CHRISTMAS TIME
"THERE, now I have all my presents ready," Mavis declared in a
satisfied tone, one morning a few days before Christmas, as she dropped
great splashes of red sealing-wax on the small parcel she had already
secured firmly with cord. "I do hope Miss Tompkins will like the
handkerchief sachet I'm sending her."
"I should think she will be sure to like it," said Rose, who was
standing looking out of the parlour window at the birds she had been
feeding with bread-crumbs. "I wonder when Miss Dawson's Christmas-box
will arrive, Mavis."
"Soon, I expect. I should not be surprised if it came at any time now,
for it's getting very near Christmas, isn't it?"
The little girls' holidays had commenced two days before, and since
then, they had been very busy preparing for Christmas. Mr. Grey had
kindly driven them into Oxford, one afternoon, to make their various
purchases, and but a shilling or so remained of Mavis' pound, the
rest having been spent in presents which were hidden in the bottom of
her trunk in her bedroom, to be kept secret from every one but Rose,
until Christmas Day. For kind Miss Tompkins she had bought a pink
silk handkerchief sachet with birds painted on it, and this, with a
carefully-written note, she had packed in readiness to send off that
evening.
"I wonder what mother is doing in the kitchen," remarked Rose,
presently. "She said at breakfast she would have a leisureable day, as
the puddings are boiled and the mincemeat is made, and we're to have
a cold dinner. But I've heard her bustling about as though she's very
busy. Let us go and see what she's doing."
Accordingly, the little girls repaired to the kitchen, where they found
Mrs. John in the midst of packing a hamper with Christmas cheer.
"I dare say I'm very foolish to do this," she was remarking to Jane,
who was watching her with a half-smile on her countenance, "but it's
your master's wish, and I won't go against him in the matter. There'll
be ten shillings' worth in this hamper, if a penny, what with that nice
plump chicken, the pudding, a jar of mincemeat, a pound of tea, a pound
of butter, and—well children?" she said inquiringly, as the little
girls came forward.
"Who is that hamper for, mother?" asked Rose, her curiosity alive in a
moment.
"For Richard Butt's wife," was the brief answer.
"Oh, how kind of you, Aunt Lizzie!" cried Mavis. "How pleased she will
be, won't she?"
"It's to be hoped so, and I dare say she will. But the kindness is not
mine, child, it's your uncle's. 'Fill in the corners of the hamper,
Lizzie,' he said, and you see I'm doing it."
"I should like to be looking on when that hamper's opened," observed
Jane, as her mistress placed down the cover and began to cord it.
"It'll arrive as a blessing, I reckon. Butt was talking to me about his
wife and child yesterday, and—"
"His child, Jane? I didn't know he had one," broke in Mrs. John,
greatly astonished.
"The baby's only a fortnight old, ma'am. I didn't know there was one
myself till yesterday."
"Is it a girl or a boy?"
"A boy, a fine healthy little chap, so Butt's mother-in-law has written
to tell him."
"How he must wish to see the baby!" exclaimed Mrs. John, with a
softening countenance.
"He's hoping to, before long, ma'am, for there'll be a cottage vacant
in the village at Christmas, and he means to take it. Then, as soon
as he possibly can, he's going to ask master to allow him a couple of
days' holiday to fetch his wife and baby."
"He appears to have taken you into his confidence, Jane."
Jane nodded. The hamper was corded by this time, and all that remained
to be done was to address a label.
Mrs. John glanced out of the window, then turned to Rose.
"There's Butt in the yard now; he's going into Oxford with the waggon
presently, so he can send off the hamper himself from the station. Tell
him I want him."
Rose went to do her mother's bidding, and a few minutes later returned,
followed by Richard Butt, who had greatly improved in appearance since
the afternoon he had begged from Mavis, and she had impulsively sent
him around to the back door. Then he had looked ragged, cold, and
dispirited; now he was comfortably clad, and held his head erect once
more.
"What is your wife's address, Butt?" inquired Mrs. John.
"My wife's address, ma'am!" the man exclaimed, in amazement.
"Yes. This hamper is to go to her; it contains a chicken, and a
pudding, and a few other things, and you're to send it off from Oxford.
Here's the money to pay the carriage. Tell me the address."
He did so, and Mrs. John wrote it on the label, which she proceeded to
affix to the hamper.
