pass, when the angels went away from +them into heaven, the shepherds said one to another, +Let us now go even unto Bethlehem, and see this thing +that is come to pass, which the Lord hath made known<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[35]</a></span> +unto us. And they came with haste, and found Mary +and Joseph and the babe lying in the manger. And +when they saw it, they made known concerning the +saying which was spoken to them about this child. +And all that heard it wondered at the things which +were spoken unto them by the shepherds. But Mary +kept all these sayings, pondering them in her heart. +And the shepherds returned glorifying and praising +God for all the things that they had heard and seen, +even as it was spoken unto them.</p> + +<p>And when eight days were fulfilled his name was +called</p> + +<div class='center'> +JESUS<br /> +</div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[36]</a></span></p> +<h2>V</h2> + +<h3>THE TELLTALE TILE<a name="FNanchor_C_3" id="FNanchor_C_3"></a><a href="#Footnote_C_3" class="fnanchor">[C]</a></h3> + +<div class='center'>OLIVE THORNE MILLER<br /><br /></div> + + +<div class='cap'>IT BEGINS with a bit of gossip of a neighbour who +had come in to see Miss Bennett, and was telling +her about a family who had lately moved into the place +and were in serious trouble. "And they do say she'll +have to go to the poorhouse," she ended.</div> + +<p>"To the poorhouse! how dreadful! And the children, +too?" and Miss Bennett shuddered.</p> + +<p>"Yes; unless somebody'll adopt them, and that's +not very likely. Well, I must go," the visitor went +on, rising. "I wish I could do something for her, but, +with my houseful of children, I've got use for every +penny I can rake and scrape."</p> + +<p>"I'm sure I have, with only myself," said Miss +Bennett, as she closed the door. "I'm sure I have," +she repeated to herself as she resumed her knitting; +"it's as much as I can do to make ends meet, scrimping +as I do, not to speak of laying up a cent for sickness +and old age."</p> + +<p>"But the poorhouse!" she said again. "I wish I +could help her!" and the needles flew in and out, in and +out, faster than ever, as she turned this over in her<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[37]</a></span> +mind. "I might give up something," she said at last, +"though I don't know what, unless—unless," she said +slowly, thinking of her one luxury, "unless I give up +my tea, and it don't seem as if I <i>could</i> do that."</p> + +<p>Some time the thought worked in her mind, and +finally she resolved to make the sacrifice of her only +indulgence for six months, and send the money to her +suffering neighbour, Mrs. Stanley, though she had +never seen her, and she had only heard she was in +want.</p> + +<p>How much of a sacrifice that was you can hardly +guess, you, Kristy, who have so many luxuries.</p> + +<p>That evening Mrs. Stanley was surprised by a small +gift of money "from a friend," as was said on the envelope +containing it.</p> + +<p>"Who sent it?" she asked, from the bed where she +was lying.</p> + +<p>"Miss Bennett told me not to tell," said the boy, +unconscious that he had already told.</p> + +<p>The next day Miss Bennett sat at the window knitting, +as usual—for her constant contribution to the +poor fund of the church was a certain number of stockings +and mittens—when she saw a young girl coming +up to the door of the cottage.</p> + +<p>"Who can that be?" she said to herself. "I never +saw her before. Come in!" she called, in answer to a +knock. The girl entered, and walked up to Miss +Bennett.</p> + +<p>"Are you Miss Bennett?" she asked.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[38]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Yes," said Miss Bennett with an amused smile.</p> + +<p>"Well, I'm Hetty Stanley."</p> + +<p>Miss Bennett started, and her colour grew a little +brighter.</p> + +<p>"I'm glad to see you, Hetty," she said "won't you +sit down?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, if you please," said Hetty, taking a chair +near her.</p> + +<p>"I came to tell you how much we love you +for——"</p> + +<p>"Oh, don't! don't say any more!" interrupted Miss +Bennett; "never mind that! Tell me about your +mother and your baby brother."</p> + +<p>This was an interesting subject, and they talked +earnestly about it. The time passed so quickly that, +before she knew it, she had been in the house an hour. +When she went away Miss Bennett asked her to come +again, a thing she had never been known to do before, +for she was not fond of young people in general.</p> + +<p>"But, then, Hetty's different," she said to herself, +when wondering at her own interest.</p> + +<p>"Did you thank kind Miss Bennett?" was her +mother's question as Hetty opened the door.</p> + +<p>Hetty stopped as if struck, "Why, no! I don't +think I did."</p> + +<p>"And stayed so long, too? Whatever did you do? +I've heard she isn't fond of people generally."</p> + +<p>"We talked; and—I think she's ever so nice. She +asked me to come again; may I?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[39]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Of course you may, if she cares to have you. I +should be glad to do something to please her."</p> + +<p>That visit of Hetty's was the first of a long series. +Almost every day she found her way to the lonely +cottage, where a visitor rarely came, and a strange +intimacy grew up between the old and the young. +Hetty learned of her friend to knit, and many an hour +they spent knitting while Miss Bennett ransacked her +memory for stories to tell. And then, one day, she +brought down from a big chest in the garret two of the +books she used to have when she was young, and let +Hetty look at them.</p> + +<p>One was "Thaddeus of Warsaw," and the other +"Scottish Chiefs." Poor Hetty had not the dozens of +books you have, and these were treasures indeed. +She read them to herself, and she read them aloud to +Miss Bennett, who, much to her own surprise, found +her interest almost as eager as Hetty's.</p> + +<p>All this time Christmas was drawing near, and strange, +unusual feelings began to stir in Miss Bennett's +heart, though generally she did not think much about +that happy time. She wanted to make Hetty a happy +day. Money she had none, so she went into the garret, +where her youthful treasures had long been hidden. +From the chest from which she had taken the books +she now took a small box of light-coloured wood, with a +transferred engraving on the cover. With a sigh—for +the sight of it brought up old memories—Miss +Bennett lifted the cover by its loop of ribbon, took out<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[40]</a></span> +a package of old letters, and went downstairs with the +box, taking also a few bits of bright silk from a bundle +in the chest.</p> + +<p>"I can fit it up for a workbox," she said, "and I'm +sure Hetty will like it."</p> + +<p>For many days after this Miss Bennett had her +secret work, which she carefully hid when she saw +Hetty coming. Slowly, in this way, she made a pretty +needle-book, a tiny pincushion, and an emery bag like +a big strawberry. Then from her own scanty stock +she added needles, pins, thread, and her only pair of +small scissors, scoured to the last extreme of brightness. +One thing only she had to buy—a thimble, and that +she bought for a penny, of brass so bright it was quite +as handsome as gold.</p> + +<p>Very pretty the little box looked when full; in the +bottom lay a quilted lining, which had always been +there, and upon this the fittings she had made. Besides +this, Miss Bennett knit a pair of mittens for each +of Hetty's brothers and sisters.</p> + +<p>The happiest girl in town on Christmas morning was +Hetty Stanley. To begin with, she had the delight of +giving the mittens to the children, and when she ran +over to tell Miss Bennett how pleased they were, she +was surprised by the present of the odd little workbox +and its pretty contents.</p> + +<p>Christmas was over all too soon, and New Year's, +and it was about the middle of January that the time +came which, all her life, Miss Bennett had dreaded—the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[41]</a></span> +time when she should be helpless. She had not +money enough to hire a girl, and so the only thing she +could imagine when that day should come was her +special horror—the poorhouse.</p> + +<p>But that good deed of hers had already borne fruit, +and was still bearing. When Hetty came over one day, +and found her dear friend lying on the floor as if dead, +she was dreadfully frightened, of course, but she ran +after the neighbours and the doctor, and bustled about +the house as if she belonged to it.</p> + +<p>Miss Bennett was not dead—she had a slight stroke +of paralysis; and though she was soon better, and +would be able to talk, and probably to knit, and +possibly to get about the house, she would never be able +to live alone and do everything for herself, as she had +done.</p> + +<p>So the doctor told the neighbours who came in to +help, and so Hetty heard, as she listened eagerly +for news.</p> + +<p>"Of course she can't live here any longer; she'll have +to go to a hospital," said one woman.</p> + +<p>"Or to the poorhouse, more likely," said another.</p> + +<p>"She'll hate that," said the first speaker. "I've +heard her shudder over the poorhouse."</p> + +<p>"She shall never go there!" declared Hetty, with +blazing eyes.</p> + +<p>"Hoity-toity! who's to prevent?" asked the second +speaker, turning a look of disdain on Hetty.</p> + +<p>"I am," was the fearless answer. "I know all<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[42]</a></span> +Miss Bennett's ways, and I can take care of her, and +I will," went on Hetty indignantly; and turning suddenly, +she was surprised to find Miss Bennett's eyes +fixed on her with an eager, questioning look.</p> + +<p>"There! she understands! she's better!" cried +Hetty. "Mayn't I stay and take care of you, dear +Miss Bennett?" she asked, running up to the bed.</p> + +<p>"Yes, you may," interrupted the doctor, seeing the +look in his patient's face; "but you mustn't agitate her +now. And now, my good women"—turning to the +others—"I think she can get along with her young +friend here, whom I happen to know is a womanly +young girl, and will be attentive and careful."</p> + +<p>They took the hint and went away, and the doctor +gave directions to Hetty what to do, telling her she +must not leave Miss Bennett. So she was now regularly +installed as nurse and housekeeper.</p> + +<p>Days and weeks rolled by. Miss Bennett was able +to be up in her chair, to talk and knit, and to walk +about the house, but was not able to be left alone. +Indeed, she had a horror of being left alone; she could +not bear Hetty out of her sight, and Hetty's mother +was very willing to spare her, for she had many mouths +to fill.</p> + +<p>To provide food for two out of what had been +scrimping for one was a problem; but Miss Bennett ate +very little, and she did not resume her tea so they +managed to get along and not really suffer.</p> + +<p>One day Hetty sat by the fire with her precious box<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[43]</a></span> +on her knee, which she was putting to rights for the +twentieth time. The box was empty, and her sharp +young eyes noticed a little dust on the silk lining.</p> + +<p>"I think I'll take this out and dust it," she said to +Miss Bennett, "if you don't mind."</p> + +<p>"Do as you like with it," answered Miss Bennett; +"it is yours."</p> + +<p>So she carefully lifted the silk, which stuck a little.</p> + +<p>"Why, here's something under it," she said—"an +old paper, and it has writing on."</p> + +<p>"Bring it to me," said Miss Bennett; "perhaps it's +a letter I have forgotten."</p> + +<p>Hetty brought it.</p> + +<p>"Why, it's father's writing!" said Miss Bennett, +looking closely at the faded paper; "and what can it +mean? I never saw it before. It says, 'Look, and +ye shall find'—that's a Bible text. And what is this +under it? 'A word to the wise is sufficient.' I don't +understand—he must have put it there himself, for +I never took that lining out—I thought it was fastened. +What can it mean?" and she pondered over +it long, and all day seemed absent-minded.</p> + +<p>After tea, when they sat before the kitchen fire, as +they always did, with only the firelight flickering and +dancing on the walls while they knitted, or told stories, +or talked, she told Hetty about her father: that they +had lived comfortably in this house, which he built, +and that everybody supposed that he had plenty of +money, and would leave enough to take care of his only<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[44]</a></span> +child, but that when he died suddenly nothing had been +found, and nothing ever had been, from that day to +this.</p> + +<p>"Part of the place I let to John Thompson, Hetty, +and that rent is all I have to live on. I don't know +what makes me think of old times so to-night."</p> + +<p>"I know," said Hetty; "it's that paper, and I know +what it reminds me of," she suddenly shouted, in a way +very unusual with her. "It's that tile over there," +and she jumped up and ran to the side of the fireplace, +and put her hand on the tile she meant.</p> + +<p>On each side of the fireplace was a row of tiles. They +were Bible subjects, and Miss Bennett had often told +Hetty the story of each one, and also the stories she +used to make up about them when she was young. +The one Hetty had her hand on now bore the picture +of a woman standing before a closed door, and below +her the words of the yellow bit of paper: "Look, and +ye shall find."</p> + +<p>"I always felt there was something different about +that," said Hetty eagerly, "and you know you told +me your father talked to you about it—about what +to seek in the world when he was gone away, and other +things."</p> + +<p>"Yes, so he did," said Miss Bennett thoughtfully; +"come to think of it, he said a great deal about it, and +in a meaning way. I don't understand it," she said +slowly, turning it over in her mind.</p> + +<p>"I do!" cried Hetty, enthusiastically. "I believe<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[45]</a></span> +you are to seek here! I believe it's loose!" and she +tried to shake it. "It <i>is</i> loose!" she cried excitedly. +"Oh, Miss Bennett, may I take it out?"</p> + +<p>Miss Bennett had turned deadly pale. "Yes," she +gasped, hardly knowing what she expected, or dared +to hope.</p> + +<p>A sudden push from Hetty's strong fingers, and the +tile slipped out at one side and fell to the floor. Behind +it was an opening into the brickwork. Hetty thrust +in her hand.</p> + +<p>"There's something in there!" she said in an awed +tone.</p> + +<p>"A light!" said Miss Bennett hoarsely.</p> + +<p>There was not a candle in the house, but Hetty +seized a brand from the fire, and held it up and +looked in.</p> + +<p>"It looks like bags—tied up," she cried. "Oh, +come here yourself!"</p> + +<p>The old woman hobbled over and thrust her hand +into the hole, bringing out what was once a bag, but +which crumpled to pieces in her hands, and with it—oh, +wonder!—a handful of gold pieces, which fell with +a jingle on the hearth, and rolled every way.</p> + +<p>"My father's money! Oh, Hetty!" was all she could +say, and she seized a chair to keep from falling, while +Hetty was nearly wild, and talked like a crazy person.</p> + +<p>"Oh, goody! goody! now you can have things to eat! +and we can have a candle! and you won't have to go +to the poorhouse!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[46]</a></span></p> + +<p>"No, indeed, you dear child!" cried Miss Bennett +who had found her voice. "Thanks to you—you +blessing!—I shall be comfortable now the rest of +my days. And you! oh! I shall never forget you! +Through you has everything good come to me."</p> + +<p>"Oh, but you have been so good to me, dear Miss +Bennett!"</p> + +<p>"I should never have guessed it, you precious child! +If it had not been for your quickness I should have died +and never found it."</p> + +<p>"And if you hadn't given me the box, it might have +rusted away in that chest."</p> + +<p>"Thank God for everything, child! Take money +out of my purse and go buy a candle. We need not +save it for bread now. Oh, child!" she interrupted +herself, "do you know, we shall have everything we +want to-morrow. Go! Go! I want to see how much +there is."</p> + +<p>The candle bought, the gold was taken out and +counted, and proved to be more than enough to give +Miss Bennett a comfortable income without touching +the principal. It was put back, and the tile replaced, +as the safest place to keep it till morning, when Miss +Bennett intended to put it into a bank.</p> + +<p>But though they went to bed, there was not a wink +of sleep for Miss Bennett, for planning what she would +do. There were a thousand things she wanted to do +first. To get clothes for Hetty, to brighten up the old +house, to hire a girl to relieve Hetty, so that the dear<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[47]</a></span> +child should go to school, to train her into a noble +woman—all her old ambitions and wishes for herself +sprang into life for Hetty. For not a thought of her +future life was separate from Hetty.</p> + +<p>In a very short time everything was changed in +Miss Bennett's cottage. She had publicly adopted +Hetty, and announced her as her heir. A girl had been +installed in the kitchen, and Hetty, in pretty new +clothes, had begun school. Fresh paint inside and out, +with many new comforts, made the old house charming +and bright. But nothing could change the pleasant +and happy relations between the two friends, and a +more contented and cheerful household could not be +found anywhere.</p> + +<p>Happiness is a wonderful doctor and Miss Bennett +grew so much better, that she could travel, and when +Hetty had finished school days, they saw a little of the +world before they settled down to a quiet, useful life.</p> + +<p>"Every comfort on earth I owe to you," said Hetty, +one day, when Miss Bennett had proposed some new +thing to add to her enjoyment.</p> + +<p>"Ah, dear Hetty! how much do I owe to you! But +for you, I should, no doubt, be at this moment a shivering +pauper in that terrible poorhouse, while some one +else would be living in this dear old house. And it all +comes," she added softly, "of that one unselfish +thought, of that one self-denial for others."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[48]</a></span></p> +<h2>VI</h2> + +<h3>LITTLE GIRL'S CHRISTMAS</h3> + +<div class='center'>WINNIFRED E. LINCOLN<br /><br /></div> + + +<div class='cap'>IT WAS Christmas Eve, and Little Girl had just +hung up her stocking by the fireplace—right where +it would be all ready for Santa when he slipped down +the chimney. She knew he was coming, because—well, +because it was Christmas Eve, and because he +always had come to leave gifts for her on all the other +Christmas Eves that she could remember, and because +she had seen his pictures everywhere down town that +afternoon when she was out with Mother.</div> + +<p>Still, she wasn't <i>just</i> satisfied. 'Way down in her +heart she was a little uncertain—you see, when you +have never really and truly seen a person with your +very own eyes, it's hard to feel as if you exactly believed +in him—even though that person always has left +beautiful gifts for you every time he has come.</p> + +<p>"Oh, he'll come," said Little Girl; "I just know he +will be here before morning, but somehow I wish——"</p> + +<p>"Well, what do you wish?" said a Tiny Voice close +by her—so close that Little Girl fairly jumped when +she heard it.</p> + +<p>"Why, I wish I could <i>see</i> Santa myself. I'd just<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[49]</a></span> +like to go and see his house and his workshop, and ride +in his sleigh, and know Mrs. Santa—'twould be such +fun, and then I'd <i>know</i> for sure."</p> + +<p>"Why don't you go, then?" said Tiny Voice. "It's +easy enough. Just try on these Shoes, and take this +Light in your hand, and you'll find your way all right."</p> + +<p>So Little Girl looked down on the hearth, and there +were two cunning little Shoes side by side, and a little +Spark of a Light close to them—just as if they were +all made out of one of the glowing coals of the wood-fire. +Such cunning Shoes as they were—Little Girl +could hardly wait to pull off her slippers and try them +on. They looked as if they were too small, but they +weren't—they fitted exactly right, and just as Little +Girl had put them both on and had taken the Light in +her hand, along came a little Breath of Wind, and away +she went up the chimney, along with ever so many +other little Sparks, past the Soot Fairies, and out into +the Open Air, where Jack Frost and the Star Beams +were all busy at work making the world look pretty +for Christmas.</p> + +<p>Away went Little Girl—Two Shoes, Bright Light, +and all—higher and higher, until she looked like a +wee bit of a star up in the sky. It was the funniest +thing, but she seemed to know the way perfectly, and +didn't have to stop to make inquiries anywhere. You +see it was a straight road all the way, and when one +doesn't have to think about turning to the right or the +left, it makes things very much easier. Pretty soon<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[50]</a></span> +Little Girl noticed that there was a bright light all +around her—oh, a very bright light—and right +away something down in her heart began to make her +feel very happy indeed. She didn't know that the +Christmas spirits and little Christmas fairies were all +around her and even right inside her, because she +couldn't see a single one of them, even though her eyes +were very bright and could usually see a great deal.</p> + +<p>But that was just it, and Little Girl felt as if she +wanted to laugh and sing and be glad. It made her +remember the Sick Boy who lived next door, and she +said to herself that she would carry him one of her +prettiest picture-books in the morning, so that he +could have something to make him happy all day. +By and by, when the bright light all around her had +grown very, very much brighter, Little Girl saw a path +right in front of her, all straight and trim, leading up a +hill to a big, big house with ever and ever so many +windows in it. When she had gone just a bit nearer, +she saw candles in every window, red and green and +yellow ones, and every one burning brightly, so Little +Girl knew right away that these were Christmas +candles to light her on her journey, and make the way +clear for her, and something told her that this was +Santa's house, and that pretty soon she would perhaps +see Santa himself.</p> + +<p>Just as she neared the steps and before she could +possibly have had time to ring the bell, the door opened—opened +of itself as wide as could be—and there<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[51]</a></span> +stood—not Santa himself—don't think it—but +a funny Little Man with slender little legs and a roly-poly +stomach which shook every now and then when he +laughed. You would have known right away, just as +Little Girl knew, that he was a very happy little man, +and you would have guessed right away, too, that the +reason he was so roly-poly was because he laughed and +chuckled and smiled all the time—for it's only sour, +cross folks who are thin and skimpy. Quick as a +wink, he pulled off his little peaked red cap, smiled the +broadest kind of a smile, and said, "Merry Christmas! +Merry Christmas! Come in! Come in!"</p> + +<p>So in went Little Girl, holding fast to Little Man's +hand, and when she was really inside there was the +jolliest, reddest fire all glowing and snapping, and there +were Little Man and all his brothers and sisters, who +said their names were "Merry Christmas," and "Good +Cheer," and ever so many other jolly-sounding things, +and there were such a lot of them that Little Girl just +knew she never could count them, no matter how long +she tried.</p> + +<p>All around her were bundles and boxes and piles of +toys and games, and Little Girl knew that these were +all ready and waiting to be loaded into Santa's big +sleigh for his reindeer to whirl them away over cloud-tops +and snowdrifts to the little people down below +who had left their stockings all ready for him. Pretty +soon all the little Good Cheer Brothers began to hurry +and bustle and carry out the bundles as fast as they<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[52]</a></span> +could to the steps where Little Girl could hear the jingling +bells and the stamping of hoofs. So Little Girl +picked up some bundles and skipped along too, for she +wanted to help a bit herself—it's no fun whatever at +Christmas unless you can help, you know—and there +in the yard stood the <i>biggest</i> sleigh that Little Girl +had ever seen, and the reindeer were all stamping and +prancing and jingling the bells on their harnesses, +because they were so eager to be on their way to the +Earth once more.</p> + +<p>She could hardly wait for Santa to come, and just as +she had begun to wonder where he was, the door opened +again and out came a whole forest of Christmas trees, +at least it looked just as if a whole forest had started +out for a walk somewhere, but a second glance showed +Little Girl that there were thousands of Christmas +sprites, and that each one carried a tree or a big Christmas +wreath on his back. Behind them all, she could +hear some one laughing loudly, and talking in a big, +jovial voice that sounded as if he were good friends +with the whole world.</p> + +<p>And straightway she knew that Santa himself was +coming. Little Girl's heart went pit-a-pat for a minute +while she wondered if Santa would notice her, but she +didn't have to wonder long, for he spied her at once +and said:</p> + +<p>"Bless my soul! who's this? and where did you +come from?"</p> + +<p>Little Girl thought perhaps she might be afraid to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[53]</a></span> +answer him, but she wasn't one bit afraid. You see he +had such a kind little twinkle in his eyes that she felt +happy right away as she replied, "Oh, I'm Little Girl, +and I wanted so much to see Santa that I just came, +and here I am!"</p> + +<p>"Ho, ho, ho, ho, ho!" laughed Santa, "and here you +are! Wanted to see Santa, did you, and so you came! +Now that's very nice, and it's too bad I'm in such a +hurry, for we should like nothing better than to show +you about and give you a real good time. But you see +it is quarter of twelve now, and I must be on my way +at once, else I'll never reach that first chimney-top by +midnight. I'd call Mrs. Santa and ask her to get you +some supper, but she is busy finishing dolls' clothes +which must be done before morning, and I guess we'd +better not bother her. Is there anything that you +would like, Little Girl?" and good old Santa put his +big warm hand on Little Girl's curls and she felt its +warmth and kindness clear down to her very heart. +You see, my dears, that even though Santa was in such +a great hurry, he wasn't too busy to stop and make +some one happy for a minute, even if it was some one +no bigger than Little Girl.</p> + +<p>So she smiled back into Santa's face and said: "Oh, +Santa, if I could <i>only</i> ride down to Earth with you +behind those splendid reindeer! I'd love to go; won't +you <i>please</i> take me? I'm so small that I won't take +up much room on the seat, and I'll keep very still and +not bother one bit!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[54]</a></span></p> + +<p>Then Santa laughed, <i>such</i> a laugh, big and loud and +rollicking, and he said, "Wants a ride, does she? Well, +well, shall we take her, Little Elves? Shall we take her, +Little Fairies? Shall we take her, Good Reindeer?"</p> + +<p>And all the Little Elves hopped and skipped and +brought Little Girl a sprig of holly; and all the Little +Fairies bowed and smiled and brought her a bit of +mistletoe; and all the Good Reindeer jingled their bells +loudly, which meant, "Oh, yes! let's take her! She's +a good Little Girl! Let her ride!" And before Little +Girl could even think, she found herself all tucked up +in the big fur robes beside Santa, and away they went, +right out into the air, over the clouds, through the +Milky Way, and right under the very handle of the +Big Dipper, on, on, toward the Earthland, whose lights +Little Girl began to see twinkling away down below +her. Presently she felt the runners scrape upon something, +and she knew they must be on some one's roof, +and that Santa would slip down some one's chimney +in a minute.</p> + +<p>How she wanted to go, too! You see if you had +never been down a chimney and seen Santa fill up the +stockings, you would want to go quite as much as +Little Girl did, now, wouldn't you? So, just as Little +Girl was wishing as hard as ever she could wish, she +heard a Tiny Voice say, "Hold tight to his arm! Hold +tight to his arm!" So she held Santa's arm tight and +close, and he shouldered his pack, never thinking that +it was heavier than usual, and with a bound and a slide,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[55]</a></span> +there they were, Santa, Little Girl, pack and all, right +in the middle of a room where there was a fireplace +and stockings all hung up for Santa to fill.</p> + +<p>Just then Santa noticed Little Girl. He had forgotten +all about her for a minute, and he was very +much surprised to find that she had come, too. "Bless +my soul!" he said, "where did you come from, Little +Girl? and how in the world can we both get back up +that chimney again? It's easy enough to slide down, +but it's quite another matter to climb up again!" and +Santa looked real worried. But Little Girl was beginning +to feel very tired by this time, for she had had a +very exciting evening, so she said, "Oh, never mind me, +Santa. I've had such a good time, and I'd just as soon +stay here a while as not. I believe I'll curl up on <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'his'">this</ins> +hearth-rug a few minutes and have a little nap, for it +looks as warm and cozy as our own hearth-rug at home, +and—why, it <i>is</i> our own hearth and it's my own +nursery, for there is Teddy Bear in his chair where I +leave him every night, and there's Bunny Cat curled +up on his cushion in the corner."</p> + +<p>And Little Girl turned to thank Santa and say good-bye +to him, but either he had gone very quickly, or else +she had fallen asleep very quickly—she never could +tell which—for the next thing she knew, Daddy was +holding her in his arms and was saying, "What is my +Little Girl doing here? She must go to bed, for it's +Christmas Eve, and old Santa won't come if he thinks +there are any little folks about."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[56]</a></span></p> + +<p>But Little Girl knew better than that, and when she +began to tell him all about it, and how the Christmas +fairies had welcomed her, and how Santa had given +her such a fine ride, Daddy laughed and laughed, and +said, "You've been dreaming, Little Girl, you've +been dreaming."</p> + +<p>But Little Girl knew better than that, too, for there +on the hearth was the little Black Coal, which had given +her Two Shoes and Bright Light, and tight in her hand +she held a holly berry which one of the Christmas +Sprites had placed there. More than all that, there +she was on the hearth-rug herself, just as Santa had +left her, and that was the best proof of all.</p> + +<p>The trouble was, Daddy himself had never been a +Little Girl, so he couldn't tell anything about it, but +we know she hadn't been dreaming, now, don't we, +my dears?</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[57]</a></span></p> +<h2>VII</h2> + +<h3>"A CHRISTMAS MATINEE"<a name="FNanchor_D_4" id="FNanchor_D_4"></a><a href="#Footnote_D_4" class="fnanchor">[D]</a></h3> + +<div class='center'>MRS. M. A. L. LANE<br /><br /></div> + + +<div class='cap'>IT WAS the day before Christmas in the year +189—. Snow was falling heavily in the streets +of Boston, but the crowd of shoppers seemed undiminished. +As the storm increased, groups gathered at +the corners and in sheltering doorways to wait for belated +cars; but the holiday cheer was in the air, and +there was no grumbling. Mothers dragging tired +children through the slush of the streets; pretty girls +hurrying home for the holidays; here and there a +harassed-looking man with perhaps a single package +which he had taken a whole morning to select—all +had the same spirit of tolerant good-humor.</div> + +<p>"School Street! School Street!" called the conductor +of an electric car. A group of young people at the farther +end of the car started to their feet. One of them, +a young man wearing a heavy fur-trimmed coat, +addressed the conductor angrily.</p> + +<p>"I said, 'Music Hall,' didn't I?" he demanded. +"Now we've got to walk back in the snow because of +your stupidity!"</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[58]</a></span></p> +<p>"Oh, never mind, Frank!" one of the girls interposed. +"We ought to have been looking out ourselves! Six +of us, and we went by without a thought! It is all +Mrs. Tirrell's fault! She shouldn't have been so entertaining!"</p> + +<p>The young matron dimpled and blushed. "That's +charming of you, Maidie," she said, gathering up her +silk skirts as she prepared to step down into the pond +before her. "The compliment makes up for the blame. +But how it snows!"</p> + +<p>"It doesn't matter. We all have gaiters on," returned +Maidie Williams, undisturbed.</p> + +<p>"Fares, please!" said the conductor stolidly.</p> + +<p>Frank Armstrong thrust his gloved hand deep into +his pocket with angry vehemence. "There's your +money," he said, "and be quick about the change, will +you? We've lost time enough!"</p> + +<p>The man counted out the change with stiff, red +fingers, closed his lips firmly as if to keep back an +obvious rejoinder, rang up the six fares with careful +accuracy, and gave the signal to go ahead. The car +went on into the drifting storm.</p> + +<p>Armstrong laughed shortly as he rapidly counted the +bits of silver lying in his open palm. He turned instinctively, +but two or three cars were already between him +and the one he was looking for.</p> + +<p>"The fellow must be an imbecile," he said, rejoining +the group on the crossing. "He's given me back a dollar +and twenty cents, and I handed him a dollar bill."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[59]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Oh, can't you stop him?" cried Maidie Williams, +with a backward step into the wet street.</p> + +<p>The Harvard junior, who was carrying her umbrella, +protested: "What's the use, Miss Williams? He'll +make it up before he gets to Scollay Square, you may +be sure. Those chaps don't lose anything. Why, the +other day, I gave one a quarter and he went off as cool +as you please. 'Where's my change?' said I. 'You +gave me a nickel,' said he. And there wasn't anybody +to swear that I didn't except myself, and I didn't +count."</p> + +<p>"But that doesn't make any difference," insisted the +girl warmly. "Because one conductor was dishonest, +we needn't be. I beg your pardon, Frank, but it does +seem to me just stealing."</p> + +<p>"Oh, come along!" said her cousin, with an easy +laugh. "I guess the West End Corporation won't go +without their dinners to-morrow. Here, Maidie, here's +the ill-gotten fifty cents. <i>I</i> think you ought to treat +us all after the concert; still, I won't urge you. I wash +my hands of all responsibility. But I do wish you +hadn't such an unpleasant conscience."</p> + +<p>Maidie flushed under the sting of his cousinly rudeness, +but she went on quietly with the rest. It was +evident that any attempt to overtake the car was out +of the question.</p> + +<p>"Did you notice his number, Frank?" she asked, +suddenly.</p> + +<p>"No, I never thought of it," said Frank, stopping<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[60]</a></span> +short. "However, I probably shouldn't make any +complaint if I had. I shall forget all about it to-morrow. +I find it's never safe to let the sun go down +on my wrath. It's very likely not to be there the next +day."</p> + +<p>"I wasn't thinking of making a complaint," said +Maidie; but the two young men were enjoying the +small joke too much to notice what she said.</p> + +<p>The great doorway of Music Hall was just ahead. +In a moment the party were within its friendly shelter, +stamping off the snow. The girls were adjusting veils +and hats with adroit feminine touches; the pretty +chaperon was beaming approval upon them, and the +young men were taking off their wet overcoats, when +Maidie turned again in sudden desperation.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Harris," she said, rather faintly, for she did +not like to make herself disagreeable, "do you suppose +that car comes right back from Scollay Square?"</p> + +<p>"What car?" asked Walter Harris, blankly. "Oh, +the one we came in? Yes, I suppose it does. They're +running all the time, anyway. Why, you are not sick, +are you, Miss Williams?"</p> + +<p>There was genuine concern in his tone. This girl, +with her sweet, vibrant voice, her clear gray eyes, +seemed very charming to him. She wasn't beautiful, +perhaps, but she was the kind of girl he liked. There +was a steady earnestness in the gray eyes that made +him think of his mother.</p> + +<p>"No," said Maidie, slowly. "I'm all right, thank<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[61]</a></span> +you. But I wish I could find that man again. I know +sometimes they have to make it up if their accounts are +wrong, and I couldn't—we couldn't feel very comfortable——"</p> + +<p>Frank Armstrong interrupted her. "Maidie," he +said, with the studied calmness with which one speaks +to an unreasonable child, "you are perfectly absurd. +Here it is within five minutes of the time for the concert +to begin. It is impossible to tell when that car is coming +back. You are making us all very uncomfortable. +Mrs. Tirrill, won't you please tell her not to spoil our +afternoon?"</p> + +<p>"I think he's right, Maidie," said Mrs. Tirrell. +"It's very nice of you to feel so sorry for the poor man, +but he really was very careless. It was all his own +fault. And just think how far he made us walk! +My feet are quite damp. We ought to go in directly +or we shall all take cold, and I'm sure you wouldn't +like that, my dear."</p> + +<p>She led the way as she spoke, the two girls and young +Armstrong following. Maidie hesitated. It was so +easy to go in, to forget everything in the light and +warmth and excitement.</p> + +<p>"No," said she, very firmly, and as much to herself +as to the young man who stood waiting for her. "I +must go back and try to make it right. I'm so sorry, +Mr. Harris, but if you will tell them——"</p> + +<p>"Why, I'm going with you, of course," said the young +fellow, impulsively. "If I'd only looked once at the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[62]</a></span> +man I'd go alone, but I shouldn't know him from +Adam."</p> + +<p>Maidie laughed. "Oh, I don't want to lose the whole +concert, Mr. Harris, and Frank has all the tickets. +You must go after them and try to make my peace. +I'll come just as soon as I can. Don't wait for me, +please. If you'll come and look for me here the first +number, and not let them scold me too much——" +She ended with an imploring little catch in her breath +that was almost a sob.</p> + +<p>"They sha'n't say a word, Miss Williams!" cried +Walter Harris, with honest admiration in his eyes. +But she was gone already, and conscious that further +delay was only making matters worse, he went on into +the hall.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile, the car swung heavily along the wet +rails on its way to the turning-point. It was nearly +empty now. An old gentleman and his nurse were the +only occupants. Jim Stevens, the conductor, had +stepped inside the car.</p> + +<p>"Too bad I forgot those young people wanted to get +off at Music Hall," he was thinking to himself. "I +don't see how I came to do it. That chap looked as +if he wanted to complain of me, and I don't know as +I blame him. I'd have said I was sorry if he hadn't +been so sharp with his tongue. I hope he won't complain +just now. 'Twould be a pretty bad time for me +to get into trouble, with Mary and the baby both sick. +I'm too sleepy to be good for much, that's a fact.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[63]</a></span> +Sitting up three nights running takes hold of a fellow +somehow when he's at work all day. The rent's paid, +that's one thing, if it hasn't left me but half a dollar +to my name. Hullo!" He was struck by a sudden +distinct recollection of the coins he had returned. +"Why, I gave him fifty cents too much!"</p> + +<p>He glanced up at the dial which indicated the fares +and began to count the change in his pocket. He +knew exactly how much money he had had at the +beginning of the trip. He counted carefully. Then +he plunged his hand into the heavy canvas pocket of +his coat. Perhaps he had half a dollar there. No, it +was empty!</p> + +<p>He faced the fact reluctantly. Fifty cents short, +ten fares! Gone into the pocket of the young gentleman +with the fur collar! The conductor's hand shook +as he put the money back in his pocket. It meant—what +did it mean? He drew a long breath.</p> + +<p>Christmas Eve! A dark dreary little room upstairs +in a noisy tenement house. A pale, thin woman on a +shabby lounge vainly trying to quiet a fretful child. +The child is thin and pale, too, with a hard, racking +cough. There is a small fire in the stove, a very small +fire; coal is so high. The medicine stands on the shelf. +"Medicine won't do much good," the doctor had said; +"he needs beef and cream."</p> + +<p>Jim's heart sank at the thought. He could almost +hear the baby asking: "Isn't papa coming soon? Isn't +he, mamma?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[64]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Poor little kid!" Jim said, softly, under his breath. +"And I shan't have a thing to take home to him; nor +Mary's violets, either. It'll be the first Christmas +<i>that</i> ever happened. I suppose that chap would think +it was ridiculous for me to be buying violets. He +wouldn't understand what the flowers mean to Mary. +Perhaps he didn't notice I gave him too much. That +kind don't know how much they have. They just pull +it out as if it was newspaper."</p> + +<p>The conductor went out into the snow to help the +nurse, who was assisting the old gentleman to the +ground. Then the car swung on again. Jim turned +up the collar of his coat about his ears and stamped his +feet. There was the florist's shop where he had meant +to buy the violets, and the toy-shop was just around +the corner.</p> + +<p>A thought flashed across his tired brain. "Plenty +of men would do it; they do it every day. Nobody +ever would be the poorer for it. This car will be +crowded going home. I needn't ring in every fare; +nobody could tell. But Mary! She wouldn't touch +those violets if she knew. And she'd know. I'd have to +tell her. I couldn't keep it from her, she's that quick."</p> + +<p>He jumped off to adjust the trolley with a curious +sense of unreality. It couldn't be that he was really +going home this Christmas Eve with empty hands. +Well, they must all suffer together for his carelessness. +It was his own fault, but it was hard. And he was so +tired!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[65]</a></span></p> + +<p>To his amazement he found his eyes were blurred as +he watched the people crowding into the car. What! +Was he going to cry like a baby—he, a great burly +man of thirty years?</p> + +<p>"It's no use," he thought. "I couldn't do it. The +first time I gave Mary violets was the night she said +she'd marry me. I told her then I'd do my best to +make her proud of me. I guess she wouldn't be very +proud of a man who could cheat. She'd rather starve +than have a ribbon she couldn't pay for."</p> + +<p>He rang up a dozen fares with a steady hand. The +temptation was over. Six more strokes—then nine +without a falter. He even imagined the bell rang +more distinctly than usual, even encouragingly.</p> + +<p>The car stopped. Jim flung the door open with a +triumphant sweep of his arm. He felt ready to face +the world. But the baby—his arm dropped. It +was hard.</p> + +<p>He turned to help the young girl who was waiting +at the step. Through the whirling snow he saw her +eager face, with a quick recognition lighting the steady +eyes, and wondered dimly, as he stood with his hand on +the signal-strap, where he could have seen her before. +He knew immediately.</p> + +<p>"There was a mistake," she said, with a shy tremor +in her voice. "You gave us too much change and here +it is." She held out to Jim the piece of silver which +had given him such an unhappy quarter of an hour.</p> + +<p>He took it like one dazed. Would the young lady<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[66]</a></span> +think he was crazy to care so much about so small a +coin? He must say something. "Thank you, miss," +he stammered as well as he could. "You see, I thought +it was gone—and there's the baby—and it's +Christmas Eve—and my wife's sick—and you can't +understand——"</p> + +<p>It certainly was not remarkable that she couldn't.</p> + +<p>"But I do," she said, simply. "I was afraid of that. +And I thought perhaps there was a baby, so I brought +my Christmas present for her," and something else +dropped into Jim's cold hand.</p> + +<p>"What you waiting for?" shouted the motorman +from the front platform. The girl had disappeared +in the snow.</p> + +<p>Jim rang the bell to go ahead, and gazed again at the +two shining half dollars in his hand.</p> + +<p>"I didn't have a chance to tell her," he explained to +his wife late in the evening, as he sat in a tiny rocking-chair +several sizes too small for him, "that the baby +wasn't a her at all, though if I thought he'd grow up +into such a lovely one as she is, I don't know but I +almost wish he was."</p> + +<p>"Poor Jim!" said Mary, with a little laugh as she put +up her hand to stroke his rough cheek. "I guess +you're tired."</p> + +<p>"And I should say," he added, stretching out his +long legs toward the few red sparks in the bottom of +the grate, "I should say she had tears in her eyes, too, +but I was that near crying myself I couldn't be sure."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[67]</a></span></p> + +<p>The little room was sweet with the odour of English +violets. Asleep in the bed lay the boy, a toy horse +clasped close to his breast.</p> + +<p>"Bless her heart!" said Mary, softly.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>"Well, Miss Williams," said Walter Harris, as he +sprang to meet a snow-covered figure coming swiftly +along the sidewalk. "I can see that you found him. +You've lost the first number, but they won't scold you—not +this time."</p> + +<p>The girl turned a radiant face upon him. "Thank +you," she said, shaking the snowy crystals from her +skirt. "I don't care now if they do. I should have +lost more than that if I had stayed."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[68]</a></span></p> +<h2>VIII</h2> + +<h3>TOINETTE AND THE ELVES<a name="FNanchor_E_5" id="FNanchor_E_5"></a><a href="#Footnote_E_5" class="fnanchor">[E]</a></h3> + +<div class='center'>SUSAN COOLIDGE<br /><br /></div> + + +<div class='cap'>THE winter's sun was nearing the horizon's edge. +Each moment the tree shadows grew longer in +the forest; each moment the crimson light on the +upper boughs became more red and bright. It was +Christmas Eve, or would be in half an hour, +when the sun should be fairly set; but it did not +feel like Christmas, for the afternoon was mild and +sweet, and the wind in the leafless boughs sang, as +it moved about, as though to imitate the vanished +birds. Soft trills and whistles, odd little shakes and +twitters—it was astonishing what pretty noises the +wind made, for it was in good humor, as winds should +be on the Blessed Night; all its storm-tones and bass-notes +were for the moment laid aside, and gently as +though hushing a baby to sleep, it cooed and rustled +and brushed to and fro in the leafless woods.</div> + +<p>Toinette stood, pitcher in hand, beside the well. +"Wishing Well," the people called it, for they believed +that if any one standing there bowed to the East, +repeated a certain rhyme and wished a wish, the wish<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[69]</a></span> +would certainly come true. Unluckily, nobody knew +exactly what the rhyme should be. Toinette did not; +she was wishing that she did, as she stood with her eyes +fixed on the bubbling water. How nice it would be! +she thought. What beautiful things should be hers, +if it were only to wish and to have. She would be +beautiful, rich, good—oh, so good. The children +should love her dearly, and never be disagreeable. +Mother should not work so hard—they should all go +back to France—which mother said was <i>si belle</i>. +Oh, dear, how nice it would be. Meantime, the sun +sank lower, and mother at home was waiting for the +water, but Toinette forgot that.</p> + +<p>Suddenly she started. A low sound of crying met +her ear, and something like a tiny moan. It seemed +close by but she saw nothing.</p> + +<p>Hastily she filled her pitcher and turned to go. But +again the sound came, an unmistakable sob, right under +her feet. Toinette stopped short.</p> + +<p>"What is the matter?" she called out bravely. "Is +anybody there? and if there is, why don't I see you?"</p> + +<p>A third sob—and all at once, down on the ground +beside her, a tiny figure became visible, so small that +Toinette had to kneel and stoop her head to see it +plainly. The figure was that of an odd little man. He +wore a garb of green bright and glancing as the scales +of a beetle. In his mite of a hand was a cap, out of +which stuck a long pointed feather. Two specks of +tears stood on his cheeks and he fixed on Toinette a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[70]</a></span> +glance so sharp and so sad that it made her feel sorry +and frightened and confused all at once.</p> + +<p>"Why how funny this is!" she said, speaking to +herself out loud.</p> + +<p>"Not at all," replied the little man, in a voice as dry +and crisp as the chirr of a grasshopper. "Anything +but funny. I wish you wouldn't use such words. +It hurts my feelings, Toinette."</p> + +<p>"Do you know my name, then?" cried Toinette, +astonished. "That's strange. But what is the matter? +Why are you crying so, little man?"</p> + +<p>"I'm not a little man. I'm an elf," responded the +dry voice; "and I think you'd cry if you had an engagement +out to tea, and found yourself spiked on a +great bayonet, so that you couldn't move an inch. +Look!" He turned a little as he spoke and Toinette +saw a long rosethorn sticking through the back of the +green robe. The little man could by no means reach +the thorn, and it held him fast prisoner to the place.</p> + +<p>"Is that all? I'll take it out for you," she said.</p> + +<p>"Be careful—oh, be careful," entreated the little +man. "This is my new dress, you know—my Christmas +suit, and it's got to last a year. If there is a hole +in it, Peascod will tickle me and Bean Blossom tease, +till I shall wish myself dead." He stamped with vexation +at the thought.</p> + +<p>"Now, you mustn't do that," said Toinette, in a +motherly tone, "else you'll tear it yourself, you know." +She broke off the thorn as she spoke, and gently drew it<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[71]</a></span> +out. The elf anxiously examined the stuff. A tiny +puncture only was visible and his face brightened.</p> + +<p>"You're a good child," he said. "I'll do as much +for you some day, perhaps."</p> + +<p>"I would have come before if I had seen you," +remarked Toinette, timidly. "But I didn't see you +a bit."</p> + +<p>"No, because I had my cap on," cried the elf. He +placed it on his head as he spoke, and hey, presto! +nobody was there, only a voice which laughed and said: +"Well—don't stare so. Lay your finger on me now."</p> + +<p>"Oh," said Toinette, with a gasp. "How wonderful. +What fun it must be to do that. The children wouldn't +see me. I should steal in and surprise them; they +would go on talking, and never guess that I was there. +I should so like it. Do elves ever lend their caps to +anybody? I wish you'd lend me yours. It must be +so nice to be invisible."</p> + +<p>"Ho," cried the elf, appearing suddenly again. +"Lend my cap, indeed! Why it wouldn't stay on the +very tip of your ear, it's so small. As for nice, that +depends. Sometimes it is, and sometimes it isn't. +No, the only way for mortal people to be invisible is to +gather the fern-seed and put it in their shoes."</p> + +<p>"Gather it? Where? I never saw any seed to the +ferns," said Toinette, staring about her.</p> + +<p>"Of course not—we elves take care of that," replied +the little man. "Nobody finds the fern-seed +but ourselves. I'll tell you what, though. You were<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[72]</a></span> +such a nice child to take out the thorn so cleverly, that +I'll give you a little of the seed. Then you can try the +fun of being invisible, to your heart's content."</p> + +<p>"Will you really? How delightful. May I have +it now?"</p> + +<p>"Bless me. Do you think I carry my pockets +stuffed with it?" said the elf. "Not at all. Go home, +say not a word to any one, but leave your bedroom +window open to night, and you'll see what you'll +see."</p> + +<p>He laid his finger on his nose as he spoke, gave a +jump like a grasshopper, clapping on his cap as he +went, and vanished. Toinette lingered a moment, in +hopes that he might come back, then took her pitcher +and hurried home. The woods were very dusky by +this time; but full of her strange adventures, she did +not remember to feel afraid.</p> + +<p>"How long you have been," said her mother. "It's +late for a little maid like you to be up. You must make +better speed another time, my child."</p> + +<p>Toinette pouted as she was apt to do when reproved. +The children clamoured to know what had kept her, +and she spoke pettishly and crossly; so that they too +became cross, and presently went away into the outer +kitchen to play by themselves. The children were apt +to creep away when Toinette came. It made her +angry and unhappy at times that they should do so, +but she did not realize that it was in great part her own +fault, and so did not set herself to mend it.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[73]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Tell me a 'tory," said baby Jeanneton, creeping to +her knee a little later. But Toinette's head was full +of the elf; she had no time to spare for Jeanneton.