Stockings, to which the "Bas Bleu" was nothing.
Christmas morning was dawning gray, but it was still far from
broad daylight, when Ellen was awakened. She found little
Ellen Chauncey pulling and pushing at her shoulders, and
whispering "Ellen! Ellen!" in a tone that showed a great fear
of waking somebody up. There she was, in nightgown and
nightcap, and barefooted, too, with a face brimfull of
excitement, and as wide awake as possible. Ellen roused
herself in no little surprise, and asked what the matter was.
"I am going to look at my stocking," whispered her visitor;
"don't you want to get up and come with me? it's just here in
the other room; come! don't make any noise."
"But what if you should find nothing in it?" said Ellen,
laughingly, as she bounded out of bed.
"Ah, but I shall, I know; I always do never fear. Hush! step
ever so softly I don't want to wake anybody."
"It's hardly light enough for you to see," whispered Ellen, as
the two little barefooted white figures glided out of the
room.
"Oh, yes, it is that's all the fun. Hush! don't make a bit
of noise I know where it hangs Mamma always puts it at the
back of her big easy-chair; come this way here it is! Oh,
Ellen! there's two of 'em! There's one for you! there's one
for you!"
In a tumult of delight, one Ellen capered about the floor on
the tips of her bare toes, while the other, not less happy,
stood still for pleasure. The dancer finished by hugging and
kissing her with all her heart, declaring she was so glad, she
didn't know what to do.
"But how shall we know which is which?"
"Perhaps they are both alike," said Ellen.
"No at any rate, one's for me, and t'other's for you. Stop!
here are pieces of paper, with our names, on I guess let's
turn the chair a little bit to the light there yes!
Ellen M-o-n there, that's yours; my name doesn't begin with
an M; and this is mine!"
Another caper round the room, and then she brought up in front
of the chair, where Ellen was still standing.
"I wonder what's in 'em," she said; "I want to look, and I
don't want, too. Come, you begin."
"But that's no stocking of mine," said Ellen, a smile
gradually breaking upon her sober little face; "my leg never
was as big as that."
"Stuffed, isn't it?" said Ellen Chauncey. "Oh, do make haste,
and see what is in yours. I want to know so, I don't know what
to do."
"Well, will you take out of yours as fast as I take out of
mine?"
"Well!"
Oh, mysterious delight, and delightful mystery, of the stuffed
stocking! Ellen's trembling fingers sought the top, and then
very suddenly left it.
"I can't think what it is," said she, laughing "it feels so
funny."
"Oh, never mind! make haste," said Ellen Chauncey; "it won't
hurt you, I guess."
"No, it won't hurt me," said Ellen, "but"
She drew forth a great bunch of white grapes.
"Splendid! isn't it?" said Ellen Chauncey. "Now for mine."
It was the counterpart of Ellen's bunch.
"So far, so good," said she. "Now for the next."
The next thing in each stocking was a large horn of sugar-
plums.
"Well, that's fine, isn't it?" said Ellen Chauncey "yours is
tied with white ribbon, and mine with blue; that's all the
difference. Oh! and your paper's red and mine is purple."
"Yes, and the pictures are different," said Ellen.
"Well, I had rather they would be different wouldn't you? I
think it's just as pleasant. One's as big as the other at any
rate. Come, what's next?"
Ellen drew out a little bundle, which, being opened, proved to
be a nice little pair of dark kid gloves.
"Oh, I wonder who gave me this!" she said "it's just what I
wanted. How pretty! oh, I'm so glad! I guess who it was."
"Oh, look here," said the other Ellen, who had been diving
into her stocking "I've got a ball this is just what I
wanted, too; George told me if I'd get one he'd show me how to
play. Isn't it pretty? Isn't it funny we should each get just
what we wanted? Oh, this is a very nice ball. I'm glad I've
got it. Why, here is another great round thing in my stocking!
what can it be? they wouldn't give me two balls," said
she, chuckling.
"So there is in mine!" said Ellen. "Maybe they're apples?"
"They aren't! they wouldn't give us apples; besides, it is
soft. Pull it out and see."
"Then they are oranges," said Ellen laughing.
"I never felt such a soft orange," said little Ellen Chauncey.
"Come, Ellen! stop laughing, and let's see."
They were two great scarlet satin pincushions, with E. C. and
E. M., very neatly stuck in pins.
"Well, we shan't want pins for a good while, shall we?" said
Ellen. "Who gave us these?"
"I know," said little Ellen Chauncey "Mrs. Bland."
"She was very kind to make one for me," said Ellen. "Now for
the next!"
Her next thing was a little bottle of Cologne water.
"I can tell who put that in," said her friend "Aunt Sophia.
I know her little bottles of Cologne water. Do you love
Cologne water? Aunt Sophia's is delicious."
Ellen did like it very much, and was extremely pleased. Ellen
Chauncey had also a new pair of scissors, which gave entire
satisfaction.
"Now, I wonder what all this toe is stuffed with," said she,
"raisins and almonds, I declare! and yours the same, isn't
it? Well, don't you think we have got enough sweet things?
