THE MYSTERIOUS CHRISTMAS BOX
The week following Christmas was filled with many events on the V.
M. Ranch.
Malcolm, who was greatly interested in the finding of the mine on
Second Peak conferred for several hours with his sister, and finally
decided that together they would grubstake Pat Mahoy in the venture.
The next day the three men rode away, leaving the girls to wait
anxiously Malcolm’s decision when he himself had examined the
prospective mine.
Mrs. Mahoy and her small brood were to remain in the adobe house
indefinitely if they wished. The little woman was no longer sad, and
the three children added much to the joyfulness of the Christmas
season.
“Oh, Virginia!” Margaret exclaimed when they turned into the ranch
house after having waved farewell to Malcolm, Slick Cy and Mr.
Mahoy. “I am so eager to receive our Christmas mail, but no one has
been to town in ever so long. I just know that there will be a box
for me from Babs. We have exchanged presents every year and I am
sure that she has sent me something. How are we going to get the
mail?”
“I wouldn’t be a bit surprised if Slim rode in today or tomorrow,”
Virginia said. “You know he has been for a week at a round-up just
beyond the Junction. If he does come, he will stop for the mail.”
Half an hour later when Margaret went to the veranda to shake a
duster, she called excitedly:
“Virg, come quick. Look way up on the mesa trail. Is that a horseman
I see or is it the giant cactus?”
Virginia appeared with the field glasses and after gazing through
them for a moment, she exclaimed: “It surely is a horseman but he
can’t be our Slim for he is much too stout.”
But when the horseman drew near, they saw that it really was their
cow-boy. Virginia ran out to greet him as she laughingly called,
“Slim, it is no wonder that we didn’t recognize you. Why you bulge
like a Santa Claus with all of those packages. Megsy, do see that
big box tied on back. Who is it for, Slim?”
The young cow-boy looked as pleased as the jolly old saint himself
as he replied, “I cal’late its fo’ the two of yo’, Miss Virginie.
Sort o’ pears to me like both yo’ names is writ on it.”
He had dismounted as he talked, and, at Virginia’s suggestion, had
carried the box into the living-room and placed it on the big table
which Megsy had hastily cleared. The girls then filled his pockets
with goodies, for Slim had been obliged to be away from V. M. for
Christmas. “That’s our thank you for bringing us so many presents,”
Virginia told him.
Then, when the cow-boy had departed for the bunk house, the girls
turned their attention to the big mysterious looking box.
“What can be in it?” Margaret wondered. “Wait till I get a hammer
and chisel and we will soon find out.” Virg skipped to the tool
house but soon returned.
“Of course I am sure it is from Babs,” Margaret said as she watched
with interest as her friend pried off the cover.
“I think so too,” Virg affirmed. “But why my name is also on the
wrapping I cannot imagine.”
“I suppose that Babs put a present in for you, too,” Margaret
declared. “I have written so much about you to my beloved roommate
that she feels well acquainted with you, and then, moreover, she was
so pleased because you invited her to visit on the V. M. Ranch next
summer.”
Beneath the cover there lay a dozen Christmasy looking packages of
all shapes and sizes. On each one was a sprig of holly and mistletoe
and a tag. On some of these Virginia’s name was written and on the
others Margaret’s.
Megsy clapped her hands in little girl fashion as she exclaimed
merrily, “Oh, aren’t we having fun? I only wish that Babs might see
the pleasure her surprise box is giving up. Now you choose one of
the packages and open it and then I’ll do the same. That will make
the surprise last longer.”
So Virginia chose a queer-shaped package and began to untie the
narrow red ribbon, but she found whatever it was it had many
wrappings. On one of these was written, “Pause and guess what I may
be. I begin with a letter P.”
“If that isn’t just like Babs!” Margaret exclaimed. “Do you suppose
it is a penwiper?”
“No,” Virginia said as she continued to unwrap the gift. “It feels
like cardboard. Oho! Just look! It’s the dearest photograph of Babs
herself.”
“It’s a new one taken in her first party dress,” Margaret exclaimed
admiringly as the two heads bent over the picture of a merry-eyed
girl with bobbed curls. “It’s the sweetest dress. She had it made
just before I left. It’s pink and all fluffy ruffles. I’ll just be
green with jealousy if Babs hasn’t sent me one, too.”
“I’m sure that you will find one,” Virginia declared as they both
peered into the surprise box wondering which of the unopened
packages contained the wished-for photograph.
“Well, let’s open them as they come,” Megsy said at last. “Babs has
purposely wrapped them in queer shapes.”
It took the girls a long happy hour to untie the gifts. There were
two pretty handkerchiefs, two books, “Just Patty” and “When Patty
Went to College.” Two line-a-day diaries and two boxes of chocolate
fudge so full of nut meats that they bulged.
“It’s the kind Babs makes every Saturday night at boarding school,”
Margaret said, then she added: “Oh good! Here are two letters from
my darling room-mate, one for you and one for me. Now we will know
all the jolly news items about Vine Haven.”
“You read your letter first,” Virginia said as she piled the soft
pillows back of them on the window seat and settled down for
comfortable enjoyment of a visit with the far-away Babs.
“All right,” Margaret agreed as she tore open the pale blue envelope
out of which wafted to them a faint scent of violets.