</p> + +<p>"Oh, not to-night," she replied. "Ask mother to +tell you one."</p> + +<p>"Mother's busy," said Jeanneton wistfully.</p> + +<p>Toinette took no notice and the little one crept away +disconsolately.</p> + +<p>Bedtime at last. Toinette set the casement open, +and lay a long time waiting and watching; then she fell +asleep. She waked with a sneeze and jump and sat up +in bed. Behold, on the coverlet stood her elfin friend, +with a long train of other elves beside him, all clad +in the beetle-wing green, and wearing little pointed +caps. More were coming in at the window; outside a +few were drifting about in the moon rays, which lit +their sparkling robes till they glittered like so many +fireflies. The odd thing was, that though the caps +were on, Toinette could see the elves distinctly and +this surprised her so much, that again she thought out +loud and said, "How funny."</p> + +<p>"You mean about the caps," replied her special elf, +who seemed to have the power of reading thought. +"Yes, you can see us to-night, caps and all. Spells +lose their value on Christmas Eve, always. Peascod, +where is the box? Do you still wish to try the experiment +of being invisible, Toinette?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes—indeed I do."</p> + +<p>"Very well; so let it be."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[74]</a></span></p> + +<p>As he spoke he beckoned, and two elves puffing and +panting like little men with a heavy load, dragged forward +a droll little box about the size of a pumpkin-seed. +One of them lifted the cover.</p> + +<p>"Pay the porter, please, ma'am," he said giving +Toinette's ear a mischievous tweak with his sharp +fingers.</p> + +<p>"Hands off, you bad Peascod!" cried Toinette's elf. +"This is my girl. She shan't be pinched!" He dealt +Peascod a blow with his tiny hand as he spoke and +looked so brave and warlike that he seemed at least an +inch taller than he had before. Toinette admired him +very much; and Peascod slunk away with an abashed +giggle muttering that Thistle needn't be so ready with +his fist.</p> + +<p>Thistle—for thus, it seemed, Toinette's friend was +named—dipped his fingers in the box, which was full +of fine brown seeds, and shook a handful into each of +Toinette's shoes, as they stood, toes together by the +bedside.</p> + +<p>"Now you have your wish," he said, "and can go +about and do what you like, no one seeing. The charm +will end at sunset. Make the most of it while you can; +but if you want to end it sooner, shake the seeds from +the shoes and then you are just as usual."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I shan't want to," protested Toinette; "I'm +sure I shan't."</p> + +<p>"Good-bye," said Thistle, with a mocking little +laugh.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[75]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Good-bye, and thank you ever so much," replied +Toinette.</p> + +<p>"Good-bye, good-bye," replied the other elves, in +shrill chorus. They clustered together, as if in consultation; +then straight out of the window they flew like +a swarm of gauzy-winged bees, and melted into the +moonlight. Toinette jumped up and ran to watch +them but the little men were gone—not a trace of +them was to be seen; so she shut the window, went +back to bed and presently in the midst of her amazed +and excited thoughts fell asleep.</p> + +<p>She waked in the morning, with a queer, doubtful +feeling. Had she dreamed, or had it really happened? +She put on her best petticoat and laced her blue bodice; +for she thought the mother would perhaps take them +across the wood to the little chapel for the Christmas +service. Her long hair smoothed and tied, her shoes +trimly fastened, downstairs she ran. The mother was +stirring porridge over the fire. Toinette went close to +her, but she did not move or turn her head.</p> + +<p>"How late the children are," she said at last, lifting +the boiling pot on the hob. Then she went to the stair-foot +and called, "Marc, Jeanneton, Pierre, Marie. +Breakfast is ready, my children. Toinette—but +where, then, is Toinette? She is used to be down +long before this."</p> + +<p>"Toinette isn't upstairs," said Marie from above. +"Her door is wide open, and she isn't there."</p> + +<p>"That is strange," said the mother. "I have been<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[76]</a></span> +here an hour, and she has not passed this way since." +She went to the outer door and called, "Toinette! +Toinette!" passing close to Toinette as she did so, and +looking straight at her with unseeing eyes. Toinette, +half frightened, half pleased, giggled low to herself. +She really was invisible, then. How strange it seemed +and what fun it was going to be.</p> + +<p>The children sat down to breakfast, little Jeanneton, +as the youngest, saying grace. The mother distributed +the porridge and gave each a spoon but she looked +anxious.</p> + +<p>"Where can Toinette have gone?" she said to +herself. Toinette was conscious-pricked. She was +half inclined to dispel the charm on the spot. But +just then she caught a whisper from Pierre to Marc +which so surprised her as to put the idea out of her head.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps a wolf has eaten her up—a great big wolf +like the 'Capuchon Rouge,' you know." This was +what Pierre said; and Marc answered unfeelingly:</p> + +<p>"If he has, I shall ask mother to let me have her +room for my own."</p> + +<p>Poor Toinette, her cheeks burned and her eyes filled +with tears at this. Didn't the boys love her a bit then? +Next she grew angry, and longed to box Marc's ears, +only she recollected in time that she was invisible. +What a bad boy he was, she thought.</p> + +<p>The smoking porridge reminded her that she was +hungry; so brushing away the tears she slipped a spoon +off the table and whenever she found the chance, dipped<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[77]</a></span> +it into the bowl for a mouthful. The porridge disappeared +rapidly.</p> + +<p>"I want some more," said Jeanneton.</p> + +<p>"Bless me, how fast you have eaten," said the mother, +turning to the bowl.</p> + +<p>This made Toinette laugh, which shook her spoon, +and a drop of the hot mixture fell right on the tip of +Marie's nose as she sat with upturned face waiting +her turn for a second helping. Marie gave a little +scream.</p> + +<p>"What is it?" said the mother.</p> + +<p>"Hot water! Right in my face!" sputtered Marie.</p> + +<p>"Water!" cried Marc. "It's porridge."</p> + +<p>"You spattered with your spoon. Eat more carefully, +my child," said the mother, and Toinette laughed +again as she heard her. After all, there was some fun +in being invisible.</p> + +<p>The morning went by. Constantly the mother went +to the door, and, shading her eyes with her hand, +looked out, in hopes of seeing a little figure come down +the wood-path, for she thought perhaps the child went +to the spring after water, and fell asleep there. The +children played happily, meanwhile. They were used +to doing without Toinette and did not seem to miss +her, except that now and then baby Jeanneton said: +"Poor Toinette gone—not here—all gone."</p> + +<p>"Well, what if she has?" said Marc at last looking +up from the wooden cup he was carving for Marie's +doll. "We can play all the better."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[78]</a></span></p> + +<p>Marc was a bold, outspoken boy, who always told +his whole mind about things.</p> + +<p>"If she were here," he went on, "she'd only scold and +interfere. Toinette almost always scolds. I like to +have her go away. It makes it pleasanter."</p> + +<p>"It is rather pleasanter," admitted Marie, "only +I'd like her to be having a nice time somewhere else."</p> + +<p>"Bother about Toinette," cried Pierre.</p> + +<p>"Let's play 'My godmother has cabbage to sell.'"</p> + +<p>I don't think Toinette had ever felt so unhappy in +her life, as when she stood by unseen, and heard the +children say these words. She had never meant to be +unkind to them, but she was quick-tempered, dreamy, +wrapped up in herself. She did not like being interrupted +by them, it put her out, and she spoke sharply +and was cross. She had taken it for granted that the +others must love her, by a sort of right, and the knowledge +that they did not grieved her very much. Creeping +away, she hid herself in the woods. It was a sparkling +day, but the sun did not look so bright as usual. +Cuddled down under a rosebush, Toinette sat sobbing +as if her heart would break at the recollection of the +speeches she had overheard.</p> + +<p>By and by a little voice within her woke up and began +to make itself audible. All of us know this little +voice. We call it conscience.</p> + +<p>"Jeanneton missed me," she thought. "And, oh, +dear! I pushed her away only last night and wouldn't +tell her a story. And Marie hoped I was having a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[79]</a></span> +pleasant time somewhere. I wish I hadn't slapped +Marie last Friday. And I wish I hadn't thrown Marc's +ball into the fire that day I was angry with him. How +unkind he was to say that—but I wasn't always kind +to him. And once I said that I wished a bear would eat +Pierre up. That was because he broke my cup. Oh, +dear, oh, dear. What a bad girl I've been to them all."</p> + +<p>"But you could be better and kinder if you tried, +couldn't you?" said the inward voice. "I think you +could."</p> + +<p>And Toinette clasped her hands tight and said out +loud: "I could. Yes—and I will."</p> + +<p>The first thing to be done was to get rid of the fern-seed +which she now regarded as a hateful thing. She +untied her shoes and shook it out in the grass. It +dropped and seemed to melt into the air, for it instantly +vanished. A mischievous laugh sounded close behind, +and a beetle-green coat-tail was visible whisking under +a tuft of rushes. But Toinette had had enough of the +elves, and, tying her shoes, took the road toward home, +running with all her might.</p> + +<p>"Where have you been all day, Toinette?" cried the +children, as, breathless and panting, she flew in at the +gate. But Toinette could not speak. She made slowly +for her mother, who stood in the doorway, flung herself +into her arms and burst into a passion of tears.</p> + +<p>"<i>Ma cherie</i>, what is it, whence hast thou come?" +asked the good mother alarmed. She lifted Toinette +into her arms as she spoke, and hastened indoors<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[80]</a></span>. +The other children followed, whispering and peeping, +but the mother sent them away, and sitting down by +the fire with Toinette in her lap, she rocked and hushed +and comforted, as though Toinette had been again a +little baby. Gradually the sobs ceased. For a while +Toinette lay quiet, with her head on her mother's +breast. Then she wiped her wet eyes, put her arms +around her mother's neck, and told her all from the +very beginning, keeping not a single thing back. The +dame listened with alarm.</p> + +<p>"Saints protect us," she muttered. Then feeling +Toinette's hands and head, "Thou hast a fever," she +said. "I will make thee a <i>tisane</i>, my darling, and thou +must at once go to bed." Toinette vainly protested; +to bed she went and perhaps it was the wisest thing, for +the warm drink threw her into a long sound sleep and +when she woke she was herself again, bright and well, +hungry for dinner, and ready to do her usual tasks.</p> + +<p>Herself—but not quite the same Toinette that she +had been before. Nobody changes from bad to better +in a minute. It takes time for that, time and effort, +and a long struggle with evil habits and tempers. But +there is sometimes a certain minute or day in which +people begin to change, and thus it was with Toinette. +The fairy lesson was not lost upon her. She began to +fight with herself, to watch her faults and try to conquer +them. It was hard work; often she felt discouraged, +but she kept on. Week after week and month after +month she grew less selfish, kinder, more obliging than<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[81]</a></span> +she used to be. When she failed and her old fractious +temper got the better of her, she was sorry and begged +every one's pardon so humbly that they could not but +forgive. The mother began to think that the elves +really had bewitched her child. As for the children they +learned to love Toinette as never before, and came to +her with all their pains and pleasures, as children should +to a kind older sister. Each fresh proof of this, every +kiss from Jeanneton, every confidence from Marc, was +a comfort to Toinette, for she never forgot Christmas +Day, and felt that no trouble was too much to wipe out +that unhappy recollection. "I think they like me +better than they did then," she would say; but then the +thought came, "Perhaps if I were invisible again, if +they did not know I was there, I might hear something +to make me feel as badly as I did that morning." +These sad thoughts were part of the bitter fruit of the +fairy fern-seed.</p> + +<p>So with doubts and fears the year went by, and again +it was Christmas Eve. Toinette had been asleep some +hours when she was roused by a sharp tapping at the +window pane. Startled, and only half awake, she sat +up in bed and saw by the moonlight a tiny figure outside +which she recognized. It was Thistle drumming +with his knuckles on the glass.</p> + +<p>"Let me in," cried the dry little voice. So Toinette +opened the casement, and Thistle flew in and perched +as before on the coverlet.</p> + +<p>"Merry Christmas, my girl," he said, "and a Happy<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[82]</a></span> +New Year when it comes. I've brought you a present;" +and, dipping into a pouch tied round his waist, he +pulled out a handful of something brown. Toinette +knew what it was in a moment.</p> + +<p>"Oh, no," she cried shrinking back. "Don't give +me any fern-seeds. They frighten me. I don't like +them."</p> + +<p>"Don't be silly," said Thistle, his voice sounding +kind this time, and earnest. "It wasn't pleasant being +invisible last year, but perhaps this year it will be. +Take my advice, and try it. You'll not be sorry."</p> + +<p>"Sha'n't I?" said Toinette, brightening. "Very well, +then, I will." She leaned out of bed, and watched +Thistle strew the fine dustlike grains in each shoe.</p> + +<p>"I'll drop in to-morrow night, and just see how you +like it," he said. Then, with a nod, he was gone.</p> + +<p>The old fear came back when she woke in the morning, +and she tied on her shoes with a tremble at her +heart. Downstairs she stole. The first thing she +saw was a wooden ship standing on her plate. Marc +had made the ship, but Toinette had no idea it was for +her.</p> + +<p>The little ones sat round the table with their eyes on +the door, watching till Toinette should come in and be +surprised.</p> + +<p>"I wish she'd hurry," said Pierre, drumming on his +bowl with a spoon.</p> + +<p>"We all want Toinette, don't we?" said the mother, +smiling as she poured the hot porridge.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[83]</a></span></p> + +<p>"It will be fun to see her stare," declared Marc. +"Toinette is jolly when she stares. Her eyes look big +and her cheeks grow pink. Andre Brugen thinks his +sister Aline is prettiest, but I don't. Our Toinette is +ever so pretty."</p> + +<p>"She is ever so nice, too," said Pierre. "She's as +good to play with as—as—a boy," finished triumphantly.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I wish my Toinette would come," said Jeanneton.</p> + +<p>Toinette waited no longer, but sped upstairs with +glad tears in her eyes. Two minutes, and down she +came again visible this time. Her heart was light as a +feather.</p> + +<p>"Merry Christmas!" clamoured the children. The +ship was presented, Toinette was duly surprised, and so +the happy day began.</p> + +<p>That night Toinette left the window open, and lay +down in her clothes; for she felt, as Thistle had been so +kind, she ought to receive him politely. He came at +midnight, and with him all the other little men in +green.</p> + +<p>"Well, how was it?" asked Thistle.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I liked it this time," declared Toinette, with +shining eyes, "and I thank you so much."</p> + +<p>"I'm glad you did," said the elf. "And I'm glad +you are thankful, for we want you to do something +for us."</p> + +<p>"What can it be?" inquired Toinette, wondering.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[84]</a></span></p> + +<p>"You must know," went on Thistle, "that there is +no dainty in the world which we elves enjoy like a bowl +of fern-seed broth. But it has to be cooked over a +real fire, and we dare not go near fire, you know, lest +our wings scorch. So we seldom get any fern-seed +broth. Now, Toinette, will you make us some?"</p> + +<p>"Indeed, I will!" cried Toinette, "only you must +tell me how."</p> + +<p>"It is very simple," said Peascod; "only seed and +honey dew, stirred from left to right with a sprig of +fennel. Here's the seed and the fennel, and here's the +dew. Be sure and stir from the left; if you don't, it +curdles, and the flavour will be spoiled."</p> + +<p>Down into the kitchen they went, and Toinette, +moving very softly, quickened the fire, set on the +smallest bowl she could find, and spread the doll's +table with the wooden saucers which Marc had made +for Jeanneton to play with. Then she mixed and +stirred as the elves bade, and when the soup was done, +served it to them smoking hot. How they feasted! +No bumblebee, dipping into a flower-cup, ever sipped +and twinkled more rapturously than they.</p> + +<p>When the last drop was eaten, they made ready to +go. Each in turn kissed Toinette's hand, and said a +word of farewell. Thistle brushed his feathered cap +over the doorpost as he passed.</p> + +<p>"Be lucky, house," he said, "for you have received +and entertained the luck-bringers. And be lucky, +Toinette. Good temper is good luck, and sweet words<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[85]</a></span> +and kind looks and peace in the heart are the fairest of +fortunes. See that you never lose them again, my girl." +With this, he, too, kissed Toinette's hand, waved his +feathered cap, and—whir! they all were gone, while +Toinette, covering the fire with ashes and putting aside +the little cups, stole up to her bed a happy child.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[86]</a></span></p> +<h2>IX</h2> + +<h3>THE VOYAGE OF THE WEE RED CAP<a name="FNanchor_F_6" id="FNanchor_F_6"></a><a href="#Footnote_F_6" class="fnanchor">[F]</a></h3> + +<div class='center'>RUTH SAWYER DURAND<br /><br /></div> + + +<div class='cap'>It was the night of St. Stephen, and Teig sat alone +by his fire with naught in his cupboard but a +pinch of tea and a bare mixing of meal, and a heart +inside of him as soft and warm as the ice on the water-bucket +outside the door. The tuft was near burnt on +the hearth—a handful of golden cinders left, just; +and Teig took to counting them greedily on his fingers.</div> + +<p>"There's one, two, three, an' four an' five," he +laughed. "Faith, there be more bits o' real gold hid +undther the loose clay in the corner."</p> + +<p>It was the truth; and it was the scraping and scrooching +for the last piece that had left Teig's cupboard bare +of a Christmas dinner.</p> + +<p>"Gold is betther nor eatin' an' dthrinkin'. An' if +ye have naught to give, there'll be naught asked of ye;" +and he laughed again.</p> + +<p>He was thinking of the neighbours, and the doles of +food and piggins of milk that would pass over their +thresholds that night to the vagabonds and paupers<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[87]</a></span> +who were sure to come begging. And on the heels of +that thought followed another: who would be giving +old Barney his dinner? Barney lived a stone's throw +from Teig, alone, in a wee tumbled-in cabin; and for a +score of years past Teig had stood on the doorstep every +Christmas Eve, and, making a hollow of his two hands, +had called across the road:</p> + +<p>"Hey, there, Barney, will ye come over for a sup?" +And Barney had reached for his crutches—there being +but one leg to him—and had come.</p> + +<p>"Faith," said Teig, trying another laugh, "Barney +can fast for the once; 'twill be all the same in a month's +time." And he fell to thinking of the gold again.</p> + +<p>A knock came at the door. Teig pulled himself +down in his chair where the shadow would cover him, +and held his tongue.</p> + +<p>"Teig, Teig!" It was the widow O'Donnelly's +voice. "If ye are there, open your door. I have not +got the pay for the spriggin' this month, an' the childher +are needin' food."</p> + +<p>But Teig put the leash on his tongue, and never +stirred till he heard the tramp of her feet going on to the +next cabin. Then he saw to it that the door was tight-barred. +Another knock came, and it was a stranger's +voice this time:</p> + +<p>"The other cabins are filled; not one but has its +hearth crowded; will ye take us in—the two of us? +The wind bites mortal sharp, not a morsel o' food have +we tasted this day. Masther, will ye take us in?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[88]</a></span></p> + +<p>But Teig sat on, a-holding his tongue; and the tramp +of the strangers' feet passed down the road. Others +took their place—small feet, running. It was the +miller's wee Cassie, and she called out as she ran by.</p> + +<p>"Old Barney's watchin' for ye. Ye'll not be forgettin' +him, will ye, Teig?"</p> + +<p>And then the child broke into a song, sweet and clear, +as she passed down the road:</p> + +<div class='poem'> +"Listen all ye, 'tis the Feast o' St. Stephen,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Mind that ye keep it, this holy even.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Open your door an' greet ye the stranger—</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">For ye mind that the wee Lord had naught but a manger.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 14em;">Mhuire as truagh!</span><br /> +<br /> +"Feed ye the hungry an' rest ye the weary,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">This ye must do for the sake of Our Mary.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">'Tis well that ye mind—ye who sit by the fire—</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">That the Lord he was born in a dark and cold byre.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 14em;">Mhuire as truagh!"</span><br /> +</div> + +<p>Teig put his fingers deep in his ears. "A million +murdthering curses on them that won't let me be! +Can't a man try to keep what is his without bein' +pesthered by them that has only idled an' wasted +their days?"</p> + +<p>And then the strange thing happened: hundreds and +hundreds of wee lights began dancing outside the +window, making the room bright; the hands of the clock +began chasing each other round the dial, and the bolt +of the door drew itself out. Slowly, without a creak<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[89]</a></span> +or a cringe, the door opened, and in there trooped a +crowd of the Good People. Their wee green cloaks +were folded close about them, and each carried a +rush candle.</p> + +<p>Teig was filled with a great wonderment, entirely, +when he saw the fairies, but when they saw him they +laughed.</p> + +<p>"We are takin' the loan o' your cabin this night, +Teig," said they. "Ye are the only man hereabout +with an empty hearth, an' we're needin' one."</p> + +<p>Without saying more, they bustled about the room +making ready. They lengthened out the table and +spread and set it; more of the Good People trooped in, +bringing stools and food and drink. The pipers came +last, and they sat themselves around the chimney-piece +a-blowing their chanters and trying the drones. The +feasting began and the pipers played and never had Teig +seen such a sight in his life. Suddenly a wee man sang +out:</p> + +<p>"Clip, clap, clip, clap, I wish I had my wee red cap!" +And out of the air there tumbled the neatest cap Teig +ever laid his two eyes on. The wee man clapped it on +his head, crying:</p> + +<p>"I wish I was in Spain!" and—whist—up the +chimney he went, and away out of sight.</p> + +<p>It happened just as I am telling it. Another wee +man called for his cap, and away he went after the first. +And then another and another until the room was +empty and Teig sat alone again.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[90]</a></span></p> + +<p>"By my soul," said Teig, "I'd like to thravel that +way myself! It's a grand savin' of tickets an' baggage; +an' ye get to a place before ye've had time to change +your mind. Faith there is no harm done if I thry it."</p> + +<p>So he sang the fairies' rhyme and out of the air +dropped a wee cap for him. For a moment the wonder +had him, but the next he was clapping the cap on his +head and crying:</p> + +<p>"Spain!"</p> + +<p>Then—whist—up the chimney he went after the +fairies, and before he had time to let out his breath he +was standing in the middle of Spain, and strangeness +all about him.</p> + +<p>He was in a great city. The doorways of the houses +were hung with flowers and the air was warm and sweet +with the smell of them. Torches burned along the +streets, sweetmeat-sellers went about crying their +wares, and on the steps of the cathedral crouched a +crowd of beggars.</p> + +<p>"What's the meanin' o' that?" asked Teig of one +of the fairies.</p> + +<p>"They are waiting for those that are hearing mass. +When they come out, they give half of what they have +to those that have nothing, so on this night of all the +year there shall be no hunger and no cold."</p> + +<p>And then far down the street came the sound of a +child's voice, singing:</p> + +<div class='poem'> +"Listen all ye, 'tis the Feast o' St. Stephen,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Mind that ye keep it, this holy even'."</span><br /> +</div><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[91]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Curse it!" said Teig; "can a song fly afther ye?" +And then he heard the fairies cry "Holland!" and +cried "Holland!" too.</p> + +<p>In one leap he was over France, and another over +Belgium; and with the third he was standing by long +ditches of water frozen fast, and over them glided +hundreds upon hundreds of lads and maids. Outside +each door stood a wee wooden shoe empty. Teig +saw scores of them as he looked down the ditch of a +street.</p> + +<p>"What is the meanin' o' those shoes?" he asked the +fairies.</p> + +<p>"Ye poor lad!" answered the wee man next to +him; "are ye not knowing anything? This is the Gift +Night of the year, when every man gives to his neighbour."</p> + +<p>A child came to the window of one of the houses, and +in her hand was a lighted candle. She was singing as +she put the light down close to the glass, and Teig +caught the words:</p> + +<div class='poem'> +"Open your door an' greet ye the stranger—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">For ye mind that the wee Lord had naught but a manger.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 14em;">Mhuire as truagh!"</span><br /> +</div> + +<p>"'Tis the de'il's work!" cried Teig, and he set the red +cap more firmly on his head.</p> + +<p>"I'm for another country."</p> + +<p>I cannot be telling you a half of the adventures Teig +had that night, nor half the sights that he saw. But<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[92]</a></span> +he passed by fields that held sheaves of grain for the +birds and doorsteps that held bowls of porridge for the +wee creatures. He saw lighted trees, sparkling and +heavy with gifts; and he stood outside the churches and +watched the crowds pass in, bearing gifts to the Holy +Mother and Child.</p> + +<p>At last the fairies straightened their caps and cried, +"Now for the great hall in the King of England's +palace!"</p> + +<p>Whist—and away they went, and Teig after them; +and the first thing he knew he was in London, not an +arm's length from the King's throne. It was a grander +sight than he had seen in any other country. The hall +was filled entirely with lords and ladies; and the great +doors were open for the poor and the homeless to come +in and warm themselves by the King's fire and feast +from the King's table. And many a hungry soul did +the King serve with his own hands.</p> + +<p>Those that had anything to give gave it in return. +It might be a bit of music played on a harp or a pipe, or +it might be a dance or a song; but more often it was a +wish, just, for good luck and safekeeping.</p> + +<p>Teig was so taken up with the watching that he +never heard the fairies when they wished themselves +off; moreover, he never saw the wee girl that was fed, +and went laughing away. But he heard a bit of her +song as she passed through the door:</p> + +<div class='poem'> +"Feed ye the hungry an' rest ye the weary,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">This ye must do for the sake of Our Mary."</span><br /> +</div><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[93]</a></span></p> + +<p>Then the anger had Teig. "I'll stop your pestherin' +tongue, once an' for all time!" and, catching the cap +from his head, he threw it after her.</p> + +<p>No sooner was the cap gone than every soul in the +hall saw him. The next moment they were about him, +catching at his coat and crying:</p> + +<p>"Where is he from, what does he here? Bring +him before the King!" And Teig was dragged +along by a hundred hands to the throne where the +King sat.</p> + +<p>"He was stealing food," cried one.</p> + +<p>"He was robbing the King's jewels," cried another.</p> + +<p>"He looks evil," cried a third. "Kill him!"</p> + +<p>And in a moment all the voices took it up and the hall +rang with: "Aye, kill him, kill him!"</p> + +<p>Teig's legs took to trembling, and fear put the leash +on his tongue; but after a long silence he managed to +whisper:</p> + +<p>"I have done evil to no one—no one!"</p> + +<p>"Maybe," said the King; "but have ye done good? +Come, tell us, have ye given aught to any one this night? +If ye have, we will pardon ye."</p> + +<p>Not a word could Teig say—fear tightened the leash—for +he was knowing full well there was no good to +him that night.</p> + +<p>"Then ye must die," said the King. "Will ye try +hanging or beheading?"</p> + +<p>"Hanging, please, your Majesty," said Teig.</p> + +<p>The guards came rushing up and carried him off.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[94]</a></span> +But as he was crossing the threshold of the hall a +thought sprang at him and held him.</p> + +<p>"Your Majesty," he called after him, "will ye grant +me a last request?"</p> + +<p>"I will," said the King.</p> + +<p>"Thank ye. There's a wee red cap that I'm mortal +fond of, and I lost it a while ago; if I could be hung +with it on, I would hang a deal more comfortable."</p> + +<p>The cap was found and brought to Teig.</p> + +<p>"Clip, clap, clip, clap, for my wee red cap, I wish I +was home," he sang.</p> + +<p>Up and over the heads of the dumfounded guard he +flew, and—whist—and away out of sight. When he +opened his eyes again, he was sitting close by his own +hearth, with the fire burnt low. The hands of the +clock were still, the bolt was fixed firm in the door. +The fairies' lights were gone, and the only bright thing +was the candle burning in old Barney's cabin across the +road.</p> + +<p>A running of feet sounded outside, and then the +snatch of a song:</p> + +<div class='poem'> +"'Tis well that ye mind—ye who sit by the fire—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">That the Lord he was born in a dark and cold byre.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 14em;">Mhuire as truagh!"</span><br /> +</div> + +<p>"Wait ye, whoever ye are!" and Teig was away to +the corner, digging fast at the loose clay, as a terrier +digs at a bone. He filled his hands full of the shining +gold, then hurried to the door, unbarring it.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[95]</a></span></p> + +<p>The miller's wee Cassie stood there, peering at him +out of the darkness.</p> + +<p>"Take those to the widow O'Donnelly, do ye hear? +And take the rest to the store. Ye tell Jamie to bring +up all that he has that is eatable an' dhrinkable; and to +the neighbours ye say, 'Teig's keepin' the feast this +night.' Hurry now!"</p> + +<p>Teig stopped a moment on the threshold until the +tramp of her feet had died away; then he made a +hollow of his two hands and called across the road:</p> + +<p>"Hey there, Barney, will ye come over for a sup?"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[96]</a></span></p> +<h2>X</h2> + +<h3>A STORY OF THE CHRIST-CHILD<a name="FNanchor_G_7" id="FNanchor_G_7"></a><a href="#Footnote_G_7" class="fnanchor">[G]</a></h3> + +<div class='center'>A German legend for Christmas Eve as told by<br /> + +ELIZABETH HARRISON<br /><br /></div> + + +<div class='cap'>ONCE upon a time, a long, long time ago, on the +night before Christmas, a little child was wandering +all alone through the streets of a great city. There +were many people on the street, fathers and mothers, +sisters and brothers, uncles and aunts, and even gray-haired +grandfathers and grandmothers, all of whom +were hurrying home with bundles of presents for each +other and for their little ones. Fine carriages rolled +by, express wagons rattled past, even old carts were +pressed into service, and all things seemed in a hurry +and glad with expectation of the coming Christmas +morning.</div> + +<p>From some of the windows bright lights were already +beginning to stream until it was almost as bright as day. +But the little child seemed to have no home, and wandered +about listlessly from street to street. No one +took any notice of him except perhaps Jack Frost, who +bit his bare toes and made the ends of his fingers tingle. +The north wind, too, seemed to notice the child, for it<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[97]</a></span> +blew against him and pierced his ragged garments +through and through, causing him to shiver with cold. +Home after home he passed, looking with longing eyes +through the windows, in upon the glad, happy children, +most of whom were helping to trim the Christmas trees +for the coming morrow.</p> + +<p>"Surely," said the child to himself, "where there is +so <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'must'">much</ins> gladness and happiness, some of it may be for +me." So with timid steps he approached a large and +handsome house. Through the windows, he could see +a tall and stately Christmas tree already lighted. +Many presents hung upon it. Its green boughs were +trimmed with gold and silver ornaments. Slowly he +climbed up the broad steps and gently rapped at the +door. It was opened by a large man-servant. He had +a kindly face, although his voice was deep and gruff. +He looked at the little child for a moment, then sadly +shook his head and said, "Go down off the steps. +There is no room here for such as you." He looked +sorry as he spoke; possibly he remembered his own +little ones at home, and was glad that they were not +out in this cold and bitter night. Through the open +door a bright light shone, and the warm air, filled with +fragrance of the Christmas pine, rushed out from the +inner room and greeted the little wanderer with a kiss. +As the child turned back into the cold and darkness, he +wondered why the footman had spoken thus, for surely, +thought he, those little children would love to have +another companion join them in their joyous Christmas<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[98]</a></span> +festival. But the little children inside did not even +know that he had knocked at the door.</p> + +<p>The street grew colder and darker as the child passed +on. He went sadly forward, saying to himself, "Is +there no one in all this great city who will share the +Christmas with me?" Farther and farther down the +street he wandered, to where the homes were not so +large and beautiful. There seemed to be little children +inside of nearly all the houses. They were dancing +and frolicking about. Christmas trees could be seen +in nearly every window, with beautiful dolls and +trumpets and picture-books and balls and tops and +other dainty toys hung upon them. In one window +the child noticed a little lamb made of soft white wool. +Around its neck was tied a red ribbon. It had evidently +been hung on the tree for one of the children. The +little stranger stopped before this window and looked +long and earnestly at the beautiful things inside, but +most of all was he drawn toward the white lamb. +At last creeping up to the window-pane, he gently +tapped upon it. A little girl came to the window and +looked out into the dark street where the snow had now +begun to fall. She saw the child, but she only frowned +and shook her head and said, "Go away and come some +other time. We are too busy to take care of you now." +Back into the dark, cold streets he turned again. The +wind was whirling past him and seemed to say, "Hurry +on, hurry on, we have no time to stop. 'Tis Christmas +Eve and everybody is in a hurry to-night."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[99]</a></span></p> + +<p>Again and again the little child rapped softly at door +or window-pane. At each place he was refused admission. +One mother feared he might have some ugly +disease which her darlings would catch; another father +said he had only enough for his own children and none +to spare for beggars. Still another told him to go home +where he belonged, and not to trouble other folks.</p> + +<p>The hours passed; later grew the night, and colder +grew the wind, and darker seemed the street. Farther +and farther the little one wandered. There was +scarcely any one left upon the street by this time, and +the few who remained did not seem to see the child, +when suddenly ahead of him there appeared a bright, +single ray of light. It shone through the darkness into +the child's eyes. He looked up smilingly and said, "I +will go where the small light beckons, perhaps they will +share their Christmas with me."</p> + +<p>Hurrying past all the other houses, he soon reached +the end of the street and went straight up to the window +from which the light was streaming. It was a +poor, little, low house, but the child cared not for that. +The light seemed still to call him in. From what do +you suppose the light came? Nothing but a tallow +candle which had been placed in an old cup with a +broken handle, in the window, as a glad token of Christmas +Eve. There was neither curtain nor shade to the +small, square window and as the little child looked in +he saw standing upon a neat wooden table a branch of +a Christmas tree. The room was plainly furnished,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[100]</a></span> +but it was very clean. Near the fireplace sat a lovely +faced mother with a little two-year-old on her knee and +an older child beside her. The two children were looking +into their mother's face and listening to a story. +She must have been telling them a Christmas story, +I think. A few bright coals were burning in the fireplace, +and all seemed light and warm within.</p> + +<p>The little wanderer crept closer and closer to the +window-pane. So sweet was the mother's face, so +loving seemed the little children, that at last he took +courage and tapped gently, very gently on the door. +The mother stopped talking, the little children looked +up. "What was that, mother?" asked the little girl +at her side. "I think it was some one tapping on the +door," replied the mother. "Run as quickly as you +can and open it, dear, for it is a bitter cold night to keep +any one waiting in this storm." "Oh, mother, I +think it was the bough of the tree tapping against the +window-pane," said the little girl. "Do please go on +with our story." Again the little wanderer tapped +upon the door. "My child, my child," exclaimed the +mother, rising, "that certainly was a rap on the door. +Run quickly and open it. No one must be left out in +the cold on our beautiful Christmas Eve."</p> + +<p>The child ran to the door and threw it wide open. +The mother saw the ragged stranger standing without, +cold and shivering, with bare head and almost bare +feet. She held out both hands and drew him into the +warm, bright room. "You poor, dear child," was all<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[101]</a></span> +she said, and putting her arms around him, she drew +him close to her breast. "He is very cold, my children," +she exclaimed. "We must warm him." "And," +added the little girl, "we must love him and give him +some of our Christmas, too." "Yes," said the mother, +"but first let us warm him."</p> + +<p>The mother sat down by the fire with the little +child on her lap, and her own little ones warmed his +half-frozen hands in theirs. The mother smoothed his +tangled curls, and, bending low over his head, kissed +the child's face. She gathered the three little ones in her +arms and the candle and the fire light shone over them. +For a moment the room was very still. By and by the +little girl said softly, to her mother, "May we not light +the Christmas tree, and let him see how beautiful it +looks?" "Yes," said the mother. With that she +seated the child on a low stool beside the fire, and went +herself to fetch the few simple ornaments which from +year to year she had saved for her children's Christmas +tree. They were soon so busy that they did not +notice the room had filled with a strange and brilliant +light. They turned and looked at the spot where the +little wanderer sat. His ragged clothes had changed +to garments white and beautiful; his tangled curls +seemed like a halo of golden light about his head; but +most glorious of all was his face, which shone with a +light so dazzling that they could scarcely look upon it.</p> + +<p>In silent wonder they gazed at the child. Their +little room seemed to grow larger and larger, until it<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[102]</a></span> +was as wide as the whole world, the roof of their low +house seemed to expand and rise, until it reached to +the sky.</p> + +<p>With a sweet and gentle smile the wonderful child +looked upon them for a moment, and then slowly rose +and floated through the air, above the treetops, beyond +the church spire, higher even than the clouds themselves, +until he appeared to them to be a shining star +in the sky above. At last he disappeared from sight. +The astonished children turned in hushed awe to their +mother, and said in a whisper, "Oh, mother, it was +the Christ-Child, was it not?" And the mother +answered in a low tone, "Yes."</p> + +<p>And it is said, dear children, that each Christmas +Eve the little Christ-Child wanders through some +town or village, and those who receive him and take +him into their homes and hearts have given to them +this marvellous vision which is denied to others.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[103]</a></span></p> +<h2>XI</h2> + +<h3>JIMMY SCARECROW'S CHRISTMAS</h3> + +<div class='center'>MARY E. WILKINS FREEMAN<br /><br /></div> + + +<div class='cap'>JIMMY SCARECROW led a sad life in the winter. +Jimmy's greatest grief was his lack of occupation. +He liked to be useful, and in winter he was absolutely +of no use at all.</div> + +<p>He wondered how many such miserable winters he +would have to endure. He was a young Scarecrow, +and this was his first one. He was strongly made, and +although his wooden joints creaked a little when the +wind blew he did not grow in the least rickety. Every +morning, when the wintry sun peered like a hard yellow +eye across the dry corn-stubble, Jimmy felt sad, but at +Christmas time his heart nearly broke.</p> + +<p>On Christmas Eve Santa Claus came in his sledge +heaped high with presents, urging his team of reindeer +across the field. He was on his way to the farmhouse +where Betsey lived with her Aunt Hannah.</p> + +<p>Betsey was a very good little girl with very smooth +yellow curls, and she had a great many presents. +Santa Claus had a large wax doll-baby for her on his +arm, tucked up against the fur collar of his coat. He +was afraid to trust it in the pack, lest it get broken.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[104]</a></span></p> + +<p>When poor Jimmy Scarecrow saw Santa Claus his +heart gave a great leap. "Santa Claus! Here I am!" +he cried out, but Santa Claus did not hear him.</p> + +<p>"Santa Claus, please give me a little present. I was +good all summer and kept the crows out of the corn," +pleaded the poor Scarecrow in his choking voice, but +Santa Claus passed by with a merry halloo and a great +clamour of bells.</p> + +<p>Then Jimmy Scarecrow stood in the corn-stubble +and shook with sobs until his joints creaked. "I am +of no use in the world, and everybody has forgotten +me," he moaned. But he was mistaken.</p> + +<p>The next morning Betsey sat at the window holding +her Christmas doll-baby, and she looked out at Jimmy +Scarecrow standing alone in the field amidst the corn-stubble.</p> + +<p>"Aunt Hannah?" said she. Aunt Hannah was +making a crazy patchwork quilt, and she frowned hard +at a triangular piece of red silk and circular piece of +pink, wondering how to fit them together. "Well?" +said she.</p> + +<p>"Did Santa Claus bring the Scarecrow any Christmas +present?"</p> + +<p>"No, of course he didn't."</p> + +<p>"Why not?"</p> + +<p>"Because he's a Scarecrow. Don't ask silly questions."</p> + +<p>"I wouldn't like to be treated so, if I was a Scarecrow," +said Betsey, but her Aunt Hannah did not hear<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[105]</a></span> +her. She was busy cutting a triangular snip out of the +round piece of pink silk so the piece of red silk could be +feather-stitched into it.</p> + +<p>It was snowing hard out of doors, and the north wind +blew. The Scarecrow's poor old coat got whiter and +whiter with snow. Sometimes he almost vanished in +the thick white storm. Aunt Hannah worked until the +middle of the afternoon on her crazy quilt. Then she +got up and spread it out over the sofa with an air +of pride.</p> + +<p>"There," said she, "that's done, and that makes +the eighth. I've got one for every bed in the house, +and I've given four away. I'd give this away if I +knew of anybody that wanted it."</p> + +<p>Aunt Hannah put on her hood and shawl, and drew +some blue yarn stockings on over her shoes, and set out +through the snow to carry a slice of plum-pudding to her +sister Susan, who lived down the road. Half an hour +after Aunt Hannah had gone Betsey put her little red +plaid shawl over her head, and ran across the field to +Jimmy Scarecrow. She carried her new doll-baby +smuggled up under her shawl.</p> + +<p>"Wish you Merry Christmas!" she said to Jimmy +Scarecrow.</p> + +<p>"Wish you the same," said Jimmy, but his voice +was choked with sobs, and was also muffled, for his old +hat had slipped down to his chin. Betsey looked +pitifully at the old hat fringed with icicles, like frozen +tears, and the old snow-laden coat. "I've brought<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[106]</a></span> +you a Christmas present," said she, and with that she +tucked her doll-baby inside Jimmy Scarecrow's coat, +sticking its tiny feet into a pocket.</p> + +<p>"Thank you," said Jimmy Scarecrow faintly.</p> + +<p>"You're welcome," said she. "Keep her under your +overcoat, so the snow won't wet her, and she won't +catch cold, she's delicate."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I will," said Jimmy Scarecrow, and he tried +hard to bring one of his stiff, outstretched arms around +to clasp the doll-baby.</p> + +<p>"Don't you feel cold in that old summer coat?" +asked Betsey.</p> + +<p>"If I had a little exercise, I should be warm," he +replied. But he shivered, and the wind whistled +through his rags.</p> + +<p>"You wait a minute," said Betsey, and was off +across the field.</p> + +<p>Jimmy Scarecrow stood in the corn-stubble, with the +doll-baby under his coat and waited, and soon Betsey +was back again with Aunt Hannah's crazy quilt trailing +in the snow behind her.</p> + +<p>"Here," said she, "here is something to keep you +warm," and she folded the crazy quilt around the +Scarecrow and pinned it.</p> + +<p>"Aunt Hannah wants to give it away if anybody +wants it," she explained. "She's got so many crazy +quilts in the house now she doesn't know what to do +with them. Good-bye—be sure you keep the doll-baby +covered up." And with that she ran across the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[107]</a></span> +field, and left Jimmy Scarecrow alone with the crazy +quilt and the doll-baby.</p> + +<p>The bright flash of colours under Jimmy's hat-brim +dazzled his eyes, and he felt a little alarmed. "I hope +this quilt is harmless if it <i>is</i> crazy," he said. But the +quilt was warm, and he dismissed his fears. Soon the +doll-baby whimpered, but he creaked his joints a little, +and that amused it, and he heard it cooing inside his +coat.</p> + +<p>Jimmy Scarecrow had never felt so happy in his +life as he did for an hour or so. But after that the +snow began to turn to rain, and the crazy quilt was +soaked through and through: and not only that, but +his coat and the poor doll-baby. It cried pitifully for +a while, and then it was still, and he was afraid it was +dead.</p> + +<p>It grew very dark, and the rain fell in sheets, the +snow melted, and Jimmy Scarecrow stood halfway up +his old boots in water. He was saying to himself that +the saddest hour of his life had come, when suddenly +he again heard Santa Claus' sleigh-bells and his merry +voice talking to his reindeer. It was after midnight, +Christmas was over, and Santa was hastening home to +the North Pole.</p> + +<p>"Santa Claus! dear Santa Claus!" cried Jimmy +Scarecrow with a great sob, and that time Santa Claus +heard him and drew rein.</p> + +<p>"Who's there?" he shouted out of the darkness.</p> + +<p>"It's only me," replied the Scarecrow.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[108]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Who's me?" shouted Santa Claus.</p> + +<p>"Jimmy Scarecrow!"</p> + +<p>Santa got out of his sledge and waded up. "Have +you been standing here ever since corn was ripe?" +he asked pityingly, and Jimmy replied that he +had.</p> + +<p>"What's that over your shoulders?" Santa Claus +continued, holding up his lantern.</p> + +<p>"It's a crazy quilt."</p> + +<p>"And what are you holding under your coat?"</p> + +<p>"The doll-baby that Betsey gave me, and I'm afraid +it's dead," poor Jimmy Scarecrow sobbed.</p> + +<p>"Nonsense!" cried Santa Claus. "Let me see it!" +And with that he pulled the doll-baby out from under +the Scarecrow's coat, and patted its back, and shook +it a little, and it began to cry, and then to crow. "It's +all right," said Santa Claus. "This is the doll-baby I +gave Betsey, and it is not at all delicate. It went +through the measles, and the chicken-pox, and the +mumps, and the whooping-cough, before it left the +North Pole. Now get into the sledge, Jimmy Scarecrow, +and bring the doll-baby and the crazy quilt. I +have never had any quilts that weren't in their right +minds at the North Pole, but maybe I can cure this +one. Get in!" Santa chirruped to his reindeer, +and they drew the sledge up close in a beautiful +curve.</p> + +<p>"Get in, Jimmy Scarecrow, and come with me to the +North Pole!" he cried.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[109]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Please, how long shall I stay?" asked Jimmy +Scarecrow.</p> + +<p>"Why, you are going to live with me," replied Santa +Claus. "I've been looking for a person like you for a +long time."</p> + +<p>"Are there any crows to scare away at the North +Pole? I want to be useful," Jimmy Scarecrow said, +anxiously.</p> + +<p>"No," answered Santa Claus, "but I don't want +you to scare away crows. I want you to scare away +Arctic Explorers. I can keep you in work for a thousand +years, and scaring away Arctic Explorers from the +North Pole is much more important than scaring away +crows from corn. Why, if they found the Pole, there +wouldn't be a piece an inch long left in a week's time, +and the earth would cave in like an apple without a +core! They would whittle it all to pieces, and carry it +away in their pockets for souvenirs. Come along; I +am in a hurry."</p> + +<p>"I will go on two conditions," said Jimmy. "First, +I want to make a present to Aunt Hannah and Betsey, +next Christmas."</p> + +<p>"You shall make them any present you choose. +What else?"</p> + +<p>"I want some way provided to scare the crows out +of the corn next summer, while I am away," said +Jimmy.</p> + +<p>"That is easily managed," said Santa Claus. "Just +wait a minute."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[110]</a></span></p> + +<p>Santa took his stylographic pen out of his pocket, +went with his lantern close to one of the fence-posts, +and wrote these words upon it:</p> + + +<div class='center'> +NOTICE TO CROWS<br /> +</div> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>Whichever crow shall hereafter hop, fly, or flop into this field +during the absence of Jimmy Scarecrow, and therefrom purloin, +steal, or abstract corn, shall be instantly, in a twinkling and a +trice, turned snow-white, and be ever after a disgrace, a byword +and a reproach to his whole race.</p> + +<div class='sig'> +Per order of <span class="smcap">Santa Claus</span>.<br /> +</div> +</div> + +<p>"The corn will be safe now," said Santa Claus, +"get in." Jimmy got into the sledge and they flew +away over the fields, out of sight, with merry halloos +and a great clamour of bells.</p> + +<p>The next morning there was much surprise at the +farmhouse, when Aunt Hannah and Betsey looked out +of the window and the Scarecrow was not in the field +holding out his stiff arms over the corn stubble. Betsey +had told Aunt Hannah she had given away the +crazy quilt and the doll-baby, but had been scolded +very little.</p> + +<p>"You must not give away anything of yours again +without asking permission," said Aunt Hannah. +"And you have no right to give anything of mine, even +if you know I don't want it. Now both my pretty +quilt and your beautiful doll-baby are spoiled."</p> + +<p>That was all Aunt Hannah had said. She thought<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[111]</a></span> +she would send John after the quilt and the doll-baby +next morning as soon as it was light.</p> + +<p>But Jimmy Scarecrow was gone, and the crazy quilt +and the doll-baby with him. John, the servant-man, +searched everywhere, but not a trace of them could he +find. "They must have all blown away, mum," he +said to Aunt Hannah.</p> + +<p>"We shall have to have another scarecrow next +summer," said she.