Once more had Christmas come round in Poganuc; once more the Episcopal
church was being dressed with ground-pine and spruce; but this year
economy had begun to make its claims felt. An illumination might do very
well to open a church, but there were many who said "to what purpose is
this waste?" when the proposition was made to renew it yearly.
Consequently it was resolved to hold the Christmas Eve service with only
that necessary amount of light which would enable the worshipers to read
the prayers.
On this Christmas Eve Dolly went to bed at her usual hour with a
resigned and quiet spirit. She felt herself a year older, and more than
a year wiser, than when Christmas had first dawned upon her
consciousness.
Mis' Persis appeared on the ground by day-dawn. A great kettle was slung
over the kitchen fire, in which cakes of tallow were speedily
liquefying; a frame was placed quite across the kitchen to sustain
candle-rods, with a train of boards underneath to catch the drippings,
and Mis' Persis, with a brow like one of the Fates, announced: "Now we
can't hev any young 'uns in this kitchen to-day;" and Dolly saw that
there was no getting any attention in that quarter.
Mis' Persis, in a gracious Saturday afternoon mood, sitting in her own
tent-door dispensing hospitalities and cookies, was one thing; but Mis'
Persis in her armor, with her loins girded and a hard day's work to be
conquered, was quite another: she was terrible as Minerva with her
helmet on.
Dinner-baskets for all the children were hastily packed, and they were
sent off to school with the injunction on no account to show their faces
about the premises till night. The Doctor, warned of what was going on,
retreated to his study at the top of the house, where, serenely above
the lower cares of earth, he sailed off into President Edwards' treatise
on the nature of true virtue, concerning which he was preparing a paper
to read at the next association meeting.
That candles were a necessity of life he was well convinced, and by
faith he dimly accepted the fact that one day in the year the whole
house was to be devoted and given up to this manufacture; and his part
of the business, as he understood it, was, clearly, to keep himself out
of the way till it was over.
"There won't be much of a dinner at home, anyway," said Nabby to Dolly,
as she packed her basket with an extra doughnut or two. "I've got to go
to church to-day, 'cause I'm one of the singers, and your ma'll be busy
waitin' on _her_; so we shall just have a pick-up dinner, and you be
sure not to come home till night; by that time it'll be all over."
Dolly trotted off to school well content with the prospect before her: a
nooning, with leave to play with the girls at school, was not an
unpleasant idea.
But the first thing that saluted her on her arrival was that Bessie
Lewis--her own dear, particular Bessie--was going to have a Christmas
party at her house that afternoon, and was around distributing
invitations right and left among the scholars with a generous freedom.
"We are going to have nuts, and raisins, and cakes, and mottoes," said
Bessie, with artless triumph. The news of this bill of fare spread like
wildfire through the school.
Never had a party been heard of which contemplated such a liberal
entertainment, for the rising generation of Poganuc were by no means
wearied with indulgence, and raisins and almonds stood for grandeur with
them. But these _mottoes_, which consisted of bits of confectionery
wrapped up in printed couplets of sentimental poetry, were an unheard-of
refinement. Bessie assured them that her papa had sent clear to Boston
for them, and whoever got one would have his or her fortune told by it.
The school was a small, select one, comprising the children of all ages
from the best families of Poganuc. Both boys and girls, and all with
great impartiality, had been invited. Miss Titcome, the teacher, quite
readily promised to dismiss at three o'clock that afternoon any scholar
who should bring a permission from parents, and the children nothing
doubted that such a permission was obtainable.
Dolly alone saw a cloud in the horizon. She had been sent away with
strict injunctions not to return till evening, and children in those
days never presumed to make any exceptions in obeying an absolute
command of their parents.
"But, of course, you will go home at noon and ask your mother, and of
course she'll let you; won't she, girls?" said Bessie.
"Oh, certainly; of course she will," said all the older girls, "because
you know a party is a thing that don't happen every day, and your mother
would think it strange if you _didn't_ come and ask her." So, too,
thought Miss Titcome, a most exemplary, precise and proper young lady,
who always moved and spoke and thought as became a schoolmistress, so
that, although she was in reality only twenty years old, Dolly
considered her as a very advanced and ancient person--if anything, a
little older than her father and mother.
Even she was of opinion that Dolly might properly go home to lay a case
of such importance before her mother; and so Dolly rushed home after the
morning school was over, running with all her might, and increasing in
mental excitement as she ran. Her bonnet blew off upon her shoulders,
her curls flew behind her in the wind, and she most inconsiderately used
up the little stock of breath that she would want to set her cause in
order before her mother.
Just here we must beg any mother and housekeeper to imagine herself in
the very midst of the most delicate, perplexing and laborious of
household tasks, when interruption is most irksome and perilous,
suddenly called to discuss with a child some new and startling
proposition to which at the moment she cannot even give a thought.
Mrs. Cushing was sitting in the kitchen with Mis' Persis, by the side of
a caldron of melted tallow, kept in a fluid state by the heat of a
portable furnace on which it stood. A long train of half-dipped candles
hung like so many stalactites from the frames on which the rods rested,
and the two were patiently dipping set after set and replacing them
again on the frame.
"As sure as I'm alive! if there isn't Dolly Cushing comin' back--runnin'
and tearin' like a wild cretur'," said Mis' Persis. "She'll be in here
in a minute and knock everything down!"
Mrs. Cushing looked, and with a quick movement stepped to the door.
