CHRISTMAS CELEBRATIONS
Ann did not mind Maurice’s joking ways. How serious he was she
had no means of knowing, but his manner was perfectly respectful
and courteous, nor did he presume on the relationship. She began,
nevertheless, to have more than one thought about the future. Kendall
Gordon’s letters came with great regularity, whether she wrote in reply
or had postponed it in the multiplicity of school duties. Clifford,
too, began to write oftener and to give Ann more of a glimpse of the
“real Cliff” than she had ever had. He wrote of school, the home people
and of his plans for the future. It would almost seem that Clifford was
trying to keep her in remembrance of her home and of what they had in
common. “Do you remember”--this or that?--he would write, or “When you
come home next summer, we can do”--this or that.
Suppose Maurice were not Aunt Sue’s son, what then? And if not, what
reason had there been for bringing him up not to know it? If Aunt Sue
had been “mad” or jealous of the first wife, the more natural thing
would have been to take it out on Maurice, instead of bringing him up
as her own. Ah, but Grandmother’s money! Maurice would not be entitled
to any if he were not Aunt Sue’s son! Could that be the reason? Did
Aunt Sue think of that so long ago? Well, it was a puzzle. But probably
there was nothing in what Mrs. Lewis had told her. Yet there would be
no counting on what Aunt Sue would do in any case. She was the funniest
woman! So Ann turned over matters in her young mind. She began to
notice Maurice and Aunt Sue, looking to see if Maurice looked like
her. He did not look much like his father. She had considered that
he was like Aunt Sue because in general he was fair. But was he? His
blond hair had grown a little darker since Ann first saw him. His eyes
were not like Aunt Sue’s, a dark grey, or blue-grey, she guessed, with
dark lashes, while Aunt Sue’s were blue, or had been. Maurice had a
distinguished profile. So had Aunt Sue and Grandmother, but Maurice’s
features were like those of neither. Well, well! “‘All of which goes to
prove that music is both elevating and refining,’ as Cliff likes to say
when something proves nothing!”
The next day Madeline came to call, happening to arrive at the same
time as Ronald Bentley and Jack Hudson, who came to plan the week’s
festivities. This meeting did not cause Madeline any pain, as Maurice
wickedly whispered to Ann when he had a good chance. But Madeline and
Suzanne rather absorbed the attention of Maurice and Jack, leaving Ann
to Ronald, who entertained Ann with pictures of Florida life and what
they would do when the Bentleys had their yacht ready for the “briny.”
“It does not look much like ocean travel here,” said Ann. “The wind
just howled last night and I can’t associate December with any balmy
days such as you describe.”
“It’s probably a little uncomfortable in the sun to-day in Miami,” said
Ronald. “I don’t expect you to believe me, though. But I’ll prove it to
you. We’re off the day after Christmas. When do you start?”
“Uncle Tyson said that we would spend New Year’s in Florida, so I
suppose they mean to start soon after Christmas.”
“We start when the Bentleys do,” said Maurice, who had overheard. “We
school folks would not have much time there, if we didn’t get off
early. Luckily there is some sort of an educational meeting, which
gives us an extra week of vacation. Come on, folks, let’s go into the
library and plan our campaign.”
There were other callers in the drawing room and that was the reason
for Maurice’s suggestion. The six young people immediately repaired to
the library, where Maurice drew up chairs to the table.
“This is a Pan-American or Pan-Something conference,” said Maurice,
opening a drawer for paper and taking out his fountain pen. “First,
what do we do next?”
“Take the girls bob-sledding down the hill beyond the mills, tonight,”
answered Ronald Bentley.
“Good,” said Maurice, writing it down, with the date. “Will you accept
the proposition, young ladies?”
“_Avec beaucoup de plaisir, messieurs_,” simpered Madeline, while the
other girls gave assent by smiles and nods to Maurice, as he looked at
each in turn.
“That will be fun,” declared Ann.
“What next?” Maurice balanced his pen on his finger and looked
inquiringly at the other boys for suggestions. The girls, as those to
be invited, had no suggestions to offer.
“Old-fashioned sled party, oysters at the hotel, wherever we happen to
go.” This was Ronald again.
“Still good, if the ladies approve.” As no dissenting voice was heard,
Maurice made a second note. “Next?”
“The next night is the reception at Ron’s, Maury,” said Jack.
“Sure enough; and the next night we have our own Christmas Eve doings.”
“We can go somewhere afternoons, can’t we?” inquired Jack.
“If we get home early enough,” said Suzanne.