</p> + +<p>But the next summer there was no need of a scarecrow, +for not a crow came past the fence-post on which +Santa Claus had written his notice to crows. The cornfield +was never so beautiful, and not a single grain was +stolen by a crow, and everybody wondered at it, for +they could not read the crow-language in which Santa +had written.</p> + +<p>"It is a great mystery to me why the crows don't +come into our cornfield, when there is no scarecrow," +said Aunt Hannah.</p> + +<p>But she had a still greater mystery to solve when +Christmas came round again. Then she and Betsey +had each a strange present. They found them in the +sitting-room on Christmas morning. Aunt Hannah's +present was her old crazy quilt, remodelled, with every +piece cut square and true, and matched exactly to its +neighbour.</p> + +<p>"Why, it's my old crazy quilt, but it isn't crazy now!" +cried Aunt Hannah, and her very spectacles seemed +to glisten with amazement.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[112]</a></span></p> + +<p>Betsey's present was her doll-baby of the Christmas +before; but the doll was a year older. She had grown +an inch, and could walk and say, "mamma," and "how +do?" She was changed a good deal, but Betsey knew +her at once. "It's my doll-baby!" she cried, and +snatched her up and kissed her.</p> + +<p>But neither Aunt Hannah nor Betsey ever knew that +the quilt and the doll were Jimmy Scarecrow's Christmas +presents to them.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[113]</a></span></p> +<h2>XII</h2> + +<h3>WHY THE CHIMES RANG<a name="FNanchor_H_8" id="FNanchor_H_8"></a><a href="#Footnote_H_8" class="fnanchor">[H]</a></h3> + +<div class='center'>RAYMOND MC ALDEN<br /><br /></div> + + +<div class='cap'>THERE was once in a faraway country where few +people have ever travelled, a wonderful church. +It stood on a high hill in the midst of a great city; and +every Sunday, as well as on sacred days like Christmas, +thousands of people climbed the hill to its great archways, +looking like lines of ants all moving in the same +direction.</div> + +<p>When you came to the building itself, you found +stone columns and dark passages, and a grand entrance +leading to the main room of the church. This room +was so long that one standing at the doorway could +scarcely see to the other end, where the choir stood +by the marble altar. In the farthest corner was the +organ; and this organ was so loud, that sometimes +when it played, the people for miles around would close +their shutters and prepare for a great thunderstorm. +Altogether, no such church as this was ever seen before, +especially when it was lighted up for some festival, +and crowded with people, young and old. But the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[114]</a></span> +strangest thing about the whole building was the wonderful +chime of bells.</p> + +<p>At one corner of the church was a great gray tower, +with ivy growing over it as far up as one could see. +I say as far as one could see, because the tower was +quite great enough to fit the great church, and it rose +so far into the sky that it was only in very fair weather +that any one claimed to be able to see the top. Even +then one could not be certain that it was in sight. Up, +and up, and up climbed the stones and the ivy; and as +the men who built the church had been dead for hundreds +of years, every one had forgotten how high the +tower was supposed to be.</p> + +<p>Now all the people knew that at the top of the tower +was a chime of Christmas bells. They had hung there +ever since the church had been built, and were the most +beautiful bells in the world. Some thought it was +because a great musician had cast them and arranged +them in their place; others said it was because of the +great height, which reached up where the air was +clearest and purest; however that might be no one who +had ever heard the chimes denied that they were the +sweetest in the world. Some described them as sounding +like angels far up in the sky; others as sounding like +strange winds singing through the trees.</p> + +<p>But the fact was that no one had heard them for +years and years. There was an old man living not far +from the church who said that his mother had spoken +of hearing them when she was a little girl, and he was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[115]</a></span> +the only one who was sure of as much as that. They +were Christmas chimes, you see, and were not meant +to be played by men or on common days. It was the +custom on Christmas Eve for all the people to bring +to the church their offerings to the Christ-Child; and +when the greatest and best offering was laid on the altar +there used to come sounding through the music of the +choir the Christmas chimes far up in the tower. Some +said that the wind rang them, and others, that they +were so high that the angels could set them swinging. +But for many long years they had never been heard. +It was said that people had been growing less careful +of their gifts for the Christ-Child, and that no offering +was brought great enough to deserve the music of +the chimes.</p> + +<p>Every Christmas Eve the rich people still crowded +to the altar, each one trying to bring some better gift +than any other, without giving anything that he wanted +for himself, and the church was crowded with those +who thought that perhaps the wonderful bells might +be heard again. But although the service was splendid, +and the offerings plenty, only the roar of the wind could +be heard, far up in the stone tower.</p> + +<p>Now, a number of miles from the city, in a little +country village, where nothing could be seen of the great +church but glimpses of the tower when the weather +was fine, lived a boy named Pedro, and his little +brother. They knew very little about the Christmas +chimes, but they had heard of the service in the church<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[116]</a></span> +on Christmas Eve, and had a secret plan which they +had often talked over when by themselves, to go to see +the beautiful celebration.</p> + +<p>"Nobody can guess, Little Brother," Pedro would +say; "all the fine things there are to see and hear; and I +have even heard it said that the Christ-Child sometimes +comes down to bless the service. What if we +could see Him?"</p> + +<p>The day before Christmas was bitterly cold, with a +few lonely snowflakes flying in the air, and a hard +white crust on the ground. Sure enough Pedro and +Little Brother were able to slip quietly away early in +the afternoon; and although the walking was hard in +the frosty air, before nightfall they had trudged so far, +hand in hand, that they saw the lights of the big city +just ahead of them. Indeed they were about to enter +one of the great gates in the wall that surrounded it, +when they saw something dark on the snow near their +path, and stepped aside to look at it.</p> + +<p>It was a poor woman, who had fallen just outside the +city, too sick and tired to get in where she might have +found shelter. The soft snow made of a drift a sort +of pillow for her, and she would soon be so sound asleep, +in the wintry air, that no one could ever waken her +again. All this Pedro saw in a moment and he knelt +down beside her and tried to rouse her, even tugging +at her arm a little, as though he would have tried to +carry her away. He turned her face toward him, so +that he could rub some of the snow on it, and when he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[117]</a></span> +had looked at her silently a moment he stood up again, +and said:</p> + +<p>"It's no use, Little Brother. You will have to go +on alone."</p> + +<p>"Alone?" cried Little Brother. "And you not see +the Christmas festival?"</p> + +<p>"No," said Pedro, and he could not keep back a bit +of a choking sound in his throat. "See this poor +woman. Her face looks like the Madonna in the +chapel window, and she will freeze to death if nobody +cares for her. Every one has gone to the church now, +but when you come back you can bring some one to +help her. I will rub her to keep her from freezing, and +perhaps get her to eat the bun that is left in my +pocket."</p> + +<p>"But I cannot bear to leave you, and go on alone," +said Little Brother.</p> + +<p>"Both of us need not miss the service," said Pedro, +"and it had better be I than you. You can easily find +your way to church; and you must see and hear everything +twice, Little Brother—once for you and once +for me. I am sure the Christ-Child must know how I +should love to come with you and worship Him; and +oh! if you get a chance, Little Brother, to slip up to the +altar without getting in any one's way, take this little +silver piece of mine, and lay it down for my offering, +when no one is looking. Do not forget where you have +left me, and forgive me for not going with you."</p> + +<p>In this way he hurried Little Brother off to the city<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[118]</a></span> +and winked hard to keep back the tears, as he heard +the crunching footsteps sounding farther and farther +away in the twilight. It was pretty hard to lose the +music and splendour of the Christmas celebration that +he had been planning for so long, and spend the time +instead in that lonely place in the snow.</p> + +<p>The great church was a wonderful place that night. +Every one said that it had never looked so bright and +beautiful before. When the organ played and the +thousands of people sang, the walls shook with the +sound, and little Pedro, away outside the city wall, felt +the earth tremble around him.</p> + +<p>At the close of the service came the procession with +the offerings to be laid on the altar. Rich men and +great men marched proudly up to lay down their gifts +to the Christ-Child. Some brought wonderful jewels, +some baskets of gold so heavy that they could scarcely +carry them down the aisle. A great writer laid down +a book that he had been making for years and years. +And last of all walked the king of the country, hoping +with all the rest to win for himself the chime of the +Christmas bells. There went a great murmur through +the church as the people saw the king take from his +head the royal crown, all set with precious stones, and +lay it gleaming on the altar, as his offering to the Holy +Child. "Surely," every one said, "we shall hear the +bells now, for nothing like this has ever happened +before."</p> + +<p>But still only the cold old wind was heard in the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[119]</a></span> +tower and the people shook their heads; and some of +them said, as they had before, that they never really +believed the story of the chimes, and doubted if they +ever rang at all.</p> + +<p>The procession was over, and the choir began the +closing hymn. Suddenly the organist stopped playing, +and every one looked at the old minister, who was standing +by the altar, holding up his hand for silence. Not a +sound could be heard from any one in the church, but +as all the people strained their ears to listen, there came +softly, but distinctly, swinging through the air, the +the sound of the chimes in the tower. So far away, +and yet so clear the music seemed—so much +sweeter were the notes than anything that had been +heard before, rising and falling away up there in the +sky, that the people in the church sat for a moment as +still as though something held each of them by the +shoulders. Then they all stood up together and stared +straight at the altar, to see what great gift had awakened +the long silent bells.</p> + +<p>But all that the nearest of them saw was the childish +figure of Little Brother, who had crept softly down the +aisle when no one was looking, and had laid Pedro's +little piece of silver on the altar.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[120]</a></span></p> +<h2>XIII</h2> + +<h3>THE BIRDS' CHRISTMAS<a name="FNanchor_I_9" id="FNanchor_I_9"></a><a href="#Footnote_I_9" class="fnanchor">[I]</a></h3> + +<div class='center'>F. E. MANN<br /> + +<i>Founded on fact.</i><br /><br /></div> + + +<div class='cap'>CHICKADEE-DEE-DEE-DEE! Chickadee-dee-dee-dee! +Chicka——" "Cheerup, cheerup, +chee-chee! Cheerup, cheerup, chee-chee!" "Ter-ra-lee, +ter-ra-lee, ter-ra-lee!"</div> + +<p>"Rap-atap-atap-atap!" went the woodpecker; "Mrs. +Chickadee may speak first."</p> + +<p>"Friends," began Mrs. Chickadee, "why do you +suppose I called you together?"</p> + +<p>"Because it's the day before Christmas," twittered +Snow Bunting. "And you're going to give a Christmas +party," chirped the Robin. "And you want us +all to come!" said Downy Woodpecker. "Hurrah! +Three cheers for Mrs. Chickadee!"</p> + +<p>"Hush!" said Mrs. <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'Chicakadee'">Chickadee</ins>, "and I'll tell you +all about it. To-morrow is Christmas Day, but I don't +want to give a party."</p> + +<p>"Chee, chee, chee!" cried Robin Rusty-breast; +"chee, chee, chee!"</p> + +<p>"Just listen to my little plan," said Mrs. Chickadee,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[121]</a></span> +"for, indeed, I want you all to help. How many remember +Thistle Goldfinch—the happy little fellow +who floated over the meadows through the summer +and fall?"</p> + +<p>"Cheerup, chee-chee, cheerup, chee-chee, I do," +sang the Robin; "how he loved to sway on thistletops!" +"Yes," said Downy Woodpecker, "and didn't he sing? +All about blue skies, and sunshine and happy days, +with his 'Swee-e-et-sweet-sweet-sweet-a-twitter-witter-witter-witter-wee-twea!'"</p> + +<p>"Ter-ra-lee, ter-ra-lee," said Snow Bunting. "We've +all heard of Thistle Goldfinch, but what can he have +to do with your Christmas party? He's away down +South now, and wouldn't care if you gave a dozen +parties."</p> + +<p>"Oh, but he isn't; he's right in these very +woods!"</p> + +<p>"Why, you don't mean——"</p> + +<p>"Indeed I do mean it, every single word. Yesterday +I was flitting about among the trees, pecking at a dead +branch here, and a bit of moss there, and before I knew it +I found myself away over at the other side of the woods! +'Chickadee-dee-dee, chickadee-dee-dee!' I sang, as I +turned my bill toward home. Just then I heard the saddest +little voice pipe out: 'Dear-ie me! Dear-ie me!' +and there on the sunny side of a branch perched a lonesome +bit of yellowish down. I went up to see what it +was, and found dear little Thistle Goldfinch! He was +very glad to see me, and soon told his short story.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[122]</a></span> +Through the summer Papa and Mamma Goldfinch +and all the brothers and sisters had a fine time, singing +together, fluttering over thistletops, or floating through +the balmy air. But when 'little Jack Frost walked +through the trees,' Papa Goldfinch said: 'It is high +time we went South!' All were ready but Thistle; he +wanted to stay through the winter, and begged so hard +that Papa Goldfinch soberly said: 'Try it, my son, +but <i>do</i> find a warm place to stay in at night.' Then off +they flew, and Thistle was alone. For a while he was +happy. The sun shone warm through the middle of +the day, and there were fields and meadows full of seeds. +You all remember how sweetly he sang for us then. +But by and by the cold North Wind came whistling +through the trees, and chilly Thistle woke up one gray +morning to find the air full of whirling snowflakes. +He didn't mind the light snows, golden-rod and some +high grasses were too tall to be easily covered, and he +got seeds from them. But now that the heavy snows +have come, the poor little fellow is almost starved, and +if he doesn't have a warm place to sleep in these cold +nights, he'll surely die!"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Chickadee paused a minute. The birds were +so still one could hear the pine trees whisper. Then +she went on: "I comforted the poor little fellow as +best I could, and showed him where to find a few seeds: +then I flew home, for it was bedtime. I tucked my +head under my wing to keep it warm, and thought, and +thought, and thought; and here's my plan:<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[123]</a></span></p> + +<p>"We Chickadees have a nice warm home here in the +spruce trees, with their thick, heavy boughs to shut out +the snow and cold. There is plenty of room, so Thistle +could sleep here all winter. We would let him perch on +a branch, when we Chickadees would nestle around him +until he was as warm as in the lovely summer time. +These cones are so full of seeds that we could spare +him a good many; and I think that you Robins +might let him come over to your pines some day +and share your seeds. Downy Woodpecker must +keep his eyes open as he hammers the trees, and +if he spies a supply of seeds he will let us know +at once. Snow Bunting is only a visitor, so I don't +expect him to help, but I wanted him to hear my +plan with the rest of you. Now you <i>will</i> try, won't +you, <i>every one</i>?"</p> + +<p>"Cheerup, cheerup, ter-ra-lee! Indeed we'll try; +let's begin right away! Don't wait until to-morrow; +who'll go and find Thistle?"</p> + +<p>"I will," chirped Robin Rusty-breast, and off he +flew to the place which Mrs. Chickadee had told of, at +the other side of the wood. There, sure enough, he +found Thistle Goldfinch sighing: "Dear-ie me! dear-ie +me! The winter is so cold and I'm here all alone!" +"Cheerup, chee-chee!" piped the Robin:</p> + +<div class='poem'> +"Cheerup, cheerup, I'm here!<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">I'm here and I mean to stay.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">What if the winter is drear—</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Cheerup, cheerup anyway!"</span><br /> +</div><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[124]</a></span></p> + +<p>"But the snow is so deep," said Thistle, and the +Robin replied:</p> + +<div class='poem'> +"Soon the snows'll be over and gone,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Run and rippled away;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">What's the use of looking forlorn?</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Cheerup, cheerup, I say!"</span><br /> +</div> + +<p>Then he told Thistle all their plans, and wasn't +Thistle surprised? Why, he just couldn't believe a +word of it till they reached Mrs. Chickadee's +and she said it was all true. They fed him and +warmed him, then settled themselves for a good +night's rest.</p> + +<p>Christmas morning they were chirping gaily, and +Thistle was trying to remember the happy song he sang +in the summer time, when there came a whirr of wings +as Snow Bunting flew down.</p> + +<p>"Ter-ra-lee, ter-ra-lee, ter-ra-lee," said he, "can you +fly a little way?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes," replied Thistle. "I <i>think</i> I could fly a +<i>long</i> way."</p> + +<p>"Come on, then," said Snow Bunting. "Every +one who wants a Christmas dinner, follow me!" +That was every word he would say, so what could they +do but follow?</p> + +<p>Soon they came to the edge of the wood, and then to +a farmhouse. Snow Bunting flew straight up to the +piazza, and there stood a dear little girl in a warm hood +and cloak, with a pail of bird-seed on her arm, and a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[125]</a></span> +dish of bread crumbs in her hand. As they flew down, +she said:</p> + +<p>"And here are some more birdies who have come for +a Christmas dinner. Of course you shall have some, +you dear little things!" and she laughed merrily to see +them dive for the crumbs.</p> + +<p>After they had finished eating, Elsie (that was the +little girl's name) said: "Now, little birds, it is going +to be a cold winter, you would better come here every +day to get your dinner. I'll always be glad to see you."</p> + +<p>"Cheerup chee-chee, cheerup chee-chee! thank you, +thank you," cried the Robins.</p> + +<p>"Ter-ra-lee, ter-ra-lee, ter-ra-lee! thank you, thank +you!" twittered Snow Bunting.</p> + +<p>"Chick-a-dee-dee-dee-dee, chick-a-dee-dee-dee-dee, +chick-a-dee-dee-dee-dee-dee! how kind you are!" sang +the Chickadees.</p> + +<p>And Thistle Goldfinch? Yes, he remembered his +summer song, for he sang as they flew away:</p> + +<p>"Swee-e-et—sweet-sweet-sweet-a-twitter-witter-witter-witter—wee-twea!"</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">Notes.</span>—1: The Robin's song is from "Bird Talks," by Mrs. A. D. T. +Whitney.</p> + +<p>2: The fact upon which this story is based—that is of the other birds +adopting and warming the solitary Thistle Goldfinch—was observed near +Northampton, Mass., where robins and other migratory birds sometimes +spend the winter in the thick pine woods.</p></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[126]</a></span></p> +<h2>XIV</h2> + +<h3>THE LITTLE SISTER'S VACATION<a name="FNanchor_J_10" id="FNanchor_J_10"></a><a href="#Footnote_J_10" class="fnanchor">[J]</a></h3> + +<div class='center'>WINIFRED M. KIRKLAND<br /><br /></div> + + +<div class='cap'>IT WAS to be a glorious Christmas at Doctor +Brower's. All "the children"—little Peggy and +her mother always spoke of the grown-up ones as "the +children"—were coming home. Mabel was coming +from Ohio with her big husband and her two babies, +Minna and little Robin, the year-old grandson whom +the home family had never seen; Hazen was coming all +the way from the Johns Hopkins Medical School, and +Arna was coming home from her teaching in New York.</div> + +<p>It was a trial to Peggy that vacation did not begin +until the very day before Christmas, and then continued +only one niggardly week. After school hours she had +helped her mother in the Christmas preparations every +day until she crept into bed at night with aching arms +and tired feet, to lie there tossing about, whether from +weariness or glad excitement she did not know.</p> + +<p>"Not so hard, daughter," the doctor said to her once.</p> + +<p>"Oh, papa," protested her mother, "when we're so +busy, and Peggy is so handy!"</p> + +<p>"Not so hard," he repeated, with his eyes on fifteen-year-old<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[127]</a></span> +Peggy's delicate face, as, wearing her braids +pinned up on her head and a pinafore down to her toes, +she stoned raisins and blanched almonds, rolled bread +crumbs and beat eggs, dusted and polished and made +ready for the children.</p> + +<p>Finally, after a day of flying about, helping with the +many last <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'thing'">things</ins>, Peggy let down her braids and put +on her new crimson shirtwaist, and stood with her +mother in the front doorway, for it was Christmas Eve +at last, and the station 'bus was rattling up with the +first homecomers, Arna and Hazen.</p> + +<p>Then there were voices ringing up and down the dark +street, and there were happy tears in the mother's +eyes, and Arna had taken Peggy's face in her two soft-gloved +hands and lifted it up and kissed it, and Hazen +had swung his little sister up in the air just as of old. +Peggy's tired feet were dancing for joy. She was helping +Arna take off her things, was carrying her bag +upstairs—would have carried Hazen's heavy grip, too, +only her father took it from her.</p> + +<p>"Set the kettle to boil, Peggy," directed her mother; +"then run upstairs and see if Arna wants anything. +We'll wait supper till the rest come."</p> + +<p>The rest came on the nine o'clock train, such a load +of them—the big, bluff brother-in-law, Mabel, plump +and laughing, as always, Minna, elfin and bright-eyed, +and sleepy Baby Robin. Such hugging, such a hubbub +of baby talk! How many things there seemed to be +to do for those precious babies right away!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[128]</a></span></p> + +<p>Peggy was here and there and everywhere. Everything +was in joyous confusion. Supper was to be set +on, too. While the rest ate, Peggy sat by, holding +Robin, her own little nephew, and managing at the +same time to pick up the things—napkin, knife, spoon, +bread—that Minna, hilarious with the late hour, +flung from her high chair.</p> + +<p>It seemed as if they would never be all stowed away +for the night. Some of them wanted pitchers of warm +water, some of them pitchers of cold, and the alcohol +stove must be brought up for heating the baby's milk +at night. The house was crowded, too. Peggy had +given up her room to Hazen, and slept on a cot in the +sewing room with Minna.</p> + +<p>The cot had been enlarged by having three chairs +piled with pillows, set along the side. But Minna +preferred to sleep in the middle of the cot, or else across +it, her restless little feet pounding at Peggy's ribs; and +Peggy was unused to any bedfellow.</p> + +<p>She lay long awake thinking proudly of the children, +of Hazen, the tall brother, with his twinkling eyes, his +drolleries, his teasing; of graceful Arna who dressed so +daintily, talked so cleverly, and had been to college. +Arna was going to send Peggy to college, too—it was +so good of Arna! But for all Peggy's admiration for +Arna, it was Mabel, the eldest sister, who was the more +approachable. Mabel did not pretend even to as much +learning as Peggy had herself; she was happy-go-lucky +and sweet-tempered. Then her husband was a great<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[129]</a></span> +jolly fellow, with whom it was impossible to be shy, and +the babies—there never were such cunning babies, +Peggy thought. Just here her niece gave her a particularly +vicious kick, and Peggy opposed to her train of +admiring thoughts, "But I'm so tired."</p> + +<p>It did not seem to Peggy that she had been asleep at +all when she was waked with a vigorous pounding on +her chest and a shrill little voice in her ear:</p> + +<p>"Ch'is'mus, Ch'is'mus, Ch'is'mus! It's mornin'! +It's Ch'is'mus!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, no, it isn't, Minna!" pleaded Peggy, struggling +with sleepiness. "It's all dark still."</p> + +<p>"Ch'is'mus, Ch'is'mus, Ch'is'mus!" reiterated +Minna continuing to pound.</p> + +<p>"Hush, dear! You'll wake Aunt Arna, and she's +tired after being all day on the chou-chou cars."</p> + +<p>"Merry Ch'is'mus, Aunty Arna!" shouted the +irrepressible Minna.</p> + +<p>"Oh, darling, be quiet! We'll play little pig goes to +market. I'll tell you a story, only be quiet a little +while."</p> + +<p>It took Peggy's utmost effort to keep the little +wriggler still for the hour from five to six. Then, +however, her shrill, "Merry Ch'is'mus!" roused the +household. Protests were of no avail. Minna was +the only granddaughter. Dark as it was, people must +get up.</p> + +<p>Peggy must dress Minna and then hurry down to +help get breakfast—not so easy a task with Minna<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[130]</a></span> +ever at one's heels. The quick-moving sprite seemed +to be everywhere—into the sugar-bowl, the cooky jar, +the steaming teakettle—before one could turn about. +Urged on by the impatient little girl, the grown-ups +made short work of breakfast.</p> + +<p>After the meal, according to time-honoured Brower +custom, they formed in procession, single file, Minna +first, then Ben with Baby Robin. They each held +aloft a sprig of holly, and they all kept time as they +sang, "God rest you, merry gentlemen," in their march +from the dining-room to the office. And there they +must form in circle about the tree, and dance three-times +round, singing "The Christmas-tree is an evergreen," +before they could touch a single present.</p> + +<p>The presents are done up according to custom, packages +of every shape and size, but all in white paper and +tied with red ribbon, and all marked for somebody with +somebody else's best love. They all fall to opening, +and the babies' shouts are not the only ones to be heard.</p> + +<p>Passers-by smile indulgently at the racket, remembering +that all the Browers are home for Christmas, and +the Browers were ever a jovial company.</p> + +<p>Peggy gazes at her gifts quietly, but with shining +eyes—little gold cuff pins from Hazen, just like Arna's; +a set of furs from Mabel and Ben; but she likes Arna's +gift best of all, a complete set of her favourite author.</p> + +<p>But much as they would like to linger about the +Christmas tree, Peggy and her mother, at least, must +remember that the dishes must be washed and the beds<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[131]</a></span> +made, and that the family must get ready for church. +Peggy does not go to church, and nobody dreams how +much she wants to go. She loves the Christmas music. +No hymn rings so with joy as:</p> + +<div class='center'> +Jerusalem triumphs, Messiah is king.<br /> +</div> + +<p>The choir sings it only once a year, on the Christmas +morning. Besides, her chum Esther will be at church, +and Peggy has been too busy to go to see her since she +came home from boarding-school for the holidays. +But somebody must stay at home, and that somebody +who but Peggy? Somebody must baste the turkey, +and prepare the vegetables and take care of the +babies.</p> + +<p>Peggy is surprised to find how difficult it is to combine +dinner-getting with baby-tending. When she +opens the oven-door, there is Minna's head thrust up +under her arm, the inquisitive little nose in great danger +by reason of sputtering gravy.</p> + +<p>"Minna," protests Peggy, "you mustn't eat another +bit of candy!" and Minna opens her mouth in a howl, +prolonged, but without tears and without change of +colour. Robin joins in, he does not know why. Peggy +is a doting aunt, but an honest one. She is vexed by a +growing conviction that Mabel's babies are sadly +spoiled. Peggy is ashamed of herself; surely she ought +to be perfectly happy playing with Minna and Robin. +Instead, she finds that the thing she would like best of +all to be doing at this moment, next to going to church,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[132]</a></span> +would be to be lying on her father's couch in the office +all by herself, reading.</p> + +<p>The dinner is a savoury triumph for Peggy and her +mother. The gravy and the mashed potato are entirely +of Peggy's workmanship, and Peggy has had a hand +in most of the other dishes, too, as the mother proudly +tells. How that merry party can eat! Peggy is +waitress, and it is long before the passing is over, and +she can sit down in her own place. She is just as fond +of the unusual Christmas good things as are the rest, +but somehow, before she is well started at her turkey, +it is time for changing plates for dessert, and before she +has tasted her nuts and raisins the babies have succumbed +to sleepiness, and it is Peggy who must carry +them upstairs for their nap—just in the middle of +one of Hazen's funniest stories, too.</p> + +<p>And all the time the little sister is so ready, so quickly +serviceable, that somehow nobody notices—nobody +but the doctor. It is he who finds Peggy, half an hour +later, all alone in the kitchen. The mother and the +older daughters are gathered about the sitting-room +hearth, engaged in the dear, delicious talk about the +little things that are always left out of letters.</p> + +<p>The doctor interrupts them.</p> + +<p>"Peggy is all alone," he says.</p> + +<p>"But we're having such a good talk," the mother +pleads, "and Peggy will be done in no time! Peggy +is so handy!"</p> + +<p>"Well, girls?" is all the doctor says, with quiet command<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[133]</a></span> +in his eyes, and Peggy is not left to wash the +Christmas dishes all alone. Because she is smiling +and her cheeks are bright, her sisters do not notice that +her eyes are wet, for Peggy is hotly ashamed of certain +thoughts and feelings that she cannot down. She forgets +them for a while, however, sitting on the hearth-rug, +snuggled against her father's knee in the Christmas +twilight.</p> + +<p>Yet the troublesome thoughts came back in the evening, +when Peggy sat upstairs in the dark with Minna, +vainly trying to induce the excited little girl to go to +sleep, while bursts of merriment from the family below +were always breaking in upon the two in their banishment.</p> + +<p>There was another restless night of it with the little +niece, and another too early waking. Everybody but +Minna was sleepy enough, and breakfast was a protracted +meal, to which the "children" came down slowly +one by one. Arna did not appear at all, and Peggy +carried up to her the daintiest of trays, all of her own +preparing. Arna's kiss of thanks was great reward. +It was dinner-time before Peggy realized it, and she had +hoped to find a quiet hour for her Latin.</p> + +<p>The dreadful regent's examination was to come the +next week, and Peggy wanted to study for it. She had +once thought of asking Arna to help her, but Arna +seemed so tired.</p> + +<p>In the afternoon Esther came to see her chum, and +to take her home with her to spend the night. The<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[134]</a></span> +babies, fretful with after-Christmas-crossness, were +tumbling over their aunt, and sadly interrupting confidences, +while Peggy explained that she could not go +out that evening. All the family were going to the +church sociable, and she must put the babies to bed.</p> + +<p>"I think it's mean," Esther broke in. "Isn't it +your vacation as well as theirs? Do make that child +stop pulling your hair!"</p> + +<p>If Esther's words had only not echoed through +Peggy's head as they did that night! "But it is so +mean of me, so mean of me, to want my own vacation!" +sobbed Peggy in the darkness. "I ought just to be glad +they're all at home."</p> + +<p>Her self-reproach made her readier than ever to wait +on them all the next morning. Nobody could make +such buckwheat cakes as could Mrs. Brower; nobody +could turn them as could Peggy. They were worth +coming from New York and Baltimore and Ohio +to eat. Peggy stood at the griddle half an hour, an +hour, two hours. Her head was aching. Hazen, the +latest riser, was joyously calling for more.</p> + +<p>At eleven o'clock Peggy realized that she had had no +breakfast herself, and that her mother was hurrying +her off to investigate the lateness of the butcher. +Her head ached more and more, and she seemed +strangely slow in her dinner-getting and dish-washing. +Her father was away, and there was no one to +help in the clearing-up. It was three before she had +finished.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[135]</a></span></p> + +<p>Outside the sleigh-bells sounded enticing. It was +the first sleighing of the season. Mabel and Ben had +been off for a ride, and Arna and Hazen, too. How +Peggy longed to be skimming over the snow instead of +polishing knives all alone in the kitchen. Sue Cummings +came that afternoon to invite Peggy to her party, +given in Esther's honour. Sue enumerated six other +gatherings that were being given that week in honour +of Esther's visit home. Sue seemed to dwell much +on the subject. Presently Peggy, with hot cheeks, understood +why. Everybody was giving Esther a party, +everybody but Peggy herself. Esther's own chum, +and all the other girls, were talking about it.</p> + +<p>Peggy stood at the door to see Sue out, and watched +the sleighs fly by. Out in the sitting-room she heard +her mother saying, "Yes, of course we can have waffles +for supper. Where's Peggy?" Then Peggy ran away.</p> + +<p>In the wintry dusk the doctor came stamping in, +shaking the snow from his bearskins. As always, +"Where's Peggy?" was his first question.</p> + +<p>Peggy was not to be found, they told him. They had +been all over the house, calling her. They thought she +must have gone out with Sue. The doctor seemed to +doubt this. He went through the upstairs rooms, +calling her softly. But Peggy was not in any of the +bedrooms, or in any of the closets, either. There was +still the kitchen attic to be tried.</p> + +<p>There came a husky little moan out of its depths, as +he whispered, "Daughter!" He groped his way to her,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[136]</a></span> +and sitting down on a trunk, folded her into his bearskin +coat.</p> + +<p>"Now tell father all about it," he said. And it all +came out with many sobs—the nights and dawns with +Minna, the Latin, the sleighing, Esther's party, breakfast, +the weariness, the headache; and last the waffles, +which had moved the one unbearable thing.</p> + +<p>"And it is so mean of me, so mean of me!" sobbed +Peggy. "But, oh, daddy, I do want a vacation!"</p> + +<p>"And you shall have one," he answered.</p> + +<p>He carried her straight into her own room, laid +her down on her own bed, and tumbled Hazen's things +into the hall. Then he went downstairs and talked +to his family.</p> + +<p>Presently the mother came stealing in, bearing a +glass of medicine the doctor-father had sent. Then +she undressed Peggy and put her to bed as if she had +been a baby, and sat by, smoothing her hair, until +she fell asleep.</p> + +<p>It seemed to Peggy that she had slept a long, long +time. The sun was shining bright. Her door opened +a crack and Arna peeped in, and seeing her awake, +came to the bed and kissed her good morning.</p> + +<p>"I'm so sorry, little sister!" she said.</p> + +<p>"Sorry for what?" asked the wondering Peggy.</p> + +<p>"Because I didn't see," said Arna. "But now I'm +going to bring up your breakfast."</p> + +<p>"Oh, no!" cried Peggy, sitting up.</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes!" said Arna, with quiet authority. It<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[137]</a></span> +was as dainty cooking as Peggy's own, and Arna sat +by to watch her eat.</p> + +<p>"You're so good to me, Arna!" said Peggy.</p> + +<p>"Not very," answered Arna, dryly. "When you've +finished this you must lie up here away from the children +and read."</p> + +<p>"But who will take care of Minna?" questioned +Peggy.</p> + +<p>"Minna's mamma," answered a voice from the next +room, where Mabel was pounding pillows. She came +to the door to look in on Peggy in all her luxury of +orange marmalade to eat, Christmas books to read, +and Arna to wait upon her.</p> + +<p>"I think mothers, not aunts, were meant to look +after babies," said Mabel. "I'm so sorry, dear!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I wish you two wouldn't talk like that!" cried +Peggy. "I'm so ashamed."</p> + +<p>"All right, we'll stop talking," said Mabel quickly, +"but we'll remember."</p> + +<p>They would not let Peggy lift her hand to any of the +work that day. Mabel managed the babies masterfully. +Arna moved quietly about, accomplishing wonders.</p> + +<p>"But aren't you tired, Arna?" queried Peggy.</p> + +<p>"Not a bit of it, and I'll have time to help you with +your Cæsar before——"</p> + +<p>"Before what?" asked Peggy, but got no answer. +They had been translating famously, when, in the late +afternoon, there came a ring of the doorbell. Peggy<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[138]</a></span> +found Hazen bowing low, and craving "Mistress Peggy's +company." A sleigh and two prancing horses stood +at the gate.</p> + +<p>It was a glorious drive. Peggy's eyes danced and +her laugh rang out at Hazen's drolleries. The world +stretched white all about them, and their horses flew +on and on like the wind. They rode till dark, then +turned back to the village, twinkling with lights.</p> + +<p>The Brower house was alight in every window, and +there was the sound of many voices in the hall. The +door flew open upon a laughing crowd of boys and girls. +Peggy, all glowing and rosy with the wind, stood utterly +bewildered until Esther rushed forward and hugged +and shook her.</p> + +<p>"It's a party!" she exclaimed. "One of your mother's +waffle suppers! We're all here! Isn't it splendid?"</p> + +<p>"But, but, but——" stammered Peggy.</p> + +<p>"'But, but, but,'" mimicked Esther. "But this +is your vacation, don't you see?"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[139]</a></span></p> +<h2>XV</h2> + +<h3>LITTLE WOLFF'S WOODEN SHOES</h3> + +<div class='center'>A CHRISTMAS STORY BY FRANÇOIS COPPÉE; ADAPTED AND +TRANSLATED BY ALMA J. FOSTER<br /><br /></div> + + +<div class='cap'>ONCE upon a time—so long ago that everybody +has forgotten the date—in a city in the north of +Europe—with such a hard name that nobody can +ever remember it—there was a little seven-year-old +boy named Wolff, whose parents were dead, who lived +with a cross and stingy old aunt, who never thought +of kissing him more than once a year and who sighed +deeply whenever she gave him a bowlful of soup.</div> + +<p>But the poor little fellow had such a sweet nature +that in spite of everything, he loved the old woman, +although he was terribly afraid of her and could never +look at her ugly old face without shivering.</p> + +<p>As this aunt of little Wolff was known to have a house +of her own and an old woollen stocking full of gold, she +had not dared to send the boy to a charity school; but, +in order to get a reduction in the price, she had so +wrangled with the master of the school, to which little +Wolff finally went, that this bad man, vexed at having +a pupil so poorly dressed and paying so little, often punished +him unjustly, and even prejudiced his companions<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[140]</a></span> +against him, so that the three boys, all sons of rich +parents, made a drudge and laughing stock of the little +fellow.</p> + +<p>The poor little one was thus as wretched as a child +could be and used to hide himself in corners to weep +whenever Christmas time came.</p> + +<p>It was the schoolmaster's custom to take all his +pupils to the midnight mass on Christmas Eve, and to +bring them home again afterward.</p> + +<p>Now, as the winter this year was very bitter, and as +heavy snow had been falling for several days, all the +boys came well bundled up in warm clothes, with fur +caps pulled over their ears, padded jackets, gloves and +knitted mittens, and strong, thick-soled boots. Only +little Wolff presented himself shivering in the poor +clothes he used to wear both weekdays and Sundays and +having on his feet only thin socks in heavy wooden +shoes.</p> + +<p>His naughty companions noticing his sad face and +awkward appearance, made many jokes at his expense; +but the little fellow was so busy blowing on his fingers, +and was suffering so much with chilblains, that he took +no notice of them. So the band of youngsters, walking +two and two behind the master, started for the church.</p> + +<p>It was pleasant in the church which was brilliant +with lighted candles; and the boys excited by the +warmth took advantage of the music of the choir and +the organ to chatter among themselves in low tones. +They bragged about the fun that was awaiting them<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[141]</a></span> +at home. The mayor's son had seen, just before +starting off, an immense goose ready stuffed and dressed +for cooking. At the alderman's home there was a little +pine-tree with branches laden down with oranges, +sweets, and toys. And the lawyer's cook had put +on her cap with such care as she never thought of +taking unless she was expecting something very good!</p> + +<p>Then they talked, too, of all that the Christ-Child was +going to bring them, of all he was going to put in their +shoes which, you might be sure, they would take good +care to leave in the chimney place before going to bed; +and the eyes of these little urchins, as lively as a cage +of mice, were sparkling in advance over the joy they +would have when they awoke in the morning and +saw the pink bag full of sugar-plums, the little lead +soldiers ranged in companies in their boxes, the menageries +smelling of varnished wood, and the magnificent +jumping-jacks in purple and tinsel.</p> + +<p>Alas! Little Wolff knew by experience that his +old miser of an aunt would send him to bed supperless, +but, with childlike faith and certain of having been, +all the year, as good and industrious as possible, he +hoped that the Christ-Child would not forget him, +and so he, too, planned to place his wooden shoes in +good time in the fireplace.</p> + +<p>Midnight mass over, the worshippers departed, +eager for their fun, and the band of pupils always +walking two and two, and following the teacher, left +the church.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[142]</a></span></p> + +<p>Now, in the porch and seated on a stone bench set +in the niche of a painted arch, a child was sleeping—a +child in a white woollen garment, but with his little +feet bare, in spite of the cold. He was not a beggar, +for his garment was white and new, and near him on +the floor was a bundle of carpenter's tools.</p> + +<p>In the clear light of the stars, his face, with its +closed eyes, shone with an expression of divine sweetness, +and his long, curling, blond locks seemed to form +a halo about his brow. But his little child's feet, +made blue by the cold of this bitter December night, +were pitiful to see!</p> + +<p>The boys so well clothed for the winter weather passed +by quite indifferent to the unknown child; several +of them, sons of the notables of the town, however, +cast on the vagabond looks in which could be read all +the scorn of the rich for the poor, of the well-fed for +the hungry.</p> + +<p>But little Wolff, coming last out of the church, +stopped, deeply touched, before the beautiful sleeping +child.</p> + +<p>"Oh, dear!" said the little fellow to himself, "this +is frightful! This poor little one has no shoes and +stockings in this bad weather—and, what is still +worse, he has not even a wooden shoe to leave near him +to-night while he sleeps, into which the little Christ-Child +can put something good to soothe his misery."</p> + +<p>And carried away by his loving heart, Wolff drew the +wooden shoe from his right foot, laid it down before<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[143]</a></span> +the sleeping child, and, as best he could, sometimes +hopping, sometimes limping with his sock wet by the +snow, he went home to his aunt.</p> + +<p>"Look at the good-for-nothing!" cried the old +woman, full of wrath at the sight of the shoeless boy. +"What have you done with your shoe, you little +villain?"</p> + +<p>Little Wolff did not know how to lie, so, although +trembling with terror when he saw the rage of the +old shrew, he tried to relate his adventure.</p> + +<p>But the miserly old creature only burst into a +frightful fit of laughter.</p> + +<p>"Aha! So my young gentleman strips himself +for the beggars. Aha! My young gentleman breaks +his pair of shoes for a bare-foot! Here is something +new, forsooth. Very well, since it is this way, I shall +put the only shoe that is left into the chimney-place, +and I'll answer for it that the Christ-Child will put in +something to-night to beat you with in the morning! +And you will have only a crust of bread and water +to-morrow. And we shall see if the next time, you +will be giving your shoes to the first vagabond that +happens along."</p> + +<p>And the wicked woman having boxed the ears of +the poor little fellow, made him climb up into the loft +where he had his wretched cubbyhole.</p> + +<p>Desolate, the child went to bed in the dark and soon +fell asleep, but his pillow was wet with tears.</p> + +<p>But behold! the next morning when the old woman,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[144]</a></span> +awakened early by the cold, went downstairs—oh, +wonder of wonders—she saw the big chimney filled +with shining toys, bags of magnificent bonbons, and +riches of every sort, and standing out in front of all +this treasure, was the right wooden shoe which the +boy had given to the little vagabond, yes, and beside it, +the one which she had placed in the chimney to hold +the bunch of switches.</p> + +<p>As little Wolff, attracted by the cries of his aunt, +stood in an ecstasy of childish delight before the +splendid Christmas gifts, shouts of laughter were +heard outside. The woman and child ran out to see +what all this meant, and behold! all the gossips of the +town were standing around the public fountain. +What could have happened? Oh, a most ridiculous +and extraordinary thing! The children of the richest +men in the town, whom their parents had planned +to surprise with the most beautiful presents had found +only switches in their shoes!</p> + +<p>Then the old woman and the child thinking of all +the riches in their chimney were filled with fear. But +suddenly they saw the priest appear, his countenance +full of astonishment. Just above the bench placed +near the door of the church, in the very spot where, +the night before, a child in a white garment and with +bare feet, in spite of the cold, had rested his lovely +head, the priest had found a circlet of gold imbedded +in the old stones.</p> + +<p>Then, they all crossed themselves devoutly, perceiving<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[145]</a></span> +that this beautiful sleeping child with the +carpenter's tools had been Jesus of Nazareth himself, +who had come back for one hour just as he had been +when he used to work in the home of his parents; and +reverently they bowed before this miracle, which the +good God had done to reward the faith and the love +of a little child.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[146]</a></span></p> +<h2>XVI</h2> + +<h3>CHRISTMAS IN THE ALLEY<a name="FNanchor_K_11" id="FNanchor_K_11"></a><a href="#Footnote_K_11" class="fnanchor">[K]</a></h3> + +<div class='center'>OLIVE THORNE MILLER<br /><br /></div> + + +<div class='cap'>I DECLARE for 't, to-morrow is Christmas Day +an' I clean forgot all about it," said old Ann, the +washerwoman, pausing in her work and holding the +flatiron suspended in the air.</div> + +<p>"Much good it'll do us," growled a discontented +voice from the coarse bed in the corner.</p> + +<p>"We haven't much extra, to be sure," answered +Ann cheerfully, bringing the iron down onto the shirt-bosom +before her, "but at least we've enough to eat, +and a good fire, and that's more'r some have, not a +thousand miles from here either."</p> + +<p>"We might have plenty more," said the fretful +voice, "if you didn't think so much more of strangers +than you do of your own folk's comfort, keeping a +houseful of beggars, as if you was a lady!"</p> + +<p>"Now, John," replied Ann, taking another iron +from the fire, "you're not half so bad as you pretend. +You wouldn't have me turn them poor creatures into +the streets to freeze, now, would you?"</p> + +<p>"It's none of our business to pay rent for them," +grumbled John. "Every one for himself, I say,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[147]</a></span> +these hard times. If they can't pay you'd ought to +send 'em off; there's plenty as can."</p> + +<p>"They'd pay quick enough if they could get work," +said Ann. "They're good honest fellows, every one, +and paid me regular as long as they had a cent. But +when hundreds are out o' work in the city, what can +they do?"</p> + +<p>"That's none o' your business, you can turn 'em +out!" growled John.</p> + +<p>"And leave the poor children to freeze as well as +starve?" said Ann. "Who'd ever take 'em in without +money, I'd like to know? No, John," bringing her +iron down as though she meant it, "I'm glad I'm +well enough to wash and iron, and pay my rent, +and so long as I can do that, and keep the hunger +away from you and the child, I'll never turn the poor +souls out, leastways, not in this freezing winter +weather."</p> + +<p>"An' here's Christmas," the old man went on whiningly, +"an' not a penny to spend, an' I needin' another +blanket so bad, with my rhumatiz, an' haven't had +a drop of tea for I don't know how long!"</p> + +<p>"I know it," said Ann, never mentioning that she +too had been without tea, and not only that, but with +small allowance of food of any kind, "and I'm desperate +sorry I can't get a bit of something for Katey. The +child never missed a little something in her stocking +before."</p> + +<p>"Yes," John struck in, "much you care for your<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[148]</a></span> +flesh an' blood. The child ha'n't had a thing this +winter."</p> + +<p>"That's true enough," said Ann, with a sigh, "an' +it's the hardest thing of all that I've had to keep her +out o' school when she was doing so beautiful."</p> + +<p>"An' her feet all on the ground," growled John.</p> + +<p>"I know her shoes is bad," said Ann, hanging the +shirt up on a line that stretched across the room, and +was already nearly full of freshly ironed clothes, "but +they're better than the Parker children's."</p> + +<p>"What's that to us?" almost shouted the weak old +man, shaking his fist at her in his rage.</p> + +<p>"Well, keep your temper, old man," said Ann. +"I'm sorry it goes so hard with you, but as long as I +can stand on my feet, I sha'n't turn anybody out to +freeze, that's certain."</p> + +<p>"How much'll you get for them?" said the miserable +old man, after a few moments' silence, indicating by +his hand the clean clothes on the line.</p> + +<p>"Two dollars," said Ann, "and half of it must +go to help make up next month's rent. I've got +a good bit to make up yet, and only a week to do +it in, and I sha'n't have another cent till day after +to-morrow."</p> + +<p>"Well, I wish you'd manage to buy me a little tea," +whined the old man; "seems as if that would go right +to the spot, and warm up my old bones a bit."</p> + +<p>"I'll try," said Ann, revolving in her mind how she +could save a few pennies from her indispensable<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[149]</a></span> +purchases to get tea and sugar, for without sugar he +would not touch it.</p> + +<p>Wearied with his unusual exertion, the old man now +dropped off to sleep, and Ann went softly about, folding +and piling the clothes into a big basket already half +full. When they were all packed in, and nicely covered +with a piece of clean muslin, she took an old shawl and +hood from a nail in the corner, put them on, blew out +the candle, for it must not burn one moment unnecessarily, +and, taking up her basket, went out into the +cold winter night, softly closing the door behind +her.</p> + +<p>The house was on an alley, but as soon as she turned +the corner she was in the bright streets, glittering with +lamps and gay people. The shop windows were brilliant +with Christmas displays, and thousands of warmly +dressed buyers were lingering before them, laughing +and chatting, and selecting their purchases. Surely it +seemed as if there could be no want here.</p> + +<p>As quickly as her burden would let her, the old +washerwoman passed through the crowd into a broad +street and rang the basement bell of a large, showy +house.</p> + +<p>"Oh, it's the washerwoman!" said a flashy-looking +servant who answered the bell; "set the basket right +in here. Mrs. Keithe can't look them over to-night, +there's company in the parlour—Miss Carry's Christmas +party."