"Dolly! what are you here for? Didn't I tell you not to come home this
noon?"
"Oh, mamma, there's going to be a party at General Lewis'--Bessie's
party--and the girls are all going; mayn't I go?"
"No, you can't; it's impossible," said her mother. "Your best dress
isn't ready to wear, and there's nobody can spend time to get you ready.
Go right back to school."
"But, mamma--"
"Go!" said her mother, in the decisive tone that mothers used in the old
days, when arguing with children was not a possibility.
"What's all this about?" asked the Doctor, looking out of the door.
"Why," said Mrs. Cushing, "there's going to be a party at General
Lewis', and Dolly is wild to go. It's just impossible for me to attend
to her now."
"Oh, I don't want her intimate at Lewis's," said the Doctor, and
immediately he came out behind his wife.
"There; run away to school, Dolly," he said. "Don't trouble your mother;
you don't want to go to parties; why, it's foolish to think of it. Run
away now, and don't think any more about it--there's a good girl!"
Dolly turned and went back to school, the tears freezing on her cheek as
she went. As for not thinking any more about it--that was impossible.
When three o'clock came, scholar after scholar rose and departed, until
at last Dolly was the only one remaining in the school-room.
When Dolly came home that night the coast was clear, and the candles
were finished and put away to harden in a freezing cold room; the
kitchen was once more restored, and Nabby bustled about getting supper
as if nothing had happened.
"I really feel sorry about poor little Dolly," said Mrs. Cushing to her
husband.
"Do you think she cared much?" asked the Doctor, looking as if a new
possibility had struck his mind.
"Yes, indeed, poor child, she went away crying; but what could I do
about it? I couldn't stop to dress her."
"Wife, we must take her somewhere to make up for it," said the Doctor.
Just then the stage stopped at the door and a bundle from Boston was
handed in. Dolly's tears were soon wiped and dried, and her mourning was
turned into joy when a large jointed London doll emerged from the
bundle, the Christmas gift of her grandmother in Boston.
Dolly's former darling was old and shabby, but this was of twice the
size, and with cheeks exhibiting a state of the most florid health.
Besides this there was, as usual in grandmamma's Christmas bundle,
something for every member of the family; and so the evening went on
festive wings.
Poor little Dolly! only that afternoon she had watered with her tears,
at school, the dismal long straight seam, which stretched on before her
as life sometimes does to us, bare, disagreeable and cheerless. She had
come home crying, little dreaming of the joy just approaching; but
before bed-time no cricket in the hearth was cheerier or more noisy. She
took the new dolly to bed with her, and could hardly sleep, for the
excitement of her company.
Meanwhile, Hiel had brought the Doctor a message to the following
effect:
"I was drivin' by Tim Hawkins', and Mis' Hawkins she comes out and says
they're goin' to hev an apple-cuttin' there to-morrow night, and she
would like to hev you and Mis' Cushin' and all your folks come--Nabby
and all."
The Doctor and his lady of course assented.
"Wal, then, Doctor--ef it's all one to you," continued Hiel, "I'd like
to take ye over in my new double sleigh. I've jest got two new strings
o' bells up from Boston, and I think we'll sort o' make the snow fly.
S'pose there'd be no objections to takin' my mother 'long with ye?"
"Oh, Hiel, we shall be delighted to go in company with your mother, and
we're ever so much obliged to you," said Mrs. Cushing.
"Wal, I'll be round by six o'clock," said Hiel.
"Then, wife," said the Doctor, "we'll take Dolly, and make up for the
loss of her party."
Punctually at six, Hiel's two horses, with all their bells jingling,
stood at the door of the parsonage, whence Tom and Bill, who had been
waiting with caps and mittens on for the last half hour, burst forth
with irrepressible shouts of welcome.
"Take care now, boys; don't haul them buffalo skins out on t' the snow,"
said Hiel. "Don't get things in a muss gen'ally; wait for your ma and
the Doctor. Got to stow the grown folks in fust; boys kin hang on
anywhere."
And so first came Mrs. Cushing and the Doctor, and were installed on the
back seat, with Dolly in between. Then hot bricks were handed in to keep
feet warm, and the buffalo robe was tucked down securely. Then Nabby
took her seat by Hiel in front, and the sleigh drove round for old Mrs.
Jones. The Doctor insisted on giving up his place to her and tucking her
warmly under the buffalo robe, while he took the middle seat and acted
as moderator between the boys, who were in a wild state of hilarity.
Spring, with explosive barks, raced first on this and then on that side
of the sleigh as it flew swiftly over the smooth frozen road.
The stars blinked white and clear out of a deep blue sky, and the path
wound up-hill among cedars and junipers and clumps of mountain laurel,
on whose broad green leaves the tufts of snow lay like clusters of white
roses. The keen clear air was full of stimulus and vigor; and so Hiel's
proposition to take the longest way met with enthusiastic welcome from
all the party. Next to being a bird, and having wings, is the sensation
of being borne over the snow by a pair of spirited horses who enjoy the
race, apparently, as much as those they draw. Though Hiel contrived to
make the ride about eight miles, it yet seemed but a short time before
the party drove up to the great red farmhouse, whose lighted windows
sent streams of radiant welcome far out into the night.
Our little Dolly had had an evening of unmixed bliss. Everybody had
petted her, and talked to her, and been delighted with her sayings and
doings, and she was carrying home a paper parcel of sweet things which
good Mrs. Hawkins had forced into her hand at parting. She had spent a
really happy Christmas!