IN THE NAME OF SANTA CLAUS
IN November Ella and her mother began making plans for Christmas. Aunt
Amelia invited seven little girls to tea one night when Uncle George
was away, and Marian ate in the kitchen with Lala. The seven were
all older than Ella and one of them, little Ruth Higgins, knowing no
better, asked for Marian. Lala overheard the answer and was indignant.
"You poor little lamb," she sputtered, upon returning to the kitchen,
"I'd run away if I were you."
"Where would I run to?" questioned Marian.
"Anywhere'd be better than here," the girl replied, "and that woman
calls herself a Christian!"
"She's a awful cross Christian," Marian admitted in a whisper, brushing
away the tears that came when she heard the peals of laughter from the
dining-room.
"I wouldn't cry if I were you," advised the girl. "You'll only spoil
your pretty eyes and it will do them good to see you cry, you poor
baby. The idea of having a party and making you stay out here!"
"It's a Club," corrected Marian, "I've heard 'em talking about it.
Dorothy Avery and Ruth Higgins belong. I've tried so hard to be good
so I could be in it. They are going to sew presents for poor children
and give them toys and everything they don't want their own selves, and
then when Christmas day comes they're going to have a sleigh ride and
take the things to the poor children. If I was good like Ella, I could
be in it. I used to be good, Lala, truly, I did."
"There, there, don't cry," begged Lala. "Look a-here! did you ever see
anybody dance the lame man's jig?"
Marian shook her head, whereupon Lala performed the act to the music
of a mournful tune she hummed, while Marian laughed until the Club was
forgotten. There was plenty of fun in the kitchen after that. In the
midst of the hilarity Ella appeared to tell Marian it was her bedtime.
"Are you ever afraid, Lala, when you wake up all alone in the night?"
asked Marian as she started up the back stairs.
"I never wake up," said Lala. "Do you, Marian?"
"Yes, and I'm lonesome without all the little girls. Sometimes I'm so
frightened I pretty nearly die when I'm all alone and it's dark."
"Little girls," echoed Lala, "what little girls? Where did you live
before you came here?"
"When I was good I lived in a big city, Lala."
"Tell me about it," the girl insisted.
"If you'll promise you won't ever tell, I will," declared Marian. "I'll
have to whisper it. I lived in a beautiful orphan's home, Lala."
"Oh!" exclaimed Lala. "Oh, you poor baby."
"Of course it's dreadful," Marian hastened to say, "but I couldn't
help it, Lala, truly I couldn't; they took me there when I was a baby
and it was a lovely place, only, it was a Home."
"Do you know anything about your father and mother?"
"Oh, I guess they're dead--my mother is anyway, and I'm 'fraid about my
father."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, Lala, Aunt Amelia always says, what can you expect when you
think what my father was. I guess may be he was a stealer because
Aunt Amelia won't stop talking about the cucumbers and what could you
expect. Maybe he is in prison."
"No, your father is not in prison, Marion Lee!" Lala exclaimed.
"Listen. It was your father I heard them talking about with some
callers the other day. I'm sure of it now, because they said the man
was a great deal younger than your uncle----"
"Oh, tell me, do tell me what you know about my father?" besought
Marian, walking back into the kitchen on tiptoes.
"Oh, I don't know much," said the girl, "but he isn't in prison,
that's one sure thing. He went away to South America years ago to make
his fortune, and they know that all the men who went with him were
killed, and as your father never came back they know he must be dead."
"What was there bad about that?" questioned the small daughter.
"Nothing," was the reply, "only he and your Uncle George had a quarrel.
Your uncle didn't want him to go because he said your father had plenty
of money anyway, and it all came out as he said it would."
At that moment, Ella returned. Seeing Marian, she forgot that she was
after a drink of water. "Oh, Marian Lee!" she exclaimed. "I'm going
straight back and tell mamma you didn't go to bed when I told you to.
You'll be sorry."
Marian, the guilty, flew up the back stairs, expecting swift
punishment. She was sure she deserved it, and what would Uncle George
say? It was so hard to be good. Retribution was left to Santa Claus.
How could a disobedient, ungrateful child expect to be remembered by
that friend of good children? How could Marian hope for a single gift?