</p> + +<p>"Ask her to please pay me—at least a part," said<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[150]</a></span> +old Ann hastily. "I don't see how I can do without +the money. I counted on it."</p> + +<p>"I'll ask her," said the pert young woman, turning to +go upstairs; "but it's no use."</p> + +<p>Returning in a moment, she delivered the message. +"She has no change to-night; you're to come in the +morning."</p> + +<p>"Dear me!" thought Ann, as she plodded back +through the streets, "it'll be even worse than I expected, +for there's not a morsel to eat in the house, and not +a penny to buy one with. Well—well—the Lord will +provide, the Good Book says, but it's mighty dark +days, and it's hard to believe."</p> + +<p>Entering the house, Ann sat down silently before +the expiring fire. She was tired, her bones ached, and +she was faint for want of food.</p> + +<p>Wearily she rested her head on her hands, and tried +to think of some way to get a few cents. She had +nothing she could sell or pawn, everything she could +do without had gone before, in similar emergencies. +After sitting there some time, and revolving plan after +plan, only to find them all impossible, she was forced +to conclude that they must go supperless to bed.</p> + +<p>Her husband grumbled, and Katey—who came in +from a neighbour's—cried with hunger, and after +they were asleep old Ann crept into bed to keep warm, +more disheartened than she had been all winter.</p> + +<p>If we could only see a little way ahead! All this +time—the darkest the house on the alley had seen—help<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[151]</a></span> +was on the way to them. A kind-hearted city +missionary, visiting one of the unfortunate families +living in the upper rooms of old Ann's house, had +learned from them of the noble charity of the humble +old washerwoman. It was more than princely charity, +for she not only denied herself nearly every comfort, +but she endured the reproaches of her husband, and +the tears of her child.</p> + +<p>Telling the story to a party of his friends this Christmas +Eve, their hearts were troubled, and they at once +emptied their purses into his hands for her. And the +gift was at that very moment in the pocket of the +missionary, waiting for morning to make her Christmas +happy.</p> + +<p>Christmas morning broke clear and cold. Ann was +up early, as usual, made her fire, with the last of her coal, +cleared up her two rooms, and, leaving her husband +and Katey in bed, was about starting out to try and +get her money to provide a breakfast for them. At +the door she met the missionary.</p> + +<p>"Good-morning, Ann," said he. "I wish you a +Merry Christmas."</p> + +<p>"Thank you, sir," said Ann cheerfully; "the same +to yourself."</p> + +<p>"Have you been to breakfast already?" asked the +missionary.</p> + +<p>"No, sir," said Ann. "I was just going out for it."</p> + +<p>"I haven't either," said he, "but I couldn't bear +to wait until I had eaten breakfast before I brought you<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[152]</a></span> +your Christmas present—I suspect you haven't had +any yet."</p> + +<p>Ann smiled. "Indeed, sir, I haven't had one since +I can remember."</p> + +<p>"Well, I have one for you. Come in, and I'll tell +you about it."</p> + +<p>Too much amazed for words, Ann led him into the +room. The missionary opened his purse, and handed +her a roll of bills.</p> + +<p>"Why—what!" she gasped, taking it mechanically.</p> + +<p>"Some friends of mine heard of your generous treatment +of the poor families upstairs," he went on, "and +they send you this, with their respects and best wishes +for Christmas. Do just what you please with it—it +is wholly yours. No thanks," he went on, as she +struggled to speak. "It's not from me. Just enjoy +it—that's all. It has done them more good to give +than it can you to receive," and before she could speak +a word he was gone.</p> + +<p>What did the old washerwoman do?</p> + +<p>Well, first she fell on her knees and buried her agitated +face in the bedclothes. After a while she became +aware of a storm of words from her husband, and she +got up, subdued as much as possible her agitation, +and tried to answer his frantic questions.</p> + +<p>"How much did he give you, old stupid?" he +screamed; "can't you speak, or are you struck dumb? +Wake up! I just wish I could reach you! I'd shake you +till your teeth rattled!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[153]</a></span></p> + +<p>If his vicious looks were a sign, it was evident that +he only lacked the strength to be as good as his word.</p> + +<p>Ann roused herself from her stupour and spoke at last.</p> + +<p>"I don't know. I'll count it." She unrolled the +bills and began.</p> + +<p>"O Lord!" she exclaimed excitedly, "here's ten-dollar +bills! One, two, three, and a twenty—that +makes five—and five are fifty-five—sixty—seventy—eighty—eighty-five—ninety—one +hundred—and two and five are seven, and two and one are ten, +twenty—twenty-five—one hundred and twenty-five! +Why, I'm rich!" she shouted. "Bless the Lord! +Oh, this is the glorious Christmas Day! I knew He'd +provide. Katey! Katey!" she screamed at the door +of the other room, where the child lay asleep. "Merry +Christmas to you, darlin'! Now you can have some +shoes! and a new dress! and—and—breakfast, and +a regular Christmas dinner! Oh! I believe I shall go +crazy!"</p> + +<p>But she did not. Joy <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'seldoms'">seldom</ins> hurts people, and she +was brought back to everyday affairs by the querulous +voice of her husband.</p> + +<p>"Now I will have my tea, an' a new blanket, an' +some tobacco—how I have wanted a pipe!" and he +went on enumerating his wants while Ann bustled +about, putting away most of her money, and once more +getting ready to go out.</p> + +<p>"I'll run out and get some breakfast," she said +"but don't you tell a soul about the money."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[154]</a></span></p> + +<p>"No! they'll rob us!" shrieked the old man.</p> + +<p>"Nonsense! I'll hide it well, but I want to keep it a +secret for another reason. Mind, Katey, don't you tell?"</p> + +<p>"No!" said Katey, with wide eyes. "But can I +truly have a new frock, Mammy, and new shoes—and +is it really Christmas?"</p> + +<p>"It's really Christmas, darlin'," said Ann, "and +you'll see what mammy'll bring home to you, after +breakfast."</p> + +<p>The luxurious meal of sausages, potatoes, and hot tea +was soon smoking on the table, and was eagerly devoured +by Katey and her father. But Ann could not eat +much. She was absent-minded, and only drank a cup +of tea. As soon as breakfast was over, she left Katey +to wash the dishes, and started out again.</p> + +<p>She walked slowly down the street, revolving a great +plan in her mind.</p> + +<p>"Let me see," she said to herself. "They shall have +a happy day for once. I suppose John'll grumble, but +the Lord has sent me this money, and I mean to use +part of it to make one good day for them."</p> + +<p>Having settled this in her mind, she walked on more +quickly, and visited various shops in the neighbourhood. +When at last she went home, her big basket +was stuffed as full as it could hold, and she carried a +bundle besides.</p> + +<p>"Here's your tea, John," she said cheerfully, as +she unpacked the basket, "a whole pound of it, and +sugar, and tobacco, and a new pipe."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[155]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Give me some now," said the old man eagerly; +"don't wait to take out the rest of the things."</p> + +<p>"And here's a new frock for you, Katey," old Ann +went on, after making John happy with his treasures, +"a real bright one, and a pair of shoes, and some real +woollen stockings; oh! how warm you'll be!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, how nice, Mammy!" cried Katey, jumping +about. "When will you make my frock?"</p> + +<p>"To-morrow," answered the mother, "and you can +go to school again."</p> + +<p>"Oh, goody!" she began, but her face fell. "If +only Molly Parker could go too!"</p> + +<p>"You wait and see," answered Ann, with a knowing +look. "Who knows what Christmas will bring to +Molly Parker?"</p> + +<p>"Now here's a nice big roast," the happy woman went +on, still unpacking, "and potatoes and turnips and cabbage +and bread and butter and coffee and——"</p> + +<p>"What in the world! You goin' to give a party?" +asked the old man between the puffs, staring at her +in wonder.</p> + +<p>"I'll tell you just what I am going to do," said Ann +firmly, bracing herself for opposition, "and it's as +good as done, so you needn't say a word about it. +I'm going to have a Christmas dinner, and I'm going +to invite every blessed soul in this house to come. +They shall be warm and full for once in their lives, +please God! And, Katey," she went on breathlessly, before +the old man had sufficiently recovered from his astonishment<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[156]</a></span> +to speak, "go right upstairs now, and invite +every one of 'em from the fathers down to Mrs. Parker's +baby to come to dinner at three o'clock; we'll have to +keep fashionable hours, it's so late now; and mind, +Katey, not a word about the money. And hurry back, +child, I want you to help me."</p> + +<p>To her surprise, the opposition from her husband was +less than she expected. The genial tobacco seemed +to have quieted his nerves, and even opened his heart. +Grateful for this, Ann resolved that his pipe should +never lack tobacco while she could work.</p> + +<p>But now the cares of dinner absorbed her. The +meat and vegetables were prepared, the pudding made, +and the long table spread, though she had to borrow +every table in the house, and every dish to have enough +to go around.</p> + +<p>At three o'clock when the guests came in, it was +really a very pleasant sight. The bright warm fire, +the long table, covered with a substantial, and, to +them, a luxurious meal, all smoking hot. John, in his +neatly brushed suit, in an armchair at the foot of the +table, Ann in a bustle of hurry and welcome, and a plate +and a seat for every one.</p> + +<p>How the half-starved creatures enjoyed it; how the +children stuffed and the parents looked on with a +happiness that was very near to tears; how old John +actually smiled and urged them to send back their +plates again and again, and how Ann, the washerwoman, +was the life and soul of it all, I can't half tell.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[157]</a></span></p> + +<p>After dinner, when the poor women lodgers insisted +on clearing up, and the poor men sat down by the +fire to smoke, for old John actually passed around +his beloved tobacco, Ann quietly slipped out for a few +minutes, took four large bundles from a closet under +the stairs, and disappeared upstairs. She was scarcely +missed before she was back again.</p> + +<p>Well, of course it was a great day in the house on the +alley, and the guests sat long into the twilight before +the warm fire, talking of their old homes in the fatherland, +the hard winter, and prospects for work in the +spring.</p> + +<p>When at last they returned to the chilly discomfort of +their own rooms, each family found a package containing +a new warm dress and pair of shoes for every woman +and child in the family.</p> + +<p>"And I have enough left," said Ann the washerwoman, +to herself, when she was reckoning up the expenses +of the day, "to buy my coal and pay my rent till +spring, so I can save my old bones a bit. And sure John +can't grumble at their staying now, for it's all along of +keeping them that I had such a blessed Christmas +day at all."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[158]</a></span></p> +<h2>XVII</h2> + +<h3>A CHRISTMAS STAR<a name="FNanchor_L_12" id="FNanchor_L_12"></a><a href="#Footnote_L_12" class="fnanchor">[L]</a></h3> + +<div class='center'>KATHERINE PYLE<br /><br /></div> + + +<div class='cap'>COME now, my dear little stars," said Mother +Moon, "and I will tell you the Christmas story."</div> + +<p>Every morning for a week before Christmas, Mother +Moon used to call all the little stars around her and +tell them a story.</p> + +<p>It was always the same story, but the stars never +wearied of it. It was the story of the Christmas star—the +Star of Bethlehem.</p> + +<p>When Mother Moon had finished the story the little +stars always said: "And the star is shining still, +isn't it, Mother Moon, even if we can't see it?"</p> + +<p>And Mother Moon would answer: "Yes, my dears, +only now it shines for men's hearts instead of their +eyes."</p> + +<p>Then the stars would bid the Mother Moon good-night +and put on their little blue nightcaps and go to +bed in the sky chamber; for the stars' bedtime is when +people down on the earth are beginning to waken and +see that it is morning.</p> + +<p>But that particular morning when the little stars<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[159]</a></span> +said good-night and went quietly away, one golden +star still lingered beside Mother Moon.</p> + +<p>"What is the matter, my little star?" asked the +Mother Moon. "Why don't you go with your little +sisters?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, Mother Moon," said the golden star. "I am +so sad! I wish I could shine for some one's heart like +that star of wonder that you tell us about."</p> + +<p>"Why, aren't you happy up here in the sky country?" +asked Mother Moon.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I have been very happy," said the star; "but +to-night it seems just as if I must find some heart to +shine for."</p> + +<p>"Then if that is so," said Mother Moon, "the time +has come, my little star, for you to go through the +Wonder Entry."</p> + +<p>"The Wonder Entry? What is that?" asked the +star. But the Mother Moon made no answer.</p> + +<p>Rising, she took the little star by the hand and led +it to a door that it had never seen before.</p> + +<p>The Mother Moon opened the door, and there was +a long dark entry; at the far end was shining a little +speck of light.</p> + +<p>"What is this?" asked the star.</p> + +<p>"It is the Wonder Entry; and it is through this that +you must go to find the heart where you belong," +said the Mother Moon.</p> + +<p>Then the little star was afraid.</p> + +<p>It longed to go through the entry as it had never<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[160]</a></span> +longed for anything before; and yet it was afraid and +clung to the Mother Moon.</p> + +<p>But very gently, almost sadly, the Mother Moon +drew her hand away. "Go, my child," she said.</p> + +<p>Then, wondering and trembling, the little star stepped +into the Wonder Entry, and the door of the sky house +closed behind it.</p> + +<p>The next thing the star knew it was hanging in a +toy shop with a whole row of other stars blue and red +and silver. It itself was gold.</p> + +<p>The shop smelled of evergreen, and was full of +Christmas shoppers, men and women and children; +but of them all, the star looked at no one but a little +boy standing in front of the counter; for as soon as +the star saw the child it knew that he was the one to +whom it belonged.</p> + +<p>The little boy was standing beside a sweet-faced +woman in a long black veil and he was not looking at +anything in particular.</p> + +<p>The star shook and trembled on the string that held +it, because it was afraid lest the child would not see it, +or lest, if he did, he would not know it as his star.</p> + +<p>The lady had a number of toys on the counter before +her, and she was saying: "Now I think we have presents +for every one: There's the doll for Lou, and +the game for Ned, and the music box for May; and +then the rocking horse and the sled."</p> + +<p>Suddenly the little boy caught her by the arm. +"Oh, mother," he said. He had seen the star.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[161]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Well, what is it, darling?" asked the lady.</p> + +<p>"Oh, mother, just see that star up there! I wish—oh, +I do wish I had it."</p> + +<p>"Oh, my dear, we have so many things for the Christmas-tree," +said the mother.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I know, but I do want the star," said the +child.</p> + +<p>"Very well," said the mother, smiling; "then we +will take that, too."</p> + +<p>So the star was taken down from the place where it +hung and wrapped up in a piece of paper, and all the +while it thrilled with joy, for now it belonged to the +little boy.</p> + +<p>It was not until the afternoon before Christmas, +when the tree was being decorated, that the golden +star was unwrapped and taken out from the paper.</p> + +<p>"Here is something else," said the sweet-faced lady. +"We must hang this on the tree. Paul took such a +fancy to it that I had to get it for him. He will never +be satisfied unless we hang it on too."</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes," said some one else who was helping to +decorate the tree; "we will hang it here on the very +top."</p> + +<p>So the little star hung on the highest branch of the +Christmas-tree.</p> + +<p>That evening all the candles were lighted on the +Christmas-tree, and there were so many that they +fairly dazzled the eyes; and the gold and silver balls, +the fairies and the glass fruits, shone and twinkled<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[162]</a></span> +in the light; and high above them all shone the golden +star.</p> + +<p>At seven o'clock a bell was rung, and then the +folding doors of the room where the Christmas-tree +stood were thrown open, and a crowd of children came +trooping in.</p> + +<p>They laughed and shouted and pointed, and all +talked together, and after a while there was music, and +presents were taken from the tree and given to the +children.</p> + +<p>How different it all was from the great wide, still +sky house!</p> + +<p>But the star had never been so happy in all its life; +for the little boy was there.</p> + +<p>He stood apart from the other children, looking up +at the star, with his hands clasped behind him, and he +did not seem to care for the toys and the games.</p> + +<p>At last it was all over. The lights were put out, the +children went home, and the house grew still.</p> + +<p>Then the ornaments on the tree began to talk among +themselves.</p> + +<p>"So that is all over," said a silver ball. "It was +very gay this evening—the gayest Christmas I +remember."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said a glass bunch of grapes; "the best of it +is over. Of course people will come to look at us for +several days yet, but it won't be like this evening."</p> + +<p>"And then I suppose we'll be laid away for another +year," said a paper fairy. "Really it seems hardly<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[163]</a></span> +worth while. Such a few days out of the year and then +to be shut up in the dark box again. I almost wish +I were a paper doll."</p> + +<p>The bunch of grapes was wrong in saying that people +would come to look at the Christmas-tree the next +few days, for it stood neglected in the library and +nobody came near it. Everybody in the house went +about very quietly, with anxious faces; for the little +boy was ill.</p> + +<p>At last, one evening, a woman came into the room +with a servant. The woman wore the cap and apron +of a nurse.</p> + +<p>"That is it," she said, pointing to the golden star.</p> + +<p>The servant climbed up on some steps and took down +the star and put it in the nurse's hand, and she carried +it out into the hall and upstairs to a room where the +little boy lay.</p> + +<p>The sweet-faced lady was sitting by the bed, and +as the nurse came in she held out her hand for the star.</p> + +<p>"Is this what you wanted, my darling?" she asked, +bending over the little boy.</p> + +<p>The child nodded and held out his hands for the +star; and as he clasped it a wonderful, shining smile +came over his face.</p> + +<p>The next morning the little boy's room was very +still and dark.</p> + +<p>The golden piece of paper that had been the star +lay on a table beside the bed, its five points very sharp +and bright.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[164]</a></span></p> + +<p>But it was not the real star, any more than a person's +body is the real person.</p> + +<p>The real star was living and shining now in the little +boy's heart, and it had gone out with him into a new +and more beautiful sky country than it had ever known +before—the sky country where the little child angels +live, each one carrying in its heart its own particular +star.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[165]</a></span></p> +<h2>XVIII</h2> + +<h3>THE QUEEREST CHRISTMAS<a name="FNanchor_M_13" id="FNanchor_M_13"></a><a href="#Footnote_M_13" class="fnanchor">[M]</a></h3> + +<div class='center'>GRACE MARGARET GALLAHER<br /><br /></div> + + +<div class='cap'>BETTY stood at her door, gazing drearily down +the long, empty corridor in which the breakfast +gong echoed mournfully. All the usual brisk scenes +of that hour, groups of girls in Peter Thomson suits +or starched shirt-waists, or a pair of energetic ones, +red-cheeked and shining-eyed from a run in the snow, +had vanished as by the hand of some evil magician. +Silent and lonely was the corridor.</div> + +<p>"And it's the day before Christmas!" groaned Betty. +Two chill little tears hung on her eyelashes.</p> + +<p>The night before, in the excitement of getting the +girls off with all their trunks and packages intact, +she had not realized the homesickness of the deserted +school. Now it seemed to pierce her very bones.</p> + +<p>"Oh, dear, why did father have to lose his money? +'Twas easy enough last September to decide I wouldn't +take the expensive journey home these holidays, and +for all of us to promise we wouldn't give each other as +much as a Christmas card. But now!" The two +chill tears slipped over the edge of her eyelashes.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[166]</a></span> +"Well, I know how I'll spend this whole day; I'll +come right up here after breakfast and cry and cry and +cry!" Somewhat fortified by this cheering resolve, +Betty went to breakfast.</p> + +<p>Whatever the material joys of that meal might be, +it certainly was not "a feast of reason and a flow of +soul." Betty, whose sense of humour never perished, +even in such a frost, looked round the table at the +eight grim-faced girls doomed to a Christmas in +school, and quoted mischievously to herself: "On +with the dance, let joy be unconfined."</p> + +<p>Breakfast bolted, she lagged back to her room, +stopping to stare out of the corridor windows.</p> + +<p>She saw nothing of the snowy landscape, however. +Instead, a picture, the gayest medley of many colours +and figures, danced before her eyes: Christmas-trees +thumping in through the door, mysterious bundles +scurried into dark corners, little brothers and sisters +flying about with festoons of mistletoe, scarlet ribbon +and holly, everywhere sound and laughter and excitement. +The motto of Betty's family was: "Never +do to-day what you can put off till to-morrow"; +therefore the preparations of a fortnight were always +crowded into a day.</p> + +<p>The year before, Betty had rushed till her nerves +were taut and her temper snapped, had shaken the +twins, raged at the housemaid, and had gone to bed +at midnight weeping with weariness. But in memory +only the joy of the day remained.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[167]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I think I could endure this jail of a school, and +not getting one single present, but it breaks my heart +not to give one least little thing to any one! Why, +who ever heard of such a Christmas!"</p> + +<p>"Won't you hunt for that blue——"</p> + +<p>"Broken my thread again!"</p> + +<p>"Give me those scissors!"</p> + +<p>Betty jumped out of her day-dream. She had wandered +into "Cork" and the three O'Neills surrounded +her, staring.</p> + +<p>"I beg your pardon—I heard you—and it was so +like home the day before Christmas——"</p> + +<p>"Did you hear the heathen rage?" cried Katherine.</p> + +<p>"Dolls for Aunt Anne's mission," explained Constance.</p> + +<p>"You're so forehanded that all your presents went +a week ago, I suppose," Eleanor swept clear a chair. +"The clan O'Neill is never forehanded."</p> + +<p>"You'd think I was from the number of thumbs I've +grown this morning. Oh, misery!" Eleanor jerked a +snarl of thread out on the floor.</p> + +<p>Betty had never cared for "Cork" but now the hot +worried faces of its girls appealed to her.</p> + +<p>"Let me help. I'm a regular silkworm."</p> + +<p>The O'Neills assented with eagerness, and Betty +began to sew in a capable, swift way that made the +others stare and sigh with relief.</p> + +<p>The dolls were many, the O'Neills slow. Betty +worked till her feet twitched on the floor; yet she<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[168]</a></span> +enjoyed the morning, for it held an entirely new +sensation, that of helping some one else get ready for +Christmas.</p> + +<p>"Done!"</p> + +<p>"We never should have finished if you hadn't +helped! Thank you, Betty Luther, very, <i>very</i> much! +You're a duck! Let's run to luncheon together, +quick."</p> + +<p>Somehow the big corridors did not seem half so +bleak echoing to those warm O'Neill voices.</p> + +<p>"This morning's just spun by, but, oh, this long, +dreary afternoon!" sighed Betty, as she wandered +into the library. "Oh, me, there goes Alice Johns +with her arms loaded with presents to mail, and I +can't give a single soul anything!"</p> + +<p>"Do you know where 'Quotations for Occasions' +has gone?" Betty turned to face pretty Rosamond +Howitt, the only senior left behind.</p> + +<p>"Gone to be rebound. I heard Miss Dyce say so."</p> + +<p>"Oh, dear, I needed it so."</p> + +<p>"Could I help? I know a lot of rhymes and tags of +proverbs and things like that."</p> + +<p>"Oh, if you would help me, I'd be so grateful! Won't +you come to my room? You see, I promised a friend +in town, who is to have a Christmas dinner, and who's +been very kind to me, that I'd paint the place cards +and write some quotation appropriate to each guest. +I'm shamefully late over it, my own gifts took such a +time; but the painting, at least, is done."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[169]</a></span></p> + +<p>Rosamond led the way to her room, and there +displayed the cards which she had painted.</p> + +<p>"You can't think of my helplessness! If it were +a Greek verb now, or a lost and strayed angle—but +poetry!"</p> + +<p>Betty trotted back and forth between the room and +the library, delved into books, and even evolved a +verse which she audaciously tagged "old play," in +imitation of Sir Walter Scott.</p> + +<p>"I think they are really and truly very bright, and +I know Mrs. Fernell will be delighted." Rosamond +wrapped up the cards carefully. "I can't begin to +tell you how you've helped me. It was sweet in you +to give me your whole afternoon."</p> + +<p>The dinner-bell rang at that moment, and the two +went down together.</p> + +<p>"Come for a little run; I haven't been out all day," +whispered Rosamond, slipping her hand into Betty's +as they left the table.</p> + +<p>A great round moon swung cold and bright over the +pines by the lodge.</p> + +<p>"Down the road a bit—just a little way—to the +church," suggested Betty.</p> + +<p>They stepped out into the silent country road.</p> + +<p>"Why, the little mission is as gay as—as Christmas! +I wonder why?"</p> + +<p>Betty glanced at the bright windows of the small +plain church. "Oh, some Christmas-eve doings," she +answered.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[170]</a></span></p> + +<p>Some one stepped quickly out from the church +door.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Miss Vernon, I am relieved! I had begun to +fear you could not come."</p> + +<p>The girls saw it was the tall old rector, his white +hair shining silver bright in the moonbeams.</p> + +<p>"We're just two girls from the school, sir," said +Rosamond.</p> + +<p>"Dear, dear!" His voice was both impatient and +distressed. "I hoped you were my organist. We +are all ready for our Christmas-eve service, but we can +do nothing without the music."</p> + +<p>"I can play the organ a little," said Betty. "I'd +be glad to help."</p> + +<p>"You can? My dear child, how fortunate! But—do +you know the service?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir, it's my church."</p> + +<p>No vested choir stood ready to march triumphantly +chanting into the choir stalls. Only a few boys and +girls waited in the dim old choir loft, where Rosamond +seated herself quietly.</p> + +<p>Betty's fingers trembled so at first that the music +sounded dull and far away; but her courage crept +back to her in the silence of the church, and the organ +seemed to help her with a brave power of its own. +In the dark church only the altar and a great gold star +above it shone bright. Through an open window +somewhere behind her she could hear the winter wind +rattling the ivy leaves and bending the trees. Yet,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[171]</a></span> +somehow, she did not feel lonesome and forsaken this +Christmas eve, far away from home, but safe and comforted +and sheltered. The voice of the old rector +reached her faintly in pauses; habit led her along the +service, and the star at the altar held her eyes.</p> + +<p>Strange new ideas and emotions flowed in upon her +brain. Tears stole softly into her eyes, yet she felt +in her heart a sweet glow. Slowly the Christmas +picture that had flamed and danced before her all +day, painted in the glory of holly and mistletoe and +tinsel, faded out, and another shaped itself, solemn +and beautiful in the altar light.</p> + +<p>"My dear child, I thank you very much!" The old +rector held Betty's hand in both his. "I cannot have +a Christmas morning service—our people have too +much to do to come then—but I was especially anxious +that our evening service should have some message, +some inspiration for them, and your music has made it +so. You have given me great aid. May your Christmas +be a blessed one."</p> + +<p>"I was glad to play, sir. Thank you!" answered +Betty, simply.</p> + +<p>"Let's run!" she cried to Rosamond, and they raced +back to school.</p> + +<p>She fell asleep that night without one smallest tear.</p> + +<p>The next morning Betty dressed hastily, and catching +up her mandolin, set out into the corridor.</p> + +<p>Something swung against her hand as she opened the +door. It was a great bunch of holly, glossy green<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[172]</a></span> +leaves and glowing berries, and hidden in the leaves +a card:</p> + +<p>"Betty, Merry Christmas," was all, but only one +girl wrote that dainty hand.</p> + +<p>"A winter rose," whispered Betty, happily, and stuck +the bunch into the ribbon of her mandolin.</p> + +<p>Down the corridor she ran until she faced a closed +door. Then, twanging her mandolin, she burst out +with all her power into a gay Christmas carol. High +and sweet sang her voice in the silent corridor all +through the gay carol. Then, sweeter still, it changed +into a Christmas hymn. Then from behind the closed +doors sounded voices:</p> + +<p>"Merry Christmas, Betty Luther!"</p> + +<p>Then Constance O'Neill's deep, smooth alto flowed +into Betty's soprano; and at the last all nine girls +joined in "Adeste Fideles." Christmas morning began +with music and laughter.</p> + +<p>"This is your place, Betty. You are lord of Christmas +morning."</p> + +<p>Betty stood, blushing, red as the holly in her hand, +before the breakfast table. Miss Hyle, the teacher +at the head of the table, had given up her place.</p> + +<p>The breakfast was a merry one. After it somebody +suggested that they all go skating on the pond.</p> + +<p>Betty hesitated and glanced at Miss Hyle and Miss +Thrasher, the two sad-looking teachers.</p> + +<p>She approached them and said, "Won't you come +skating, too?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[173]</a></span></p> + +<p>Miss Thrasher, hardly older than Betty herself, +and pretty in a white frightened way, refused, but almost +cheerfully. "I have a Christmas box to open and +Christmas letters to write. Thank you very much."</p> + +<p>Betty's heart sank as she saw Miss Hyle's face. +"Goodness, she's coming!"</p> + +<p>Miss Hyle was the most unpopular teacher in school. +Neither ill-tempered nor harsh, she was so cold, remote +and rigid in face, voice, and manner that the warmest +blooded shivered away from her, the least sensitive +shrank.</p> + +<p>"I have no skates, but I should like to borrow a pair +to learn, if I may. I have never tried," she said.</p> + +<p>The tragedies of a beginner on skates are to the +observers, especially if such be school-girls, subjects +for unalloyed mirth. The nine girls choked and turned +their backs and even giggled aloud as Miss Hyle went +prone, now backward with a whack, now forward in a +limp crumple.</p> + +<p>But amusement became admiration. Miss Hyle +stumbled, fell, laughed merrily, scrambled up, struck +out, and skated. Presently she was swinging up the +pond in stroke with Betty and Eleanor O'Neill.</p> + +<p>"Miss Hyle, you're great!" cried Betty, at the +end of the morning. "I've taught dozens and scores +to skate, but never anybody like you. You've a genius +for skating."</p> + +<p>Miss Hyle's blue eyes shot a sudden flash at Betty +that made her whole severe face light up.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[174]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I've never had a chance to learn—at home there +never is any ice—but I have always been athletic."</p> + +<p>"Where is your home, Miss Hyle?" asked Betty.</p> + +<p>"Cawnpore, India."</p> + +<p>"India?" gasped Eleanor. "How delightful! Oh, +won't you tell us about it, Miss Hyle?"</p> + +<p>So it was that Miss Hyle found herself talking about +something besides triangles to girls who really wanted +to hear, and so it was that the flash came often into +her eyes.</p> + +<p>"I have had a happy morning, thank you, Betty—and +all." She said it very simply, yet a quick throb +of pity and liking beat in Betty's heart.</p> + +<p>"How stupid we are about judging people!" she +thought. Yet Betty had always prided herself on +her character-reading.</p> + +<p>"Hurrah, the mail and express are in!" The girls +ran excitedly to their rooms.</p> + +<p>Betty alone went to hers without interest. "Why, +Hilma, what's happened?"</p> + +<p>The little round-faced Swedish maid mopped the +big tears with her duster, and choked out:</p> + +<p>"Nothings, ma'am!"</p> + +<p>"Of course there is! You're crying like everything."</p> + +<p>Hilma wept aloud. "Christmas Day it is, and mine +family and mine friends have party, now, all day."</p> + +<p>"Where?"</p> + +<p>Hilma jerked her head toward the window.</p> + +<p>"Oh, you mean in town? Why can't you go?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[175]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I work. And never before am I from home Christmas +day."</p> + +<p>Betty shivered.</p> + +<p>"Never before am <i>I</i> from home Christmas day," +she whispered.</p> + +<p>She went close to the girl, very tall and slim and +bright beside the dumpy, flaxen Hilma.</p> + +<p>"What work do you do?"</p> + +<p>"The cook, he cooks the dinner and the supper; I +put it on and wait it on the young ladies and wash the +dishes. The others all are gone."</p> + +<p>Betty laughed suddenly. "Hilma, go put on your +best clothes, quick, and go down to your party. I'm +going to do your work."</p> + +<p>Hilma's eyes rounded with amazement. "The cook, +he be mad."</p> + +<p>"No, he won't. He won't care whether it's Hilma +or Betty, if things get done all right. I know how to +wait on table and wash dishes. There's no housekeeper +here to object. Run along, Hilma; be back by +nine o'clock—and—Merry Christmas!"</p> + +<p>Hilma's face beamed through her tears. She was +speechless with joy, but she seized Betty's slim brown +hand and kissed it loudly.</p> + +<p>"What larks!" "Is it a joke?" "Betty, you're the +handsomest butler!"</p> + +<p>Betty, in a white shirt-waist suit, a jolly red bow +pinned on her white apron, and a little cap cocked on +her dark hair, waved them to their seats at the holly-decked<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[176]</a></span> +table. "Merry Christmas! Merry Christmas!"</p> + +<p>"Nobody is ill, Betty?" Rosamond asked, anxiously.</p> + +<p>"If I had three guesses, I should use every one that +our maid wanted to go into town for the day, and +Betty took her place." It was Miss Hyle's calm voice.</p> + +<p>Betty blushed. It was her turn now to flash back +a glance; and those two sparks kindled the fire of +friendship.</p> + +<p>It was a jolly Christmas dinner, with the "butler" +eating with the family.</p> + +<p>"And now the dishes!" thought Betty. It must be +admitted the "washing up" after a Christmas dinner +of twelve is not a subject for much joy.</p> + +<p>"I propose we all help Betty wash the dishes!" +cried Rosamond Howitt.</p> + +<p>Out in the kitchen every one laughed and talked and +got in the way, and had a good time; and if the milk +pitcher was knocked on the floor and the pudding bowl +emptied in Betty's lap—why, it was all "Merry +Christmas."</p> + +<p>After that they all skated again. When they came +in, little Miss Thrasher, looking almost gay in a rose-red +gown, met them in the corridor.</p> + +<p>"I thought it would be fun," she said, shyly, "to +have supper in my room. I have a big box from home. +I couldn't <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'possible'">possibly</ins> eat all the things myself, and if +you'll bring chafing-dishes and spoons, and those +things, I'll cook it, and we can sit round my open fire."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[177]</a></span></p> + +<p>Miss Thrasher's room was homelike, with its fire +of white-birch and its easy chairs, and Miss Thrasher +herself proved to be a pleasant hostess.</p> + +<p>After supper Miss Hyle told a tale of India, Miss +Thrasher gave a Rocky mountain adventure, and the +girls contributed ghost and burglar stories till each +guest was in a thrill of delightful horror.</p> + +<p>"We've had really a fine day!"</p> + +<p>"I expected to die of homesickness, but it's been +jolly!"</p> + +<p>"So did I, but I have actually been happy."</p> + +<p>Thus the girls commented as they started for +bed.</p> + +<p>"I have enjoyed my day," said little Miss Thrasher, +"very much."</p> + +<p>"Yes, indeed, it's been a merry Christmas." Miss +Hyle spoke almost eagerly.</p> + +<p>Betty gave a little jump; she realized each one of +them was holding her hand and pressing it a little. +"Thank you, it's been a lovely evening. Goodnight."</p> + +<p>Rosamond had invited Betty to share her room-mate's +bed, but both girls were too tired and sleepy +for any confidence.</p> + +<p>"It's been the queerest Christmas!" thought Betty, +as she drifted toward sleep. "Why, I haven't given +one single soul one single present!"</p> + +<p>Yet she smiled, drowsily happy, and then the room +seemed to fill with a bright, warm light, and round the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[178]</a></span> +bed there danced a great Christmas wreath, made up +of the faces of the three O'Neills, and the thin old +rector, with his white hair, and pretty Rosamond, +and frightened Miss Thrasher and the homesick girls, +and lonely Miss Hyle, and tear-dimmed Hilma.</p> + +<p>And all the faces smiled and nodded, and called, +"Merry Christmas, Betty, Merry Christmas!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[179]</a></span></p> +<h2>XIX</h2> + +<h3>OLD FATHER CHRISTMAS</h3> + +<div class='center'>J. H. EWING<br /><br /></div> + + +<div class='cap'>THE custom of Christmas-trees came from Germany. +I can remember when they were first introduced +into England, and what wonderful things we +thought them. Now, every village school has its tree, +and the scholars openly discuss whether the presents +have been 'good,' or 'mean,' as compared with other +trees in former years. The first one that I ever saw I +believed to have come from Good Father Christmas +himself; but little boys have grown too wise now to be +taken in for their own amusement. They are not +excited by secret and mysterious preparations in the +back drawing-room; they hardly confess to the thrill—which +I feel to this day—when the folding doors are +thrown open, and amid the blaze of tapers, mamma, +like a Fate, advances with her scissors to give every +one what falls to his lot.</div> + +<p>"Well, young people, when I was eight years old I +had not seen a Christmas-tree, and the first picture of +one I ever saw was the picture of that held by Old +Father Christmas in my godmother's picture-book.</p> + +<p>"'What are those things on the tree?' I asked.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[180]</a></span></p> + +<p>"'Candles,' said my father.</p> + +<p>"'No, father, not the candles; the other things?'</p> + +<p>"'Those are toys, my son.'</p> + +<p>"'Are they ever taken off?'</p> + +<p>"'Yes, they are taken off, and given to the children +who stand around the tree.'</p> + +<p>"Patty and I grasped each other by the hand, and +with one voice murmured, 'How kind of Old Father +Christmas!'</p> + +<p>"By and by I asked, 'How old is Father Christmas?'</p> + +<p>"My father laughed, and said, 'One thousand eight +hundred and thirty years, child,' which was then the +year of our Lord, and thus one thousand eight hundred +and thirty years since the first great Christmas Day.</p> + +<p>"'He <i>looks</i> very old,' whispered Patty.</p> + +<p>"And I, who was, for my age, what Kitty called +'Bible-learned,' said thoughtfully, and with some puzzledness +of mind, 'Then he's older than Methuselah.'</p> + +<p>"But my father had left the room, and did not hear +my difficulty.</p> + +<p>"November and December went by, and still the +picture-book kept all its charm for Patty and me; and +we pondered on and loved Old Father Christmas as +children can love and realize a fancy friend. To those +who remember the fancies of their childhood I need +say no more.</p> + +<p>"Christmas week came, Christmas Eve came. My +father and mother were mysteriously and unaccountably +busy in the parlour (we had only one parlour),<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[181]</a></span> +and Patty and I were not allowed to go in. We went +into the kitchen, but even here was no place of rest for +us. Kitty was 'all over the place,' as she phrased it, +and cakes, mince pies, and puddings were with her. +As she justly observed, 'There was no place there for +children and books to sit with their toes in the fire, when +a body wanted to be at the oven all along. The cat +was enough for <i>her</i> temper,' she added.</p> + +<p>"As to puss, who obstinately refused to take a hint +which drove her out into the Christmas frost, she +returned again and again with soft steps, and a stupidity +that was, I think, affected, to the warm hearth, +only to fly at intervals, like a football, before Kitty's +hasty slipper.</p> + +<p>"We had more sense, or less courage. We bowed to +Kitty's behests, and went to the back door.</p> + +<p>"Patty and I were hardy children, and accustomed +to 'run out' in all weathers, without much extra wrapping +up. We put Kitty's shawl over our two heads, +and went outside. I rather hoped to see something of +Dick, for it was holiday time; but no Dick passed. +He was busy helping his father to bore holes in the +carved seats of the church, which were to hold sprigs +of holly for the morrow—that was the idea of church +decoration in my young days. You have improved on +your elders there, young people, and I am candid enough +to allow it. Still, the sprigs of red and green were better +than nothing, and, like your lovely wreaths and pious +devices, they made one feel as if the old black wood<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[182]</a></span> +were bursting into life and leaf again for very Christmas +joy; and, if only one knelt carefully, they did not +scratch his nose.</p> + +<p>"Well, Dick was busy, and not to be seen. We ran +across the little yard and looked over the wall at the +end to see if we could see anything or anybody. From +this point there was a pleasant meadow field sloping +prettily away to a little hill about three quarters of a +mile distant; which, catching some fine breezes from +the moors beyond, was held to be a place of cure for +whooping-cough, or kincough, as it was vulgarly called. +Up to the top of this Kitty had dragged me, and carried +Patty, when we were recovering from the complaint, as +I well remember. It was the only 'change of air' we +could afford, and I dare say it did as well as if we had +gone into badly drained lodgings at the seaside.</p> + +<p>"This hill was now covered with snow and stood off +against the gray sky. The white fields looked vast +and dreary in the dusk. The only gay things to be +seen were the berries on the holly hedge, in the little +lane—which, running by the end of our back-yard, +led up to the Hall—and the fat robin, that was staring +at me. I was looking at the robin, when Patty, who +had been peering out of her corner of Kitty's shawl, +gave a great jump that dragged the shawl from our +heads, and cried:</p> + +<p>"'Look!'</p> + +<p>"I looked. An old man was coming along the lane. +His hair and beard were as white as cotton-wool. He<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[183]</a></span> +had a face like the sort of apple that keeps well in winter; +his coat was old and brown. There was snow about +him in patches, and he carried a small fir-tree.</p> + +<p>"The same conviction seized upon us both. With +one breath, we exclaimed, '<i>It's Old Father Christmas!</i>'</p> + +<p>"I know now that it was only an old man of the place, +with whom we did not happen to be acquainted and +that he was taking a little fir-tree up to the Hall, to be +made into a Christmas-tree. He was a very good-humoured +old fellow, and rather deaf, for which he made +up by smiling and nodding his head a good deal, and +saying, 'aye, aye, <i>to</i> be sure!' at likely intervals.</p> + +<p>"As he passed us and met our earnest gaze, he smiled +and nodded so earnestly that I was bold enough to +cry, 'Good-evening, Father Christmas!'</p> + +<p>"'Same to you!' said he, in a high-pitched voice.</p> + +<p>"'Then you <i>are</i> Father Christmas?' said Patty.</p> + +<p>"'And a happy New Year,' was Father Christmas's +reply, which rather put me out. But he smiled in such +a satisfactory manner that Patty went on, 'You're +very old, aren't you?'</p> + +<p>"'So I be, miss, so I be,' said Father Christmas, +nodding.</p> + +<p>"'Father says you're eighteen hundred and thirty +years old,' I muttered.</p> + +<p>"'Aye, aye, to be sure,' said Father Christmas. +'I'm a long age.'</p> + +<p>"A <i>very</i> long age, thought I, and I added, 'You're<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[184]</a></span> +nearly twice as old as Methuselah, you know,' thinking +that this might have struck him.</p> + +<p>"'Aye, aye,' said Father Christmas; but he did not +seem to think anything of it. After a pause he held +up the tree, and cried, 'D'ye know what this is, little +miss?'</p> + +<p>"'A Christmas-tree,' said Patty.</p> + +<p>"And the old man smiled and nodded.</p> + +<p>"I leant over the wall, and shouted, 'But there are +no candles.'</p> + +<p>"'By and by,' said Father Christmas, nodding as +before. 'When it's dark they'll all be lighted up. +That'll be a fine sight!'</p> + +<p>"'Toys, too, there'll be, won't there?' said +Patty.</p> + +<p>"Father Christmas nodded his head. 'And sweeties,' +he added, expressively.</p> + +<p>"I could feel Patty trembling, and my own heart +beat fast. The thought which agitated us both was +this: 'Was Father Christmas bringing the tree to us?' +But very anxiety, and some modesty also, kept us +from asking outright.</p> + +<p>"Only when the old man shouldered his tree, and +prepared to move on, I cried in despair, 'Oh, are you +going?'</p> + +<p>"'I'm coming back by and by,' said he.</p> + +<p>"'How soon?' cried Patty.</p> + +<p>"'About four o'clock,' said the old man smiling. +'I'm only going up yonder.'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[185]</a></span></p> + +<p>"And, nodding and smiling as he went, he passed +away down the lane.</p> + +<p>"'Up yonder!' This puzzled us. Father Christmas +had pointed, but so indefinitely that he might have +been pointing to the sky, or the fields, or the little wood +at the end of the Squire's grounds. I thought the +latter, and suggested to Patty that perhaps he had some +place underground like Aladdin's cave, where he got +the candles, and all the pretty things for the tree. This +idea pleased us both, and we amused ourselves by wondering +what Old Father Christmas would choose for us +from his stores in that wonderful hole where he dressed +his Christmas-trees.</p> + +<p>"'I wonder, Patty,' said I, 'why there's no picture +of Father Christmas's dog in the book.' For at the +old man's heels in the lane there crept a little brown and +white spaniel looking very dirty in the snow.</p> + +<p>"'Perhaps it's a new dog that he's got to take care +of his cave,' said Patty.</p> + +<p>"When we went indoors we examined the picture +afresh by the dim light from the passage window, +but there was no dog there.</p> + +<p>"My father passed us at this moment, and patted my +head. 'Father,' said I, 'I don't know, but I do think +Old Father Christmas is going to bring us a Christmas-tree +to-night.'</p> + +<p>"'Who's been telling you that?' said my father. +But he passed on before I could explain that we had seen +Father Christmas himself, and had had his word for<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[186]</a></span> +it that he would return at four o'clock, and that the +candles on his tree would be lighted as soon as it +was dark.</p> + +<p>"We hovered on the outskirts of the rooms till four +o'clock came. We sat on the stairs and watched the +big clock, which I was just learning to read; and Patty +made herself giddy with constantly looking up and +counting the four strokes, toward which the hour hand +slowly moved. We put our noses into the kitchen now +and then, to smell the cakes and get warm, and anon we +hung about the parlour door, and were most unjustly +accused of trying to peep. What did we care what our +mother was doing in the parlour?—we, who had seen +Old Father Christmas himself, and were expecting him +back again every moment!</p> + +<p>"At last the church clock struck. The sounds boomed +heavily through the frost, and Patty thought there +were four of them. Then, after due choking and whirring, +our own clock struck, and we counted the strokes +quite clearly—one! two! three! four! Then we got +Kitty's shawl once more, and stole out into the back-yard. +We ran to our old place, and peeped, but could +see nothing.</p> + +<p>"'We'd better get up on to the wall,' I said; and with +some difficulty and distress from rubbing her bare knees +against the cold stone, and getting the snow up her +sleeves, Patty got on to the coping of the little wall. I +was just struggling after her, when something warm and +something cold coming suddenly against the bare calves<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[187]</a></span> +of my legs made me shriek with fright. I came down +'with a run' and bruised my knees, my elbows, and my +chin; and the snow that hadn't gone up Patty's sleeves +went down my neck. Then I found that the cold +thing was a dog's nose and the warm thing was his +tongue; and Patty cried from her post of observation, +'It's Father Christmas's dog and he's licking your +legs.'</p> + +<p>"It really was the dirty little brown and white spaniel, +and he persisted in licking me, and jumping on me, and +making curious little noises, that must have meant +something if one had known his language. I was rather +harassed at the moment. My legs were sore, I was a +little afraid of the dog, and Patty was very much afraid +of sitting on the wall without me.</p> + +<p>"'You won't fall,' I said to her. 'Get down, will +you?' I said to the dog.</p> + +<p>"'Humpty Dumpty fell off a wall,' said Patty.</p> + +<p>"'Bow! wow!' said the dog.</p> + +<p>"I pulled Patty down, and the dog tried to pull me +down; but when my little sister was on her feet, to my +relief, he transferred his attentions to her. When he +had jumped at her, and licked her several times, he +turned around and ran away.</p> + +<p>"'He's gone,' said I; 'I'm so glad.'</p> + +<p>"But even as I spoke he was back again, crouching +at Patty's feet, and glaring at her with eyes the colour +of his ears.</p> + +<p>"Now, Patty was very fond of animals, and when the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[188]</a></span> +dog looked at her she looked at the dog, and then +she said to me, 'He wants us to go with him.'</p> + +<p>"On which (as if he understood our language, though +we were ignorant of his) the spaniel sprang away, and +went off as hard as he could; and Patty and I went after +him, a dim hope crossing my mind—'Perhaps Father +Christmas has sent him for us.'</p> + +<p>"The idea was rather favoured by the fact he +led us up the lane. Only a little way; then he stopped +by something lying in the ditch—and once more +we cried in the same breath, 'It's Old Father Christmas!'</p> + +<p>"Returning from the Hall, the old man had slipped +upon a bit of ice, and lay stunned in the snow.</p> + +<p>"Patty began to cry. 'I think he's dead!' she +sobbed.</p> + +<p>"'He is so very old, I don't wonder,' I murmured; +'but perhaps he's not. I'll fetch father.'</p> + +<p>"My father and Kitty were soon on the spot. Kitty +was as strong as a man; and they carried Father Christmas +between them into the kitchen. There he quickly +revived.</p> + +<p>"I must do Kitty the justice to say that she did not +utter a word of complaint at the disturbance of her +labours; and that she drew the old man's chair close +up to the oven with her own hand. She was so much +affected by the behaviour of his dog that she admitted +him even to the hearth; on which puss, being acute +enough to see how matters stood, lay down with her<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[189]</a></span> +back so close to the spaniel's that Kitty could not +expel one without kicking both.</p> + +<p>"For our parts, we felt sadly anxious about the tree; +otherwise we could have wished for no better treat +than to sit at Kitty's round table taking tea with Father +Christmas. Our usual fare of thick bread and treacle +was to-night exchanged for a delicious variety of cakes, +which were none the worse to us for being 'tasters and +wasters'—that is, little bits of dough, or shortbread, +put in to try the state of the oven, and certain cakes +that had got broken or burnt in the baking.