“NO CHRISTMAS for us this year!” said Fred, coming out of his father’s
study with his hands in his empty pockets, and a blank look on his face.
“No Christmas?” cried Edith. “What do you mean, Fred?”
“Hard times!” said her brother. “Father says he shall have all he can
do to get through the winter, and that we mustn’t expect presents, or
anything of that kind. Of course it’s all right, only,—it will seem
queer, won’t it?”
“Oh, no _money_ Christmas!” said Edith, looking relieved. “Yes, I knew
that before. But we can have a _merry_ Christmas, Fred, without money.
I mean to have a particularly merry one, and you must help me.”
“I should like to know what you can do without any money!”
“Wait and see! and come out into the woods with me this afternoon,
that’s a good boy!”
It was about a month before Christmas when this conversation took
place; and all through December there were no busier young people
in Woodville than Fred and Edith Brown. They slighted none of their
lessons; but Fred spent a good part of his home time in the barn, with
a hammer in his hand and a Latin grammar at his elbow; while Edith’s
knitting needles flew as she bent over her history lesson. The day
before Christmas, Papa and Mamma were summoned to dine and spend the
day with Grandmamma. Mamma rather wondered that the children were not
invited, and did not want to go without them; but their faces grew so
direfully long at this suggestion that she saw through the little plot,
though Papa did not, and she cheerfully took her shawl and departed,
charging Edith to keep up the fire, and Fred to take care of the house.
When the parents returned in the evening the house was a bower of
green. “Here is one thing that costs nothing!” Edith had said, “and
it is half of a merry Christmas.” So she and Fred had brought great
armfuls of fragrant cedar and hemlock, and tall fir saplings, which
were set up in every corner, while wreaths hung in the windows, and
long garlands festooned fireplace and picture frames. Papa looked very
much pleased. “Why, it is Christmas already!” he said. “And I thought
we should not have any celebration at all this year. You were too
bright for me, children.”
“It’s all Edith, Papa!” said honest Fred.
“All but about two-thirds, Papa!” said Edith. “I could have done
nothing without Fred’s strong arms.”
Next morning the sun was out, and the snow sparkled like diamonds in
the golden light. “Here is something else that costs nothing, Edie!”
cried Fred, who had entered heart and soul into his sister’s idea.
“Sunshine is a pretty good present, isn’t it? And we have the very best
article to-day.”
“Hurrah!” cried Edith, “this is glorious. Merry Christmas, boy! Smiles
are another thing, Fred. Let’s be sure not to look gloomy for a single
minute all day.”
“All right!” said Fred. “I’ll grin like the Cheshire cat from morning
till night. Now, here’s mother’s work-table, all ready. It has taken a
good polish, hasn’t it?”
“Splendid!” cried Edith. “And here’s father’s portfolio. Do you
recognize the cover, Fred?”
“Looks like that pretty dress you had ever so long ago, when you were a
little shaver,—I mean shaveress!”
“Just what it is! The pieces were folded away all this time, of no
use to anybody. And there was enough to make this pretty work-bag for
mother, and another like it for Aunt May. And,—look here, Fred! Merry
Christmas, dear old fellow!”
Fred looked at the blue and gray toboggan cap with astonishment and
delight. “Oh, Sis, that is a stunner! But, I say! you have broken the
rule. This wool must have cost you something, and a good deal.”
“Not a penny!” rejoined his sister, triumphantly. “Do you remember that
huge old comforter that Aunt Eliza sent me three years ago? I never
could wear it out, though it was just as dear and kind of her to make
it for me. That gave me the wool for the cap, and for several other
things beside.”
“Well, it is a beauty!” said Fred. “Here’s all the present I have for
you, and I wish it was a better one.” He produced a birchbark basket,
filled with chestnuts and hickories, and was rewarded by a good
old-fashioned hug.
“As if you could have found anything I should have liked better!”
cried Edith. “Such beauties, too! Why, you must have picked out every
single nut, Fred Brown!”
“Something like it!” admitted Fred.
“How about those partridges for dinner?”
“They are all ready to put in the oven!” Edith said. “Mother knows
nothing about them yet, but is sighing a little because she has no
chicken for us. And you know Mrs. Spicer gave me a jar of mince-meat
for the cranberries I brought her. I am a little proud of my pie, Fred!”
“Hurrah for you!” said Fred.
Somehow or other the Browns had never had a merrier Christmas than this
one of the hard winter. Edith said it was all the sunshine and the
green boughs; Fred said it was all Edith; but Mr. and Mrs. Brown, as
they sat by the cheerful hearth, and watched the chestnuts roasting,
and listened to the merry young voices, gave reverent thanks for their
treasure of love, and felt that they were rich in spite of the hard
times.