Aunt Amelia didn't know. Nevertheless the little girl pinned her faith
to Santa Claus. He had never forgotten her nor the two hundred waifs at
the Home. Teddy Daniels once made a face at the superintendent the very
day before Christmas, yet Santa Claus gave him a drum.
Marian wasn't the least surprised Christmas morning when she found her
stockings hanging by the sitting-room grate filled to the brim, exactly
as Ella's were. She was delighted beyond expression.
"Oh, oh, oh!" she cried. "Both my stockings are full of things for
me. Oh, see the packages! Oh, I am so happy! Just only look at the
presents!" Uncle George left the room and Marian sat upon the rug to
examine her treasures.
"Why don't you look in your stockings, Ella?" she suggested. "Let's
undo our presents together."
"No, I'd rather wait and see what you'll say when you know what you've
got!" Ella replied. "Mamma and I know something."
"Hush!" cautioned Aunt Amelia. "Let's see what Santa Claus has brought
Marian. She knows whether she's been a deserving, grateful child or
not."
Why would Aunt Amelia remind one of disagreeable things on Christmas
morning? Marian's chin quivered before she took a thing from her
stocking, whereupon Aunt Amelia smiled. In the meantime, Ella, becoming
impatient, emptied one of her stockings in her mother's lap and began a
series of squeals as toys, games and dolls tumbled out.
"Oh, what fun!" cried Marian, laughing and clapping her hands as she
witnessed Ella's delight. A pitiful expression stole over her face as
she turned to her own stockings. How she longed for a mother to share
her joy. How she wished Aunt Amelia would smile kindly and be pleased
with her gifts. The child quickly removed the paper from a round
package.
"I've got a ball," she ventured. "I'll let you play with it, Ella."
"Got one of my own," said Ella, exhibiting a big rubber ball.
An exclamation of dismay burst from Marian's lips. "Why, why--it's a
potato!" she cried.
"What did you expect?" inquired Aunt Amelia in chilling tones.
"I guess that was just for a joke." The little girl smiled cheerfully
as she said it, at the same time untying a box wrapped in tissue paper.
Potatoes again. Marian shut her lips tight together and tried another
package. More potatoes. Still she kept the tears back and reached for
a long bundle. Removing the paper she found switches. Aunt Amelia
and Ella watched silently as Marian, her eyes blazing and her cheeks
growing a deeper red every second, emptied the stocking in which there
was nothing but potatoes. Then the child rose, straightened her small
figure to its full height and made this statement:
"That wasn't never Santa Claus that did that!"
"Look in the other stocking," Ella advised, "there are real presents in
that one. I guess you will be a good girl now, won't you, Marian? Take
the other stocking down, quick."
"No," declared Marian, "I don't want any more potatoes. Nobody loves me
and I don't care if they don't." Then she broke down and cried so hard,
Ella cried too.
"What's all the trouble?" asked Uncle George, entering the room at that
moment.
"Marian is making a scene and distressing both Ella and me," explained
Aunt Amelia. "She has been highly impertinent and ungrateful. Ella, you
may have the other stocking yourself."
"But I don't want it," sobbed Ella. "I want Marian to have it."
"Then we'll take it to the poor children this afternoon," said her
mother. "They'll be glad to get it. Marian, don't drop what's in your
apron. Now go to your room and think over how you've spoiled the peace
of a family on Christmas morning. I'll bring your breakfast to you
myself."
"I don't want any breakfast," sobbed Marian, walking away with her
apron full of potatoes.
"Come back," called Uncle George. "You tell your aunt you are sorry you
were so naughty, and you may come to breakfast with us. It's Christmas
morning, child, why can't you behave?"
"I wasn't naughty," sobbed Marian. "I----"
"Not another word," put in Aunt Amelia. "Go to your room, stubborn,
bad child. I can't have such an example continually before my little
Ella. We'll have to put her in a reform school, George, if she doesn't
improve."
This remark fell upon unheeding ears so far as Marian was concerned.
The minute the door of her little room closed behind her she dropped
the potatoes upon the floor and throwing herself beside them cried as
if her heart would break.
"Oh, Nanna, Nanna, I want you," she sobbed. "Oh, where are you, oh, my
Mrs. Moore?"