</p> + +<p>"Well, there we sat, helping Old Father Christmas +to tea and cake, and wondering in our hearts what could +have become of the tree.</p> + +<p>"Patty and I felt a delicacy in asking Old Father +Christmas about the tree. It was not until we had had +tea three times round, with tasters and wasters to +match, that Patty said very gently: 'It's quite dark +now.' And then she heaved a deep sigh.</p> + +<p>"Burning anxiety overcame me. I leaned toward +Father Christmas, and shouted—I had found out that +it was needful to shout——</p> + +<p>"'I suppose the candles are on the tree now?'</p> + +<p>"'Just about putting of 'em on,' said Father Christmas.</p> + +<p>"'And the presents, too?' said Patty.</p> + +<p>"'Aye, aye, <i>to</i> be sure,' said Father Christmas, and +he smiled delightfully.</p> + +<p>"I was thinking what further questions I might<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[190]</a></span> +venture upon, when he pushed his cup toward Patty +saying, 'Since you are so pressing, miss, I'll take +another dish.'</p> + +<p>"And Kitty, swooping on us from the oven, cried, +'Make yourself at home, sir; there's more where these +came from. Make a long arm, Miss Patty, and hand +them cakes.'</p> + +<p>"So we had to devote ourselves to the duties of the +table; and Patty, holding the lid with one hand and +pouring with the other, supplied Father Christmas's +wants with a heavy heart.</p> + +<p>"At last he was satisfied. I said grace, during which +he stood, and, indeed, he stood for some time afterward +with his eyes shut—I fancy under the impression +that I was still speaking. He had just said a fervent +'amen,' and reseated himself, when my father put his +head into the kitchen, and made this remarkable +statement:</p> + +<p>"'Old Father Christmas has sent a tree to the young +people.'</p> + +<p>"Patty and I uttered a cry of delight, and we forthwith +danced round the old man, saying, 'How nice! +Oh, how kind of you!' which I think must have bewildered +him, but he only smiled and nodded.</p> + +<p>"'Come along,' said my father. 'Come, children. +Come, Reuben. Come, Kitty.'</p> + +<p>"And he went into the parlour, and we all followed +him.</p> + +<p>"My godmother's picture of a Christmas-tree was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[191]</a></span> +very pretty; and the flames of the candles were so naturally +done in red and yellow that I always wondered +that they did not shine at night. But the picture was +nothing to the reality. We had been sitting almost in +the dark, for, as Kitty said, 'Firelight was quite enough +to burn at meal-times.' And when the parlour door +was thrown open, and the tree, with lighted tapers on +all the branches, burst upon our view, the blaze was +dazzling, and threw such a glory round the little gifts, +and the bags of coloured muslin, with acid drops and +pink rose drops and comfits inside, as I shall never +forget. We all got something; and Patty and I, at any +rate, believed that the things came from the stores of +Old Father Christmas. We were not undeceived even +by his gratefully accepting a bundle of old clothes +which had been hastily put together to form his present.</p> + +<p>"We were all very happy; even Kitty, I think, though +she kept her sleeves rolled up, and seemed rather to +grudge enjoying herself (a weak point in some energetic +characters). She went back to her oven before the lights +were out and the angel on the top of the tree taken +down. She locked up her present (a little work-box) at +once. She often showed it off afterward, but it was +kept in the same bit of tissue paper till she died. Our +presents certainly did not last so long!</p> + +<p>"The old man died about a week afterward, so we +never made his acquaintance as a common personage. +When he was buried, his little dog came to us. I +suppose he remembered the hospitality he had received.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[192]</a></span> +Patty adopted him, and he was very faithful. Puss +always looked on him with favour. I hoped during our +rambles together in the following summer that he would +lead us at last to the cave where Christmas-trees are +dressed. But he never did.</p> + +<p>"Our parents often spoke of his late master as 'old +Reuben,' but children are not easily disabused of a +favourite fancy, and in Patty's thoughts and in mine +the old man was long gratefully remembered as Old +Father Christmas."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[193]</a></span></p> +<h2>XX</h2> + +<h3>A CHRISTMAS CAROL</h3> + +<div class='center'>CHARLES DICKENS<br /><br /></div> + + +<div class='cap'>MASTER Peter, and the two ubiquitous young +Cratchits went to fetch the goose, with which +they soon returned in high procession.</div> + +<p>Such a bustle ensued that you might have thought a +goose the rarest of all birds; a feathered phenomenon, to +which a black swan was a matter of course—and in +truth it was something very like it in that house. Mrs. +Cratchit made the gravy (ready beforehand in a little +saucepan) hissing hot; Master Peter mashed the potatoes +with incredible vigour; Miss Belinda sweetened up +the apple-sauce; Martha dusted the hot plates; Bob +took Tiny Tim beside him in a tiny corner at the table; +the two young Cratchits set chairs for everybody, not +forgetting themselves, and mounting guard upon their +posts, crammed spoons into their mouths, lest they +should shriek for goose before their turn came to be +helped. At last the dishes were set on, and grace was +said. It was succeeded by a breathless pause, as Mrs. +Cratchit, looking slowly all along the carving-knife, +prepared to plunge it in the breast; but when she did, +and when the long expected gush of stuffing issued +forth, one murmur of delight arose all round the board, +and even Tiny Tim, excited by the two young Cratchits,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[194]</a></span> +beat on the table with the handle of his knife, and +feebly cried Hurrah!</p> + +<p>There never was such a goose. Bob said he didn't +believe there ever was such a goose cooked. Its tenderness +and flavour, size and cheapness, were the themes of +universal admiration. Eked out by the apple-sauce +and mashed potatoes, it was a sufficient dinner for +the whole family; indeed, as Mrs. Cratchit said with +great delight (surveying one small atom of a bone upon +the dish), they hadn't ate it all at last! Yet every one +had had enough, and the youngest Cratchits in particular, +were steeped in sage and onion to the eyebrows! +But now, the plates being changed by Miss Belinda, +Mrs. Cratchit left the room alone—too nervous to bear +witnesses—to take the pudding up and bring it in.</p> + +<p>Suppose it should not be done enough! Suppose it +should break in turning out. Suppose somebody should +have got over the wall of the back-yard and stolen it, +while they were merry with the goose—a supposition +at which the two young Cratchits became livid! All +sorts of horrors were supposed.</p> + +<p>Hallo! A great deal of steam! The pudding was +out of the copper. A smell like a washing-day! That +was the cloth. A smell like an eating-house and a +pastrycook's next door to each other, with a laundress's +next door to that! That was the pudding! In half a +minute Mrs. Cratchit entered—flushed, but smiling +proudly—with the pudding, like a speckled cannon-ball, +so hard and firm, blazing in half of half-a-quartern of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[195]</a></span> +ignited brandy, and bedight with Christmas holly +stuck into the top.</p> + +<p>Oh, a wonderful pudding! Bob Cratchit said, and +calmly too, that he regarded it as the greatest success +achieved by Mrs. Cratchit since their marriage. Mrs. +Cratchit said that now the weight was off her mind, +she would confess she had had her doubts about the +quantity of flour. Everybody had something to say +about it, but nobody said or thought it was at all a +small pudding for a large family. It would have been +flat heresy to do so. Any Cratchit would have blushed +to hint at such a thing.</p> + +<p>At last the dinner was all done, the cloth was cleared, +the hearth swept, and the fire made up. The compound +in the jug being tasted, and considered perfect, +apples and oranges were put upon the table, and a +shovel-full of chestnuts on the fire. Then all the Cratchit +family drew round the hearth, in what Bob +Cratchit called a circle, meaning half a one; and at Bob +Cratchit's elbow stood the family display of glasses. +Two tumblers, and a custard-cup without a handle.</p> + +<p>These held the hot stuff from the jug, however, as +well as golden goblets would have done; and Bob served +it out with beaming looks, while the chestnuts on the +fire sputtered and cracked noisily. Then Bob proposed:</p> + +<p>"A Merry Christmas to us all, my dears. God bless +us!"</p> + +<p>Which all the family re-echoed.</p> + +<p>"God bless us every one!" said Tiny Tim, the last of all.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[196]</a></span></p> +<h2>XXI</h2> + +<h3>HOW CHRISTMAS CAME TO THE SANTA MARIA FLATS<a name="FNanchor_N_14" id="FNanchor_N_14"></a><a href="#Footnote_N_14" class="fnanchor">[N]</a></h3> + +<div class='center'>ELIA W. PEATTIE<br /><br /></div> + + +<div class='cap'>THERE were twenty-six flat children, and none +of them had ever been flat children until that +year. Previously they had all been home children +and as such had, of course, had beautiful Christmases, +in which their relations with Santa Claus had been of +the most intimate and personal nature.</div> + +<p>Now, owing to their residence in the Santa Maria +flats, and the Lease, all was changed. The Lease was +a strange forbiddance, a ukase issued by a tyrant, +which took from children their natural liberties and +rights.</p> + +<p>Though, to be sure—as every one of the flat children +knew—they were in the greatest kind of luck to be +allowed to live at all, and especially were they fortunate +past the lot of children to be permitted to live in a flat. +There were many flats in the great city, so polished +and carved and burnished and be-lackeyed that +children were not allowed to enter within the portals, +save on visits of ceremony in charge of parents or<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[197]</a></span> +governesses. And in one flat, where Cecil de Koven +le Baron was born—just by accident and without +intending any harm—he was evicted, along with his +parents, by the time he reached the age where he +seemed likely to be graduated from the go-cart. And +yet that flat had not nearly so imposing a name as +the Santa Maria.</p> + +<p>The twenty-six children of the Santa Maria flats +belonged to twenty families. All of these twenty +families were peculiar, as you might learn any day +by interviewing the families concerning one another. +But they bore with each other's peculiarities quite +cheerfully and spoke in the hall when they met. Sometimes +this tolerance would even extend to conversation +about the janitor, a thin creature who did the work of +five men. The ladies complained that he never smiled.</p> + +<p>"I wouldn't so much mind the hot water pipes +leaking now and then," the ladies would remark in the +vestibule, rustling their skirts to show that they wore +silk petticoats, "if only the janitor would smile. But +he looks like a cemetery."</p> + +<p>"I know it," would be the response. "I told Mr. +Wilberforce last night that if he would only get a +cheerful janitor I wouldn't mind our having rubber +instead of Axminster on the stairs."</p> + +<p>"You know we were promised Axminster when we +moved in," would be the plaintive response. The +ladies would stand together for a moment wrapped in +gloomy reflection, and then part.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[198]</a></span></p> + +<p>The kitchen and nurse maids felt on the subject, too.</p> + +<p>"If Carl Carlsen would only smile," they used to +exclaim in sibilant whispers, as they passed on the +way to the laundry. "If he'd come in an' joke while +we wus washin'!"</p> + +<p>Only Kara Johnson never said anything on the subject +because she knew why Carlsen didn't smile, and +was sorry for it, and would have made it all right—if +it hadn't been for Lars Larsen.</p> + +<p>Dear, dear, but this is a digression from the subject of +the Lease. That terrible document was held over the +heads of the children as the Herodian pronunciamento +concerning small boys was over the heads of the Israelites.</p> + +<p>It was in the Lease not to run—not to jump—not +to yell. It was in the Lease not to sing in the halls, +not to call from story to story, not to slide down the +banisters. And there were blocks of banisters so +smooth and wide and beautiful that the attraction +between them and the seats of the little boy's trousers +was like the attraction of a magnet for a nail. Yet +not a leg, crooked or straight, fat or thin, was ever to +be thrown over these polished surfaces!</p> + +<p>It was in the Lease, too, that no peddler or agent, +or suspicious stranger was to enter the Santa Maria, +neither by the front door nor the back. The janitor +stood in his uniform at the rear, and the lackey in his +uniform at the front, to prevent any such intrusion +upon the privacy of the aristocratic Santa Marias.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[199]</a></span> +The lackey, who politely directed people, and summoned +elevators, and whistled up tubes and rang bells, thus +conducting the complex social life of those favoured +apartments, was not one to make a mistake, and admit +any person not calculated to ornament the front parlours +of the flatters.</p> + +<p>It was this that worried the children.</p> + +<p>For how could such a dear, disorderly, democratic +rascal as the children's saint ever hope to gain a pass +to that exclusive entrance and get up to the rooms +of the flat children?</p> + +<p>"You can see for yourself," said Ernest, who lived +on the first floor, to Roderick who lived on the fourth, +"that if Santa Claus can't get up the front stairs, +and can't get up the back stairs, that all he can do is +to come down the chimney. And he can't come down +the chimney—at least, he can't get out of the fireplace."</p> + +<p>"Why not?" asked Roderick, who was busy with an +"all-day sucker" and not inclined to take a gloomy +view of anything.</p> + +<p>"Goosey!" cried Ernest, in great disdain. "I'll +show you!" and he led Roderick, with his sucker, +right into the best parlour, where the fireplace was, +and showed him an awful thing.</p> + +<p>Of course, to the ordinary observer, there was nothing +awful about the fireplace. Everything in the way +of bric-a-brac possessed by the Santa Maria flatters +was artistic. It may have been in the Lease that only<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[200]</a></span> +people with æsthetic tastes were to be admitted to +the apartments. However that may be, the fireplace, +with its vases and pictures and trinkets, was something +quite wonderful. Indian incense burned in a mysterious +little dish, pictures of purple ladies were hung in +odd corners, calendars in letters nobody could read, +served to decorate, if not to educate, and glass vases +of strange colours and extraordinary shapes stood about +filled with roses. None of these things were awful. +At least no one would have dared say they were. +But what was awful was the formation of the grate.</p> + +<p>It was not a hospitable place with andirons, where +noble logs of wood could be laid for the burning, nor +did it have a generous iron basket where honest anthracite +could glow away into the nights. Not a bit of +it. It held a vertical plate of stuff that looked like +dirty cotton wool, on which a tiny blue flame leaped +when the gas was turned on and ignited.</p> + +<p>"You can see for yourself!" said Ernest tragically.</p> + +<p>Roderick could see for himself. There was an inch-wide +opening down which the Friend of the Children +could squeeze himself, and, as everybody knows, he +needs a good deal of room now, for he has grown portly +with age, and his pack every year becomes bigger, +owing to the ever-increasing number of girls and boys +he has to supply.</p> + +<p>"Gimini!" said Roderick, and dropped his all-day +sucker on the old Bokara rug that Ernest's mamma +had bought the week before at a fashionable furnishing<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[201]</a></span> +shop, and which had given the sore throat to all the +family, owing to some cunning little germs that had +come over with the rug to see what American throats +were like.</p> + +<p>Oh, me, yes! but Roderick could see! Anybody +could see! And a boy could see better than anybody.</p> + +<p>"Let's go see the Telephone Boy," said Roderick. +This seemed the wisest thing to do. When in doubt, +all the children went to the Telephone Boy, who was +the most fascinating person, with knowledge of the +most wonderful kind and of a nature to throw that of +Mrs. Scheherazade quite, quite in the shade—which, +considering how long that loquacious lady had been +a Shade, is perhaps not surprising.</p> + +<p>The Telephone Boy knew the answers to all the +conundrums in the world, and a way out of nearly all +troubles such as are likely to overtake boys and girls. +But now he had no suggestions to offer and could speak +no comfortable words.</p> + +<p>"He can't git inter de frunt, an' he can't git inter de +back, an' he can't come down no chimney in dis here +house, an' I tell yer dose," he said, and shut his mouth +grimly, while cold apprehension crept around Ernest's +heart and took the sweetness out of Roderick's +sucker.</p> + +<p>Nevertheless, hope springs eternal, and the boys +each and individually asked their fathers—tremendously +wise and good men—if they thought there was +any hope that Santa Claus would get into the Santa<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[202]</a></span> +Maria flats, and each of the fathers looked up from his +paper and said he'd be blessed if he did!</p> + +<p>And the words sunk deep and deep and drew the +tears when the doors were closed and the soft black +was all about and nobody could laugh because a boy +was found crying! The girls cried too—for the awful +news was whistled up tubes and whistled down tubes, +till all the twenty-six flat children knew about it. +The next day it was talked over in the brick court, +where the children used to go to shout and race. But +on this day there was neither shouting nor racing. +There was, instead, a shaking of heads, a surreptitious +dropping of tears, a guessing and protesting and lamenting. +All the flat mothers congratulated themselves +on the fact that their children were becoming so quiet +and orderly, and wondered what could have come over +them when they noted that they neglected to run after +the patrol wagon as it whizzed round the block.</p> + +<p>It was decided, after a solemn talk, that every child +should go to its own fireplace and investigate. In the +event of any fireplace being found with an opening +big enough to admit Santa Claus, a note could be left +directing him along the halls to the other apartments. +A spirit of universal brotherhood had taken possession +of the Santa Maria flatters. Misery bound them +together. But the investigation proved to be disheartening. +The cruel asbestos grates were everywhere. +Hope lay strangled!</p> + +<p>As time went on, melancholy settled upon the flat<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[203]</a></span> +children. The parents noted it, and wondered if there +could be sewer gas in the apartments. One over-anxious +mother called in a physician, who gave the poor little +child some medicine which made it quite ill. No one +suspected the truth, though the children were often +heard to say that it was evident that there was to +be no Christmas for them! But then, what more +natural for a child to say, thus hoping to win protestations—so +the mothers reasoned, and let the remark +pass.</p> + +<p>The day before Christmas was gray and dismal. +There was no wind—indeed, there was a sort of tightness +in the air, as if the supply of freshness had given +out. People had headaches—even the Telephone +Boy was cross—and none of the spirit of the time appeared +to enliven the flat children. There appeared to +be no stir—no mystery. No whisperings went on +in the corners—or at least, so it seemed to the sad +babies of the Santa Maria.</p> + +<p>"It's as plain as a monkey on a hand-organ," said +the Telephone Boy to the attendants at his salon in +the basement, "that there ain't to be no Christmas for +we—no, not for we!"</p> + +<p>Had not Dorothy produced, at this junction, from +the folds of her fluffy silken skirts several substantial +sticks of gum, there is no saying to what depths of +discouragement the flat children would have fallen!</p> + +<p>About six o'clock it seemed as if the children would +smother for lack of air! It was very peculiar. Even<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[204]</a></span> +the janitor noticed it. He spoke about it to Kara at +the head of the back stairs, and she held her hand so as +to let him see the new silver ring on her fourth finger, +and he let go of the rope on the elevator on which he +was standing and dropped to the bottom of the shaft, +so that Kara sent up a wild hallo of alarm. But the +janitor emerged as melancholy and unruffled as ever, +only looking at his watch to see if it had been stopped +by the concussion.</p> + +<p>The Telephone Boy, who usually got a bit of something +hot sent down to him from one of the tables, owing +to the fact that he never ate any meal save breakfast at +home, was quite forgotten on this day, and dined off two +russet apples, and drew up his belt to stop the ache—for +the Telephone Boy was growing very fast indeed, in +spite of his poverty, and couldn't seem to stop growing +somehow, although he said to himself every day that +it was perfectly brutal of him to keep on that way when +his mother had so many mouths to feed.</p> + +<p>Well, well, the tightness of the air got worse. Every +one was cross at dinner and complained of feeling tired +afterward, and of wanting to go to bed. For all of +that it was not to get to sleep, and the children tossed +and tumbled for a long time before they put their +little hands in the big, soft shadowy clasp of the Sandman, +and trooped away after him to the happy town +of sleep.</p> + +<p>It seemed to the flat children that they had been +asleep but a few moments when there came a terrible<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[205]</a></span> +burst of wind that shook even that great house to +its foundations. Actually, as they sat up in bed and +called to their parents or their nurses, their voices +seemed smothered with roar. Could it be that the +wind was a great wild beast with a hundred tongues +which licked at the roof of the building? And how +many voices must it have to bellow as it did?</p> + +<p>Sounds of falling glass, of breaking shutters, of +crashing chimneys greeted their ears—not that they +knew what all these sounds meant. They only knew +that it seemed as if the end of the world had come. +Ernest, miserable as he was, wondered if the Telephone +Boy had gotten safely home, or if he were alone in the +draughty room in the basement; and Roderick hugged +his big brother, who slept with him and said, "Now +I lay me," three times running, as fast as ever his tongue +would say it.</p> + +<p>After a terrible time the wind settled down into +a steady howl like a hungry wolf, and the children went +to sleep, worn out with fright and conscious that the +bedclothes could not keep out the cold.</p> + +<p>Dawn came. The children awoke, shivering. They +sat up in bed and looked about them—yes, they did, +the whole twenty-six of them in their different apartments +and their different homes.</p> + +<p>And what do you suppose they saw—what do you +suppose the twenty-six flat children saw as they looked +about them?</p> + +<p>Why, stockings, stuffed full, and trees hung full,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[206]</a></span> +and boxes packed full! Yes, they did! It was Christmas +morning, and the bells were ringing, and all the +little flat children were laughing, for Santa Claus had +come! He had really come! In the wind and wild +weather, while the tongues of the wind licked hungrily +at the roof, while the wind howled like a hungry wolf, +he had crept in somehow and laughing, no doubt, and +chuckling, without question, he had filled the stockings +and the trees and the boxes! Dear me, dear me, +but it was a happy time! It makes me out of breath +to think what a happy time it was, and how surprised +the flat children were, and how they wondered how it +could ever have happened.</p> + +<p>But they found out, of course! It happened in the +simplest way! Every skylight in the place was blown +off and away, and that was how the wind howled so, +and how the bedclothes would not keep the children +warm, and how Santa Claus got in. The wind corkscrewed +down into these holes, and the reckless children +with their drums and dolls, their guns and toy dishes, +danced around in the maelstrom and sang:</p> + +<div class='poem'> +"Here's where Santa Claus came!<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">This is how he got in—</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">We should count it a sin</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Yes, count it a shame,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">If it hurt when he fell on the floor."</span><br /> +</div> + +<p>Roderick's sister, who was clever for a child of her +age, and who had read Monte Cristo ten times, though<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[207]</a></span> +she was only eleven, wrote this poem, which every one +thought very fine.</p> + +<p>And of course all the parents thought and said that +Santa Claus must have jumped down the skylights. +By noon there were other skylights put in, and not a +sign left of the way he made his entrance—not that +the way mattered a bit, no, not a bit.</p> + +<p>Perhaps you think the Telephone Boy didn't get +anything! Maybe you imagine that Santa Claus +didn't get down that far. But you are mistaken. +The shaft below one of the skylights went away to the +bottom of the building, and it stands to reason that +the old fellow must have fallen way through. At any +rate there was a copy of "Tom Sawyer," and a whole +plum pudding, and a number of other things, more +useful but not so interesting, found down in the chilly +basement room. There were, indeed.</p> + +<p>In closing it is only proper to mention that Kara +Johnson crocheted a white silk four-in-hand necktie for +Carl Carlsen, the janitor—and the janitor smiled!</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[208]</a></span></p> +<h2>XXII</h2> + +<h3>THE LEGEND OF BABOUSCKA<a name="FNanchor_O_15" id="FNanchor_O_15"></a><a href="#Footnote_O_15" class="fnanchor">[O]</a></h3> + +<div class='center'>ADAPTED FROM THE RUSSIAN<br /><br /></div> + + +<div class='cap'>IT WAS the night the dear Christ-Child came to +Bethlehem. In a country far away from Him, an +old, old woman named Babouscka sat in her snug little +house by her warm fire. The wind was drifting the +snow outside and howling down the chimney, but it +only made Babouscka's fire burn more brightly.</div> + +<p>"How glad I am that I may stay indoors," said +Babouscka, holding her hands out to the bright blaze.</p> + +<p>But suddenly she heard a loud rap at her door. She +opened it and her candle shone on three old men standing +outside in the snow. Their beards were as white +as the snow, and so long that they reached the ground. +Their eyes shone kindly in the light of Babouscka's +candle, and their arms were full of precious things—boxes +of jewels, and sweet-smelling oils, and ointments.</p> + +<p>"We have travelled far, Babouscka," they said, +"and we stop to tell you of the Baby Prince born this +night in Bethlehem. He comes to rule the world and +teach all men to be loving and true. We carry Him +gifts. Come with us, Babouscka."</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[209]</a></span></p> +<p>But Babouscka looked at the drifting snow, and then +inside at her cozy room and the crackling fire. "It +is too late for me to go with you, good sirs," she said, +"the weather is too cold." She went inside again and +shut the door, and the old men journeyed on to Bethlehem +without her. But as Babouscka sat by her fire, +rocking, she began to think about the little Christ-Child, +for she loved all babies.</p> + +<p>"To-morrow I will go to find Him," she said; +"to-morrow, when it is light, and I will carry Him some +toys."</p> + +<p>So when it was morning Babouscka put on her long +cloak and took her staff, and filled her basket with the +pretty things a baby would like—gold balls, and +wooden toys, and strings of silver cobwebs—and she +set out to find the Christ-Child.</p> + +<p>But, oh, Babouscka had forgotten to ask the three +old men the road to Bethlehem, and they travelled +so far through the night that she could not overtake +them. Up and down the road she hurried, through +woods and fields and towns, saying to whomsoever +she met: "I go to find the Christ-Child. Where does +He lie? I bring some pretty toys for His sake."</p> + +<p>But no one could tell her the way to go, and they all +said: "Farther on, Babouscka, farther on." So she +travelled on and on and on for years and years—but +she never found the little Christ-Child.</p> + +<p>They say that old Babouscka is travelling still, +looking for Him. When it comes Christmas Eve, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[210]</a></span> +the children are lying fast asleep, Babouscka comes +softly through the snowy fields and towns, wrapped +in her long cloak and carrying her basket on her +arm. With her staff she raps gently at the doors +and goes inside and holds her candle close to the little +children's faces.</p> + +<p>"Is He here?" she asks. "Is the little Christ-Child +here?" And then she turns sorrowfully away again, crying: +"Farther on, farther on!" But before she leaves +she takes a toy from her basket and lays it beside the +pillow for a Christmas gift. "For His sake," she says +softly, and then hurries on through the years and forever +in search of the little Christ-Child.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[211]</a></span></p> +<h2>XXIII</h2> + +<h3>CHRISTMAS IN THE BARN<a name="FNanchor_P_16" id="FNanchor_P_16"></a><a href="#Footnote_P_16" class="fnanchor">[P]</a></h3> + +<div class='center'>F. ARNSTEIN<br /><br /></div> + + +<div class='cap'>ONLY two more days and Christmas would be +here! It had been snowing hard, and Johnny was +standing at the window, looking at the soft, white snow +which covered the ground half a foot deep. Presently +he heard the noise of wheels coming up the road, and +a wagon turned in at the gate and came past the window. +Johnny was very curious to know what the wagon could +be bringing. He pressed his little nose close to the +cold window pane, and to his great surprise, saw two +large Christmas-trees. Johnny wondered why there +were <i>two</i> trees, and turned quickly to run and tell +mamma all about it; but then remembered that mamma +was not at home. She had gone to the city to buy +some Christmas presents and would not return until +quite late. Johnny began to feel that his toes and fingers +had grown quite cold from standing at the window +so long; so he drew his own little chair up to the cheerful +grate fire and sat there quietly thinking. Pussy, +who had been curled up like a little bundle of wool, +in the very warmest corner, jumped up, and, going to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[212]</a></span> +Johnny, rubbed her head against his knee to attract +his attention. He patted her gently and began to talk +to her about what was in his thoughts.</div> + +<p>He had been puzzling over the <i>two</i> trees which had +come, and at last had made up his mind about them. "I +know now, Pussy," said he, "why there are two trees. +This morning when I kissed Papa good-bye at the gate +he said he was going to buy one for me, and mamma, +who was busy in the house, did not hear him say so; +and I am sure she must have bought the other. But +what shall we do with two Christmas-trees?"</p> + +<p>Pussy jumped into his lap and purred and purred. +A plan suddenly flashed into Johnny's mind. "Would +you like to have one, Pussy?" Pussy purred more +loudly, and it seemed almost as though she had said +yes.</p> + +<p>"Oh! I will, I will! if mamma will let me. I'll have +a Christmas-tree out in the barn for you, Pussy, and +for all the pets; and then you'll all be as happy as I +shall be with my tree in the parlour."</p> + +<p>By this time it had grown quite late. There was a +ring at the door-bell; and quick as a flash Johnny ran, +with happy, smiling face, to meet papa and mamma and +gave them each a loving kiss. During the evening he +told them all that he had done that day and also about +the two big trees which the man had brought. It was +just as Johnny had thought. Papa and mamma had +each bought one, and as it was so near Christmas they +thought they would not send either of them back.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[213]</a></span> +Johnny was very glad of this, and told them of the +happy plan he had made and asked if he might have +the extra tree. Papa and mamma smiled a little as +Johnny explained his plan but they said he might have +the tree, and Johnny went to bed feeling very happy.</p> + +<p>That night his papa fastened the tree into a block +of wood so that it would stand firmly and then set it +in the middle of the barn floor. The next day when +Johnny had finished his lessons he went to the kitchen, +and asked Annie, the cook, if she would save the bones +and potato parings and all other leavings from the +day's meals and give them to him the following morning. +He also begged her to give him several cupfuls of salt +and cornmeal, which she did, putting them in paper +bags for him. Then she gave him the dishes he asked +for—a few chipped ones not good enough to be used +at table—and an old wooden bowl. Annie wanted to +know what Johnny intended to do with all these things, +but he only said: "Wait until to-morrow, then you +shall see." He gathered up all the things which the +cook had given him and carried them to the barn, +placing them on a shelf in one corner, where he was +sure no one would touch them and where they would be +all ready for him to use the next morning.</p> + +<p>Christmas morning came, and, as soon as he could, +Johnny hurried out to the barn, where stood the Christmas-tree +which he was going to trim for all his pets. The +first thing he did was to get a paper bag of oats; this +he tied to one of the branches of the tree, for Brownie<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[214]</a></span> +the mare. Then he made up several bundles of hay +and tied these on the other side of the tree, not quite +so high up, where White Face, the cow, could reach +them; and on the lowest branches some more hay for +Spotty, the calf.</p> + +<p>Next Johnny hurried to the kitchen to get the +things Annie had promised to save for him. She had +plenty to give. With his arms and hands full he went +back to the barn. He found three "lovely" bones +with plenty of meat on them; these he tied together +to another branch of the tree, for Rover, his big black +dog. Under the tree he placed the big wooden bowl, +and filled it well with potato parings, rice, and meat, +left from yesterday's dinner; this was the "full and +tempting trough" for Piggywig. Near this he placed +a bowl of milk for Pussy, on one plate the salt for the +pet lamb, and on another the cornmeal for the dear +little chickens. On the top of the tree he tied a basket +of nuts; these were for his pet squirrel; and I had +almost forgotten to tell you of the bunch of carrots +tied very low down where soft white Bunny could reach +them.</p> + +<p>When all was done, Johnny stood off a little way to +look at this wonderful Christmas-tree. Clapping his +hands with delight, he ran to call papa and mamma +and Annie, and they laughed aloud when they saw +what he had done. It was the funniest Christmas-tree +they had ever seen. They were sure the pets would +like the presents Johnny had chosen.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[215]</a></span></p> + +<p>Then there was a busy time in the barn. Papa and +mamma and Annie helped about bringing in the animals, +and before long, Brownie, White Face, Spotty, Rover, +Piggywig, Pussy, Lambkin, the chickens, the squirrel +and Bunny, the rabbit, had been led each to his own +Christmas breakfast on and under the tree. What +a funny sight it was to see them all standing around +looking happy and contented, eating and drinking with +such an appetite!</p> + +<p>While watching them Johnny had another thought, +and he ran quickly to the house, and brought out the +new trumpet which papa had given him for Christmas. +By this time the animals had all finished their breakfast +and Johnny gave a little toot on his trumpet as a signal +that the tree festival was over. Brownie went, neighing +and prancing, to her stall, White Face walked demurely +off with a bellow, which Spotty, the calf, running at her +heels, tried to imitate; the little lamb skipped bleating +away; Piggywig walked off with a grunt; Pussy jumped +on the fence with a mew; the squirrel still sat up in +the tree cracking her nuts; Bunny hopped to her snug +little quarters; while Rover, barking loudly, chased the +chickens back to their coop. Such a hubbub of noises! +Mamma said it sounded as if they were trying to say +"Merry Christmas to you, Johnny! Merry Christmas +to all."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[216]</a></span></p> +<h2>XXIV</h2> + +<h3>THE PHILANTHROPIST'S CHRISTMAS<a name="FNanchor_Q_17" id="FNanchor_Q_17"></a><a href="#Footnote_Q_17" class="fnanchor">[Q]</a></h3> + +<div class='center'>JAMES WEBER LINN<br /><br /></div> + + +<div class='cap'>DID you see this committee yesterday, Mr. Mathews?" +asked the philanthropist. His secretary +looked up.</div> + +<p>"Yes, sir."</p> + +<p>"You recommend them then?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir."</p> + +<p>"For fifty thousand?"</p> + +<p>"For fifty thousand—yes, sir."</p> + +<p>"Their corresponding subscriptions are guaranteed?"</p> + +<p>"I went over the list carefully, Mr. Carter. The +money is promised, and by responsible people."</p> + +<p>"Very well," said the philanthropist. "You may +notify them, Mr. Mathews, that my fifty thousand +will be available as the bills come in."</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir."</p> + +<p>Old Mr. Carter laid down the letter he had been +reading, and took up another. As he perused it his +white eyebrows rose in irritation.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Mathews!" he snapped.</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir?"</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[217]</a></span></p> +<p>"You are careless, sir!"</p> + +<p>"I beg your pardon, Mr. Carter?" questioned the +secretary, his face flushing.</p> + +<p>The old gentleman tapped impatiently the letter +he held in his hand.</p> + +<p>"Do you pay no attention, Mr. Mathews, to my +rule that <i>no</i> personal letters containing appeals for +aid are to reach me? How do you account for this, +may I ask?"</p> + +<p>"I beg your pardon," said the secretary again. +"You will see, Mr. Carter, that that letter is dated +three weeks ago. I have had the woman's case carefully +investigated. She is undoubtedly of good reputation, +and undoubtedly in need; and as she speaks +of her father as having associated with you, I thought +perhaps you would care to see her letter."</p> + +<p>"A thousand worthless fellows associated with me," +said the old man, harshly. "In a great factory, Mr. +Mathews, a boy works alongside of the men he is put +with; he does not pick and choose. I dare say this +woman is telling the truth. What of it? You know +that I regard my money as a public trust. Were my +energy, my concentration, to be wasted by innumerable +individual assaults, what would become of them? My +fortune would slip through my fingers as unprofitably +as sand. You understand, Mr. Mathews? Let me see +no more individual letters. You know that Mr. +Whittemore has full authority to deal with them. May +I trouble you to ring? I am going out."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[218]</a></span></p> + +<p>A man appeared very promptly in answer to the +bell.</p> + +<p>"Sniffen, my overcoat," said the philanthropist.</p> + +<p>"It is 'ere, sir," answered Sniffen, helping the thin +old man into the great fur folds.</p> + +<p>"There is no word of the dog, I suppose, Sniffen?"</p> + +<p>"None, sir. The police was here again yesterday, +sir, but they said as 'ow——"</p> + +<p>"The police!" The words were fierce with scorn. +"Eight thousand incompetents!" He turned abruptly +and went toward the door, where he halted a moment.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Mathews, since that woman's letter did +reach me, I suppose I must pay for my carelessness—or +yours. Send her—what does she say—four children?—send +her a hundred dollars. But, for my sake, send +it anonymously. Write her that I pay no attention to +such claims." He went out, and Sniffen closed the +door behind him.</p> + +<p>"Takes losin' the little dog 'ard, don't he?" remarked +Sniffen, sadly, to the secretary. "I'm afraid there +ain't a chance of findin' 'im now. 'E ain't been stole, +nor 'e ain't been found, or they'd 'ave brung him back +for the reward. 'E's been knocked on the 'ead, like +as not. 'E wasn't much of a dog to look at, you see—just +a pup, I'd call 'im. An' after 'e learned that +trick of slippin' 'is collar off—well, I fancy Mr. Carter's +seen the last of 'im. I do, indeed."</p> + +<p>Mr. Carter meanwhile was making his way slowly +down the snowy avenue, upon his accustomed walk.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[219]</a></span> +The walk, however, was dull to-day, for Skiddles, his +little terrier, was not with him to add interest and +excitement. Mr. Carter had found Skiddles in the +country a year and a half before. Skiddles, then a +puppy, was at the time in a most undignified and undesirable +position, stuck in a drain tile, and unable either +to advance or to retreat. Mr. Carter had shoved him +forward, after a heroic struggle, whereupon Skiddles +had licked his hand. Something in the little dog's +eye, or his action, had induced the rich philanthropist +to bargain for him and buy him at a cost of half a +dollar. Thereafter Skiddles became his daily companion, +his chief distraction, and finally the apple of +his eye.</p> + +<p>Skiddles was of no known parentage, hardly of any +known breed, but he suited Mr. Carter. What, the +millionaire reflected with a proud cynicism, were +his own antecedents, if it came to that? But now +Skiddles had disappeared.</p> + +<p>As Sniffen said, he had learned the trick of slipping +free from his collar. One morning the great front doors +had been left open for two minutes while the hallway +was aired. Skiddles must have slipped down the +marble steps unseen, and dodged round the corner. +At all events, he had vanished, and although the whole +police force of the city had been roused to secure his +return, it was aroused in vain. And for three weeks, +therefore, a small, straight, white bearded man in +a fur overcoat had walked in mournful irritation alone.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[220]</a></span></p> + +<p>He stood upon a corner uncertainly. One way led +to the park, and this he usually took; but to-day he did +not want to go to the park—it was too reminiscent +of Skiddles. He looked the other way. Down there, +if one went far enough, lay "slums," and Mr. Carter +hated the sight of slums; they always made him miserable +and discontented. With all his money and his +philanthropy, was there still necessity for such misery +in the world? Worse still came the intrusive question +at times: Had all his money anything to do with the +creation of this misery? He owned no tenements; +he paid good wages in every factory; he had given sums +such as few men have given in the history of philanthropy. +Still—there were the slums. However, the +worst slums lay some distance off, and he finally turned +his back on the park and walked on.</p> + +<p>It was the day before Christmas. You saw it in +people's faces; you saw it in the holly wreaths that +hung in windows; you saw it, even as you passed the +splendid, forbidding houses on the avenue, in the green +that here and there banked massive doors; but most +of all, you saw it in the shops. Up here the shops were +smallish, and chiefly of the provision variety, so there +was no bewildering display of gifts; but there were +Christmas-trees everywhere, of all sizes. It was astonishing +how many people in that neighbourhood seemed +to favour the old-fashioned idea of a tree.</p> + +<p>Mr. Carter looked at them with his irritation softening. +If they made him feel a trifle more lonely, they<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[221]</a></span> +allowed him to feel also a trifle less responsible—for, +after all, it was a fairly happy world.</p> + +<p>At this moment he perceived a curious phenomenon +a short distance before him—another Christmas-tree, +but one which moved, apparently of its own volition, +along the sidewalk. As Mr. Carter overtook it, he +saw that it was borne, or dragged, rather by a small boy +who wore a bright red flannel cap and mittens of the +same peculiar material. As Mr. Carter looked down at +him, he looked up at Mr. Carter, and spoke cheerfully:</p> + +<p>"Goin' my way, mister?"</p> + +<p>"Why," said the philanthropist, somewhat taken +back, "I <i>was</i>!"</p> + +<p>"Mind draggin' this a little way?" asked the boy, +confidently, "my hands is cold."</p> + +<p>"Won't you enjoy it more if you manage to take it +home by yourself?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, it ain't for me!" said the boy.</p> + +<p>"Your employer," said the philanthropist, severely, +"is certainly careless if he allows his trees to be delivered +in this fashion."</p> + +<p>"I ain't deliverin' it, either," said the boy. "This +is Bill's tree."</p> + +<p>"Who is Bill?"</p> + +<p>"He's a feller with a back that's no good."</p> + +<p>"Is he <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'you'">your</ins> brother?"</p> + +<p>"No. Take the tree a little way, will you, while I +warm myself?"</p> + +<p>The philanthropist accepted the burden—he did not<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[222]</a></span> +know why. The boy, released, ran forward, jumped +up and down, slapped his red flannel mittens on his +legs, and then ran back again. After repeating these +manœuvres two or three times, he returned to where +the old gentleman stood holding the tree.</p> + +<p>"Thanks," he said. "Say, mister, you look like +Santa Claus yourself, standin' by the tree, with your +fur cap and your coat. I bet you don't have to run to +keep warm, hey?" There was high admiration in his +look. Suddenly his eyes sparkled with an inspiration.</p> + +<p>"Say, mister," he cried, "will you do something for +me? Come in to Bill's—he lives only a block from +here—and just let him see you. He's only a kid, and +he'll think he's seen Santa Claus, sure. We can tell +him you're so busy to-morrow you have to go to lots +of places to-day. You won't have to give him anything. +We're looking out for all that. Bill got hurt +in the summer, and he's been in bed ever since. So +we are giving him a Christmas—tree and all. He +gets a bunch of things—an air gun, and a train that +goes around when you wind her up. They're great!"</p> + +<p>"You boys are doing this?"</p> + +<p>"Well, it's our club at the settlement, and of course +Miss Gray thought of it, and she's givin' Bill the +train. Come along, mister."</p> + +<p>But Mr. Carter declined.</p> + +<p>"All right," said the boy. "I guess, what with Pete +and all, Bill will have Christmas enough."</p> + +<p>"Who is Pete?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[223]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Bill's dog. He's had him three weeks now—the +best little pup you ever saw!"</p> + +<p>A dog which Bill had had three weeks—and in a +neighbourhood not a quarter of a mile from the +avenue. It was three weeks since Skiddles had disappeared. +That this dog was Skiddles was of course +most improbable, and yet the philanthropist was +ready to grasp at any clue which might lead to the +lost terrier.</p> + +<p>"How did Bill get this dog?" he demanded.</p> + +<p>"I found him myself. Some kids had tin-canned him, +and he came into our entry. He licked my hand, and +then sat up on his hind legs. Somebody'd taught +him that, you know. I thought right away, 'Here's +a dog for Bill!' And I took him over there and fed +him, and they kept him in Bill's room two or three +days, so he shouldn't get scared again and run off; +and now he wouldn't leave Bill for anybody. Of +course, he ain't much of a dog, Pete ain't," he added, +"he's just a pup, but he's mighty friendly!"</p> + +<p>"Boy," said Mr. Carter, "I guess I'll just go round +and"—he was about to add, "have a look at that dog," +but fearful of raising suspicion, he ended—"and see +Bill."</p> + +<p>The tenements to which the boy led him were of +brick, and reasonably clean. Nearly every window +showed some sign of Christmas.</p> + +<p>The tree-bearer led the way into a dark hall, up one +flight—Mr. Carter assisting with the tree—and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[224]</a></span> +down another dark hall, to a door, on which he knocked. +A woman opened it.</p> + +<p>"Here's the tree!" said the boy, in a loud whisper. +"Is Bill's door shut?"</p> + +<p>Mr. Carter stepped forward out of the darkness.</p> + +<p>"I beg your pardon, madam," he said. "I met +this young man in the street, and he asked me to come +here and see a playmate of his who is, I understand, an +invalid. But if I am intruding——"</p> + +<p>"Come in," said the woman, heartily, throwing the +door open. "Bill will be glad to see you, sir."</p> + +<p>The philanthropist stepped inside.</p> + +<p>The room was decently furnished and clean. There +was a sewing machine in the corner, and in both the +windows hung wreaths of holly. Between the windows +was a cleared space, where evidently the tree, when +decorated, was to stand.</p> + +<p>"Are all the things here?" eagerly demanded the +tree-bearer.</p> + +<p>"They're all here, Jimmy," answered Mrs. Bailey. +"The candy just came."</p> + +<p>"Say," cried the boy, pulling off his red flannel mittens +to blow on his fingers, "won't it be great? But +now Bill's got to see Santa Claus. I'll just go in and tell +him, an' then, when I holler, mister, you come on, and +pretend you're Santa Claus." And with incredible +celerity the boy opened the door at the opposite end +of the room and disappeared.</p> + +<p>"Madam," said Mr. Carter, in considerable embarrassment,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[225]</a></span> +"I must say one word. I am Mr. Carter, +Mr. Allan Carter. You may have heard my name?"</p> + +<p>She shook her head. "No, sir."</p> + +<p>"I live not far from here on the avenue. Three +weeks ago I lost a little dog that I valued very much. +I have had all the city searched since then, in vain. +To-day I met the boy who has just left us. He informed +me that three weeks ago he found a dog, which is at +present in the possession of your son. I wonder—is +it not just possible that this dog may be mine?"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Bailey smiled. "I guess not, Mr. Carter. +The dog Jimmy found hadn't come off the avenue—not +from the look of him. You know there's hundreds +and hundreds of dogs without homes, sir. But I will +say for this one, he has a kind of a way with him."</p> + +<p>"Hark!" said Mr. Carter.</p> + +<p>There was a rustling and a snuffing at the door at +the far end of the room, a quick scratching of feet. +Then:</p> + +<p>"Woof! woof! woof!" sharp and clear came happy +impatient little barks. The philanthropist's eyes +brightened. "Yes," he said, "that is the dog."</p> + +<p>"I doubt if it can be, sir," said Mrs. Bailey, deprecatingly.</p> + +<p>"Open the door, please," commanded the philanthropist, +"and let us see." Mrs. Bailey complied. +There was a quick jump, a tumbling rush, and Skiddles, +the lost Skiddles, was in the philanthropist's arms. +Mrs. Bailey shut the door with a troubled face.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[226]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I see it's your dog, sir," she said, "but I hope you +won't be thinking that Jimmy or I——"</p> + +<p>"Madam," interrupted Mr. Carter, "I could not be +so foolish. On the contrary, I owe you a thousand +thanks."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Bailey looked more cheerful. "Poor little +Billy!" she said. "It'll come hard on him, losing +Pete just at Christmas time. But the boys are so +good to him, I dare say he'll forget it."</p> + +<p>"Who are these boys?" inquired the philanthropist. +"Isn't their action—somewhat unusual?"</p> + +<p>"It's Miss Gray's club at the settlement, sir," explained +Mrs. Bailey. "Every Christmas they do this +for somebody. It's not charity; Billy and I don't +need charity, or take it. It's just friendliness. They're +good boys."</p> + +<p>"I see," said the philanthropist. He was still +wondering about it, though, when the door opened +again, and Jimmy thrust out a face shining with +anticipation.</p> + +<p>"All ready, mister!" he said. "Bill's waitin' for +you!"</p> + +<p>"Jimmy," began Mrs. Bailey, about to explain, "the +gentleman——"</p> + +<p>But the philanthropist held up his hand, interrupting +her. "You'll let me see your son, Mrs. Bailey?" he +asked, gently.</p> + +<p>"Why, certainly, sir."</p> + +<p>Mr. Carter put Skiddles down and walked slowly<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[227]</a></span> +into the inner room. The bed stood with its side toward +him. On it lay a small boy of seven, rigid of body, but +with his arms free and his face lighted with joy.</p> + +<p>"Hello, Santa Claus!" he piped, in a voice shrill +with excitement.</p> + +<p>"Hello, Bill!" answered the philanthropist, sedately.</p> + +<p>The boy turned his eyes on Jimmy.</p> + +<p>"He knows my name," he said, with glee.</p> + +<p>"He knows everybody's name," said Jimmy. "Now +you tell him what you want, Bill, and he'll bring it +to-morrow.</p> + +<p>"How would you like," said the philanthropist, +reflectively, "an—an——" he hesitated, it seemed so +incongruous with that stiff figure on the bed—"an air-gun?"</p> + +<p>"I guess yes," said Bill, happily.