“We’ll do that, if you say so. Either afternoon tea somewhere or
dinner, as you like. Two afternoon sleighing parties, then, Maury. Put
’em down! Now somebody will have to telephone the other folks. Make out
a list, girls, for the whole thing.”
“The evening receptions are already planned and invitations out,”
suggested Suzanne.
“Certainly. I meant our little private performances. Want anybody else
to-night?”
“Too much bother, Jack,” said Maurice, to the delight of Madeline, who
feared a change of escorts. “But we’ll get some of the other young
folks for the sled ride and the sleighing parties.”
“Not too many, Maury,” said Suzanne.
“The list is entirely in your hands, my dear sister.” Maurice thought
of one more possible amusement, but did not mention it because he
wanted Ann’s company, not Madeline’s. This was skating, for two or
three hours in the morning. He would tell Jack to ask Suzanne, if he
wanted to. How would he put it? Yes, he would be taking Ann to the
“pond,” wouldn’t Jack like to come along with somebody?
Suzanne and Madeline bent their heads together to consider whom to
ask. It did not take long to select several couples among their good
friends, and Suzanne handed the list to Maurice, who read it aloud.
“If there are no objections, I withdraw, with great regret, to the
telephone!”
“I’ll do it for you, Maury,” said Madeline, “if you will hold the list
and look up the numbers.”
“Self-sacrificing girl!” exclaimed Maurice. “I would be too fluttered
to look up the numbers, if any of you ladies were present.” Maurice,
with this, escaped.
“Ridiculous boy!” Suzanne exclaimed. “Let him alone. He will be through
the quicker, Madeline.” Suzanne had no particular desire to hurry,
but Maurice had given her foot a nudge with his own under the table,
and well she knew how he would suffer under Madeline’s flirtatious
management of the telephoning. Besides, he would most likely, when
Madeline was telephoning, summon her away from congenial society, to
assist Madeline, claiming some problem or other. Maurice had been
expert in escaping from Madeline even in the old days, when she and
Madeline were such friends.
* * * * *
Jack was ready to make the fourth in the morning’s skating. There was
a pair of skates for Ann, left over from last year, when they had been
procured for her. The “pond,” as they called it, had been blown clear
of snow, and following the partial melting and the following hard
freeze, was as smooth as glass.
“Do I skate as well as Clifford Hart?” asked Maurice, while he and Ann
sped down the length of the small body of water, now frozen so hard.
Rosy-cheeked Ann looked up at her escort in surprise. “Of course you
do. Why?”
“No reason, except that I should prefer to do so. Cliff is such an
example, you know.”
“Now when did I ever tell you that?”
“Never. You would not be so impolite, sweet cousin. I merely gathered
it this summer, among the Montana wild flowers, as it were.”
“Please don’t make fun of Clifford. He does not pretend to be a saint,
and I don’t like to hear you speak in that way of him!”
“I admire Mr. Hart very much.”
“Maurice! I didn’t think that you were like ‘Beano!’”
“Gracious! How to please her!”
“Some way I didn’t like your tone when you spoke of Clifford. But I’m
wrong to take it up so. Please forgive me, Maurice. Maybe you can’t
help it if you don’t like Clifford.”
“I never said that I didn’t like him, sweet cousin; but he likes you
too well, and I fear me that you like him. See? Plain jealousy.”
“Nonsense. There are a lot of interesting young men. I’m not in love
with any one.”
“Some consolation, Ann. Ann, I heard a bit of gossip again yesterday.
It is something that I heard last summer from one of the boys and
worried over, then thought that I had traced it to a person who makes
up anything, I’m told, out of whole cloth. But it came from another
source this time, and I’m going to Father with it, how soon I haven’t
made up my mind.”
“Is it about yourself, Maurice?”
“Yes; have you heard it?”
“I heard something, but it came from an unreliable source. It seems so
unbelievable, too. It is nothing to your discredit, Maurice.”
Ann added the last statement, for she thought that Maurice might refer
to some other report, about some college escapade or affairs among the
young folks.
Maurice was silent and they glided along without a word for some
distance.
“Who told you and what was said?” he finally asked.
“It was Mrs. Lewis, that woman who, I am told, is such an indefatigable
gossip; but I’d rather not speak of the matter first.”
“She seizes on an unpleasant report and holds on to it like a dog to a
bone!” said Maurice. “I heard it first through her, when I came back
from the West this summer, not from her directly, though. It is going
to make considerable difference to me, Ann, whether it is true or not.”
