Comparing Notes
IT was eight o'clock, the morning of the twenty-fourth day of December,
which is twice as exciting a day as the twenty-fifth and at least ten
times as interesting as the twenty-sixth.
Bettie, and as many of the little Tuckers as had been able to find
enough clothes for decency, were eating pancakes a great deal faster
than Mrs. Tucker could bake them over the Rectory stove. Marjory, her
young countenance somewhat puckered because of the tartness of her
grapefruit, was sitting sedately opposite her Aunty Jane. Jean had
finished her breakfast and was tying mysterious tissue paper parcels
with narrow scarlet ribbon; and Mabel, having suddenly remembered
that this was the day that the postman brought interesting mail, was
hurrying with might and main to get into her sailor blouse in order
to capture the letters. Of course she didn't expect to open any of her
Christmas mail; but she did like to squeeze the packages. Henrietta was
reading a long, delightful letter from her father. Mrs. Slater, too,
had Christmas letters.
Five blocks away Mr. Black and Mrs. Crane were finishing their
breakfast. Their dining-room was at the back of the house, where its
three broad windows commanded a fine view of the lake. Just at the top
of the bluff and well inside the Black-Crane yard stood a wonderfully
handsome fir tree, a truly splendid tree, for in all Lakeville there
was no other evergreen to compare with it in size, shape or color.
Every now and again, Mr. Black would turn in his chair to gaze
earnestly out the window at the tree. For a long time, Mrs. Crane, her
nice dark eyes dancing with fun, watched her brother in silence. But
when he began to consume the last quarter of his second piece of toast
she felt that it was time to speak.
"Peter," said she, "you can't do it."
"Do what?" asked Mr. Black, with a guilty start.
"Cut down that tree. I know, just as well as I know anything, that
you're just aching to make that splendid big evergreen into a
Christmas-tree for Rosa Marie and those four girls."
"_How_ do you know it?" queried Mr. Black, eying his sister with quick
suspicion.
"Because I had the same thought myself. It _would_ be fine for
Christmas--it looks like a Christmas-tree every day of the year. And if
you've been a sort of bottled-up Santa Claus all your life you're apt
to be pretty foolish when you're finally unbottled. And that tree----"
"But," queried Mr. Black, "what would it be the day after?"
"That," confessed Mrs. Crane, "is what bothers _me_."
"It does seem a shame," said Mr. Black, rising and walking to the
window, "to cut down such a perfect specimen as that; and yet, in
all my life I never met a tree so evidently designed for the express
purpose of serving as a Christmas-tree. It's a real temptation."
"I know it," sighed Mrs. Crane. "It's been tempting _me_; but I said:
'Get thee behind me, Santa Claus, and send me to the proper place for
Christmas-trees.'"
"And did you go to that place?"
"It came to me. I engaged a twelve-foot tree from a man that was taking
orders at the door."
"So did I," confessed Mr. Black. "I'm not sure that I didn't order two."
"Peter Black! You're spoiling those children."
"I'm having plenty of help," twinkled Mr. Black, shrewdly.
With so many trees to choose from, it certainly seemed probable that
the Black-Crane household would have at least one respectable specimen
to decorate; but half an hour later, when the three ordered balsams
arrived, both Mr. Black and Mrs. Crane were greatly disappointed. The
trees had shrunk from twelve to six feet, and the uneven branches were
thin and sparsely covered.
"Why!" exclaimed Mr. Black, "all three of those trees together wouldn't
make a whole tree."
"They look," said Mrs. Crane, "as if they were shedding their feathers."
"Most of them," agreed Mr. Black, "have already been shed. I said, Mr.
Man, that I wanted _good_ trees."
"My wagon broke down," explained the tree-man, "so I couldn't bring
anything that I couldn't haul on a big sled. They weigh a lot, those
big fellows."
"Can't you make a special trip," suggested Mrs. Crane, "and bring us a
first-class tree--just one?"
"It's too late. I have to go too far before I'm allowed to cut any."
"Well," said Mr. Black, "I'll pay you for these, and I'll give you
fifty cents extra to haul them off the premises. We don't want any such
sorrowful specimens round here to cast a gloom over our Christmas, do
we, Sarah?"
"Peter," announced Mrs. Crane, when the man had departed with his
scraggly trees, "I have an idea. The weather's likely to stay mild for
another twenty-four hours, isn't it?"
"I think so."
"And this is an honest town?"
"As honest as they make 'em."