</p> + +<p>"And a train of cars," broke in the impatient Jimmy, +"that goes like sixty when you wind her?"</p> + +<p>"Hi!" said Bill.</p> + +<p>The philanthropist solemnly made notes of this.</p> + +<p>"How about," he remarked, inquiringly, "a tree?"</p> + +<p>"Honest?" said Bill.</p> + +<p>"I think it can be managed," said Santa Claus. +He advanced to the bedside.</p> + +<p>"I'm glad to have seen you, Bill. You know how +busy I am, but I hope—I hope to see you again."</p> + +<p>"Not till next year, of course," warned Jimmy.</p> + +<p>"Not till then, of course," assented Santa Claus. +"And now, good-bye."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[228]</a></span></p> + +<p>"You forgot to ask him if he'd been a good boy," +suggested Jimmy.</p> + +<p>"I have," said Bill. "I've been fine. You ask +mother."</p> + +<p>"She gives you—she gives you both a high character," +said Santa Claus. "Good-bye again," and so saying +he withdrew. Skiddles followed him out. The philanthropist +closed the door of the bedroom, and then +turned to Mrs. Bailey.</p> + +<p>She was regarding him with awestruck eyes.</p> + +<p>"Oh, sir," she said, "I know now who you are—the +Mr. Carter that gives so much away to people!"</p> + +<p>The philanthropist nodded, deprecatingly.</p> + +<p>"Just so, Mrs. Bailey," he said. "And there is one +gift—or loan rather—which I should like to make +to you. I should like to leave the little dog with you till +after the holidays. I'm afraid I'll have to claim him +then; but if you'll keep him till after Christmas—and +let me find, perhaps, another dog for Billy—I shall +be much obliged."</p> + +<p>Again the door of the bedroom opened, and Jimmy +emerged quietly.</p> + +<p>"Bill wants the pup," he explained.</p> + +<p>"Pete! Pete!" came the piping but happy voice +from the inner room.</p> + +<p>Skiddles hesitated. Mr. Carter made no sign.</p> + +<p>"Pete! Pete!" shrilled the voice again.</p> + +<p>Slowly, very slowly, Skiddles turned and went back +into the bedroom.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[229]</a></span></p> + +<p>"You see," said Mr. Carter, smiling, "he won't be +too unhappy away from me, Mrs. Bailey."</p> + +<p>On his way home the philanthropist saw even more +evidences of Christmas gaiety along the streets than +before. He stepped out briskly, in spite of his sixty-eight +years; he even hummed a little tune.</p> + +<p>When he reached the house on the avenue he found +his secretary still at work.</p> + +<p>"Oh, by the way, Mr. Mathews," he said, "did you +send that letter to the woman, saying I never paid +attention to personal appeals? No? Then write her, +please, enclosing my check for two hundred dollars, and +wish her a very Merry Christmas in my name, will you? +And hereafter will you always let me see such letters as +that one—of course after careful investigation? I +fancy perhaps I may have been too rigid in the past."</p> + +<p>"Certainly, sir," answered the bewildered secretary. +He began fumbling excitedly for his note-book.</p> + +<p>"I found the little dog," continued the philanthropist. +"You will be glad to know that."</p> + +<p>"You have found him?" cried the secretary. "Have +you got him back, Mr. Carter? Where was he?"</p> + +<p>"He was—detained—on Oak Street, I believe," said +the philanthropist. "No, I have not got him back yet. +I have left him with a young boy till after the holidays."</p> + +<p>He settled himself to his papers, for philanthropists +must toil even on the twenty-fourth of December, but +the secretary shook his head in a daze. "I wonder +what's happened?" he said to himself.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[230]</a></span></p> +<h2>XXV</h2> + +<h3>THE FIRST CHRISTMAS-TREE</h3> + +<div class='center'>BY LUCY WHEELOCK<br /><br /></div> + + +<div class='cap'>TWO little children were sitting by the fire one +cold winter's night. All at once they heard a +timid knock at the door and one ran to open it.</div> + +<p>There, outside in the cold and darkness, stood a +child with no shoes upon his feet and clad in thin, ragged +garments. He was shivering with cold, and he +asked to come in and warm himself.</p> + +<p>"Yes, come in," cried both the children. "You shall +have our place by the fire. Come in."</p> + +<p>They drew the little stranger to their warm seat +and shared their supper with him, and gave him their +bed, while they slept on a hard bench.</p> + +<p>In the night they were awakened by strains of sweet +music, and looking out, they saw a band of children +in shining garments, approaching the house. They +were playing on golden harps and the air was full +of melody.</p> + +<p>Suddenly the Strange Child stood before them: no +longer cold and ragged, but clad in silvery light.</p> + +<p>His soft voice said: "I was cold and you took Me +in. I was hungry and you fed Me. I was tired and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[231]</a></span> +you gave Me your bed. I am the Christ-Child, wandering +through the world to bring peace and happiness +to all good children. As you have given to Me, so +may this tree every year give rich fruit to you."</p> + +<p>So saying, He broke a branch from the fir-tree that +grew near the door, and He planted it in the ground +and disappeared. And the branch grew into a great +tree, and every year it bore wonderful fruit for the kind +children.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[232]</a></span></p> +<h2>XXVI</h2> + +<h3>THE FIRST NEW ENGLAND CHRISTMAS<a name="FNanchor_R_18" id="FNanchor_R_18"></a><a href="#Footnote_R_18" class="fnanchor">[R]</a></h3> + +<div class='center'>G. L. STONE AND M. G. FICKETT<br /><br /></div> + + +<div class='cap'>IT WAS a warm and pleasant Saturday—that +twenty-third of December, 1620. The winter +wind had blown itself away in the storm of the day +before, and the air was clear and balmy.</div> + +<p>The people on board the <i>Mayflower</i> were glad of +the pleasant day. It was three long months since +they had started from Plymouth, in England, to seek +a home across the ocean. Now they had come into a +harbour that they named New Plymouth, in the country +of New England.</p> + +<p>Other people called these voyagers Pilgrims, which +means wanderers. A long while before, the Pilgrims +had lived in England; later they made their home +with the Dutch in Holland; finally they had said good-bye +to their friends in Holland and in England, and +had sailed away to America.</p> + +<p>There were only one hundred and two of the Pilgrims +on the <i>Mayflower</i>, but they were brave and strong and +full of hope. Now the <i>Mayflower</i> was the only home<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[233]</a></span> +they had; yet if this weather lasted they might soon +have warm log-cabins to live in. This very afternoon +the men had gone ashore to cut down the large +trees.</p> + +<p>The women of the <i>Mayflower</i> were busy, too. Some +were spinning, some knitting, some sewing. It was +so bright and pleasant that Mistress Rose Standish +had taken out her knitting and had gone to sit a little +while on deck. She was too weak to face rough weather, +and she wanted to enjoy the warm sunshine and the +clear salt air. By her side was Mistress Brewster, the +minister's wife. Everybody loved Mistress Standish +and Mistress Brewster, for neither of them ever spoke +unkindly.</p> + +<p>The air on deck would have been warm even on a +colder day, for in one corner a bright fire was burning. +It would seem strange now, would it not, to see a fire +on the deck of a vessel? But in those days, when +the weather was pleasant, people on shipboard did +their cooking on deck.</p> + +<p>The Pilgrims had no stoves, and Mistress Carver's +maid had built this fire on a large hearth covered with +sand. She had hung a great kettle on the crane over +the fire, where the onion soup for supper was now +simmering slowly.</p> + +<p>Near the fire sat a little girl, busily playing and singing +to herself. Little Remember Allerton was only six +years old, but she liked to be with Hannah, Mistress +Carver's maid. This afternoon Remember had been<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[234]</a></span> +watching Hannah build the fire and make the soup. +Now the little girl was playing with the Indian arrowheads +her father had brought her the night before. +She was singing the words of the old psalm:</p> + +<div class='poem'> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"Shout to Jehovah, all the earth,</span><br /> +Serve ye Jehovah with gladness; before<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">him bow with singing mirth."</span><br /> +</div> + +<p>"Ah, child, methinks the children of Old England +are singing different words from those to-day," spoke +Hannah at length, with a faraway look in her eyes.</p> + +<p>"Why, Hannah? What songs are the little English +children singing now?" questioned Remember in +surprise.</p> + +<p>"It lacks but two days of Christmas, child, and in +my old home everybody is singing Merry Christmas +songs."</p> + +<p>"But thou hast not told me what is Christmas!" +persisted the child.</p> + +<p>"Ah, me! Thou dost not know, 'tis true. Christmas, +Remember, is the birthday of the Christ-Child, +of Jesus, whom thou hast learned to love," Hannah +answered softly.</p> + +<p>"But what makes the English children so happy +then? And we are English, thou hast told me, Hannah. +Why don't we keep Christmas, too?"</p> + +<p>"In sooth we are English, child. But the reason +why we do not sing the Christmas carols or play the +Christmas games makes a long, long story, Remember.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[235]</a></span> +Hannah cannot tell it so that little children will understand. +Thou must ask some other, child."</p> + +<p>Hannah and the little girl were just then near the +two women on the deck, and Remember said:</p> + +<p>"Mistress Brewster, Hannah sayeth she knoweth +not how to tell why Love and Wrestling and Constance +and the others do not sing the Christmas songs or +play the Christmas games. But thou wilt tell me +wilt thou not?" she added coaxingly.</p> + +<p>A sad look came into Mistress Brewster's eyes, and +Mistress Standish looked grave, too. No one spoke +for a few seconds, until Hannah said almost sharply: +"Why could we not burn a Yule log Monday, and +make some meal into little cakes for the children?"</p> + +<p>"Nay, Hannah," answered the gentle voice of +Mistress Brewster. "Such are but vain shows and +not for those of us who believe in holier things. But," +she added, with a kind glance at little Remember, +"wouldst thou like to know why we have left Old +England and do not keep the Christmas Day? Thou +canst not understand it all, child, and yet it may do thee +no harm to hear the story. It may help thee to be +a brave and happy little girl in the midst of our hard +life."</p> + +<p>"Surely it can do no harm, Mistress Brewster," +spoke Rose Standish, gently. "Remember is a little +Pilgrim now, and she ought, methinks, to know something +of the reason for our wandering. Come here, +child, and sit by me, while good Mistress Brewster<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[236]</a></span> +tells thee how cruel men have made us suffer. Then will +I sing thee one of the Christmas carols."</p> + +<p>With these words she held out her hands to little +Remember, who ran quickly to the side of Mistress +Standish, and eagerly waited for the story to begin.</p> + +<p>"We have not always lived in Holland, Remember. +Most of us were born in England, and England is the +best country in the world. 'Tis a land to be proud of, +Remember, though some of its rulers have been wicked +and cruel.</p> + +<p>"Long before you were born, when your mother was +a little girl, the English king said that everybody in +the land ought to think as he thought, and go to a +church like his. He said he would send us away from +England if we did not do as he ordered. Now, we +could not think as he did on holy matters, and it seemed +wrong to us to obey him. So we decided to go to a +country where we might worship as we pleased."</p> + +<p>"What became of that cruel king, Mistress Brewster?"</p> + +<p>"He ruleth England now. But thou must not think +too hardly of him. He doth not understand, perhaps. +Right will win some day, Remember, though there may +be bloody war before peace cometh. And I thank God +that we, at least, shall not be called on to live in the +midst of the strife," she went on, speaking more to +herself than to the little girl.</p> + +<p>"We decided to go to Holland, out of the reach of +the king. We were not sure whether it was best to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[237]</a></span> +move or not, but our hearts were set on God's ways. +We trusted Him in whom we believed. Yes," she +went on, "and shall we not keep on trusting Him?"</p> + +<p>And Rose Standish, remembering the little stock of +food that was nearly gone, the disease that had come +upon many of their number, and the five who had died +that month, answered firmly: "Yes. He who has led +us thus far will not leave us now."</p> + +<p>They were all silent a few seconds. Presently +Remember said: "Then did ye go to Holland, Mistress +Brewster?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," she said. "Our people all went over to +Holland, where the Dutch folk live and the little Dutch +children clatter about with their wooden shoes. There +thou wast born, Remember, and my own children, +and there we lived in love and peace."</p> + +<p>"And yet, we were not wholly happy. We could not +talk well with the Dutch, and so we could not set right +what was wrong among them. 'Twas so hard to earn +money that many had to go back to England. And +worst of all, Remember, we were afraid that you and +little Bartholomew and Mary and Love and Wrestling +and all the rest would not grow to be good girls and +boys. And so we have come to this new country +to teach our children to be pure and noble."</p> + +<p>After another silence Remember spoke again: "I +thank thee, Mistress Brewster. And I will try to be a +good girl. But thou didst not tell me about Christmas +after all."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[238]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Nay, child, but now I will. There are long services +on that day in every church where the king's friends +go. But there are parts of these services which we cannot +approve; and so we think it best not to follow the +other customs that the king's friends observe on Christmas.</p> + +<p>"They trim their houses with mistletoe and holly +so that everything looks gay and cheerful. Their +other name for the Christmas time is the Yuletide, +and the big log that is burned then is called the Yule +log. The children like to sit around the hearth in +front of the great, blazing Yule log, and listen to stories +of long, long ago.</p> + +<p>"At Christmas there are great feasts in England, +too. No one is allowed to go hungry, for the rich +people on the day always send meat and cakes to +the poor folk round about.</p> + +<p>"But we like to make all our days Christmas days, +Remember. We try never to forget God's gifts to us, +and they remind us always to be good to other people."</p> + +<p>"And the Christmas carols, Mistress Standish? +What are they?"</p> + +<p>"On Christmas Eve and early on Christmas morning," +Rose Standish answered, "little children go about +from house to house, singing Christmas songs. 'Tis +what I like best in all the Christmas cheer. And I +promised to sing thee one, did I not?"</p> + +<p>Then Mistress Standish sang in her clear, sweet +voice the quaint old English words:<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[239]</a></span></p> + +<div class='poem'> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">As Joseph was a-walking,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">He heard an angel sing:</span><br /> +"This night shall be the birth-time<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Of Christ, the heavenly King.</span><br /> +<br /> +"He neither shall be born<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">In housen nor in hall,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Nor in the place of Paradise,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">But in an ox's stall.</span><br /> +<br /> +"He neither shall be clothèd<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">In purple nor in pall,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">But in the fair white linen</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">That usen babies all.</span><br /> +<br /> +"He neither shall be rockèd<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">In silver nor in gold,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">But in a wooden manger</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">That resteth in the mould."</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">As Joseph was a-walking</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">There did an angel sing,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">And Mary's child at midnight</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Was born to be our King.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Then be ye glad, good people,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">This night of all the year,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">And light ye up your candles,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">For His star it shineth clear.</span><br /> +</div> + +<p>Before the song was over, Hannah had come on +deck again, and was listening eagerly. "I thank thee, +Mistress Standish," she said, the tears filling her blue +eyes. "'Tis long, indeed, since I have heard that +song."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[240]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Would it be wrong for me to learn to sing those +words, Mistress Standish?" gently questioned the little +girl.</p> + +<p>"Nay, Remember, I trow not. The song shall be +thy Christmas gift."</p> + +<p>Then Mistress Standish taught the little girl one +verse after another of the sweet old carol, and it was +not long before Remember could say it all.</p> + +<p>The next day was dull and cold, and on Monday, +the twenty-fifth, the sky was still overcast. There +was no bright Yule log in the <i>Mayflower</i>, and no holly +trimmed the little cabin.</p> + +<p>The Pilgrims were true to the faith they loved. +They held no special service. They made no gifts. +Instead, they went again to the work of cutting the +trees, and no one murmured at his hard lot.</p> + +<p>"We went on shore," one man wrote in his diary, +"some to fell timber, some to saw, some to rive, and +some to carry; so no man rested all that day."</p> + +<p>As for little Remember, she spent the day on board +the <i>Mayflower</i>. She heard no one speak of England or +sigh for the English home across the sea. But she +did not forget Mistress Brewster's story; and more +than once that day, as she was playing by herself, +she fancied that she was in front of some English +home, helping the English children sing their Christmas +songs.</p> + +<p>And both Mistress Allerton and Mistress Standish, +whom God was soon to call away from their earthly<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[241]</a></span> +home, felt happier and stronger as they heard the little +girl singing:</p> + +<div class='poem'> +He neither shall be born<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In housen nor in hall,</span><br /> +Nor in the place of Paradise,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But in an ox's stall.</span><br /> +</div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[242]</a></span></p> +<h2>XXVI</h2> + +<h3>THE CRATCHITS' CHRISTMAS DINNER</h3> + +<div class='center'>(Adapted)<br /> + +CHARLES DICKENS<br /><br /></div> + + +<div class='cap'>SCROOGE and the Ghost of Christmas Present +stood in the city streets on Christmas morning, +where (for the weather was severe) the people made +a rough but brisk and not unpleasant kind of music, +in scraping the snow from the pavement in front of +their dwellings, and from the tops of their houses, +whence it was mad delight to the boys to see it come +plumping down into the road below, and splitting into +artificial little snowstorms.</div> + +<p>The house fronts looked black enough, and the windows +blacker, contrasting with the smooth white sheet +of snow upon the roofs, and with the dirtier snow upon +the ground, which last deposit had been ploughed up +in deep furrows by the heavy wheels of carts and wagons; +furrows that crossed and recrossed each other hundreds +of times where the great streets branched off, and made +intricate channels, hard to trace, in the thick yellow +mud and icy water. The sky was gloomy, and the +shortest streets were choked up with a dingy mist, +half thawed, halt frozen, whose heavier particles<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[243]</a></span> +descended in a shower of sooty atoms, as if all the +chimneys in Great Britain had, by one consent, +caught fire, and were blazing away to their dear +heart's content. There was nothing very cheerful +in the climate or the town, and yet was there an air of +cheerfulness abroad that the clearest summer air and +brightest summer sun might have endeavoured to +diffuse in vain.</p> + +<p>For the people who were shovelling away on the +housetops were jovial and full of glee, calling out to one +another from the parapets, and now and then exchanging +a facetious snowball—better-natured missile far +than many a wordy jest—laughing heartily if it went +right, and not less heartily if it went wrong. The poulterers' +shops were still half open, and the fruiterers' were +radiant in their glory. There were great, round, pot-bellied +baskets of chestnuts, shaped like the waistcoats +of jolly old gentlemen, lolling at the doors, and +tumbling out into the street in their apoplectic opulence. +There were ruddy, brown-faced, broad-girthed Spanish +onions, shining in the fatness of their growth like +Spanish friars, and winking, from their shelves, in +wanton slyness at the girls as they went by, and +glanced demurely at the hung-up mistletoe. There +were pears and apples, clustering high in blooming +pyramids; there were bunches of grapes, made, in the +shop-keeper's benevolence, to dangle from conspicuous +hooks, that people's mouths might water gratis as +they passed; there were piles of filberts, mossy and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[244]</a></span> +brown, recalling, in their fragrance, ancient walks +among the woods, and pleasant shufflings ankle deep +through withered leaves; there were Norfolk biffins, +squab and swarthy, setting off the yellow of +the oranges and lemons, and, in the great compactness +of their juicy persons, urgently entreating and beseeching +to be carried home in paper bags and eaten +after dinner. The very gold and silver fish, set forth +among these choice fruits in a bowl, though members +of a dull and stagnant-blooded race, appeared to +know that there was something going on; and, to a fish, +went gasping round and round their little world in +slow and passionless excitement.</p> + +<p>The grocers'! oh, the grocers'! nearly closed, with +perhaps two shutters down, or one; but through those +gaps such glimpses! It was not alone that the scales +descending on the counter made a merry sound, or that +the twine and roller parted company so briskly, or that +the canisters were rattled up and down like juggling +tricks, or even that the blended scents of tea and coffee +were so grateful to the nose, or even that the raisins +were so plentiful and rare, the almonds so extremely +white, the sticks of cinnamon so long and straight, the +other spices so delicious, the candied fruits so caked +and spotted with molten sugar as to make the coldest +lookers-on feel faint, and subsequently bilious. Nor +was it that the figs were moist and pulpy, or that the +French plums blushed in modest tartness from their +highly decorated boxes, or that everything was good<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[245]</a></span> +to eat and in its Christmas dress; but the customers +were all so hurried and so eager in the hopeful promise +of the day that they tumbled up against each other +at the door, crashing their wicker baskets wildly, and +left their purchases upon the counter, and came running +back to fetch them, and committed hundreds of the +like mistakes, in the best humour possible; while the +grocer and his people were so frank and fresh that the +polished hearts with which they fastened their aprons +behind might have been their own, worn outside for +general inspection, and for Christmas daws to peck +at, if they chose.</p> + +<p>But soon the steeples called good people all to church +and chapel, and away they came, flocking through the +streets in their best clothes, and with their gayest +faces. And at the same time there emerged from scores +of by-streets, lanes, and nameless turnings, innumerable +people, carrying their dinners to the bakers' shops. +The sight of these poor revellers appeared to interest +the Spirit very much, for he stood, with Scrooge beside +him, in a baker's doorway, and, taking off the covers +as their bearers passed, sprinkled incense on their +dinners from his torch. And it was a very uncommon +kind of torch, for once or twice when there were angry +words between some dinner-carriers who had jostled +each other, he shed a few drops of water on them from +it, and their good-humour was restored directly. For +they said it was a shame to quarrel upon Christmas +Day. And so it was! God love it, so it was!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[246]</a></span></p> + +<p>In time the bells ceased, and the bakers were shut +up; and yet there was a genial shadowing forth of all +these dinners, and the progress of their cooking, in +the thawed blotch of wet above each baker's oven, +where the pavement smoked as if its stones were cooking +too.</p> + +<p>"Is there a peculiar flavour in what you sprinkle +from your torch?" asked Scrooge.</p> + +<p>"There is. My own."</p> + +<p>"Would it apply to any kind of dinner on this day?" +asked Scrooge.</p> + +<p>"To any kindly given. To a poor one most."</p> + +<p>"Why to a poor one most?" asked Scrooge.</p> + +<p>"Because it needs it most."</p> + +<p>They went on, invisible, as they had been before, +into the suburbs of the town. It was a remarkable +quality of the Ghost (which Scrooge had observed at +the baker's) that, notwithstanding his gigantic size, he +could accommodate himself to any place with ease; +and that he stood beneath a low roof quite as gracefully, +and like a supernatural creature, as it was possible he +could have done in any lofty hall.</p> + +<p>And perhaps it was the pleasure the good Spirit had +in showing off this power of his, or else it was his own +kind, generous, hearty nature, and his sympathy +with all poor men, that led him straight to Scrooge's +clerk's; for there he went, and took Scrooge with him, +holding to his robe; and on the threshold of the door +the Spirit smiled, and stopped to bless Bob Cratchit's<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[247]</a></span> +dwelling with the sprinklings of his torch. Think of +that! Bob had but fifteen "bob" a week himself; +he pocketed on Saturdays but fifteen copies of his +Christian name; and yet the Ghost of Christmas +Present blessed his four-roomed house!</p> + +<p>Then up rose Mrs. Cratchit, Cratchit's wife, dressed +out but poorly in a twice-turned gown, but brave in +ribbons, which are cheap and make a goodly show +for sixpence; and she laid the cloth, assisted by Belinda +Cratchit, second of her daughters, also brave in ribbons; +while Master Peter Cratchit plunged a fork into the +saucepan of potatoes, and getting the corners of his +monstrous shirt-collar (Bob's private property, conferred +upon his son and heir in honour of the day) into +his mouth, rejoiced to find himself so gallantly attired, +and yearned to show his linen in the fashionable parks. +And now two smaller Cratchits, boy and girl, came +tearing in, screaming that outside the baker's they had +smelt the goose, and known it for their own, and, basking +in luxurious thoughts of sage and onion, these young +Cratchits danced about the table, and exalted Master +Peter Cratchit to the skies, while he (not proud, +although his collar nearly choked him) blew the fire, +until the slow potatoes, bubbling up, knocked loudly +at the saucepan lid to be let out and peeled.</p> + +<p>"What has ever got your precious father, then?" +said Mrs. Cratchit. "And your brother, Tiny Tim? +And Martha warn't as late last Christmas Day by +half an hour!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[248]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Here's Martha, mother!" said a girl, appearing as +she spoke.</p> + +<p>"Here's Martha, mother!" cried the two young +Cratchits. "Hurrah! There's such a goose, Martha!"</p> + +<p>"Why, bless your heart alive, my dear, how late you +are!" said Mrs. Cratchit, kissing her a dozen times, +and taking off her shawl and bonnet for her with +officious zeal.</p> + +<p>"We'd a deal of work to finish up last night," +replied the girl, "and had to clear away this morning, +mother!"</p> + +<p>"Well, never mind so long as you are come," said +Mrs. Cratchit. "Sit ye down before the fire, my dear, +and have a warm, Lord bless ye!"</p> + +<p>"No, no! There's father coming!" cried the two +young Cratchits, who were everywhere at once. +"Hide, Martha, hide!"</p> + +<p>So Martha hid herself, and in came little Bob, +the father, with at least three feet of comforter, exclusive +of the fringe, hanging down before him, and his +threadbare clothes darned up and brushed, to look +seasonable; and Tiny Tim upon his shoulder. Alas for +Tiny Tim, he bore a little crutch, and had his limbs +supported by an iron frame!</p> + +<p>"Why, where's our Martha?" cried Bob Cratchit, +looking around.</p> + +<p>"Not coming," said Mrs. Cratchit.</p> + +<p>"Not coming?" said Bob, with a sudden declension +in his high spirits; for he had been Tim's blood horse<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[249]</a></span> +all the way from the church, and had come home +rampant. "Not coming upon Christmas Day?"</p> + +<p>Martha didn't like to see him disappointed, if it +were only in joke; so she came out prematurely from +behind the closet door, and ran into his arms, while +the two young Cratchits hustled Tiny Tim, and bore +him off into the wash-house, that he might hear the +pudding singing in the copper.</p> + +<p>"And how did little Tim behave?" asked Mrs. +Cratchit, when she had rallied Bob on his credulity, +and Bob had hugged his daughter to his heart's content.</p> + +<p>"As good as gold," said Bob, "and better. Somehow +he gets thoughtful, sitting by himself so much, and +thinks the strangest things you ever heard. He told +me, coming home, that he hoped the people saw him +in the church, because he was a cripple, and it might +be pleasant to them to remember, upon Christmas Day, +who made lame beggars walk, and blind men see."</p> + +<p>Bob's voice was tremulous when he told them this, +and trembled more when he said that Tiny Tim was +growing strong and hearty.</p> + +<p>His active little crutch was heard upon the floor, +and back came Tiny Tim before another word was +spoken, escorted by his brother and sister to his stool +beside the fire; and while Bob, turning up his cuffs—as +if, poor fellow, they were capable of being made more +shabby—compounded some hot mixture in a jug +with gin and lemons, and stirred it round and round, +and put it on the hob to simmer, Master Peter and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[250]</a></span> +the two ubiquitous young Cratchits went to fetch +the goose, with which they soon returned in high +procession.</p> + +<p>Such a bustle ensued that you might have thought +a goose the rarest of all birds—a feathered phenomenon, +to which a black swan was a matter of course—and +in truth it was something very like it in that house. +Mrs. Cratchit made the gravy (ready beforehand in a +little saucepan) hissing hot; Master Peter mashed +the potatoes with incredible vigour; Miss Belinda sweetened +up the apple-sauce; Martha dusted the hot plates; +Bob took Tiny Tim beside him in a tiny corner at +the table; the two young Cratchits set chairs for +everybody, not forgetting themselves, and, mounting +guard upon their posts, crammed spoons into their +mouths, lest they should shriek for goose before their +turn came to be helped. At last the dishes were set on, +and grace was said. It was succeeded by a breathless +pause, as Mrs. Cratchit, looking slowly all along the +carving knife, prepared to plunge it into the breast; +but when she did, and when the long expected gush +of stuffing issued forth, one murmur of delight arose +all round the board, and even Tiny Tim, excited by +the two young Cratchits, beat on the table with the +handle of his knife, and feebly cried, "Hurrah!"</p> + +<p>There never was such a goose. Bob said he didn't +believe there ever was such a goose cooked. Its tenderness +and flavour, size and cheapness, were the themes +of universal admiration. Eked out by apple-sauce<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[251]</a></span> +and mashed potatoes, it was a sufficient dinner for +the whole family; indeed, as Mrs. Cratchit said +with great delight (surveying one small atom of a bone +upon the dish), they hadn't ate it all at last! Yet +every one had had enough, and the youngest Cratchits +in particular were steeped in sage and onion to +the eyebrows! But now, the plates being changed by +Miss Belinda, Mrs. Cratchit left the room alone—too +nervous to bear witnesses—to take the pudding up, +and bring it in.</p> + +<p>Suppose it should not be done enough? Suppose +it should break in turning out? Suppose somebody +should have got over the wall of the backyard and +stolen it, while they were merry with the goose—a +supposition at which the two young Cratchits became +livid! All sorts of horrors were supposed.</p> + +<p>Hallo! A great deal of steam! The pudding was +out of the copper. A smell like a washing-day! That +was the cloth. A smell like an eating house and a +pastry-cook's next door to each other, with a laundress's +next door to that! That was the pudding! In half +a minute Mrs. Cratchit entered—flushed, but smiling +proudly—with the pudding, like a speckled cannon-ball, +so hard and firm, blazing in half of half-a-quartern +of ignited brandy, and bedight with Christmas holly +stuck into the top.</p> + +<p>Oh, a wonderful pudding! Bob Cratchit said, +and calmly, too, that he regarded it as the greatest +success achieved by Mrs. Cratchit since their marriage.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[252]</a></span> +Mrs. Cratchit said that, now the weight was off her +mind, she would confess she had her doubts about the +quantity of flour. Everybody had something to say +about it, but nobody thought or said it was at all a +small pudding for a large family. It would have been +flat heresy to do so. Any Cratchit would have blushed +to hint at such a thing.</p> + +<p>At last the dinner was all done, the cloth was cleared, +the hearth swept, and the fire made up. The compound +in the jug being tasted, and considered perfect, +apples and oranges were put upon the table, and a +shovelful of chestnuts on the fire. Then all the Cratchit +family drew round the hearth in what Bob Cratchit +called a circle, meaning half a one; and at Bob Cratchit's +elbow stood the family display of glass—two tumblers +and a custard-cup without a handle.</p> + +<p>These held the hot stuff from the jug, however, as +well as golden goblets would have done; and Bob served +it out with beaming looks, while the chestnuts on the +fire sputtered and cracked noisily. Then Bob proposed:</p> + +<p>"A Merry Christmas to us all, my dears. God +bless us!"</p> + +<p>Which all the family reëchoed.</p> + +<p>"God bless us every one!" said Tiny Tim, the +last of all.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[253]</a></span></p> +<h2>XXVII</h2> + +<h3>CHRISTMAS IN SEVENTEEN SEVENTY-SIX<a name="FNanchor_S_19" id="FNanchor_S_19"></a><a href="#Footnote_S_19" class="fnanchor">[S]</a></h3> + +<div class='center'>ANNE HOLLINGSWORTH WHARTON<br /><br /></div> + +<div class='poem'> +"On Christmas day in Seventy-six,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Our gallant troops with bayonets fixed,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">To Trenton marched away."</span><br /> +<br /><br /></div> + + +<div class='cap'>CHILDREN, have any of you ever thought of +what little people like you were doing in this +country more than a hundred years ago, when the +cruel tide of war swept over its bosom? From many +homes the fathers were absent, fighting bravely for +the liberty which we now enjoy, while the mothers no +less valiantly struggled against hardships and discomforts +in order to keep a home for their children, +whom you only know as your great-grandfathers and +great-grandmothers, dignified gentlemen and beautiful +ladies, whose painted portraits hang upon the walls +in some of your homes. Merry, romping children +they were in those far-off times, yet their bright faces +must have looked grave sometimes, when they heard +the grown people talk of the great things that were +happening around them. Some of these little people<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[254]</a></span> +never forgot the wonderful events of which they heard, +and afterward related them to their children and +grandchildren, which accounts for some of the interesting +stories which you may still hear, if you are +good children.</div> + +<p>The Christmas story that I have to tell you is about +a boy and girl who lived in Bordentown, New Jersey. +The father of these children was a soldier in General +Washington's army, which was encamped a few miles +north of Trenton, on the Pennsylvania side of the +Delaware River. Bordentown, as you can see by +looking on your map, if you have not hidden them all +away for the holidays, is about seven miles south of +Trenton, where fifteen hundred Hessians and a +troop of British light horse were holding the town. +Thus you see that the British, in force, were between +Washington's army and Bordentown, besides which +there were some British and Hessian troops in the +very town. All this seriously interfered with Captain +Tracy's going home to eat his Christmas dinner with +his wife and children. Kitty and Harry Tracy, who +had not lived long enough to see many wars, could not +imagine such a thing as Christmas without their father, +and had busied themselves for weeks in making everything +ready to have a merry time with him. Kitty, +who loved to play quite as much as any frolicsome +Kitty of to-day, had spent all her spare time in knitting +a pair of thick woollen stockings, which seems a +wonderful feat for a little girl only eight years old to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[255]</a></span> +perform! Can you not see her sitting by the great +chimney-place, filled with its roaring, crackling logs, +in her quaint, short-waisted dress, knitting away steadily, +and puckering up her rosy, dimpled face over +the strange twists and turns of that old stocking? I +can see her, and I can also hear her sweet voice as she +chatters away to her mother about "how 'sprised +papa will be to find that his little girl can knit like a +grown-up woman," while Harry spreads out on the +hearth a goodly store of shellbarks that he has +gathered and is keeping for his share of the 'sprise.</p> + +<p>"What if he shouldn't come?" asks Harry, suddenly.</p> + +<p>"Oh, he'll come! Papa never stays away on Christmas," +says Kitty, looking up into her mother's face +for an echo to her words. Instead she sees something +very like tears in her mother's eyes.</p> + +<p>"Oh, mamma, don't you think he'll come?"</p> + +<p>"He will come if he possibly can," says Mrs. Tracy; +"and if he cannot, we will keep Christmas whenever +dear papa does come home."</p> + +<p>"It won't be half so nice," said Kitty, "nothing's +so nice as <i>really</i> Christmas, and how's Kriss Kringle +going to know about it if we change the day?"</p> + +<p>"We'll let him come just the same, and if he brings +anything for papa we can put it away for him."</p> + +<p>This plan, still, seemed a poor one to Miss Kitty, +who went to her bed in a sober mood that night, and +was heard telling her dear dollie, Martha Washington, +that "wars were mis'able, and that when she married<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[256]</a></span> +she should have a man who kept a candy-shop for a +husband, and not a soldier—no, Martha, not even if +he's as nice as papa!" As Martha made no objection +to this little arrangement, being an obedient child, +they were both soon fast asleep.</p> + +<p>The days of that cold winter of 1776 wore on; so +cold it was that the sufferings of the soldiers were great, +their bleeding feet often leaving marks on the pure +white snow over which they marched. As Christmas +drew near there was a feeling among the patriots that +some blow was about to be struck; but what it was, +and from whence they knew not; and, better than all, +the British had no idea that any strong blow could come +from Washington's army, weak and out of heart, +as they thought, after being chased through Jersey +by Cornwallis.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Tracy looked anxiously each day for news of +the husband and father only a few miles away, yet +so separated by the river and the enemy's troops +that they seemed like a hundred. Christmas Eve +came, but brought with it few rejoicings. The hearts +of the people were too sad to be taken up with merry-making, +although the Hessian soldiers in the town, +good-natured Germans, who only fought the Americans +because they were paid for it, gave themselves up to the +feasting and revelry.</p> + +<p>"Shall we hang up our stockings?" asked Kitty, in +rather a doleful voice.</p> + +<p>"Yes," said her mother, "Santa Claus won't forget<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[257]</a></span> +you, I am sure, although he has been kept pretty busy +looking after the soldiers this winter."</p> + +<p>"Which side is he on?" asked Harry.</p> + +<p>"The right side, of course," said Mrs. Tracy, which +was the most sensible answer she could possibly have +given. So:</p> + +<div class='poem'> +"The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there."</span><br /> +</div> + +<p>Two little rosy faces lay fast asleep upon the pillow +when the good old soul came dashing over the roof +about one o'clock, and after filling each stocking with +red apples, and leaving a cornucopia of sugar-plums for +each child, he turned for a moment to look at the sleeping +faces, for St. Nicholas has a tender spot in his +great big heart for a soldier's children. Then, remembering +many other small folks waiting for him all +over the land, he sprang up the chimney and was +away in a trice.</p> + +<p>Santa Claus, in the form of Mrs. Tracy's farmer +brother, brought her a splendid turkey; but because the +Hessians were uncommonly fond of turkey, it came hidden +under a load of wood. Harry was very fond of turkey, +too, as well as of all other good things; but when his +mother said, "It's such a fine bird, it seems too bad to +eat it without father," Harry cried out, "Yes, keep it for +papa!" and Kitty, joining in the chorus, the vote was +unanimous, and the turkey was hung away to await the +return of the good soldier, although it seemed strange,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[258]</a></span> +as Kitty told Martha Washington, "to have no papa +and no turkey on Christmas Day."</p> + +<p>The day passed and night came, cold with a steady +fall of rain and sleet. Kitty prayed that her "dear +papa might not be out in the storm, and that he might +come home and wear his beautiful blue stockings"; +"And eat his turkey," said Harry's sleepy voice; after +which they were soon in the land of dreams. Toward +morning the good people in Bordentown were suddenly +aroused by firing in the distance, which became more +and more distinct as the day wore on. There was great +excitement in the town; men and women gathered +together in little groups in the streets to wonder what +it was all about, and neighbours came dropping into +Mrs. Tracy's parlour, all day long, one after the other, +to say what they thought of the firing. In the evening +there came a body of Hessians flying into the town, to +say that General Washington had surprised the British +at Trenton, early that morning, and completely routed +them, which so frightened the Hessians in Bordentown +that they left without the slightest ceremony. +It was a joyful hour to the good town people when the +red-jackets turned their backs on them, thinking every +moment that the patriot army would be after them. +Indeed, it seemed as if wonders would never cease +that day, for while rejoicings were still loud, over the +departure of the enemy, there came a knock at Mrs. +Tracy's door, and while she was wondering whether +she dared open it, it was pushed ajar, and a tall soldier<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[259]</a></span> +entered. What a scream of delight greeted that soldier, +and how Kitty and Harry danced about him and clung +to his knees, while Mrs. Tracy drew him toward the +warm blaze, and helped him off with his damp cloak! +Cold and tired Captain Tracy was, after a night's +march in the streets and a day's fighting; but he was +not too weary to smile at the dear faces around him, +or to pat Kitty's head when she brought his warm +stockings and would put them on the tired feet, herself.</p> + +<p>Suddenly there was a sharp, quick bark outside +the door. "What's that?" cried Harry.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I forgot. Open the door. Here, Fido, Fido!"</p> + +<p>Into the room there sprang a beautiful little King +Charles spaniel, white, with tan spots, and ears of +the longest, softest, and silkiest.</p> + +<p>"What a little dear!" exclaimed Kitty; "where +did it come from?"</p> + +<p>"From the battle of Trenton," said her father. +"His poor master was shot. After the red-coats +had turned their backs, and I was hurrying along one +of the streets where the fight had been the fiercest, I +heard a low groan, and, turning, saw a British officer +lying among a number of slain. I raised his head; he +begged for some water, which I brought him, and bending +down my ear I heard him whisper, 'Dying—last +battle—say a prayer.' He tried to follow me in the +words of a prayer, and then, taking my hand, laid it on +something soft and warm, nestling close up to his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[260]</a></span> +breast—it was this little dog. The gentleman—for +he was a real gentleman—gasped out, 'Take care +of my poor Fido; good-night,' and was gone. It was +as much as I could do to get the little creature away +from his dead master; he clung to him as if he loved +him better than life. You'll take care of him, won't +you, children? I brought him home to you, for a +Christmas present."</p> + +<p>"Pretty little Fido," said Kitty, taking the soft, +curly creature in her arms; "I think it's the best present +in the world, and to-morrow is to be real Christmas, +because you are home, papa."</p> + +<p>"And we'll eat the turkey," said Harry, "and shellbarks, +lots of them, that I saved for you. What a good +time we'll have! And oh, papa, don't go to war any +more, but stay at home, with mother and Kitty and +Fido and me."</p> + +<p>"What would become of our country if we should +all do that, my little man? It was a good day's work +that we did this Christmas, getting the army all across +the river so quickly and quietly that we surprised the +enemy, and gained a victory, with the loss of few men."</p> + +<p>Thus it was that some of the good people of 1776 +spent their Christmas, that their children and grandchildren +might spend many of them as citizens of a +<i>free nation</i>.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[261]</a></span></p> +<h2>XXVIII</h2> + +<h3>CHRISTMAS UNDER THE SNOW<a name="FNanchor_T_20" id="FNanchor_T_20"></a><a href="#Footnote_T_20" class="fnanchor">[T]</a></h3> + +<div class='center'>OLIVE THORNE MILLER<br /><br /></div> + + +<div class='cap'>IT WAS just before Christmas, and Mr. Barnes +was starting for the nearest village. The family +were out at the door to see him start, and give him the +last charges.</div> + +<p>"Don't forget the Christmas dinner, papa," said +Willie.</p> + +<p>"'Specially the chickens for the pie!" put in Nora.</p> + +<p>"An' the waisins," piped up little Tot, standing on +tiptoe to give papa a good-bye kiss.</p> + +<p>"I hate to have you go, George," said Mrs. Barnes +anxiously. "It looks to me like a storm."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I guess it won't be much," said Mr. Barnes +lightly; "and the youngsters must have their Christmas +dinner, you know."</p> + +<p>"Well," said Mrs. Barnes, "remember this, George: +if there is a bad storm don't try to come back. Stay in +the village till it is over. We can get along alone for a +few days, can't we, Willie?" turning to the boy who was +giving the last touches to the harness of old Tim, +the horse.</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[262]</a></span></p> +<p>"Oh, yes! Papa, I can take care of mamma," said +Willie earnestly.</p> + +<p>"And get up the Christmas dinner out of nothing?" +asked papa, smiling.</p> + +<p>"I don't know," said Willie, hesitating, as he +remembered the proposed dinner, in which he felt a +deep interest.</p> + +<p>"What could you do for the chicken pie?" went on +papa with a roguish look in his eye, "or the plum-pudding?"</p> + +<p>"Or the waisins?" broke in Tot anxiously.</p> + +<p>"Tot has set her heart on the raisins," said papa, +tossing the small maiden up higher than his head, and +dropping her all laughing on the door-step, "and Tot +shall have them sure, if papa can find them in S——. +Now good-bye, all! Willie, remember to take care of +mamma, and I depend on you to get up a Christmas +dinner if I don't get back. Now, wife, don't worry!" +were his last words as the faithful old horse started +down the road.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Barnes turned one more glance to the west, +where a low, heavy bank of clouds was slowly rising, +and went into the little house to attend to her morning +duties.</p> + +<p>"Willie," she said, when they were all in the snug +little log-cabin in which they lived, "I'm sure there's +going to be a storm, and it may be snow. You had +better prepare enough wood for two or three days; +Nora will help bring it in."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[263]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Me, too!" said grave little Tot.</p> + +<p>"Yes, Tot may help too," said mamma.</p> + +<p>This simple little home was a busy place, and soon +every one was hard at work. It was late in the afternoon +before the pile of wood, which had been steadily +growing all day, was high enough to satisfy Willie, +for now there was no doubt about the coming storm, +and it would probably bring snow; no one could guess +how much, in that country of heavy storms.</p> + +<p>"I wish the village was not so far off, so that papa +could get back to-night," said Willie, as he came in +with his last load.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Barnes glanced out of the window. Broad +scattering snowflakes were silently falling; the advance +guard, she felt them to be, of a numerous host.</p> + +<p>"So do I," she replied anxiously, "or that he did not +have to come over that dreadful prairie, where it is +so easy to get lost."</p> + +<p>"But old Tim knows the way, even in the dark," said +Willie proudly. "I believe Tim knows more'n some +folks."</p> + +<p>"No doubt he does, about the way home," said +mamma, "and we won't worry about papa, but have +our supper and go to bed. That'll make the time +seem short."</p> + +<p>The meal was soon eaten and cleared away, the fire +carefully covered up on the hearth, and the whole little +family quietly in bed. Then the storm, which had been +making ready all day, came down upon them in earnest.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[264]</a></span> +The bleak wind howled around the corners, the white +flakes by millions and millions came with it, and hurled +themselves upon that house. In fact, that poor little +cabin alone on the wide prairie seemed to be the object +of their sport. They sifted through the cracks in +the walls, around the windows, and under the door, +and made pretty little drifts on the floor. They piled +up against it outside, covered the steps, and then the +door, and then the windows, and then the roof, and +at last buried it completely out of sight under the soft, +white mass.</p> + +<p>And all the time the mother and her three children +lay snugly covered up in their beds fast asleep, and +knew nothing about it.</p> + +<p>The night passed away and morning came, but no +light broke through the windows of the cabin. Mrs. +Barnes woke at the usual time, but finding it still dark +and perfectly quiet outside, she concluded that the +storm was over, and with a sigh of relief turned over +to sleep again. About eight o'clock, however, she could +sleep no more, and became wide awake enough to think +the darkness strange. At that moment the clock struck, +and the truth flashed over her.</p> + +<p>Being buried under snow is no uncommon thing on +the wide prairies, and since they had wood and cornmeal +in plenty, she would not have been much alarmed +if her husband had been home. But snow deep enough +to bury them must cover up all landmarks, and she +knew her husband would not rest till he had found<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[265]</a></span> +them. To get lost on the trackless prairie was fearfully +easy, and to suffer and die almost in sight of home was +no unusual thing, and was her one dread in living +there.</p> + +<p>A few moments she lay quiet in bed, to calm herself +and get control of her own anxieties before she spoke +to the children.</p> + +<p>"Willie," she said at last, "are you awake?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, mamma," said Willie; "I've been awake ever +so long; isn't it most morning?"</p> + +<p>"Willie," said the mother quietly, "we mustn't be +frightened, but I think—I'm afraid—we are snowed +in."</p> + +<p>Willie bounded to his feet and ran to the door.</p> + +<p>"Don't open it!" said mamma hastily; "the snow +may fall in. Light a candle and look out the window."</p> + +<p>In a moment the flickering rays of the candle fell +upon the window. Willie drew back the curtain. +Snow was tightly banked up against it to the top.