“Yes, and yet----”
“It would explain some things that I remember, too. And Ann, we would
not be related, you know, though I think it would be all right for us
to marry anyhow.”
“Let’s not talk of that, Maury, _please_!”
“All right, but you will admit that I like to think of some
consolation!”
“I haven’t an idea that it is true, Maury. Why worry? When you think
best, report it to your father, as you said you would. That is my way.
I’d go to headquarters.”
“Do you suppose that I can believe headquarters?”
“Did your father ever deceive you?”
“No,--I can’t say that Dad ever did. Mother, though, can get around
anything.”
“I have found that out.”
“I want to get hold of Dad when Mother is not around. Perhaps this trip
would be a good time.”
“Perhaps it would. You want to get it off your mind, Maury. I’m awfully
sorry that you are worried.”
“I believe that you are, Ann. Because you are you, must be why I am
bothering you with my worries.”
“I don’t consider it ‘bothering.’ Please enjoy your vacation, Maurice.”
“I will, Ann. You are a good adviser. And I suppose that if I were glum
and worried it would spoil your good time, too.”
“It most certainly would! O Maurice, I’m having such a good time now,
and think of going to Florida in just a few days! I can’t believe it!”
“Let me see you enjoy it, then. That is all I ask.”
“Oh, we’ll all have a wonderful time together. Suzanne is almost as
crazy as I am about it. I wish that Jack were going. She likes him, I
think.”
“Do you?” laughed Maurice. “Then she will be happy, for Jack is going
with Ron. He told me this morning. We’ll all sing ‘Begone dull care’
and make a playtime of it. I’ll promise you not to worry. Of course, I
can’t help thinking of it sometimes.”
“I suppose not. When you do, come around and I’ll try to make you
laugh. But if it is going to be on your mind, you’d better see your
father right away.”
“I’ll see. It is rather a delicate matter to broach, Ann, and we have
not been in the habit of being as free with our parents as you are with
your father. Your relation with your parents seems ideal to me.”
“I take all my problems to Dad,” said Ann. “Mother is lovely, too, but
we try to spare her a little, he and I.”
* * * * *
Mr. Sterling declared that the young people of the family would be such
wrecks after all the going of Christmas week that they would not be
able to go to Florida when the time came, but Ann told him that he did
not realize what constitutions they had. “We thrive on sleigh rides and
parties,” she asserted.
“Time will tell,” replied Mr. Sterling, shaking his head with what was
intended to be a mournful expression but rather failed of effect.
Rides, little talks, feasting and visiting, the exciting event at
the Bentleys, where Suzanne and Ann appeared in all the glory of new
frocks, and last, the grand finale at the LeRoy mansion, on Christmas
eve, made up the tale of the days before Christmas. Christmas day would
be quiet, a welcome rest, even with its excitement of gift giving and
receiving. But the older part of the family had arranged most of that.
Most of the packing for departure, too, had been done before the girls
and Maurice came home from college. Ann had selected her clothes, when
she came home, with a view to Florida, bringing what her mother had
directed.
The family slept late on Christmas morning, with the exception of Madge
and Roy, who had their own Christmas tree in the nursery. There was
usually a big tree for all; but when it was decided to have this last
Christmas Eve entertainment, the plan was changed. Other gifts, beside
those of the children, were to be found in various places, Ann’s on a
chair by her bedside, where she could examine them before she rose. It
was strange to her, though she enjoyed her gifts, for their beauty and
for their givers. But always before she had had some one with whom to
share the fun. Last year, to be sure, she was away from home, but there
was the tree. She would not disturb her mother and father, who were,
without doubt, sleeping the sleep of the just. How quiet the house
was! Later they would all go to church in the village, then have their
family dinner.
One present from Maurice pleased her, a handsomely bound book of
verse, an anthology, in which he had marked some poems, not for their
sentimental meaning, Ann discovered, with the exception of one. She
would take that book to read on the way. Ann had not known that Maurice
was at all inclined to verse, or, indeed, to any sort of literature.
While she lay among her soft pillows she thought of many things, among
them, how easy it was to misjudge people. On that lovely winter morning
with its message of good will, it was easy to think kind thoughts, even
toward Aunt Sue, who was, in truth, the head of a very successful and
comfortable home.
Ann decided to take one more nap, after she had finished looking
over her gifts; nor did she waken till Adeline rapped. “Here is your
breakfast, Miss Ann,” she said, “and your mother says that you will
just about have time to eat it and get ready for church.”