Then she began to read:
Vine Haven Seminary:
Dearest Megsy: Christmas without you isn’t nearly as festive as it
used to be. The girls all came to our room just as they did last
year to plan our mid-winter party, and though it wasn’t very
complimentary to me I heartily agreed with Belle Terry when she said
that our room seemed like an empty cage, out of which the song bird
had flown. When the girls had gone, Megsy, I just threw myself down
on your bed (no one has slept in it since you left) and I started to
cry my eyes out, when I happened to remember what old Mrs. Tompkins,
down at the candy shop, said once, “The best way to get over the
miseries is to try to make somebody happy.” So I sprang right up and
tried to think what I could do to add a mite of merriness to
Christmas for you and Virginia. I decided to send you a jolly
surprise box. I worked at it until long after midnight, but please
don’t tell Miss Pickle, for of course I put the light out at 9
o’clock and waited until I was sure that she was asleep before I
lighted it again.
There isn’t a single gift in the box that has any value, but I am
just sure that you two girls will enjoy opening the packages.
I’m so excited about something and what that something is I will
tell in my letter to Virginia.
Oh, Megsy, darling room-mate, no words of mine can tell how I’m a
yearning to see you. Merry Christmas and happy New Year from Babs.
“Oh, Virginia, quick, open your letter and read the exciting news
that Babs has to tell. I know what I do hope it is,” Margaret
exclaimed eagerly.
Virg had already opened her letter and so she began at once to read:
Dear Virginia: Please let me call you that. I am so glad that you
sent me a kodak picture of you on horseback. I just adore it! I had
it enlarged so that I could see you better, and now in a pretty
frame it hangs in my room over my writing desk, and every time one
of the girls come in she immediately asks, “Oh Babs, who is that
stunning cowgirl?” And when I tell them who you are and that you
have invited me to visit at your ranch home, they all just look
green with envy. Of course I don’t know yet that I may accept, but I
have written dad about it twice, and I held my breath when a return
letter came from him, but, for some reason, he didn’t mention the
subject. However, I can’t give up hope that he will let me go. Oh,
you’ll have to excuse me a minute, Martha just came to my door and
said I am wanted in the library.
Half an hour later. It was dad at the long distance telephone. He
said he had expected to run down to Vine Haven to wish me a Merry
Christmas, but business prevented, so he had called up instead to
give me a Christmas surprise, and girls, what do you think it was?
I’m so happy and excited I can hardly keep my pen from dancing. Dad
says I may come next summer, as he will have to go west on a
business trip and can escort me as far as Arizona.
“Whoopla!” Margaret shouted as she tossed a pillow into the air.
“Oh, I’m so glad, so glad!”
“I am glad, too,” Virginia said, and then the two girls snuggled
close and planned the many delightful things that they would do when
Babs came. When at last, the chiming of the clock announced that it
was noon, they sprang up and a small folded paper fell to the floor.
Virginia picked it up. “Here is a postscript to your letter, Megsy,
that you didn’t read,” she said, “What can be in it?”
“Oh, I do hope Babs isn’t saying that she can’t come after all,”
Margaret declared as she opened the note. She glanced at its
message, then read aloud:
“Dearest Megsy: I am writing this on a separate piece of paper, for
you may not have told Virginia about my lost brother. It is all
right, dear, if you have, for I know that she is like a sister to
you and will be to me when we become acquainted.
“Having my dear brother Peyton away this Christmas has made me even
more lonely for you, for you two are the ones in all the world for
whom I most care. Of course I do love my father, but he seems always
to be mentally preoccupied somehow. I am never real sure but that he
may be troubled with my chatter. Sometimes I wonder if his
abstraction means that he is thinking of his business, or, if he,
too, may be grieving about his lost son, for, though Peyton may be
wayward (I never knew what he did to anger father), I do know that
he was one of the most lovable of boys and that he would do just
anything for a person for whom he really cared. You cannot think how
tender and kind he was to our dear mother during her long last
illness. Whatever my brother did to displease our father, I know
that it was nothing really wrong. It was the day before last New
Years that they had words. For the very first time, I believe,
Peyton defied our father, declaring that he was old enough to decide
some things for himself.
“The next morning, dad and I waited breakfast for my brother, but,
when he did not join us, father sent me to call him. When I reached
his room, I saw at once that his bed had not been slept in and that
all of his clothes were gone. I shall never forget the desolate
feeling that was in my heart when I saw that dark empty closet and
knew that my dear brother had run away. When I went back, I was
afraid to tell father, but of course I had to. His anger was
terrible.
“‘Barbara,’ he said sternly, ‘your brother is dead to us from this
day forever more. Do not again mention his name in my presence.’
“I never have, but Megsy, my brother is not dead to me, and if only
I could learn his whereabouts, I would make any sacrifice.
“Now this is what I wanted to tell you. I always suspected that he
ran away to sea, for he began wanting to be a sailor when he was a
very little boy. Yesterday I received a picture postcard from China.
There was no message on it and the address was blurred, but it might
have been his handwriting. Oh, Megsy, I would be the happiest girl
in the world if I could be sure that Peyton sent it, for, at least,
it would mean that he is well. I wanted to tell someone, and you are
the only friend to whom I ever mention my brother’s name. What do
you think about it? Your, Bab.”
“Poor girl,” Virginia said, “I, too, have a dear brother and so I
know just how lonely and sad Babs is. We must try to cheer her up,
Megsy, when she visits us.”