</p> + +<p>"Why, mamma," he exclaimed, "so we are! and how +can papa find us? and what shall we do?"</p> + +<p>"We must do the best we can," said mamma, in a +voice which she tried to make steady, "and trust that +it isn't very deep, and that Tim and papa will find us, +and dig us out."</p> + +<p>By this time the little girls were awake and inclined +to be very much frightened, but mamma was calm +now, and Willie was brave and hopeful.</p> + +<p>They all dressed, and Willie started the fire. The<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[266]</a></span> +smoke refused to rise, but puffed out into the room, +and Mrs. Barnes knew that if the chimney were closed +they would probably suffocate, if they did not starve +or freeze.</p> + +<p>The smoke in a few minutes choked them, and, seeing +that something must be done, she put the two girls, +well wrapped in blankets, into the shed outside the +back door, closed the door to keep out the smoke, and +then went with Willie to the low attic, where a scuttle +door opened onto the roof.</p> + +<p>"We must try," she said, "to get it open without +letting in too much snow, and see if we can manage +to clear the chimney."</p> + +<p>"I can reach the chimney from the scuttle with a +shovel," said Willie. "I often have with a stick."</p> + +<p>After much labour, and several small avalanches +of snow, the scuttle was opened far enough for Willie +to stand on the top round of the short ladder, and beat +a hole through to the light, which was only a foot +above. He then shovelled off the top of the chimney, +which was ornamented with a big round cushion of +snow, and then by beating and shovelling he was able +to clear the door, which he opened wide, and Mrs. +Barnes came up on the ladder to look out. Dreary indeed +was the scene! Nothing but snow as far as the eye +could reach, and flakes still falling, though lightly. +The storm was evidently almost over, but the sky was +gray and overcast.</p> + +<p>They closed the door, went down, and soon had a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[267]</a></span> +fire, hoping that the smoke would guide somebody +to them.</p> + +<p>Breakfast was taken by candle-light, dinner—in +time—in the same way, and supper passed with +no sound from the outside world.</p> + +<p>Many times Willie and mamma went to the scuttle +door to see if any one was in sight, but not a shadow +broke the broad expanse of white over which toward +night the sun shone. Of course there were no signs +of the roads, for through so deep snow none could +be broken, and until the sun and frost should form a +a crust on top there was little hope of their being +reached.</p> + +<p>The second morning broke, and Willie hurried up +to his post of lookout the first thing. No person was +in sight, but he found a light crust on the snow, and the +first thing he noticed was a few half-starved birds +trying in vain to pick up something to eat. They +looked weak and almost exhausted, and a thought +struck Willie.</p> + +<p>It was hard to keep up the courage of the little +household. Nora had openly lamented that to-night +was Christmas Eve, and no Christmas dinner to be +had. Tot had grown very tearful about her "waisins," +and Mrs. Barnes, though she tried to keep up heart, +had become very pale and silent.</p> + +<p>Willie, though he felt unbounded faith in papa, +and especially in Tim, found it hard to suppress his own +complaints when he remembered that Christmas would<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[268]</a></span> +probably be passed in the same dismal way, with fears +for papa added to their own misery.</p> + +<p>The wood, too, was getting low, and mamma dared +not let the fire go out, as that was the only sign of their +existence to anybody; and though she did not speak of +it, Willie knew, too, that they had not many candles, +and in two days at farthest they would be left in the +dark.</p> + +<p>The thought that struck Willie pleased him greatly, +and he was sure it would cheer up the rest. He made +his plans, and went to work to carry them out without +saying anything about it.</p> + +<p>He brought out of a corner of the attic an old box-trap +he had used in the summer to catch birds and small +animals, set it carefully on the snow, and scattered +crumbs of corn-bread to attract the birds.</p> + +<p>In half an hour he went up again, and found to his +delight he had caught bigger game—a poor rabbit +which had come from no one knows where over the +crust to find food.</p> + +<p>This gave Willie a new idea; they could save their +Christmas dinner after all; rabbits made very nice pies. +Poor Bunny was quietly laid to rest, and the trap set +again. This time another rabbit was caught, perhaps +the mate of the first. This was the last of the rabbits, +but the next catch was a couple of snowbirds. These +Willie carefully placed in a corner of the attic, using +the trap for a cage, and giving them plenty of food +and water.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[269]</a></span></p> + +<p>When the girls were fast asleep, with tears on their +cheeks for the dreadful Christmas they were going to +have, Willie told mamma about his plans. Mamma +was pale and weak with anxiety, and his news first +made her laugh and then cry. But after a few moments +given to her long pent-up tears, she felt much better +and entered into his plans heartily.</p> + +<p>The two captives up in the attic were to be Christmas +presents to the girls, and the rabbits were to make the +long anticipated pie. As for plum-pudding, of course +that couldn't be thought of.</p> + +<p>"But don't you think, mamma," said Willie eagerly, +"that you could make some sort of a cake out of meal, +and wouldn't hickory nuts be good in it? You know +I have some left up in the attic, and I might crack them +softly up there, and don't you think they would be +good?" he concluded anxiously.</p> + +<p>"Well, perhaps so," said mamma, anxious to please +him and help him in his generous plans. "I can try. +If I only had some eggs—but seems to me I have heard +that snow beaten into cake would make it light—and +there's snow enough, I'm sure," she added with a faint +smile, the first Willie had seen for three days.</p> + +<p>The smile alone he felt to be a great achievement, +and he crept carefully up the ladder, cracked the nuts +to the last one, brought them down, and mamma picked +the meats out, while he dressed the two rabbits which +had come so opportunely to be their Christmas dinner.</p> + +<p>"Wish you Merry Christmas!" he called out to Nora<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[270]</a></span> +and Tot when they waked. "See what Santa Claus +has brought you!"</p> + +<p>Before they had time to remember what a sorry +Christmas it was to be, they received their presents, +a live bird, for each, a bird that was never to be kept +in a cage, but fly about the house till summer came, +and then to go away if it wished.</p> + +<p>Pets were scarce on the prairie, and the girls were +delighted. Nothing papa could have brought them +would have given them so much happiness.</p> + +<p>They thought no more of the dinner, but hurried to +dress themselves and feed the birds, which were quite +tame from hunger and weariness. But after a while +they saw preparations for dinner, too. Mamma made +a crust and lined a deep dish—the chicken pie dish—and +then she brought a mysterious something out of the +cupboard, all cut up so that it looked as if it might be +chicken, and put it in the dish with other things, and +then she tucked them all under a thick crust, and set +it down in a tin oven before the fire to bake. And +that was not all. She got out some more cornmeal, +and made a batter, and put in some sugar and something +else which she slipped in from a bowl, and which +looked in the batter something like raisins; and at the +last moment Willie brought her a cup of snow and she +hastily beat it into the cake, or pudding, whichever +you might call it, while the children laughed at the idea +of making a cake out of snow. This went into the same +oven and pretty soon it rose up light and showed a beautiful<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[271]</a></span> +brown crust, while the pie was steaming through +little fork holes on top, and sending out most delicious +odours.</p> + +<p>At the last minute, when the table was set and +everything ready to come up, Willie ran up to look out +of the scuttle, as he had every hour of daylight since +they were buried. In a moment came a wild shout +down the ladder.</p> + +<p>"They're coming! Hurrah for old Tim!"</p> + +<p>Mamma rushed up and looked out, and saw—to be +sure—old Tim slowly coming along over the crust, +drawing after him a wood sled on which were two men.</p> + +<p>"It's papa!" shouted Willie, waving his arms to +attract their attention.</p> + +<p>"Willie!" came back over the snow in tones of agony. +"Is that you? Are all well?"</p> + +<p>"All well!" shouted Willie, "and just going to have +our Christmas dinner."</p> + +<p>"Dinner?" echoed papa, who was now nearer. +"Where is the house, then?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, down here!" said Willie, "under the snow; +but we're all right, only we mustn't let the plum-pudding +spoil."</p> + +<p>Looking into the attic, Willie found that mamma had +fainted away, and this news brought to her aid papa +and the other man, who proved to be a good friend who +had come to help.</p> + +<p>Tim was tied to the chimney, whose thread of smoke +had guided them home, and all went down into the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[272]</a></span> +dark room. Mrs. Barnes soon recovered, and while +Willie dished up the smoking dinner, stories were told +on both sides.</p> + +<p>Mr. Barnes had been trying to get through the +snow and to find them all the time, but until the last +night had made a stiff crust he had been unable to do so.</p> + +<p>Then Mrs. Barnes told her story, winding up with +the account of Willie's Christmas dinner. "And if it +hadn't been for his keeping up our hearts I don't know +what would have become of us," she said at last.</p> + +<p>"Well, my son," said papa, "you did take care of +mamma, and get up a dinner out of nothing, sure +enough; and now we'll eat the dinner, which I am sure +is delicious."</p> + +<p>So it proved to be; even the cake, or pudding, which +Tot christened snow pudding, was voted very nice, +and the hickory nuts as good as raisins.</p> + +<p>When they had finished, Mr. Barnes brought in his +packages, gave Tot and the rest some "sure-enough +waisins," and added his Christmas presents to Willie's; +but though all were overjoyed, nothing was quite so +nice in their eyes as the two live birds.</p> + +<p>After dinner the two men and Willie dug out +passages from the doors, through the snow, which had +wasted a good deal, uncovered the windows, and made +a slanting way to his shed for old Tim. Then for two or +three days Willie made tunnels and little rooms under +the snow, and for two weeks, while the snow lasted, Nora +and Tot had fine times in the little snow playhouses.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[273]</a></span></p> +<h2>XXIX</h2> + +<h3>MR. BLUFF'S EXPERIENCES OF HOLIDAYS<a name="FNanchor_U_21" id="FNanchor_U_21"></a><a href="#Footnote_U_21" class="fnanchor">[U]</a></h3> + +<div class='center'>OLIVER BELL BUNCE<br /><br /></div> + + +<div class='cap'>I HATE holidays," said Bachelor Bluff to me, with +some little irritation, on a Christmas a few years +ago. Then he paused an instant, after which he resumed: +"I don't mean to say that I hate to see people +enjoying themselves. But I hate holidays, nevertheless, +because to me they are always the saddest and +dreariest days of the year. I shudder at the name of +holiday. I dread the approach of one, and thank +heaven when it is over. I pass through, on a holiday, +the most horrible sensations, the bitterest feelings, +the most oppressive melancholy; in fact, I am not myself +at holiday-times."</div> + +<p>"Very strange," I ventured to interpose.</p> + +<p>"A plague on it!" said he, almost with violence. +"I'm not inhuman. I don't wish anybody harm. +I'm glad people can enjoy themselves. But I hate +holidays all the same. You see, this is the reason: +I am a bachelor; I am without kin; I am in a place that +did not know me at birth. And so, when holidays<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[274]</a></span> +come around, there is no place anywhere for me. I +have friends, of course; I don't think I've been a very +sulky, shut-in, reticent fellow; and there is many a +board that has a place for me—but not at Christmas-time. +At Christmas, the dinner is a family gathering; +and I've no family. There is such a gathering of kindred +on this occasion, such a reunion of family folk, that +there is no place for a friend, even if the friend be liked. +Christmas, with all its kindliness and charity and +good-will, is, after all, deuced selfish. Each little +set gathers within its own circle; and people like +me, with no particular circle, are left in the lurch. +So you see, on the day of all the days in the year +that my heart pines for good cheer, I'm without an +invitation.</p> + +<p>"Oh, it's because I pine for good cheer," said the +bachelor, sharply, interrupting my attempt to speak, +"that I hate holidays. If I were an infernally selfish +fellow, I wouldn't hate holidays. I'd go off and have +some fun all to myself, somewhere or somehow. But, +you see, I hate to be in the dark when all the rest of +the world is in light. I hate holidays because I ought +to be merry and happy on holidays and can't.</p> + +<p>"Don't tell me," he cried, stopping the word that +was on my lips; "I tell you, I hate holidays. The +shops look merry, do they, with their bright toys and +their green branches? The pantomime is crowded +with merry hearts, is it? The circus and the show are +brimful of fun and laughter, are they? Well, they all<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[275]</a></span> +make me miserable. I haven't any pretty-faced girls +or bright-eyed boys to take to the circus or the show, +and all the nice girls and fine boys of my acquaintance +have their uncles or their grand-dads or their cousins +to take them to those places; so, if I go, I must go +alone. But I don't go. I can't bear the chill of seeing +everybody happy, and knowing myself so lonely and +desolate. Confound it, sir, I've too much heart to be +happy under such circumstances! I'm too humane, sir! +And the result is, I hate holidays. It's miserable to +be out, and yet I can't stay at home, for I get thinking +of Christmases past. I can't read—the shadow of +my heart makes it impossible. I can't walk—for +I see nothing but pictures through the bright windows, +and happy groups of pleasure-seekers. The fact is, +I've nothing to do but to hate holidays. But will you +not dine with me?"</p> + +<p>Of course, I had to plead engagement with my own +family circle, and I couldn't quite invite Mr. Bluff +home that day, when Cousin Charles and his wife, +and Sister Susan and her daughter, and three of my +wife's kin had come in from the country, all to make a +merry Christmas with us. I felt sorry, but it was quite +impossible, so I wished Mr. Bluff a "Merry Christmas," +and hurried homeward through the cold and nipping +air.</p> + +<p>I did not meet Bachelor Bluff again until a week +after Christmas of the next year, when I learned some +strange particulars of what occurred to him after our<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[276]</a></span> +parting on the occasion just described. I will let +Bachelor Bluff tell his adventure for himself:</p> + +<p>"I went to church," said he, "and was as sad there +as everywhere else. Of course, the evergreens were +pretty, and the music fine; but all around me were +happy groups of people, who could scarcely keep down +<i>merry</i> Christmas long enough to do reverence to <i>sacred</i> +Christmas. And nobody was alone but me. Every +happy paterfamilias in his pew tantalized me, and the +whole atmosphere of the place seemed so much better +suited to every one else than me that I came away +hating holidays worse than ever. Then I went to the +play, and sat down in a box all alone by myself. Everybody +seemed on the best of terms with everybody else, +and jokes and banter passed from one to another with +the most good-natured freedom. Everybody but me +was in a little group of friends. I was the only person +in the whole theatre that was alone. And then there +was such clapping of hands, and roars of laughter, and +shouts of delight at all the fun going on upon the stage, +all of which was rendered doubly enjoyable by everybody +having somebody with whom to share and interchange +the pleasure, that my loneliness got simply +unbearable, and I hated holidays infinitely worse than +ever.</p> + +<p>"By five o'clock the holiday became so intolerable +that I said I'd go and get a dinner. The best dinner +the town could provide. A sumptuous dinner for one. +A dinner with many courses, with wines of the finest<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[277]</a></span> +brands, with bright lights, with a cheerful fire, with +every condition of comfort—and I'd see if I couldn't +for once extract a little pleasure out of a holiday!</p> + +<p>"The handsome dining-room at the club looked +bright, but it was empty. Who dines at this club +on Christmas but lonely bachelors? There was a +flutter of surprise when I ordered a dinner, and the few +attendants were, no doubt, glad of something to break +the monotony of the hours.</p> + +<p>"My dinner was well served. The spacious room +looked lonely; but the white, snowy cloths, the rich +window hangings, the warm tints of the walls, the +sparkle of the fire in the steel grate, gave the room an +air of elegance and cheerfulness; and then the table at +which I dined was close to the window, and through +the partly drawn curtains were visible centres of lonely, +cold streets, with bright lights from many a window, +it is true, but there was a storm, and snow began +whirling through the street. I let my imagination +paint the streets as cold and dreary as it would, just +to extract a little pleasure by way of contrast from the +brilliant room of which I was apparently sole master.</p> + +<p>"I dined well, and recalled in fancy old, youthful +Christmases, and pledged mentally many an old friend, +and my melancholy was mellowing into a low, sad +undertone, when, just as I was raising a glass of wine +to my lips, I was startled by a picture at the window-pane. +It was a pale, wild, haggard face, in a great +cloud of black hair, pressed against the glass. As<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">[278]</a></span> +I looked it vanished. With a strange thrill at my +heart, which my lips mocked with a derisive sneer, +I finished the wine and set down the glass. It was, +of course, only a beggar-girl that had crept up to the +window and stole a glance at the bright scene within; +but still the pale face troubled me a little, and threw +a fresh shadow on my heart. I filled my glass once +more with wine, and was again about to drink, when +the face reappeared at the window. It was so white, +so thin, with eyes so large, wild, and hungry-looking, +and the black, unkempt hair, into which the snow +had drifted, formed so strange and weird a frame to +the picture, that I was fairly startled. Replacing, +untasted, the liquor on the table, I rose and went close +to the pane. The face had vanished, and I could see +no object within many feet of the window. The storm +had increased, and the snow was driving in wild gusts +through the streets, which were empty, save here and +there a hurrying wayfarer. The whole scene was cold, +wild, and desolate, and I could not repress a keen thrill +of sympathy for the child, whoever it was, whose only +Christmas was to watch, in cold and storm, the rich +banquet ungratefully enjoyed by the lonely bachelor. +I resumed my place at the table; but the dinner was +finished, and the wine had no further relish. I was +haunted by the vision at the window, and began, with +an unreasonable irritation at the interruption, to +repeat with fresh warmth my detestation of holidays. +One couldn't even dine alone on a holiday with any<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[279]</a></span> +sort of comfort, I declared. On holidays one was +tormented by too much pleasure on one side, and too +much misery on the other. And then, I said, hunting +for justification of my dislike of the day, 'How many +other people are, like me, made miserable by seeing the +fullness of enjoyment others possess!'</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, I know," sarcastically replied the bachelor +to a comment of mine; "of course, all magnanimous, +generous, and noble-souled people delight in seeing +other people made happy, and are quite content to +accept this vicarious felicity. But I, you see, and this +dear little girl——"</p> + +<p>"Dear little girl?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I forgot," said Bachelor Bluff, blushing a +little, in spite of a desperate effort not to do so. "I +didn't tell you. Well, it was so absurd! I kept +thinking, thinking of the pale, haggard, lonely little +girl on the cold and desolate side of the window-pane, +and the over-fed, discontented, lonely old bachelor +on the splendid side of the window-pane, and I didn't +get much happier thinking about it, I can assure +you. I drank glass after glass of the wine—not that +I enjoyed its flavour any more, but mechanically, as +it were, and with a sort of hope thereby to drown +unpleasant reminders. I tried to attribute my annoyance +in the matter to holidays, and so denounced them +more vehemently than ever. I rose once in a while and +went to the window, but could see no one to whom the +pale face could have belonged.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[280]</a></span></p> + +<p>"At last, in no very amiable mood, I got up, put on +my wrappers, and went out; and the first thing I did +was to run against a small figure crouching in the doorway. +A face looked up quickly at the rough encounter, +and I saw the pale features of the window-pane. I +was very irritated and angry, and spoke harshly; and +then, all at once, I am sure I don't know how it happened, +but it flashed upon me that I, of all men, had +no right to utter a harsh word to one oppressed with +so wretched a Christmas as this poor creature was. +I couldn't say another word, but began feeling in my +pocket for some money, and then I asked a question +or two, and then I don't quite know how it came +about—isn't it very warm here?" exclaimed Bachelor +Bluff, rising and walking about, and wiping the +perspiration from his brow.</p> + +<p>"Well, you see," he resumed nervously, "it was very +absurd, but I did believe the girl's story—the old +story, you know, of privation and suffering, and just +thought I'd go home with the brat and see if what she +said was all true. And then I remembered that all +the shops were closed, and not a purchase could be +made. I went back and persuaded the steward to +put up for me a hamper of provisions, which the half-wild +little youngster helped me carry through the +snow, dancing with delight all the way. And isn't +this enough?"</p> + +<p>"Not a bit, Mr. Bluff. I must have the whole +story."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[281]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I declare," said Bachelor Bluff, "there's no whole +story to tell. A widow with children in great need, +that was what I found; and they had a feast that +night, and a little money to buy them a load of wood +and a garment or two the next day; and they were all +so bright, and so merry, and so thankful, and so good, +that, when I got home that night, I was mightily +amazed that, instead of going to bed sour at holidays, +I was in a state of great contentment in regard to +holidays. In fact, I was really merry. I whistled. +I sang. I do believe I cut a caper. The poor wretches +I had left had been so merry over their unlooked-for +Christmas banquet that their spirits infected mine.</p> + +<p>"And then I got thinking again. Of course, holidays +had been miserable to me, I said. What right +had a well-to-do, lonely old bachelor hovering wistfully +in the vicinity of happy circles, when all about there +were so many people as lonely as he, and yet oppressed +with want? 'Good gracious!' I exclaimed, 'to think +of a man complaining of loneliness with thousands +of wretches yearning for his help and comfort, with +endless opportunities for work and company, with +hundreds of pleasant and delightful things to do. +Just to think of it! It put me in a great fury at myself +to think of it. I tried pretty hard to escape from +myself and began inventing excuses and all that sort +of thing, but I rigidly forced myself to look squarely +at my own conduct. And then I reconciled my conscience +by declaring that, if ever after that day I hated<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">[282]</a></span> +a holiday again, might my holidays end at once and +forever!</p> + +<p>"Did I go and see my <i>protégés</i> again? What a +question! Why—well, no matter. If the widow +is comfortable now, it is because she has found a way +to earn without difficulty enough for her few wants. +That's no fault of mine. I would have done more +for her, but she wouldn't let me. But just let me tell +you about New Year's—the New-Year's day that +followed the Christmas I've been describing. It was +lucky for me there was another holiday only a week +off. Bless you! I had so much to do that day I +was completely bewildered, and the hours weren't +half long enough. I did make a few social calls, +but then I hurried them over; and then hastened to +my little girl, whose face had already caught a touch +of colour; and she, looking quite handsome in her new +frock and her ribbons, took me to other poor folk, and,—well, +that's about the whole story.</p> + +<p>"Oh, as to the next Christmas. Well, I didn't +dine alone, as you may guess. It was up three stairs, +that's true, and there was none of that elegance that +marked the dinner of the year before; but it was merry, +and happy, and bright; it was a generous, honest, +hearty Christmas dinner, that it was, although I do +wish the widow hadn't talked so much about the +mysterious way a turkey had been left at her door the +night before. And Molly—that's the little girl—and +I had a rousing appetite. We went to church<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">[283]</a></span> +early; then we had been down to the Five Points to +carry the poor outcasts there something for their +Christmas dinner; in fact, we had done wonders of +work, and Molly was in high spirits, and so the Christmas +dinner was a great success.</p> + +<p>"Dear me, sir, no! Just as you say. Holidays +are not in the least wearisome any more. Plague on it! +When a man tells me now that he hates holidays, I find +myself getting very wroth. I pin him by the buttonhole +at once, and tell him my experience. The +fact is, if I were at dinner on a holiday, and anybody +should ask me for a sentiment, I should say, 'God +bless all holidays!'"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">[284]</a></span></p> +<h2>XXX</h2> + +<h3>MASTER SANDY'S SNAPDRAGON<a name="FNanchor_V_22" id="FNanchor_V_22"></a><a href="#Footnote_V_22" class="fnanchor">[V]</a></h3> + +<div class='center'>ELBRIDGE S. BROOKS<br /><br /></div> + + +<div class='cap'>THERE was just enough of December in the air +and of May in the sky to make the Yuletide of +the year of grace 1611 a time of pleasure and delight +to every boy and girl in "Merrie England" from the +princely children in stately Whitehall to the humblest +pot-boy and scullery-girl in the hall of the country +squire.</div> + +<p>And in the palace at Whitehall even the cares of state +gave place to the sports of this happy season. For +that "Most High and Mighty Prince James, by the +Grace of God King of Great Britain, France, and Ireland"—as +you will find him styled in your copy of +the Old Version, or what is known as "King James' +Bible"—loved the Christmas festivities, cranky, +crabbed, and crusty though he was. And this year he +felt especially gracious. For now, first since the terror +of the Guy Fawkes plot which had come to naught +full seven years before, did the timid king feel secure +on his throne; the translation of the Bible, on which so +many learned men had been for years engaged, had<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">[285]</a></span> +just been issued from the press of Master Robert Baker; +and, lastly, much profit was coming into the royal +treasury from the new lands in the Indies and across +the sea.</p> + +<p>So it was to be a Merry Christmas in the palace at +Whitehall. Great were the preparations for its celebration, +and the Lord Henry, the handsome, wise and +popular young Prince of Wales, whom men hoped some +day to hail as King Henry of England, was to take part +in a jolly Christmas mask, in which, too, even the +little Prince Charles was to perform for the edification +of the court when the mask should be shown in the new +and gorgeous banqueting hall of the palace.</p> + +<p>And to-night it was Christmas Eve. The Little +Prince Charles and the Princess Elizabeth could +scarcely wait for the morrow, so impatient were they +to see all the grand devisings that were in store for +them. So good Master Sandy, under-tutor to the +Prince, proposed to wise Archie Armstrong, the King's +jester, that they play at snapdragon for the children +in the royal nursery.</p> + +<p>The Prince and Princess clamoured for the promised +game at once, and soon the flicker from the flaming bow +lighted up the darkened nursery as, around the witch-like +caldron, they watched their opportunity to snatch +the lucky raisin. The room rang so loudly with fun +and laughter that even the King himself, big of head +and rickety of legs, shambled in good-humouredly to +join in the sport that was giving so much pleasure to the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">[286]</a></span> +royal boy he so dearly loved, and whom he always +called "Baby Charles."</p> + +<p>But what was snapdragon, you ask? A simple +enough game, but dear for many and many a year to +English children. A broad and shallow bowl or dish +half-filled with blazing brandy, at the bottom of which +lay numerous toothsome raisins—a rare tidbit in those +days—and one of these, pierced with a gold button, +was known as the "lucky raisin." Then, as the flaming +brandy flickered and darted from the yawning bowl, +even as did the flaming poison tongues of the cruel +dragon that St. George of England conquered so +valiantly, each one of the revellers sought to snatch +a raisin from the burning bowl without singe or scar. +And he who drew out the lucky raisin was winner and +champion, and could claim a boon or reward for his +superior skill. Rather a dangerous game, perhaps +it seems, but folks were rough players in those old days +and laughed at a burn or a bruise, taking them as part +of the fun.</p> + +<p>So around Master Sandy's Snapdragon danced the +royal children, and even the King himself condescended +to dip his royal hands in the flames, while Archie +Armstrong the jester cried out: "Now fair and softly, +brother Jamie, fair and softly, man. There's ne'er +a plum in all that plucking so worth the burning as +there was in Signor Guy Fawkes' snapdragon when +ye proved not to be his lucky raisin." For King's +jesters were privileged characters in the old days, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">[287]</a></span> +jolly Archie Armstrong could joke with the King on this +Guy Fawkes scare as none other dared.</p> + +<p>And still no one brought out the lucky raisin, though +the Princess Elizabeth's fair arm was scorched and good +Master Sandy's peaked beard was singed, and my Lord +Montacute had dropped his signet ring in the fiery +dragon's mouth, and even His Gracious Majesty the +King was nursing one of his royal fingers.</p> + +<p>But just as through the parted arras came young +Henry, Prince of Wales, little Prince Charles gave a +boyish shout of triumph.</p> + +<p>"Hey, huzzoy!" he cried, "'tis mine, 'tis mine! +Look, Archie; see, dear dad; I have the lucky raisin! +A boon, good folk; a boon for me!" And the excited +lad held aloft the lucky raisin in which gleamed the +golden button.</p> + +<p>"Rarely caught, young York," cried Prince Henry, +clapping his hands in applause. "I came in right in +good time, did I not, to give you luck, little brother? +And now, lad, what is the boon to be?"</p> + +<p>And King James, greatly pleased at whatever his +dear "Baby Charles" said or did, echoed his eldest son's +question. "Ay lad, 'twas a rare good dip; so crave +your boon. What does my bonny boy desire?"</p> + +<p>But the boy hesitated. What was there that a royal +prince, indulged as was he, could wish for or desire? +He really could think of nothing, and crossing quickly +to his elder brother, whom, boy-fashion, he adored, he +whispered, "Ud's fish, Hal, what <i>do</i> I want?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">[288]</a></span></p> + +<p>Prince Henry placed his hand upon his brother's +shoulder and looked smilingly into his questioning +eyes, and all within the room glanced for a moment +at the two lads standing thus.</p> + +<p>And they were well worth looking at. Prince Henry +of Wales, tall, comely, open-faced, and well-built, a +noble lad of eighteen who called to men's minds, so +"rare Ben Jonson" says, the memory of the hero of +Agincourt, that other</p> + +<div class='poem'> +<span style="margin-left: 5.5em;">thunderbolt of war,</span><br /> +Harry the Fifth, to whom in face you are<br /> +So like, as Fate would have you so in worth;<br /> +</div> + +<div class='unindent'>Prince Charles, royal Duke of York, Knight of the +Garter and of the Bath, fair in face and form, an active, +manly, daring boy of eleven—the princely brothers +made so fair a sight that the King, jealous and <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'susspicious'">suspicious</ins> +of Prince Henry's popularity though he was, +looked now upon them both with loving eyes. But +how those loving eyes would have grown dim <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'wth'">with</ins> tears +could this fickle, selfish, yet indulgent father have +foreseen the sad and bitter fates of both his handsome +boys.</div> + +<p>But, fortunately, such foreknowledge is not for +fathers or mothers, whatever their rank or station, and +King James's only thought was one of pride in the +two brave lads now whispering together in secret confidence. +And into this he speedily broke.</p> + +<p>"Come, come, Baby Charles," he cried, "stand no<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">[289]</a></span> +more parleying, but out and over with the boon ye +crave as guerdon for your lucky plum. Ud's fish, lad, +out with it; we'd get it for ye though it did rain jeddert +staves here in Whitehall."</p> + +<p>"So please your Grace," said the little Prince, +bowing low with true courtier-like grace and suavity, +"I will, with your permission, crave my boon as a +Christmas favor at wassail time in to-morrow's +revels."</p> + +<p>And then he passed from the chamber arm-in-arm +with his elder brother, while the King, chuckling greatly +over the lad's show of courtliness and ceremony, went +into a learned discussion with my lord of Montacute +and Master Sandy as to the origin of the snapdragon, +which he, with his customary assumption of deep learning, +declared was "but a modern paraphrase, my lord, +of the fable which telleth how Dan Hercules did kill +the flaming dragon of Hesperia and did then, with +the apple of that famous orchard, make a fiery dish +of burning apple brandy which he did name 'snapdragon.'"</p> + +<p>For King James VI of Scotland and I of England +was, you see, something too much of what men call a +pendant.</p> + +<p>Christmas morning rose bright and glorious. A +light hoarfrost whitened the ground and the keen December +air nipped the noses as it hurried the song-notes +of the score of little waifs who, gathered beneath the +windows of the big palace, sung for the happy awaking<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290">[290]</a></span> +of the young Prince Charles their Christmas carol and +their Christmas noël:</p> + +<div class='poem'> +A child this day is born,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A child of great renown;</span><br /> +Most worthy of a sceptre.<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A sceptre and a crown.</span><br /> +<br /> +<i>Noël, noël, noël,</i><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Noël, sing we may</i></span><br /> +<i>Because the King of all Kings</i><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Was born this blessed day.</i></span><br /> +<br /> +These tidings shepherds heard<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">in field watching their fold,</span><br /> +Were by an angel unto them<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">At night revealed and told.</span><br /> +<br /> +<i>Noël, noël, noël,</i><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Noël sing we may</i></span><br /> +<i>Because the King of all Kings</i><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Was born this blessed day.</i></span><br /> +<br /> +He brought unto them tidings<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of gladness and of mirth,</span><br /> +Which cometh to all people by<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">This holy infant's birth.</span><br /> +<br /> +<i>Noël noël, noël,</i><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i> Noël sing we may</i></span><br /> +<i>Because the King of all Kings</i><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Was born this blessed day.</i></span><br /> +</div> + +<p>The "blessed day" wore on. Gifts and sports filled +the happy hours. In the royal banqueting hall the +Christmas dinner was royally set and served, and King<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291">[291]</a></span> +and Queen and Princes, with attendant nobles and +holiday guests, partook of the strong dishes of those +old days of hearty appetites.</p> + +<p>"A shield of brawn with mustard, boyl'd capon, a +chine of beef roasted, a neat's tongue roasted, a pig +roasted, chewets baked, goose, swan and turkey +roasted, a haunch of venison roasted, a pasty of venison, +a kid stuffed with pudding, an olive-pye, capons and +dowsets, sallats and fricases"—all these and much +more, with strong beer and spiced ale to wash the +dinner down, crowned the royal board, while the great +boar's head and the Christmas pie, borne in with great +parade, were placed on the table joyously decked with +holly and rosemary and bay. It was a great ceremony—this +bringing in of the boar's head. First came an +attendant, so the old record tells us,</p> + +<p>"attyr'd in a horseman's coat with a Boares-speare +in his hande; next to him another huntsman in greene, +with a bloody faulchion drawne; next to him two pages +in tafatye sarcenet, each of them with a messe of mustard; +next to whom came hee that carried the Boares-head, +crosst with a greene silk scarfe, by which hunge +the empty scabbard of the faulchion which was carried +before him."</p> + +<p>After the dinner—the boar's head having been +wrestled for by some of the royal yeomen—came the +wassail or health-drinking. Then the King said:</p> + +<p>"And now, Baby Charles, let us hear the boon ye +were to crave of us at wassail as the guerdon for the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292">[292]</a></span> +holder of the lucky raisin in Master Sandy's snapdragon."</p> + +<p>And the little eleven-year-old Prince stood up before +the company in all his brave attire, glanced at his +brother Prince Henry, and then facing the King said +boldly:</p> + +<p>"I pray you, my father and my liege, grant me as the +boon I ask—the freeing of Walter Raleigh."</p> + +<p>At this altogether startling and unlooked-for request, +amazement and consternation appeared on the faces +around the royal banqueting board, and the King put +down his untasted tankard of spiced ale, while surprise, +doubt and anger quickly crossed the royal face. For +Sir Walter Raleigh, the favourite of Queen Elizabeth, +the lord-proprietor and colonizer of the American +colonies, and the sworn foe to Spain, had been now +close prisoner in the Tower for more than nine +years, hated and yet dreaded by this fickle King +James, who dared not put him to death for fear of +the people to whom the name and valour of Raleigh +were dear.</p> + +<p>"Hoot, chiel!" cried the King at length, spluttering +wrathfully in the broadest of his native Scotch, +as was his habit when angered or surprised. "Ye +reckless fou, wha hae put ye to sic a jackanape trick? +Dinna ye ken that sic a boon is nae for a laddie like +you to meddle wi'? Wha hae put ye to't, I say?"</p> + +<p>But ere the young Prince could reply, the stately +and solemn-faced ambassador of Spain, the Count of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293">[293]</a></span> +Gondemar, arose in the place of honour he filled as a +guest of the King.</p> + +<p>"My Lord King," he said, "I beg your majesty to +bear in memory your pledge to my gracious master +King Philip of Spain, that naught save grave cause +should lead you to liberate from just durance that arch +enemy of Spain, the Lord Raleigh."</p> + +<p>"But you did promise me, my lord," said Prince +Charles, hastily, "and you have told me that the royal +pledge is not to be lightly broken."</p> + +<p>"Ma certie, lad," said King James, "ye maunay learn +that there is nae rule wi'out its aicciptions." And +then he added, "A pledge to a boy in play, like to ours +of yester-eve, Baby Charles, is not to be kept when +matters of state conflict." Then turning to the Spanish +ambassador, he said: "Rest content, my lord count. +This recreant Raleigh shall not yet be loosed."</p> + +<p>"But, my liege," still persisted the boy prince, "my +brother Hal did say——"</p> + +<p>The wrath of the King burst out afresh.</p> + +<p>"Ay, said you so? Brother Hal, indeed!" he cried. +"I thought the wind blew from that quarter," and he +angrily faced his eldest son. "So, sirrah; 'twas you +that did urge this foolish boy to work your traitorous +purpose in such coward guise!"</p> + +<p>"My liege," said Prince Henry, rising in his place, +"traitor and coward are words I may not calmly hear +even from my father and my king. You wrong me +foully when you use them thus. For though I do bethink<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294">[294]</a></span> +me that the Tower is but a sorry cage in which to +keep so grandly plumed a bird as my Lord of Raleigh, +I did but seek——"</p> + +<p>"Ay, you did but seek to curry favour with the craven +crowd," burst out the now thoroughly angry King, +always jealous of the popularity of this brave young +Prince of Wales. "And am I, sirrah, to be badgered +and browbeaten in my own palace by such a thriftless +ne'er-do-weel as you, ungrateful boy, who seekest +to gain preference with the people in this realm before +your liege lord the King? Quit my presence, sirrah, +and that instanter, ere that I do send you to spend your +Christmas where your great-grandfather, King Henry, +bade his astrologer spend his—in the Tower, there to +keep company with your fitting comrade, Raleigh, +the traitor!"</p> + +<p>Without a word in reply to this outburst, with a son's +submission, but with a royal dignity, Prince Henry bent +his head before his father's decree and withdrew from +the table, followed by the gentlemen of his household. +But ere he could reach the arrased doorway, Prince +Charles sprang to his side and cried, valiantly: "Nay +then, if he goes so do I! 'Twas surely but a Christmas +joke and of my own devising. Spoil not our revel, my +gracious liege and father, on this of all the year's red-letter +days, by turning my thoughtless frolic into such +bitter threatening. I did but seek to test the worth +of Master Sandy's lucky raisin by asking for as wildly +great a boon as might be thought upon. Brother Hal<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295">[295]</a></span> +too, did but give me his advising in joke even as I did +seek it. None here, my royal father, would brave your +sovereign displeasure by any unknightly or unloyal +scheme."</p> + +<p>The gentle and dignified words of the young prince—for +Charles Stuart, though despicable as a king, was +ever loving and loyal as a friend—were as oil upon the +troubled waters. The ruffled temper of the ambassador +of Spain—who in after years really did work Raleigh's +downfall and death—gave place to courtly bows, and +the King's quick anger melted away before the dearly +loved voice of his favourite son.</p> + +<p>"Nay, resume your place, son Hal," he said, "and +you, gentlemen all, resume your seats, I pray. I too +did but jest as did Baby Charles here—a sad young +wag, I fear me, is this same young Prince."</p> + +<p>But as, after the wassail, came the Christmas mask, +in which both Princes bore their parts, Prince Charles +said to Archie Armstrong, the King's jester:</p> + +<p>"Faith, good Archie; now is Master Sandy's snapdragon +but a false beast withal, and his lucky raisin is +but an evil fruit that pays not for the plucking."</p> + +<p>And wise old Archie only wagged his head and +answered, "Odd zooks, Cousin Charlie, Christmas +raisins are not the only fruit that burns the fingers in +the plucking, and mayhap you too may live to know +that a mettlesome horse never stumbleth but when +he is reined."</p> + +<p>Poor "Cousin Charlie" did not then understand the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296">[296]</a></span> +full meaning of the wise old jester's words, but he did +live to learn their full intent. For when, in after years, +his people sought to curb his tyrannies with a revolt +that ended only with his death upon the scaffold, +outside this very banqueting house at Whitehall, +Charles Stuart learned all too late that a "mettlesome +horse" needed sometimes to be "reined," and heard, +too late as well, the stern declaration of the Commons +of England that "no chief officer might presume for +the future to contrive the enslaving and destruction +of the nation with impunity."</p> + +<p>But though many a merry and many a happy day +had the young Prince Charles before the dark tragedy +of his sad and sorry manhood, he lost all faith in lucky +raisins. Not for three years did Sir Walter Raleigh—whom +both the Princes secretly admired—obtain +release from the Tower, and ere three more years were +past his head fell as a forfeit to the stern demands of +Spain. And Prince Charles often declared that +naught indeed could come from meddling with luck +saving burnt fingers, "even," he said, "as came to me +that profitless night when I sought a boon for snatching +the lucky raisin from good Master Sandy's Christmas +snapdragon."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297">[297]</a></span></p> +<h2>XXXI</h2> + +<h3>A CHRISTMAS FAIRY<a name="FNanchor_W_23" id="FNanchor_W_23"></a><a href="#Footnote_W_23" class="fnanchor">[W]</a></h3> + +<div class='center'>JOHN STRANGE WINTER<br /><br /></div> + + +<div class='cap'>IT was getting very near to Christmas time, and +all the boys at Miss Ware's school were talking +about going home for the holidays.</div> + +<p>"I shall go to the Christmas festival," said Bertie +Fellows, "and my mother will have a party, and my +Aunt will give another. Oh! I shall have a splendid +time at home."</p> + +<p>"My Uncle Bob is going to give me a pair of +skates," remarked Harry Wadham.</p> + +<p>"My father is going to give me a bicycle," put in +George Alderson.</p> + +<p>"Will you bring it back to school with you?" asked +Harry.</p> + +<p>"Oh! yes, if Miss Ware doesn't say no."</p> + +<p>"Well, Tom," cried Bertie, "where are you going +to spend your holidays?"</p> + +<p>"I am going to stay here," answered Tom in a very +forlorn voice.</p> + +<p>"Here—at school—oh, dear! Why can't you go +home?"</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_298" id="Page_298">[298]</a></span></p> +<p>"I can't go home to India," answered Tom.</p> + +<p>"Nobody said you could. But haven't you any +relatives anywhere?"</p> + +<p>Tom shook his head. "Only in India," he said sadly.</p> + +<p>"Poor fellow! That's hard luck for you. I'll +tell you what it is, boys, if I couldn't go home for the +holidays, especially at Christmas—I think I would +just sit down and die."</p> + +<p>"Oh, no, you wouldn't," said Tom. "You would get +ever so homesick, but you wouldn't die. You would just +get through somehow, and hope something would happen +before next year, or that some kind fairy would——"</p> + +<p>"There are no fairies nowadays," said Bertie. +"See here, Tom, I'll write and ask my mother to invite +you to go home with me for the holidays."</p> + +<p>"Will you really?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I will. And if she says yes, we shall have such +a splendid time. We live in London, you know, +and have lots of parties and fun."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps she will say no?" suggested poor little Tom.</p> + +<p>"My mother isn't the kind that says no," Bertie +declared loudly.</p> + +<p>In a few days' time a letter arrived from Bertie's +mother. The boy opened it eagerly. It said:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><span class="smcap">My Own Dear Bertie</span>:<br /> + +<p>I am very sorry to tell you that little Alice is ill with scarlet +fever. And so you cannot come for your holidays. I would +have been glad to have you bring your little friend with you +if all had been well here.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_299" id="Page_299">[299]</a></span></p> + +<p>Your father and I have decided that the best thing that you +can do is to stay at Miss Ware's. We shall send your Christmas +to you as well as we can.</p> + +<p>It will not be like coming home, but I am sure you will try +to be happy, and make me feel that you are helping me in this +sad time.</p> + +<p>Dear little Alice is very ill, very ill indeed. Tell Tom that I +am sending you a box for both of you, with two of everything. +And tell him that it makes me so much happier to know that +you will not be alone.</p> + +<div class='sig'> +<span class="smcap">Your Own Mother</span>.<br /> +</div> +</div> + +<p>When Bertie Fellows received this letter, which +ended all his Christmas hopes and joys, he hid his +face upon his desk and sobbed aloud. The lonely +boy from India, who sat next to him, tried to comfort +his friend in every way he could think of. He patted +his shoulder and whispered many kind words to him.</p> + +<p>At last Bertie put the letter into Tom's hands. +"Read it," he sobbed.</p> + +<p>So then Tom understood the cause of Bertie's grief. +"Don't fret over it," he said at last. "It might be +worse. Why, your father and mother might be thousands +of miles away, like mine are. When Alice is +better, you will be able to go home. And it will help +your mother if she thinks you are almost as happy +as if you could go now."</p> + +<p>Soon Miss Ware came to tell Bertie how sorry she +was for him.</p> + +<p>"After all," said she, smiling down on the two boys, +"it is an ill wind that blows nobody good. Poor Tom<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_300" id="Page_300">[300]</a></span> +has been expecting to spend his holidays alone, and now +he will have a friend with him. Try to look on the +bright side, Bertie, and to remember how much worse +it would have been if there had been no boy to stay +with you."</p> + +<p>"I can't help being disappointed, Miss Ware," +said Bertie, his eyes filling with tears.</p> + +<p>"No; you would be a strange boy if you were not. +But I want you to try to think of your poor mother, +and write her as cheerfully as you can."</p> + +<p>"Yes," answered Bertie; but his heart was too full +to say more.</p> + +<p>The last day of the term came, and one by one, or +two by two, the boys went away, until only Bertie +and Tom were left in the great house. It had never +seemed so large to either of them before.</p> + +<p>"It's miserable," groaned poor Bertie, as they +strolled into the schoolroom. "Just think if we were +on our way home now—how different."</p> + +<p>"Just think if I had been left here by myself," +said Tom.</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Bertie, "but you know when one wants +to go home he never thinks of the boys that have no +home to go to."</p> + +<p>The evening passed, and the two boys went to bed. +They told stories to each other for a long time before +they could go to sleep. That night they dreamed of +their homes, and felt very lonely. Yet each tried +to be brave, and so another day began.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_301" id="Page_301">[301]</a></span></p> + +<p>This was the day before Christmas. Quite early +in the morning came the great box of which Bertie's +mother had spoken in her letter. Then, just as +dinner had come to an end, there was a peal at +the bell, and a voice was heard asking for Tom +Egerton.</p> + +<p>Tom sprang to his feet, and flew to greet a tall, +handsome lady, crying, "Aunt Laura! Aunt Laura!"</p> + +<p>And Laura explained that she and her husband had +arrived in London only the day before. "I was so +afraid, Tom," she said, "that we should not get here +until Christmas Day was over and that you would +be disappointed. So I would not let your mother +write you that we were on our way home. You +must get your things packed up at once, and go back +with me to London. Then uncle and I will give you +a splendid time."</p> + +<p>For a minute or two Tom's face shone with delight. +Then he caught sight of Bertie and turned to his +aunt.</p> + +<p>"Dear Aunt Laura," he said, "I am very sorry, but +I can't go."</p> + +<p>"Can't go? and why not?"</p> + +<p>"Because I can't go and leave Bertie here all alone," +he said stoutly. "When I was going to be alone he +wrote and asked his mother to let me go home with +him. She could not have either of us because Bertie's +sister has scarlet fever. He has to stay here, and he +has never been away from home at Christmas time<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_302" id="Page_302">[302]</a></span> +before, and I can't go away and leave him by himself, +Aunt Laura."</p> + +<p>For a minute Aunt Laura looked at the boy as if +she could not believe him. Then she caught him in her +arms and kissed him.</p> + +<p>"You dear little boy, you shall not leave him. You +shall bring him along, and we shall all enjoy ourselves +together. Bertie, my boy, you are not very old yet, +but I am going to teach you a lesson as well as I can. +It is that kindness is never wasted in this world."