"And all those girls are accustomed to being outdoors----"
"I _see_!" cried Mr. Black, giving Mrs. Crane's plump shoulders a
sudden, friendly whack. "I _almost_ thought of that myself. We'll
certainly surprise 'em _this_ time."
Although it was getting late, Mr. Black still hung about the house as
if he had not yet freed his mind of Christmas matters.
"I suppose," said Mr. Black, breaking a long silence, "that you've
thought of a few things to put on the tree for those girls?"
"Yes," admitted Mrs. Crane, guardedly, "I've gathered up some little
fixings that I thought they'd fancy."
"It might be a good idea," said Mr. Black, rising to ring for Martin,
"for us to compare notes. Two heads are better than one, you know;
and after what they did for us, we owe those little folks a splendid
Christmas."
"We certainly do," agreed Mrs. Crane, wiping away the sudden moisture
that sprung to her eyes at thought of the memorable dinner party in
Dandelion Cottage--the dinner that had brought her estranged brother to
the rescue. "I don't know where I'd have been now if it hadn't been for
those blessed children. In the poorhouse, probably."
"Martin," said Mr. Black, huskily, "you go to the storeroom in the
basement. Take a hatchet with you and knock the top off that wooden box
that is marked with a big blue cross and bring it up here to me."
Presently Martin, who always blundered if there was the very faintest
excuse for blundering, returned, proudly bearing the cover of the large
box.
"Thank you," replied Mr. Black, turning twinkling eyes upon Mrs. Crane,
who twinkled back. "Now bring up the box with all the things in it."
"I'll get my things, too," offered Mrs. Crane. "They're right here in
the library closet, in a clothes hamper."
Then when Martin had brought the box, the two middle-aged people began
to sort their presents. They went about it rather awkwardly because
neither had had much experience; but they were certainly enjoying their
novel occupation.
"This," said Mr. Black, clearing a space on the big library table, "is
Bettie's pile, and Heaven knows that I tried not to get it bigger than
the other three; but everything I saw in the shops shouted 'Buy me for
Bettie'--and I usually obeyed."
"This is Jean's pile," said Mrs. Crane, baring another space, "and I
guess I feel about Jean the way you do about Bettie; but I love Bettie
too--and all of them. Rosa Marie's things will have to go on the
floor--they're mostly bumpy and breakable."
Mr. Black rummaged in his box, Mrs. Crane fished in her basket.
Presently there was a rapidly growing, untidy heap of large, lumpy
bundles on the floor for Rosa Marie, and four very neat stacks of
square, compact parcels for the Cottagers.
"Let's open them all," suggested Mr. Black, eagerly. "We can tie them
up again."
So the elderly couple, as interested as two children, opened their
packages. At first, both were too busy renewing acquaintanceship with
their own purchases to notice what the other was doing; but presently
Mrs. Crane gave a start as her eye traveled over the table.
"Why, Peter Black," she exclaimed. "Here are two watches in Bettie's
pile!"
"I didn't buy but one of them," declared Mr. Black, placing his finger
on one of the dainty timepieces. "That's mine."
"The other's mine," confessed Mrs. Crane. "And, Peter, did you go and
buy dolls all around, too?"
"I did," owned Mr. Black, opening a long narrow box. "One _always_ buys
dolls for Christmas."
"Well," sighed Mrs. Crane, "I guess they can stand two apiece, because
ours are not a bit alike. You see, you got carried away by fine clothes
and I paid more attention to the dolls themselves. The bodies are
first-class and the faces are lovely. I bought mine undressed and I've
had four weeks' pleasure dressing them--I sort of hate to give them
up. The clothes are plain and substantial; I couldn't make 'em fancy."
"But the watches, Sarah?"
"Well, I guess we'll have to send half of those watches back. Yours are
the nicest--we'll keep yours."
"I suspect," said Mr. Black, reflectively pinching two large parcels in
Rosa Marie's heap, "that we've both bought Teddy bears for Rosa Marie.
And we've both supplied the girls with perfume, purses and writing
paper, but I don't see any books."
"We'll use the extra-watch money for books," decided Mrs. Crane,
promptly. "Suppose you attend to that--if we both do it we'll have
another double supply. I see we've both bought candy, too; but I need a
box for the milk-boy and I'd like to send some little thing to Martin's
small sister."
"On the whole," said Mr. Black, complacently, "we've managed pretty
well considering our inexperience; but next time we'll do better."