"Ma'am, I can never thank you properly," the young man stammered,
quite overcome with gratitude and surprise. He looked at the shilling
Mrs. John had given him, then at the hamper. "God bless you for your
goodness!" he added fervently.
"It's your master's doing. It's nothing to do with me. There, take the
hamper away with you. By-the-by, I hear you've a little son, Butt; I
hope his father will be a good example to him."
The tone in which this was said was more cordial than the words, and
Butt carried off the hamper with a radiant countenance.
"I think I never saw any one look more pleased," observed Jane. "Who
comes now?" she exclaimed, as there was a loud knock at the back door.
She went to see, and reappeared bearing a large wooden box which she
deposited on the kitchen table, saying—
"It's come by the railway van, and it's directed to you, Miss Mavis.
There's nothing to pay, but you must please sign this book, to show
it's been delivered safely."
"Oh, it's Miss Dawson's Christmas-box, for certain!" cried Rose.
Whilst Mavis, feeling very important and excited, signed the delivery
book under Jane's directions.
"Oh, Mavis, open it quickly and see what's inside! Here's a knife to
cut the cord."
"Not too fast, Rose," said her mother. "Better untie the knots, then
the cord will come to use again—it's a good strong piece. Here, let me
help," and she effected the task herself. "There, Mavis, now you can
set to work and unpack."
Mavis lifted the lid of the box, her hands trembling with excitement,
and drew out several packages, which, upon examination, proved to
contain preserved fruits and sweetmeats in pretty boxes, such as she
had often seen in the shops at Christmas-time, but had never dreamed of
possessing. Then came a beautifully bound and illustrated story-book,
and several new games, at the sight of which Rose expressed much
gratification, and, last of all, a cardboard box, which, upon being
opened, revealed to sight a seal-skin cap and a muff to match.
"Oh!" exclaimed Mavis, quite incapable of finding words in which to
express her delight.
"Put on the cap, Miss Mavis," said Jane. "Let us see how you look in
it."
So Mavis placed the cap on her curly head, and glanced from one to the
other with the happiest of smiles on her pretty, flushed countenance.
"Yes, it suits you capitally," declared Jane. "Doesn't it, ma'am?" she
questioned, turning to her mistress.
"Yes, indeed," agreed Mrs. John. "I think, Mavis, that you are a very
fortunate little girl," she proceeded, as she took up and examined the
muff. "It is real seal-skin, I see, and must have cost a pretty penny."
"There's Bob!" cried Rose, catching the sound of her brother's
footsteps in the passage. "Come and see Mavis' Christmas-box," she
said, as he opened the door and entered the kitchen. "Look at her
seal-skin cap and muff, and all the rest of the presents she has had
sent her."
"What will you do with them all, Mavis?" asked Bob, as he came to the
table and stood with his hands behind his back, not liking to touch
anything.
"We'll share all the sweeties, Bob," said Mavis; "of course we shall
do that. I only want one box of preserved fruit for myself, to give to
Mrs. Long, and the rest I should like Aunt Lizzie to put with the nice
things she has bought for Christmas."
"Very well," Mrs. John agreed, pleased at the suggestion, "I will do
so. You shall have some of the fruit on Christmas Day and the rest
later on, or we shall be having all the good things at once. By the
way, what makes you wish to give a present to Mrs. Long, Mavis?"
Mrs. Long was the stout, rosy-cheeked washerwoman Mavis had first
seen on the day she had said good-bye to her mother. On subsequent
occasions, the little girl had held conversations with her, but Mrs.
John did not know that.
"She has been very kind to me, Aunt Lizzie," Mavis answered.
"Oh, I don't mean that she's done anything for me, you know," she
continued, as she met her aunt's glance of surprise, "but she's spoken
to me so nicely about mother that I quite love her. She says she knows
what it is to be separated from some one, one loves very dearly, for
her only daughter married and went to New Zealand, and her husband's
dead, so that now she's all alone. I should like to give her a little
present for Christmas, if you do not mind."
"Of course I do not mind, child. All these things are your own, to do
as you like with."
"I want other people to enjoy them too," Mavis said earnestly. "I never
had anything to give away before this Christmas."
She selected one of the prettiest of the boxes of preserved
fruits, and, later in the day, she and her cousins called at Mrs.