Isn't this a pretty good Christmas?"
"What are you about, you monkeys?" cried the voice of Aunt
Sophia, from the dressing-room door. "Alice, Alice! do look at
them. Come right back to bed, both of you. Crazy pates! It is
lucky it is Christmas day if it was any other in the year,
we should have you both sick in bed; as it is, I suppose you
will go scot free."
Laughing, and rosy with pleasure, they came back and got into
bed together; and for an hour afterwards the two kept up a
most animated conversation, intermixed with long chuckles and
bursts of merriment, and whispered communications of immense
importance. The arrangement of the painted needlebook was
entirely decided upon in this consultation; also two or three
other matters; and the two children seemed to have already
lived a day since day-break by the time they came down to
breakfast.
After breakfast, Ellen applied secretly to Alice, to know if
she could write _very_ beautifully she exceedingly wanted
something done.
"I should not like to venture, Ellie, if it must be so
superfine; but John can do it for you."
"Can he? Do you think he would?"
"I am sure he will, if you ask him."
"But I don't like to ask him," said Ellen, casting a doubtful
glance at the window.
"Nonsense, he's only reading the newspaper. You won't disturb
him."
"Well, you won't say anything about it?"
"Certainly not."
Ellen accordingly went near, and said, gently, "Mr.
Humphreys!" but he did not seem to hear her. "Mr.
Humphreys!" a little louder.
"He has not arrived yet," said John, looking round gravely.
He spoke so gravely, that Ellen could not tell whether he were
joking or serious. Her face of extreme perplexity was too much
for his command of countenance.
"Whom do you want to speak to?" said he, smiling.
"I wanted to speak to you, Sir," said Ellen, "if you are not
too busy."
"_Mr. Humphreys_ is always busy," said he, shaking his head;
"but _Mr. John_ can attend to you at any time, and _John_ will do
for you whatever you please to ask him."
"Then, Mr. John," said Ellen, laughing, "if you please, I
wanted to ask you to do something for me, very much indeed, if
you are not too busy; Alice said I shouldn't disturb you."
"Not at all; I've been long enough over this stupid newspaper.
What is it?"
"I want you, if you will be so good," said Ellen, "to write a
little bit for me on something, very beautifully."
" 'Very beautifully!' Well come to the library; we will
see."
"But it is a great secret," said Ellen; "you won't tell
anybody?"
"Tortures shan't draw it from me when I know what it is,"
said he, with one of his comical looks.
In high glee, Ellen ran for the pieces of Bristol board which
were to form the backs of the needlebook, and brought them to
the library; and explained how room was to be left in the
middle of each for a painting, a rose on one, a butterfly on
the other; the writing to be as elegant as possible, above,
beneath, and roundabout, as the fancy of the writer should
choose.
"Well, what is to be inscribed on this most original of
needlebooks?" said John, as he carefully mended his pen.
"Stop!" said Ellen "I'll tell you in a minute. On this one,
the front, you know, is to go, 'To my dear mother, many happy
New Years;' and on this side, 'From her dear little
daughter, Ellen Chauncey.' You know," she added, "Mrs.
Chauncey isn't to know anything about it till New Year's day;
nor anybody else."
"Trust me," said John. "If I am asked any questions, they
shall find me as obscure as an oracle."
"What is an oracle, Sir?"
"Why," said John, smiling "this pen won't do yet the old
heathens believed there were certain spots on earth to which
some of their gods had more favour than to others, and where
they would permit mortals to come nearer to them, and would
even deign to answer their questions."
"And did they?" said Ellen.
"Did they what?"
"Did they answer their questions?"
"Did _who_ answer their questions?"
"The oh, to be sure," said Ellen, "there were no such gods.
But what made people think they answered them? and how could
they ask questions?"
"I suppose it was a contrivance of the priests, to increase
their power and wealth. There was always a temple built near,
with priests and priestesses; the questions were put through
them; and they would not ask them except on great occasions,
or for people of consequence, who could pay them well, by
making splendid gifts to the god."
"But I should think the people would have thought the priest
or priestess had made up the answers themselves."
"Perhaps they did, sometimes. But people had not the Bible
then, and did not know as much as we know. It was not
unnatural to think the gods would care a little for the poor
people that lived on the earth. Besides, there was a good deal
of management and trickery about the answers of the oracle,
that helped to deceive."
"How was it?" said Ellen; "how could they manage, and what
was the _oracle?_"
"The oracle was either the answer itself, or the god who was
supposed to give it, or the place where it was given; and
there were different ways of managing. At one place the priest
hid himself in the hollow body or among the branches of an
oak-tree, and people thought the tree spoke to them. Sometimes
the oracle was delivered by a woman, who pretended to be put
into a kind of fit tearing her hair and beating her breast."
"But suppose the oracle made a mistake what would the people
think then?"
"The answers were generally contrived so that they would seem
to come true in any event."
"I don't see how they could do that," said Ellen.
"Very well just imagine that I am an oracle, and come to me
with some question; I'll answer you."
"But you can't tell what's going to happen?"