</p> + +<p>And so Bertie and Tom found that there was such +a thing as a fairy after all.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_303" id="Page_303">[303]</a></span></p> +<h2>XXXII</h2> + +<h3>THE GREATEST OF THESE<a name="FNanchor_X_24" id="FNanchor_X_24"></a><a href="#Footnote_X_24" class="fnanchor">[X]</a></h3> + +<div class='center'>JOSEPH MILLS HANSON<br /><br /></div> + + +<div class='cap'>THE outside door swung open suddenly, letting a +cloud of steam into the small, hot kitchen. +Charlie Moore, a milk pail in one hand, a lantern in +the other, closed the door behind him with a bang, set +the pail on the table and stamped the snow from his +feet.</div> + +<p>"There's the milk, and I near froze gettin' it," +said he, addressing his partner, who was chopping +potatoes in a pan on the stove.</p> + +<p>"Dose vried bodadoes vas burnt," said the other, +wielding his knife vigorously.</p> + +<p>"Are, eh? Why didn't you watch 'em instead of +readin' your old Scandinavian paper?" answered +Charlie, hanging his overcoat and cap behind the door +and laying his mittens under the stove to dry. Then +he drew up a chair and with much exertion pulled +off his heavy felt boots and stood them beside his +mittens.</p> + +<p>"Why didn't you shut the gate after you came in +from town? The cows got out and went up to Roney's<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_304" id="Page_304">[304]</a></span> +an' I had to chase 'em; 'tain't any joke runnin' +round after cows such a night as this." Having +relieved his mind of its grievance, Charlie sat down +before the oven door, and, opening it, laid a stick +of wood along its outer edge and thrust his feet +into the hot interior, propping his heels against the +stick.</p> + +<p>"Look oud for dese har biscuits!" exclaimed his +partner, anxiously.</p> + +<p>"Oh, hang the biscuits!" was Charlie's hasty answer. +"I'll watch 'em. Why didn't you?"</p> + +<p>"Ay tank Ay fergit hem."</p> + +<p>"Well, you don't want to forget. A feller forgot +his clothes once, an' he got froze."</p> + +<p>"Ay gass dose faller vas ketch in a sbring snowstorm. +Vas dose biscuits done, Sharlie?"</p> + +<p>"You bet they are, Nels," replied Charlie, looking +into the pan.</p> + +<p>"Dan subbar vas ready. Yom on!"</p> + +<p>Nels picked up the frying-pan and Charlie the +biscuits, and set them on the oilcloth-covered table, +where a plate of butter, a jar of plum jelly, and a +coffee-pot were already standing.</p> + +<p>Outside the frozen kitchen window the snow-covered +fields and meadows stretched, glistening and silent, +away to the dark belt of timber by the river. Along +the deep-rutted road in front a belated lumber-wagon +passed slowly, the wheels crunching through the packed +snow with a wavering, incessant shriek.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_305" id="Page_305">[305]</a></span></p> + +<p>The two men hitched their chairs up to the table, +and without ceremony helped themselves liberally +to the steaming food. For a few moments they seemed +oblivious to everything but the demands of hunger. +The potatoes and biscuits disappeared with surprising +rapidity, washed down by large drafts of coffee. +These men, labouring steadily through the short daylight +hours in the dry, cold air of the Dakota winter, +were like engines whose fires had burned low—they +were taking fuel. Presently, the first keen edge of +appetite satisfied, they ate more slowly, and Nels, +straightening up with a sigh, spoke:</p> + +<p>"Ay seen Seigert in town ta-day. Ha vants von +hundred fifty fer dose team."</p> + +<p>"Come down, eh?" commented Charlie. "Well, +they're worth that. We'd better take 'em, Nels. +We'll need 'em in the spring if we break the north +forty."</p> + +<p>"Yas, et's a nice team," agreed Nels. "Ha vas +driven ham ta-day."</p> + +<p>"Is he haulin' corn?"</p> + +<p>"Na; he had his kids oop gettin' Christmas bresents."</p> + +<p>"Chris—By gracious! to-morrow's Christmas!"</p> + +<p>Nels nodded solemnly, as one possessing superior +knowledge. Charlie became thoughtful.</p> + +<p>"We'll come in sort of slim on it here, I reckon, +Nels. Christmas ain't right, somehow, out here. +Back in Wisconsin, where I came from, there's where +you get your Christmas!" Charlie spoke with the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_306" id="Page_306">[306]</a></span> +unswerving prejudice of mankind for the land of his +birth.</p> + +<p>"Yas, dose been right. En da ol' kontry dey havin' +gret times Christmas."</p> + +<p>Their thoughts were all bent now upon the holiday +scenes of the past. As they finished the meal and +cleared away and washed the dishes they related +incidents of their boyhood's time, compared, reiterated, +and embellished. As they talked they grew jovial, +and laughed often.</p> + +<p>"The skee broke an' you went over kerplunk, hey? +Haw, haw! That reminds me of one time in Wisconsin——"</p> + +<p>Something of the joyous spirit of the Christmastide +seemed to have entered into this little farmhouse +set in the midst of the lonely, white fields. In the +hearts of these men, moving about in their dim-lighted +room, was reëchoed the joyous murmur of the great +world without: the gayety of the throngs in city streets, +where the brilliant shop-windows, rich with holiday +spoils, smile out upon the passing crowd, and the clang +of street-cars and roar of traffic mingle with the cries +of street-venders. The work finished, they drew their +chairs to the stove, and filled their pipes, still talking.</p> + +<p>"Well, well," said Charlie, after the laugh occasioned +by one of Nels' droll stories had subsided. "It's nice +to think of those old times. I'd hate to have been one +of these kids that can't have any fun, Christmas or any +other time."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_307" id="Page_307">[307]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Ay gass dere ain't anybody much dot don'd have +someding dis tams a year."</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, there are, Nels! You bet there are!" +Charlie nodded at his partner with serious conviction. +"Now, there's the Roneys," he waved his pipe over +his shoulder. "The old man told me to-night when I +was up after the cows that he's sold all the crops except +what they need for feedin'—wheat, and corn, and +everything, and some hogs besides—and ain't got +hardly enough now for feed and clothes for all that +family. The rent and the lumber he had to buy to +build the new barn after the old one burnt ate up +the money like fury. He kind of laughed, and said he +guessed the children wouldn't get much Christmas +this year. I didn't think about it's being so close +when he told me."</p> + +<p>"No Christmas!" Nels' round eyes widened with +astonishment. "Ay tank dose been pooty bad!" +He studied the subject for a few moments, his stolid +face suddenly grown thoughtful. Charlie stared at +the stove. Far away by the river a lonely coyote +set up his quick, howling yelp.</p> + +<p>"Dere's been seven kids oop dere," said Nels at +last, glancing up as if for corroboration.</p> + +<p>"Yes, seven," agreed Charlie.</p> + +<p>"Say, do ve need Seigert's team very pad?"</p> + +<p>"Well, now that depends," said Charlie. "Why not?"</p> + +<p>"Nothin', only Ay vas tankin' ve might tak' some +a das veat we vas goin' to sell and—and——"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_308" id="Page_308">[308]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Yep, what?"</p> + +<p>"And dumb it on Roney's granary floor to-night +after dere been asleeb."</p> + +<p>Charlie stared at his companion for a moment in +silence. Then he rose, and, approaching Nels, examined +his partner's face with solemn scrutiny.</p> + +<p>"By the great horn spoon," he announced, finally, +"you've got a head on you like a balloon, my boy! +Keep on gettin' ideas like that, and you'll land in +Congress or the poor-farm before many years!"</p> + +<p>Then, abandoning his pretense of gravity, he slapped +the other on the back.</p> + +<p>"Why didn't I think of that? It's the best yet. +Seigert's team? Oh, hang Seigert's team. We don't +need it. We'll have a little merry Christmas out +of this yet. Only they mustn't know where it came +from. I'll write a note and stick it under the door, +'You'll find some merry wheat——' No, that ain't +it. 'You'll find some wheat in the granary to give +the kids a merry Christmas with,' signed, 'Santa +Claus.'"</p> + +<p>He wrote out the message in the air with a pointing +forefinger. He had entered into the spirit of the thing +eagerly.</p> + +<p>"It's half-past nine now," he went on, looking at +the clock. "It'll be eleven time we get the stuff loaded +and hauled up there. Let's go out and get at it. +Lucky the bobs are on the wagon; they don't make such +a racket as wheels."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_309" id="Page_309">[309]</a></span></p> + +<p>He took the lantern from its nail behind the door +and lighted it, after which he put on his boots, cap, +and mittens, and flung his overcoat across his shoulders. +Nels, meanwhile, had put on his outer garments, also.</p> + +<p>"Shut up the stove, Nels." Charlie blew out the light +and opened the door. "There, hang it!" he exclaimed, +turning back. "I forgot the note. Ought to be in +ink, I suppose. Well, never mind now; we won't +put on any style about it."</p> + +<p>He took down a pencil from the shelf, and, extracting +a bit of wrapping paper from a bundle behind the wood-box, +wrote the note by the light of the lantern.</p> + +<p>"There, I guess that will do," he said, finally. +"Come on!"</p> + +<p>Outside, the night air was cold and bracing, and +in the black vault of the sky the winter constellations +flashed and throbbed. The shadows of the two men, +thrown by the lantern, bobbed huge and grotesque +across the snow and among the bare branches of the +cottonwoods, as they moved toward the barn.</p> + +<p>"Ay tank ve put on dose extra side poards and make +her an even fifty pushel," said Nels, after they had +backed the wagon up to the granary door. "Ve might +as vell do it oop right, skence ve're at it."</p> + +<p>Having carried out this suggestion, the two shovelled +steadily, with short intervals of rest, for three quarters +of an hour, the dark pile of grain in the wagon-box +rising gradually until it stood flush with the top.</p> + +<p>Good it was to look upon, cold and soft and yielding<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_310" id="Page_310">[310]</a></span> +to the touch, this heaped-up wealth from the inexhaustible +treasure-house of the mighty West. Charlie +and Nels felt something of this as they viewed the +results of their labours for a moment before hitching +up the team.</p> + +<p>"It's A number one hard," said Charlie, picking up +a handful and sifting it slowly through his fingers, +"and it'll fetch seventy-four cents. But you can't +raise any worse on this old farm of ours if you try," +he added, a little proudly. "Nor anywhere else +in the Jim River Valley, for that matter."</p> + +<p>As they approached the Roney place, looking dim +and indistinct in the darkness, their voices hushed +apprehensively, and the noise of the sled-runners +slipping through the snow seemed to them to increase +from a purr to a roar.</p> + +<p>"Here, stob a minute!" whispered Nels, in agony +of discovery. "Ve're magin' an awful noise. Ay'll +go und take a beek."</p> + +<p>He slipped away and cautiously approached the +house. "Et's all right," he whispered, hoarsely, +returning after a moment; "dere all asleeb. But go +easy; Ay tank ve pest go easy." They seemed burdened +all at once with the consciences of criminals, and went +forward with almost guilty timidity.</p> + +<p>"Thunder, dere's a bump! Vy don'd you drive +garefuller, Sharlie?"</p> + +<p>"Drive yourself, if you think you can do any better!"</p> + +<p>As they came into the yard a dog suddenly ran<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_311" id="Page_311">[311]</a></span> +out from the barn, barking furiously. Charlie reined +up with an ejaculation of despair; "Look there, the +dog! We're done for now, sure! Stop him, Nels! +Throw somethin' at 'im!"</p> + +<p>The noise seemed to their excited ears louder than +the crash of artillery. Nels threw a piece of snow +crust. The dog ran back a few steps, but his barking +did not diminish.</p> + +<p>"Here, hold the lines. I'll try to catch 'im." +Charlie jumped from the wagon and approached the +dog with coaxing words: "Come, doggie, good doggie, +nice boy, come!"</p> + +<p>His manœuvre, however, merely served to increase +the animal's frenzy. As Charlie approached the +dog retired slowly toward the house, his head thrown +back, and his rapid barking increased to a long-drawn +howl.</p> + +<p>"Good boy, come! Bother the brute! He'll wake +up the whole household! Nice doggie! Phe-e——"</p> + +<p>The noise, however, had no apparent effect upon the +occupants of the house. All remained as dark and +silent as ever.</p> + +<p>"Sharlie, Sharlie, let him go!" cried Nels, in a voice +smothered with laughter. "Ay go in dose parn; +maype ha'll chase me."</p> + +<p>His hope was well founded. The dog, observing +this treacherous occupation by the enemy of his last +harbour of refuge, gave pursuit and disappeared +within the door, which Charlie, hard behind him, closed<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_312" id="Page_312">[312]</a></span> +with a bang. There was the sound of a hurried scuffle +within. The dog's barking gave place to terrified +whinings, which in turn were suddenly quenched to +a choking murmur.</p> + +<p>"Gome in, Sharlie, kvick!"</p> + +<p>"You got him?" queried Charlie, opening the door +cautiously. "Did he bite you?"</p> + +<p>"Na, yust ma mitten. Gat a sack or someding da +die him oop in."</p> + +<p>A sack was procured from somewhere, into which +the dog, now silenced from sheer exhaustion and +fright, was unceremoniously thrust, after which the +sack was tied and flung into the wagon. This formidable +obstacle overcome and the Roneys still slumbering +peacefully, the rest was easy. The granary door was +pried open and the wheat shovelled hurriedly in upon +the empty floor. Charlie then crept up to the house +and slipped his note under the door.</p> + +<p>The sack was lifted from the now empty wagon and +opened before the barn, whereupon its occupant slipped +meekly out and retreated at once to a far corner, +seemingly too much incensed at his discourteous +treatment even to fling a volley of farewell barks at +his departing captors.</p> + +<p>"Vell," remarked Nels, with a sigh of relief as they +gained the road, "Ay tank dose Roneys pelieve en +Santa Claus now. Dose peen funny vay fer Santa +Claus to coom."</p> + +<p>Charlie's laugh was good to hear. "He didn't<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_313" id="Page_313">[313]</a></span> +exactly come down the chimney, that's a fact, but +it'll do at a pinch. We ought to have told them +to get a present for the dog—collar and chain. I +reckon he wouldn't hardly be thankful for it, though, +eh?"</p> + +<p>"Ay gass not. Ha liges ta haf hes nights ta hemself."</p> + +<p>"Well, we had our fun, anyway. Sort of puts me +in mind of old Wisconsin, somehow."</p> + +<p>From far off over the valley, with its dismantled +cornfields and snow-covered haystacks, beyond the +ice-bound river, floated slow, and sonorous, the mellow +clanging of church bells. They were ushering in the +Christmas morn.</p> + +<p>Overhead the starlit heavens glistened, brooding and +mysterious, looking down with luminous, loving eyes +upon these humble sons of men doing a good deed, +from the impulse of simple, generous hearts, as upon +that other Christmas morning, long ago, when the +Jewish shepherds, guarding their flocks by night, read +in their shining depths that in Bethlehem of Judea the +Christ-Child was born.</p> + +<p>The rising sun was touching the higher hilltops +with a faint rush of crimson the next morning when the +back door of the Roney house opened with a creak, +and Mr. Roney, still heavy-eyed with sleep, stumbled +out upon the porch, stretched his arms above his head, +yawned, blinked at the dazzling snow, and then shambled +off toward the barn.</p> + +<p>As he approached, the dog ran eagerly out, gambolled<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_314" id="Page_314">[314]</a></span> +meekly around his feet and caressed his boots. The +man patted him kindly.</p> + +<p>"Hello, old boy! What were you yappin' around +so for last night, huh? Grain-thieves? You needn't +worry about them. There ain't nothin' left for them +to steal. No, sir! If they got into that granary they'd +have to take a lantern along to find a pint of wheat. +I don't suppose," he added, reflectively, "that I could +scrape up enough to feed the chickens this mornin', +but I guess I might's well see."</p> + +<p>He passed over to the little building. What he +saw when he looked within seemed for a moment to +produce no impression upon him whatever. He stared +at the hillock of grain in motionless silence.</p> + +<p>Finally Mr. Roney gave utterance to a single word, +"Geewhilikins!" and started for the house on a run. +Into the kitchen, where his wife was just starting the +fire, the excited man burst like a whirlwind.</p> + +<p>"Come out here, Mary!" he cried. "Come out +here, quick!"</p> + +<p>The worthy woman, unaccustomed to such demonstrations, +looked at him in amazement.</p> + +<p>"For goodness sake, what's come over you, Peter +Roney?" she exclaimed. "Are you daft? Don't +make such a noise! You'll wake the young ones, and +I don't want them waked till need be, with no Christmas +for 'em, poor little things!"</p> + +<p>"Never mind the young 'uns," he replied. "Come +on!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_315" id="Page_315">[315]</a></span></p> + +<p>As they passed out he noticed the slip of paper under +the door and picked it up, but without comment. +He charged down upon the granary, his wife, with a +shawl over her head, close behind.</p> + +<p>She peered in, apprehensively at first, then with eyes +of widening wonder.</p> + +<p>"Why, Peter!" she said, turning to him. "Why, +Peter! What does—I thought——"</p> + +<p>"You thought!" he broke in. "Me, too. But +it ain't so. It means that we've got some of the best +neighbours that ever was, a thinkin' of our young 'uns +this way! Read that!" and he thrust the paper into +her hand.</p> + +<p>"Why, Peter!" she ejaculated again, weakly. Then +suddenly she turned, and laying her head on his shoulder, +began to sob softly.</p> + +<p>"There, there," he said, patting her arm awkwardly. +"Don't you go and cry now. Let's just be thankful +to the good Lord for puttin' such fellers into the world +as them fellers down the road. And now you run in +and hurry up breakfast while I do up the chores. +Then we'll hitch up and get into town 'fore the stores +close. Tell the young 'uns Santy didn't get round +last night with their things, but we've got word to +meet him in town. Hey? Yes, I saw just the kind of +sled Pete wants when I was up yesterday, and that china +doll for Mollie. Yes, tell 'em anything you want. +'Twon't be too big. Santy Claus has come to Roney's +ranch this year, sure!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_316" id="Page_316">[316]</a></span></p> +<h2>XXXIII</h2> + +<h3>LITTLE GRETCHEN AND THE WOODEN SHOE<a name="FNanchor_Y_25" id="FNanchor_Y_25"></a><a href="#Footnote_Y_25" class="fnanchor">[Y]</a></h3> + +<div class='center'>ELIZABETH HARRISON<br /><br /></div> + + +<div class='cap'>THE following story is one of many which has +drifted down to us from the story-loving nurseries +and hearthstones of Germany. I cannot recall when +I first had it told to me as a child, varied, of course, +by different tellers, but always leaving that sweet, tender +impression of God's loving care for the least of his +children. I have since read different versions of it +in at least a half-dozen story books for children.</div> + +<p>Once upon a time, a long time ago, far away across +the great ocean, in a country called Germany, there +could be seen a small log hut on the edge of a great +forest, whose fir-trees extended for miles and miles to +the north. This little house, made of heavy hewn logs, +had but one room in it. A rough pine door gave entrance +to this room, and a small square window admitted +the light. At the back of the house was built +an old-fashioned stone chimney, out of which in winter +usually curled a thin, blue smoke, showing that there +was not very much fire within.</p> + +<p>Small as the house was, it was large enough for the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_317" id="Page_317">[317]</a></span> +two people who lived in it. I want to tell you a story +to-day about these two people. One was an old, gray-haired +woman, so old that the little children of the +village, nearly half a mile away, often wondered whether +she had come into the world with the huge mountains, +and the great fir-trees, which stood like giants back +of her small hut. Her face was wrinkled all over with +deep lines, which, if the children could only have read +aright, would have told them of many years of cheerful, +happy, self-sacrifice, of loving, anxious watching beside +sick-beds, of quiet endurance of pain, of many a day +of hunger and cold, and of a thousand deeds of unselfish +love for other people; but, of course, they could +not read this strange handwriting. They only knew +that she was old and wrinkled, and that she stooped +as she walked. None of them seemed to fear her, for +her smile was always cheerful, and she had a kindly +word for each of them if they chanced to meet her on +her way to and from the village. With this old, old +woman lived a very little girl. So bright and happy +was she that the travellers who passed by the lonesome +little house on the edge of the forest often thought +of a sunbeam as they saw her. These two people were +known in the village as Granny Goodyear and Little +Gretchen.</p> + +<p>The winter had come and the frost had snapped off +many of the smaller branches from the pine-trees +in the forest. Gretchen and her Granny were up by +daybreak each morning. After their simple breakfast<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_318" id="Page_318">[318]</a></span> +of oatmeal, Gretchen would run to the little closet and +fetch Granny's old woollen shawl, which seemed almost +as old as Granny herself. Gretchen always claimed +the right to put the shawl over her Granny's head, +even though she had to climb onto the wooden bench +to do it. After carefully pinning it under Granny's +chin, she gave her a good-bye kiss, and Granny started +out for her morning's work in the forest. This work +was nothing more nor less than the gathering up of the +twigs and branches which the autumn winds and winter +frosts had thrown upon the ground. These were carefully +gathered into a large bundle which Granny tied +together with a strong linen band. She then managed +to lift the bundle to her shoulder and trudged off to the +village with it. Here she sold the fagots for kindling +wood to the people of the village. Sometimes she +would get only a few pence each day, and sometimes +a dozen or more, but on this money little Gretchen +and she managed to live; they had their home, and +the forest kindly furnished the wood for the fire +which kept them warm in cold weather.</p> + +<p>In the summer time Granny had a little garden at +the back of the hut where she raised, with little Gretchen's +help, a few potatoes and turnips and onions. +These she carefully stored away for winter use. To this +meagre supply, the pennies, gained by selling the twigs +from the forest, added the oatmeal for Gretchen and +a little black coffee for Granny. Meat was a thing +they never thought of having. It cost too much money.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_319" id="Page_319">[319]</a></span> +Still, Granny and Gretchen were very happy, because +they loved each other dearly. Sometimes Gretchen +would be left alone all day long in the hut, because +Granny would have some work to do in the village +after selling her bundle of sticks and twigs. It was +during these long days that little Gretchen had taught +herself to sing the song which the wind sang to the +pine branches. In the summer time she learned +the chirp and twitter of the birds, until her voice +might almost be mistaken for a bird's voice; she learned +to dance as the swaying shadows did, and even to +talk to the stars which shone through the little square +window when Granny came home too late or too tired +to talk.</p> + +<p>Sometimes, when the weather was fine, or her Granny +had an extra bundle of newly knitted stockings to +take to the village, she would let little Gretchen go +along with her. It chanced that one of these trips +to the town came just the week before Christmas, +and Gretchen's eyes were delighted by the sight of <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'she'">the</ins> +lovely Christmas-trees which stood in the window of +the village store. It seemed to her that she would +never tire of looking at the knit dolls, the woolly lambs, +the little wooden shops with their queer, painted men +and women in them, and all the other fine things. +She had never owned a plaything in her whole life; +therefore, toys which you and I would not think much +of, seemed to her to be very beautiful.</p> + +<p>That night, after their supper of baked potatoes<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_320" id="Page_320">[320]</a></span> +was over, and little Gretchen had cleared away the +dishes and swept up the hearth, because Granny dear +was so tired, she brought her own small wooden stool +and placed it very near Granny's feet and sat down +upon it, folding her hands on her lap. Granny knew +that this meant she wanted to talk about something, +so she smilingly laid away the large Bible which she +had been reading, and took up her knitting, which was +as much as to say: "Well, Gretchen, dear, Granny is +ready to listen."</p> + +<p>"Granny," said Gretchen slowly, "it's almost +Christmas time, isn't it?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, dearie," said Granny, "only five more days +now," and then she sighed, but little Gretchen was so +happy that she did not notice Granny's sigh.</p> + +<p>"What do you think, Granny, I'll get this Christmas?" +said she, looking up eagerly into Granny's face.</p> + +<p>"Ah, child, child," said Granny, shaking her head, +"you'll have no Christmas this year. We are too +poor for that."</p> + +<p>"Oh, but, Granny," interrupted little Gretchen, +"think of all the beautiful toys we saw in the village +to-day. Surely Santa Claus has sent enough for +every little child."</p> + +<p>"Ah, dearie," said Granny, "those toys are for +people who can pay money for them, and we have no +money to spend for Christmas toys."</p> + +<p>"Well, Granny," said Gretchen, "perhaps some of +the little children who live in the great house on the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_321" id="Page_321">[321]</a></span> +hill at the other end of the village will be willing to +share some of their toys with me. They will be so +glad to give some to a little girl who has none."</p> + +<p>"Dear child, dear child," said Granny, leaning +forward and stroking the soft, shiny hair of the little +girl, "your heart is full of love. You would be glad to +bring a Christmas to every child; but their heads are +so full of what they are going to get that they forget +all about anybody else but themselves." Then she +sighed and shook her head.</p> + +<p>"Well, Granny," said Gretchen, her bright, happy +tone of voice growing a little less joyous, "perhaps the +dear Santa Claus will show some of the village children +how to make presents that do not cost money, and some +of them may surprise me Christmas morning with a +present. And, Granny, dear," added she, springing +up from her low stool, "can't I gather some of the pine +branches and take them to the old sick man who lives +in the house by the mill, so that he can have the sweet +smell of our pine forest in his room all Christmas day?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, dearie," said Granny, "you may do what you +can to make the Christmas bright and happy, but you +must not expect any present yourself."</p> + +<p>"Oh, but, Granny," said little Gretchen, her face +brightening, "you forget all about the shining Christmas +angels, who came down to earth and sang their wonderful +song the night the beautiful Christ-Child was born! +They are so loving and good that <i>they</i> will not forget +any little child. I shall ask my dear stars to-night<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_322" id="Page_322">[322]</a></span> +to tell them of us. You know," she added, with a +look of relief, "the stars are so very high that they +must know the angels quite well, as they come and +go with their messages from the loving God."</p> + +<p>Granny sighed, as she half whispered, "Poor child, +poor child!" but Gretchen threw her arm around Granny's +neck and gave her a hearty kiss, saying as she did +so: "Oh, Granny, Granny, you don't talk to the stars +often enough, else you wouldn't be sad at Christmas +time." Then she danced all around the room, whirling +her little skirts about her to show Granny how the +wind had made the snow dance that day. She looked +so droll and funny that Granny forgot her cares and +worries and laughed with little Gretchen over her +new snow-dance. The days passed on, and the morning +before Christmas Eve came. Gretchen having +tidied up the little room—for Granny had taught +her to be a careful little housewife—was off to the +forest, singing a birdlike song, almost as happy and +free as the birds themselves. She was very busy that +day, preparing a surprise for Granny. First, however, +she gathered the most beautiful of the fir branches +within her reach to take the next morning to the old +sick man who lived by the mill.</p> + +<p>The day was all too short for the happy little girl. +When Granny came trudging wearily home that night, +she found the frame of the doorway covered with green +pine branches.</p> + +<p>"It's to welcome you, Granny! It's to welcome<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_323" id="Page_323">[323]</a></span> +you!" cried Gretchen; "our old dear home wanted to +give you a Christmas welcome. Don't you see, +the branches of evergreen make it look as if it were +smiling all over, and it is trying to say, 'A happy +Christmas' to you, Granny!"</p> + +<p>Granny laughed and kissed the little girl, as they +opened the door and went in together. Here was a new +surprise for Granny. The four posts of the wooden +bed, which stood in one corner of the room, had been +trimmed by the busy little fingers, with smaller and +more flexible branches of the pine-trees. A small +bouquet of red mountain-ash berries stood at each side +of the fireplace, and these, together with the trimmed +posts of the bed, gave the plain old room quite +a festival look. Gretchen laughed and clapped her +hands and danced about until the house seemed full +of music to poor, tired Granny, whose heart had been +sad as she turned toward their home that night, +thinking of the disappointment which must come to +loving little Gretchen the next morning.</p> + +<p>After supper was over little Gretchen drew her stool +up to Granny's side, and laying her soft, little hands +on Granny's knee, asked to be told once again the +story of the coming of the Christ-Child; how the night +that he was born the beautiful angels had sung their +wonderful song, and how the whole sky had become +bright with a strange and glorious light, never seen +by the people of earth before. Gretchen had heard +the story many, many times before, but she never<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_324" id="Page_324">[324]</a></span> +grew tired of it, and now that Christmas Eve had come +again, the happy little child wanted to hear it once +more.</p> + +<p>When Granny had finished telling it the two sat +quiet and silent for a little while thinking it over; +then Granny rose and said that it was time for them +to go to bed. She slowly took off her heavy wooden +shoes, such as are worn in that country, and placed +them beside the hearth. Gretchen looked thoughtfully +at them for a minute or two, and then she said, "Granny, +don't you think that <i>somebody</i> in all this wide world +will think of us to-night?"</p> + +<p>"Nay, Gretchen," said Granny, "I don't think any +one will."</p> + +<p>"Well, then, Granny," said Gretchen, "the Christmas +angels will, I know; so I am going to take one of your +wooden shoes, and put it on the windowsill outside, +so that they may see it as they pass by. I am sure +the stars will tell the Christmas angels where the shoe +is."</p> + +<p>"Ah, you foolish, foolish child," said Granny, +"you are only getting ready for a disappointment. +To-morrow morning there will be nothing whatever +in the shoe. I can tell you that now."</p> + +<p>But little Gretchen would not listen. She only shook +her head and cried out: "Ah, Granny, you don't +talk enough to the stars." With this she seized the +shoe, and, opening the door, hurried out to place it +on the windowsill. It was very dark without, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_325" id="Page_325">[325]</a></span> +something soft and cold seemed to gently kiss her hair +and face. Gretchen knew by this that it was snowing, +and she looked up to the sky, anxious to see if the stars +were in sight, but a strong wind was tumbling the +dark, heavy snow-clouds about and had shut away +all else.</p> + +<p>"Never mind," said Gretchen softly to herself, +"the stars are up there, even if I can't see them, and +the Christmas angels do not mind snowstorms."</p> + +<p>Just then a rough wind went sweeping by the little +girl, whispering something to her which she could not +understand, and then it made a sudden rush up to the +snow-clouds and parted them, so that the deep, +mysterious sky appeared beyond, and shining down +out of the midst of it was Gretchen's favourite star.</p> + +<p>"Ah, little star, little star!" said the child, laughing +aloud, "I knew you were there, though I couldn't +see you. Will you whisper to the Christmas angels +as they come by that little Gretchen wants so very +much to have a Christmas gift to-morrow morning, +if they have one to spare, and that she has put one +of Granny's shoes upon the windowsill ready for it?"</p> + +<p>A moment more and the little girl, standing on +tiptoe, had reached the windowsill and placed the +shoe upon it, and was back again in the house beside +Granny and the warm fire.</p> + +<p>The two went quietly to bed, and that night as little +Gretchen knelt to pray to the Heavenly Father, she +thanked him for having sent the Christ-Child into the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_326" id="Page_326">[326]</a></span> +world to teach all mankind how to be loving and +unselfish, and in a few moments she was quietly sleeping, +dreaming of the Christmas angels.</p> + +<p>The next morning, very early, even before the sun +was up, little Gretchen was awakened by the sound of +sweet music coming from the village. She listened +for a moment and then she knew that the choir-boys +were singing the Christmas carols in the open air of +the village street. She sprang up out of bed and began +to dress herself as quickly as possible, singing as she +dressed. While Granny was slowly putting on her +clothes, little Gretchen, having finished dressing +herself, unfastened the door and hurried out to see +what the Christmas angels had left in the old wooden +shoe.</p> + +<p>The white snow covered everything—trees, stumps, +roads, and pastures—until the whole world looked +like fairyland. Gretchen climbed up on a large stone +which was beneath the window and carefully lifted +down the wooden shoe. The snow tumbled off of it +in a shower over the little girl's hands, but she did not +heed that; she ran hurriedly back into the house, +putting her hand into the toe of the shoe as she ran.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Granny! Oh, Granny!" she exclaimed, "you +didn't believe the Christmas angels would think about +us, but see, they have, they have! Here is a dear +little bird nestled down in the toe of your shoe! +Oh, isn't he beautiful?"</p> + +<p>Granny came forward and looked at what the child<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_327" id="Page_327">[327]</a></span> +was holding lovingly in her hand. There she saw a +tiny chick-a-dee, whose wing was evidently broken by +the rough and boisterous winds of the night before, +and who had taken shelter in the safe, dry toe of the +old wooden shoe. She gently took the little bird out +of Gretchen's hands, and skilfully bound his broken +wing to his side, so that he need not hurt himself by +trying to fly with it. Then she showed Gretchen how +to make a nice warm nest for the little stranger, +close beside the fire, and when their breakfast was +ready she let Gretchen feed the little bird with a few +moist crumbs.</p> + +<p>Later in the day Gretchen carried the fresh, green +boughs to the old sick man by the mill, and on her +way home stopped to see and enjoy the Christmas +toys of some other children whom she knew, never +once wishing that they were hers. When she reached +home she found that the little bird had gone to sleep. +Soon, however, he opened his eyes and stretched his +head up, saying just as plain as a bird could say,</p> + +<p>"Now, my new friends, I want you to give me something +more to eat." Gretchen gladly fed him again, and +then, holding him in her lap, she softly and gently +stroked his gray feathers until the little creature +seemed to lose all fear of her. That evening Granny +taught her a Christmas hymn and told her another +beautiful Christmas story. Then Gretchen made up a +funny little story to tell to the birdie. He winked his +eyes and turned his head from side to side in such a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_328" id="Page_328">[328]</a></span> +droll fashion that Gretchen laughed until the tears +came.</p> + +<p>As Granny and she got ready for bed that night, +Gretchen put her arms softly around Granny's neck, +and whispered: "What a beautiful Christmas we +have had to-day, Granny! Is there anything in the +world more lovely than Christmas?"</p> + +<p>"Nay, child, nay," said Granny, "not to such loving +hearts as yours."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_329" id="Page_329">[329]</a></span></p> +<h2>XXXIV</h2> + +<h3>CHRISTMAS ON BIG RATTLE<a name="FNanchor_Z_26" id="FNanchor_Z_26"></a><a href="#Footnote_Z_26" class="fnanchor">[Z]</a></h3> + +<div class='center'>THEODORE GOODRIDGE ROBERTS<br /><br /></div> + + +<div class='cap'>ARCHER sat by the rude hearth of his Big Rattle +camp, brooding in a sort of tired contentment +over the spitting fagots of <i>var</i> and glowing coals of +birch.</div> + +<p>It was Christmas Eve. He had been out on his +snowshoes all that day, and all the day before, +springing his traps along the streams and putting +his deadfalls out of commission—rather queer work +for a trapper to be about.</p> + +<p>But Archer, despite all his gloomy manner, was +really a sentimentalist, who practised what he felt.</p> + +<p>"Christmas is a season of peace on earth," he had +told himself, while demolishing the logs of a sinister +deadfall with his axe; and now the remembrance of +his quixotic deed added a brightness to the fire and +to the rough, undecorated walls of the camp.</p> + +<p>Outside, the wind ran high in the forest, breaking and +sweeping tidelike over the reefs of treetops.</p> + +<p>The air was bitterly cold. Another voice, almost +as fitful as the sough of the wind, sounded across the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_330" id="Page_330">[330]</a></span> +night. It was the waters of Stone Arrow Falls, +above Big Rattle.</p> + +<p>The frosts had drawn their bonds of ice and blankets +of silencing snow over all the rest of the stream, but +the white and black face of the falls still flashed from a +window in the great house of crystal, and threw out +a voice of desolation.</p> + +<p>Sacobie Bear, a full-blooded Micmac, uttered a +grunt of relief when his ears caught the bellow of +Stone Arrow Falls. He stood still, and turned his +head from side to side, questioningly.</p> + +<p>"Good!" he said. "Big Rattle off there, Archer's +camp over there. I go there. Good 'nough!"</p> + +<p>He hitched his old smooth-bore rifle higher under +his arm and continued his journey. Sacobie had +tramped many miles—all the way from ice-imprisoned +Fox Harbor. His papoose was sick. His squaw was +hungry. Sacobie's belt was drawn tight.</p> + +<p>During all that weary journey his old rifle had not +banged once, although few eyes save those of timber-wolf +and lynx were sharper in the hunt than Sacobie's. +The Indian was reeling with hunger and weakness, +but he held bravely on.</p> + +<p>A white man, no matter how courageous and sinewy, +would have been prone in the snow by that time.</p> + +<p>But Sacobie, with his head down and his round +snowshoes <i>padding! padding!</i> like the feet of a frightened +duck, raced with death toward the haven of Archer's +cabin.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_331" id="Page_331">[331]</a></span></p> + +<p>Archer was dreaming of a Christmas-time in a great +faraway city when he was startled by a rattle of snowshoes +at his threshold and a soft beating on his door, +like weak blows from mittened hands. He sprang +across the cabin and pulled open the door.</p> + +<p>A short, stooping figure shuffled in and reeled +against him. A rifle in a woollen case clattered at +his feet.</p> + +<p>"Mer' Christmas! How-do?" said a weary voice.</p> + +<p>"Merry Christmas, brother!" replied Archer. Then, +"Bless me, but it's Sacobie Bear! Why, what's the +matter, Sacobie?"</p> + +<p>"Heap tired! Heap hungry!" replied the Micmac, +sinking to the floor.</p> + +<p>Archer lifted the Indian and carried him over to +the bunk at the farther end of the room. He filled +his iron-pot spoon with brandy, and inserted the +point of it between Sacobie's unresisting jaws. Then +he loosened the Micmac's coat and shirt and belt. +He removed his moccasins and stockings and rubbed +the straight thin feet with brandy.</p> + +<p>After a while Sacobie Bear opened his eyes and +gazed up at Archer.</p> + +<p>"Good!" he said. "John Archer, he heap fine +man, anyhow. Mighty good to poor Injun Sacobie, +too. Plenty tobac, I s'pose. Plenty rum, too."</p> + +<p>"No more rum, my son," replied Archer, tossing +what was left in the mug against the log wall, and +corking the bottle. "And no smoke until you have<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_332" id="Page_332">[332]</a></span> +had a feed. What do you say to bacon and tea? +Or would tinned beef suit you better?"</p> + +<p>"Bacum," replied Sacobie.</p> + +<p>He hoisted himself to his elbow, and wistfully +sniffed the fumes of brandy that came from the direction +of his bare feet. "Heap waste of good rum, me t'ink," +he said.</p> + +<p>"You ungrateful little beggar!" laughed Archer, +as he pulled a frying pan from under the bunk.</p> + +<p>By the time the bacon was fried and the tea steeped, +Sacobie was sufficiently revived to leave the bunk and +take a seat by the fire.</p> + +<p>He ate as all hungry Indians do; and Archer looked +on in wonder and whimsical regret, remembering the +miles and miles he had tramped with that bacon +on his back.</p> + +<p>"Sacobie, you will kill yourself!" he protested.</p> + +<p>"Sacobie no kill himself now," replied the Micmac, +as he bolted a brown slice and a mouthful of hard +bread. "Sacobie more like to kill himself when he +empty. Want to live when he chock-full. Good fun. +T'ank you for more tea."</p> + +<p>Archer filled the extended mug and poured in the +molasses—"long sweet'nin'" they call it in that +region.</p> + +<p>"What brings you so far from Fox Harbor this time +of year?" inquired Archer.</p> + +<p>"Squaw sick. Papoose sick. Bote empty. <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'Wan'">Want</ins> +good bacum to eat."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_333" id="Page_333">[333]</a></span></p> + +<p>Archer smiled at the fire. "Any luck trapping?" +he asked.</p> + +<p>His guest shook his head and hid his face behind +the upturned mug.</p> + +<p>"Not much," he replied, presently.</p> + +<p>He drew his sleeve across his mouth, and then produced +a clay pipe from a pocket in his shirt.</p> + +<p>"Tobac?" he inquired.</p> + +<p>Archer passed him a dark and heavy plug of tobacco.</p> + +<p>"Knife?" queried Sacobie.</p> + +<p>"Try your own knife on it," answered Archer, +grinning.</p> + +<p>With a sigh Sacobie produced his sheath-knife.</p> + +<p>"You t'ink Sacobie heap big t'ief," he said, accusingly.</p> + +<p>"Knives are easily lost—in people's pockets," +replied Archer.</p> + +<p>The two men talked for hours. Sacobie Bear was +a great gossip for one of his race. In fact, he had a +Micmac nickname which, translated, meant "the +man who deafens his friends with much talk." Archer, +however, was pleased with his ready chatter and unforced +humour.</p> + +<p>But at last they both began to nod. The white +man made up a bed on the floor for Sacobie with a +couple of caribou skins and a heavy blanket. Then +he gathered together a few plugs of tobacco, some tea, +flour, and dried fish.</p> + +<p>Sacobie watched him with freshly aroused interest.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_334" id="Page_334">[334]</a></span></p> + +<p>"More tobac, please," he said. "Squaw, he smoke, +too."</p> + +<p>Archer added a couple of sticks of the black leaf +to the pile.</p> + +<p>"Bacum, too," said the Micmac. "Bacum better +nor fish, anyhow."</p> + +<p>Archer shook his head.</p> + +<p>"You'll have to do with the fish," he replied; "but +I'll give you a tin of condensed milk for the papoose."</p> + +<p>"Ah, ah! Him good stuff!" exclaimed Sacobie.</p> + +<p>Archer considered the provisions for a second or two.</p> + +<p>Then, going over to a dunnage bag near his bunk, +he pulled its contents about until he found a bright +red silk handkerchief and a red flannel shirt. Their +colour was too gaudy for his taste. "These things +are for your squaw," he said.</p> + +<p>Sacobie was delighted. Archer tied the articles +into a neat pack and stood it in the corner, beside his +guest's rifle.</p> + +<p>"Now you had better turn in," he said, and blew +out the light.</p> + +<p>In ten minutes both men slept the sleep of the weary. +The fire, a great mass of red coals, faded and flushed +like some fabulous jewel. The wind washed over +the cabin and fingered the eaves, and brushed furtive +hands against the door.</p> + +<p>It was dawn when Archer awoke. He sat up in his +bunk and looked about the quiet, gray-lighted room. +Sacobie Bear was nowhere to be seen.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_335" id="Page_335">[335]</a></span></p> + +<p>He glanced at the corner by the door. Rifle and +pack were both gone. He looked up at the rafter +where his slab of bacon was always hung. It, too, +was gone.</p> + +<p>He jumped out of his bunk and ran to the door. +Opening it, he looked out. Not a breath of air stirred. +In the east, saffron and scarlet, broke the Christmas +morning, and blue on the white surface of the world +lay the imprints of Sacobie's round snowshoes.</p> + +<p>For a long time the trapper stood in the doorway in +silence, looking out at the stillness and beauty.</p> + +<p>"Poor Sacobie!" he said, after a while. "Well, he's +welcome to the bacon, even if it is all I had."</p> + +<p>He turned to light the fire and prepare breakfast. +Something at the foot of his bunk caught his eye.</p> + +<p>He went over and took it up. It was a cured skin—a +beautiful specimen of fox. He turned it over, +and on the white hide an uncultured hand had written, +with a charred stick, "Archer."</p> + +<p>"Well, bless that old red-skin!" exclaimed the trapper, +huskily. "Bless his puckered eyes! Who'd have +thought that I should get a Christmas present?"</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_A_1" id="Footnote_A_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_A_1"><span class="label">[A]</span></a> Reprinted by permission of the Houghton-Mifflin Company.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_B_2" id="Footnote_B_2"></a><a href="#FNanchor_B_2"><span class="label">[B]</span></a> From "The Pot of Gold," copyright by Lothrop, Lee & Shepherd Co.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_C_3" id="Footnote_C_3"></a><a href="#FNanchor_C_3"><span class="label">[C]</span></a> From "Kristy's Queer Christmas," Houghton, Mifflin & Co., 1904.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_D_4" id="Footnote_D_4"></a><a href="#FNanchor_D_4"><span class="label">[D]</span></a> This story was first published in the <i>Youth's Companion</i>, vol. 74.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_E_5" id="Footnote_E_5"></a><a href="#FNanchor_E_5"><span class="label">[E]</span></a> Published by arrangement with Little, Brown & Co.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_F_6" id="Footnote_F_6"></a><a href="#FNanchor_F_6"><span class="label">[F]</span></a> Published originally in the <i>Outlook</i>. Reprinted here by arrangement +with the author.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_G_7" id="Footnote_G_7"></a><a href="#FNanchor_G_7"><span class="label">[G]</span></a> Reprinted by permission of the author from her collection, "Christmas +tide," published by the Chicago Kindergarten College.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_H_8" id="Footnote_H_8"></a><a href="#FNanchor_H_8"><span class="label">[H]</span></a> Copyright, 1906. Used by special permission of the publishers, the +Bobbs-Merrill Company.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_I_9" id="Footnote_I_9"></a><a href="#FNanchor_I_9"><span class="label">[I]</span></a> From "In the Child's World," by Emilie Poulssen, Milton Bradley Co., +Publishers. Used by permission.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_J_10" id="Footnote_J_10"></a><a href="#FNanchor_J_10"><span class="label">[J]</span></a> This story was first published in the <i>Youth's Companion</i>, vol. 77.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_K_11" id="Footnote_K_11"></a><a href="#FNanchor_K_11"><span class="label">[K]</span></a> From "Kristy's Queer Christmas," Houghton, Mifflin & Co., 1904.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_L_12" id="Footnote_L_12"></a><a href="#FNanchor_L_12"><span class="label">[L]</span></a> Published by permission of the American Book Co.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_M_13" id="Footnote_M_13"></a><a href="#FNanchor_M_13"><span class="label">[M]</span></a> This story was first published in the <i>Youth's Companion</i>, vol. 82.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_N_14" id="Footnote_N_14"></a><a href="#FNanchor_N_14"><span class="label">[N]</span></a> From "Ickery Ann and Other Girls and Boys," by Ella W. Peattie +Copyright, 1898, by Herbert S. Stone & Co., Duffield & Co., successors.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_O_15" id="Footnote_O_15"></a><a href="#FNanchor_O_15"><span class="label">[O]</span></a> From "The Children's Hour," published by the Milton Bradley Co.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_P_16" id="Footnote_P_16"></a><a href="#FNanchor_P_16"><span class="label">[P]</span></a> From "In the Child's World," by Emilie Poulssen, Milton Bradley Co., +Publishers. Used by permission.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_Q_17" id="Footnote_Q_17"></a><a href="#FNanchor_Q_17"><span class="label">[Q]</span></a> This story was first published in the <i>Youth's Companion</i>, vol. 82.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_R_18" id="Footnote_R_18"></a><a href="#FNanchor_R_18"><span class="label">[R]</span></a> From Stone and Fickett's "Every Day Life in the Colonies;" copyrighted +1905, by D. C. Heath & Co. Used by permission.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_S_19" id="Footnote_S_19"></a><a href="#FNanchor_S_19"><span class="label">[S]</span></a> From "A Last Century Maid and Other Stories for Children," by +A. H. W. Lippincott, 1895.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_T_20" id="Footnote_T_20"></a><a href="#FNanchor_T_20"><span class="label">[T]</span></a> From "Kristy's Queer Christmas," Houghton, Mifflin & Co., 1904.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_U_21" id="Footnote_U_21"></a><a href="#FNanchor_U_21"><span class="label">[U]</span></a> Reprinted by permission of Moffat, Yard & Co., from <i>Christmas</i>. R. H. +Schauffler, Editor.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_V_22" id="Footnote_V_22"></a><a href="#FNanchor_V_22"><span class="label">[V]</span></a> This story was first published in <i>Wide Awake</i>, vol. 26.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_W_23" id="Footnote_W_23"></a><a href="#FNanchor_W_23"><span class="label">[W]</span></a> Reprinted with the permission of the Henry Altemus Company.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_X_24" id="Footnote_X_24"></a><a href="#FNanchor_X_24"><span class="label">[X]</span></a> This story was first printed in the <i>Youth's Companion</i>, vol. 76.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_Y_25" id="Footnote_Y_25"></a><a href="#FNanchor_Y_25"><span class="label">[Y]</span></a> From "Christmastide," published by the Chicago Kindergarten College, +copyright, 1902.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_Z_26" id="Footnote_Z_26"></a><a href="#FNanchor_Z_26"><span class="label">[Z]</span></a> This story was first printed in the <i>Youth's Companion</i>, Dec. 14, 1905.</p></div> +</div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<div class='tnote'><h3>Transcriber's Notes:</h3> +<p>Obvious punctuation errors repaired.</p> +<p>Pages 86 and 130, Footnote marker was inserted next to the title of the +story.</p> +<p>The remaining corrections made are indicated by dotted lines under the corrections. Scroll the mouse over the word and the original text will <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'apprear'">appear</ins>.</p></div> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Children's Book of Christmas +Stories, by Various + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CHILDREN'S CHRISTMAS STORIES *** + +***** This file should be named 28308-h.htm or 28308-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/2/8/3/0/28308/ + +Produced by David Edwards, Emmy and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was +produced from images generously made available by The +Internet Archive) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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