Long's cottage in the village and presented it to the kind-hearted
washerwoman, who, needless to say, was exceedingly pleased.
What a happy Christmas that was, and yet how Mavis had dreaded it! It
brought her nothing but joy from the moment she opened her eyes on
Christmas morning till, wearied out, she closed them at night.
Afterwards, she wrote to her mother all about it, and told her how rich
she was in presents, for, besides Miss Dawson's Christmas-box, she had
received remembrances from every member of the household at the Mill
House, and from Miss Tompkins too, as well as Christmas cards from
several of her schoolfellows.
"I have so many friends now," she wrote, "and last Christmas I had so
few. When we meet I shall have such a lot to tell you, dear mother. I
can't write everything. I believe Aunt Lizzie has written and told you
that I am to sing at a concert on New Year's Eve; I am to sing your
favourite psalm. Mr. Moseley says my voice is a great gift. He is a
very nice man, and has been very kind to me—I think there are a great
many kind people in the world."
Mavis had never so much as hinted to her mother that she was not on
such cordial terms with her aunt as with her other relations, for she
could not explain why that was the case, and, lately, she had got on
with her rather better. Mrs. John had been obliged to admit to herself
that Mavis was not selfish, that she did not try to put herself before
her cousins in any way, and that she was quick to show gratitude for a
kindness, and to respond to affection. But what she did not understand
in the child, was her capability of laying aside trouble.
"She has just the nature of a song-bird," she would think, when Mavis'
voice, lilting some simple ditty, would fall upon her ears. "She's such
a light-hearted little thing."
The concert, which was held in the village schoolroom on New Year's
Eve, proved a very great success. The performers were all well-known
inhabitants of the parish, in whom the audience—composed mostly of the
labouring classes—took great interest.
Mavis' part of the programme did not come till nearly the conclusion
of the concert, and when the Vicar took her by the hand and led her on
the platform, she felt it would be quite impossible for her to keep
her promise, and she was inclined to run away and hide. But, a moment
later, she had overcome the impulse which had prompted her to go from
her word, and looking above the many faces which were smiling up at
her encouragingly, she summoned up her courage and commenced to sing.
Her voice was rather tremulous at first, but it gained strength as
it proceeded. She forgot the people watching her, forgot her fear of
breaking down, and thought only of what she was singing, of "pastures
green" and the Good Shepherd leading His flock by streams "which run
most pleasantly." As her sweet, clear voice ceased, there was a murmur
of gratification from the audience, which swelled into rounds of
applause.
"Sing us something else, do, missie!" she heard some one shout from the
back of the schoolroom, and, looking in the direction from whence the
voice came, she recognized Richard Butt.
The rest took up the cry, and from all sides came the demand, "Sing us
something else!"
"What else do you know, Mavis?" the Vicar hastened to inquire, when he
saw she was willing to comply with the general request.
"I know some carols," she replied. "Shall I sing one of those?"
"Yes, do," he said, as he moved away.
She was not feeling in the least nervous now. Her heart throbbed with
happiness, as she realized her capability of giving pleasure, and a
brilliant colour glowed in her cheeks, whilst her hazel eyes shone
brightly.
The carol she sang was one she had heard in the little mission church
in London during the previous Christmas season, but it was new to her
audience.
"'When shepherds were abiding,
In Beth'lem's lonely field,
They heard the joyful tidings
By the heavenly host revealed.
At first they were affrighted,
But they soon forgot their fear,
While the angel sang of Christmas,
And proclaimed a bright new year.'"
That was the first verse; several others followed, concluding thus—
"'When he who came to Bethlehem
Returns to earth again,
Ten thousand thousand angels
Shall follow in His train:
Then saints shall sing in triumph,
Till heaven and earth shall hear;
The year of His redeemed shall come,
A bright immortal year.'"
The carol was as successful in pleasing as had been the psalm, and
Mavis stepped from the platform and returned to her seat with the Mill
House party, hearing commendatory remarks on all sides.
"Oh, Mavis," whispered Rose, "you sang beautifully, you did indeed!"
And she expressed the opinion of the whole room, including Mrs. John,
who, for the first time, acknowledged that really Mavis owned a very
sympathetic voice, and that the words she had sung had seemed to have
come from her heart.