"No matter you ask me truly, and I'll answer you
oracularly."
"That means, like an oracle, I suppose?" said Ellen. "Well,
Mr. John, will Alice be pleased with what I am going to give
her New Year?"
"She will be pleased with what she will receive on that day."
"Ah, but," said Ellen, laughing, "that isn't fair; you haven't
answered me; perhaps somebody else will give her something,
and then she might be pleased with that, and not with mine."
"Exactly but the oracle never means to be understood."
"Well, I won't come to you," said Ellen. "I don't like such
answers. Now for the needlebook!"
Breathlessly she looked on while the skilful pen did its work;
and her exclamations of delight and admiration when the first
cover was handed to her were not loud but deep.
"It will do, then, will it? Now let us see 'From her dear
little daughter' there; now, 'Ellen Chauncey,' I suppose,
must be in hieroglyphics."
"In what?" said Ellen.
"I mean, written in some difficult character."
"Yes," said Ellen. "But what was that you said?"
"Hieroglyphics."
Ellen added no more, though she was not satisfied. He looked
up, and smiled.
"Do you want to know what that means?"
"Yes, if you please," said Ellen.
The pen was laid down while he explained, to a most eager
little listener. Even the great business of the moment was
forgotten. From hieroglyphics they went to the pyramids; and
Ellen had got to the top of one, and was enjoying the prospect
(in imagination), when she suddenly came down to tell John of
her stuffed stocking and its contents. The pen went on again,
and came to the end of the writing by the time Ellen had got
to the toe of the stocking.
"Wasn't it very strange they should give me so many things?"
said she; "people that don't know me?"
"Why, no," said John, smiling "I cannot say I think it was
_very_ strange. Is this all the business you had for my hands?"
"This is all; and I am _very_ much obliged to you, Mr. John."
Her grateful, affectionate eye said much more, and he felt
well paid.
Gilbert was next applied to, to paint the rose and the
butterfly, which, finding so excellent a beginning made in the
work, he was very ready to do. The girls were then free to set
about the embroidery of the leaves, which was by no means the
business of an hour.
A very happy Christmas day was that. With their needles and
thimbles, and rose-coloured silk, they kept by themselves in a
corner, or in the library, out of the way; and sweetening
their talk with a sugar-plum now and then, neither tongues nor
needles knew any flagging. It was wonderful what they found so
much to say, but there was no lack. Ellen Chauncey especially
was inexhaustible. Several times, too, that day, the Cologne
bottle was handled, the gloves looked at and fondled, the ball
tried, and the new scissors extolled as "just the thing for
their work." Ellen attempted to let her companion into the
mystery of oracles and hieroglyphics, but was fain to give it
up; little Ellen showed a decided preference for American, not
to say Ventnor, subjects, where she felt more at home.
Then came Mr. Humphreys; and Ellen was glad, both for her own
sake and because she loved to see Alice pleased. Then came the
great merry Christmas dinner, when the girls had not talked
themselves out, but tired themselves with working. Young and
old dined together to-day, and the children not set by
themselves, but scattered among the grown-up people; and as
Ellen was nicely placed between Alice and little Ellen
Chauncey, she enjoyed it all very much. The large long table
surrounded with happy faces; tones of cheerfulness, and looks
of kindness, and lively talk; the superb display of plate and
glass and china; the stately dinner; and last, but not least,
the plum-pudding. There was sparkling wine, too, and a great
deal of drinking of healths; but Ellen noticed that Alice and
her brother smilingly drank all theirs in water; so, when old
Mr. Marshman called to her to "hold out her glass," she held
it out, to be sure, and let him fill it, but she lifted her
tumbler of water to her lips instead, after making him a very
low bow. Mr. Marshman laughed at her a great deal, and asked
her if she was "a proselyte to the new notions;" and Ellen
laughed with him, without having the least idea what he meant,
and was extremely happy. It was very pleasant, too, when they
went into the drawing-room to take coffee. The young ones were
permitted to have coffee to-night as a great favour. Old Mrs.
Marshman had the two little ones on either side of her, and
was so kind, and held Ellen's hand in her own, and talked to
her about her mother, till Ellen loved her.
After tea there was a great call for games, and young and old
joined in them. They played the Old Curiosity Shop; and Ellen
thought Mr. John's curiosities could not be matched. They
played the Old Family Coach, Mr. Howard Marshman being the
manager, and Ellen laughed till she was tired; she was the
coach door, and he kept her opening and shutting, and swinging
and breaking, it seemed all the while, though most of the rest
were worked just as hard. When they were well tired, they sat
down to rest and hear music, and Ellen enjoyed that
exceedingly. Alice sang, and Mrs. Gillespie, and Miss Sophia,
and another lady, and Mr. Howard; sometimes alone, sometimes
three or four, or all together.
At last came ten o'clock, and the young ones were sent off;
and from beginning to end that had been a Christmas day of
unbroken and unclouded pleasure. Ellen's last act was to take
another look at her Cologne bottle, gloves, pincushion,
grapes, and paper of sugar-plums, which were laid side by side
carefully in a drawer.