THE SURPRISE BOOK
[Illustration: _Marjorie might hold the lantern and he’d see what was
there._ (_Page 167_)]
THE
SURPRISE BOOK
BY
PATTEN BEARD
_Author of
“The Jolly Year,” “The Bluebird’s Garden”
“The Good Crow’s Happy Shop”_
_Illustrated by Alice Beard_
[Illustration]
THE PILGRIM PRESS
BOSTON CHICAGO
COPYRIGHT 1918
BY PATTEN BEARD
THE PILGRIM PRESS
BOSTON
[Illustration: THIS BOOK OF STORIES ABOUT THE BOYS AND GIRLS WHO ARE MY
FRIENDS I DEDICATE TO
Nall Candler
BECAUSE HE HAS ENJOYED “THE BLUEBIRD’S GARDEN” AND “THE JOLLY YEAR,”
AND I WANT HIM TO HAVE THIS BOOK FOR HIS VERY OWN]
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I. The Surprise Book that Dotty Made 3
II. The December Surprise, The Telephone Santa Claus 13
III. The January Surprise, The Penny Bank Window 35
IV. The February Surprise, Angelina’s Valentine 51
V. The March Surprise, Buttinski, Peacemaker 63
VI. The April Surprise, Angelina’s Bird-Flower 77
VII. The May Surprise, Marjorie’s Mystery 91
VIII. The June Surprise, The Two Little Bates Girls 103
IX. The July Surprise, Arne’s Fourth of July Battle 115
X. The August Surprise, The Blackberry Adventure 129
XI. The September Surprise, Betty Crusoe 147
XII. The October Surprise, The Magical Circle 159
XIII. The November Surprise, Ermelinda’s Family 173
XIV. The First December Surprise, The Directory Santa Claus 185
XV. The Second December Surprise, Mary Elizabeth’s Soldierly
Christmas 195
Conclusion 209
_The Surprise Book That Dotty Made_
_I_
_The Surprise Book That Dotty Made_
The Surprise Book was Marjorie’s, but it really belonged to Dotty also,
Marjorie said. It was Dotty who had made it once upon a time when she
had not been able to go to school because of a snowstorm and a snuffy
cold. The combination of cold and snowstorm was more or less a lucky
mixture, so Marjorie argued. At any rate, if it had not been for these,
maybe there never would have been Marjorie’s Surprise Book. You shall
hear about it.
It began just after Marjorie, wrapped in storm-coat and arctics,
had left for school. Dotty was sitting upon a carpet hassock by the
fireside. The fire snapped and crackled pleasantly but Dotty frowned.
“I wanted to go to school with Marjorie, too,” she said for about the
forty-eleventh time since nine o’clock. “There isn’t anything to do!”
“Nothing to do!” exclaimed Mother. “Why not make a Surprise Book, Dot?”
“How?” inquired Dotty, turning around to face Mother in sudden
interest. “_How?_”
“Oh, it’s quite simple,” Mother returned. “You will find it ever so
much fun. I used to make Surprise Books when I was a little girl.
They’re made in scrapbooks. You know how to make a scrapbook, Dot,
don’t you?”
Dotty nodded. “I just take some brown wrapping-paper an’ fold it ever
so many times an’ then I cut the folds into leaves. When I have ever so
many leaves, I cut a cover for ’em an’ I tie the cover to the leaves
with a ribbon. It goes through the centre of the book an’ ties at the
back like a sash.”
Mother nodded. “That’s it. To make a Surprise Book you first make a
scrapbook that way. Then, one at a time, you fold each leaf of the
scrapbook twice. You begin by taking the first leaf. You fold its
upper corner down till its edge runs parallel with the centre of the
scrapbook’s leaves. Then you take the lower corner and fold this up in
the same way. It makes a pocket and one can put things into this pocket
and seal them tight with a pretty paper seal like those used to seal
Christmas packages.”
“What do you do it for?” asked Dotty. “Why do you put things into the
pockets and seal them?”
Mother laughed. “Why, Dot,” she explained. “You put the things into
the pockets as surprises because you give the Surprise Book away to
somebody that you love very much. Every pocket holds a surprise when it
is sealed fast. You write on each pocket the exact time when it is to
be opened and the one you love very much must open the pockets and find
the surprises only when the time falls due. Do you see?”
Dotty beamed. “I see,” she chuckled. “I’m going to make a Surprise Book
right away. What can I put into it for Marjorie to find?”
There was a silence while Mother rocked back and forth in the big
old-fashioned rocker as she ran her needle in and out of the hole she
was mending in Marjorie’s stocking, and thought. “Suppose you cut nice
stories out of magazines and put one in each pocket,” she suggested.
“There’s a pile of story-papers up in the attic. I’ll get them for you.
You might find twelve stories, one for every month of the year, and you
might make the Surprise Book for Marjorie’s Christmas present.”
Dotty jumped up and down. “Oh, hurry, hurry!” she begged. “I want to
begin right away. Marjorie will be coming home soon and she mustn’t
know anything about it. Can I put other things into the pockets of the
Surprise Book too? What can I put in?”
“All manner of things that one could put into small space like
that--picture-cards, paper dolls, transfer pictures, little verses and
games that you find in magazines--’most everything that will lie flat.
You can try it and think of things to put into the Surprise Book’s
pockets.”
Hooray! That was an idea! Dotty knew of a flat penwiper that she could
make out of flannel. _That_ would go in flat--and there might be a
penny all wrapped up in paper, maybe. Such a thing as this would be
simply a splendid surprise. Each pocket should hold something new and
wonderful except the pocket that was to be for April Fool’s Day. That
pocket should hold only a blank piece of paper folded up tight to
feel as if it were going to be a surprise. There’d be nothing at all
in it, when Marjorie broke the seal! What a joke! And every month’s
holiday should have a pocket, too! Dotty chuckled. Old Christmas cards
would now find a new use. Valentines and Easter gift cards would go
into the Surprise Book, too. And every month there would be a story
pocket in the book! What fun! As soon as she had made the brown paper
scrapbook, she fell to work folding its leaves--first, top corner over
and down; next, lower corner up toward it to make a three-cornered
pocket. The book had twenty-four leaves, two surprises for every
month. First of all, Dotty put the penwiper into the first pocket for
a Christmas surprise. She sealed it with a holly seal. Then into the
next pocket, she put a January surprise and a January story followed.
So it went through all the year. It was exciting trying to find stories
that fitted the different months, but the story-papers helped because
Mother had kept them in file, month by month. Dotty had only to look
the papers over and cut out the story she imagined might best please
Marjorie. She worked very hard indeed. All day she worked, while it
snowed outside. It seemed quite lucky, then, that Marjorie stayed away
so long. It wasn’t really lonely without her!
And at last, with some help and suggestions from Mother, the Surprise
Book was done! It was a big three-cornered book that seemed quite
bulky. As Dot held it, she felt that Marjorie would surely like it and
she couldn’t bear to keep it till Christmas. Christmas was so far away
yet! There were four more days till Christmas Eve! But, nevertheless,
because the Surprise Book was to be a Christmas present, Mother and Dot
did it up, finally, in nice, fresh, white tissue paper and tied the
parcel together with bright red ribbon. It was a splendid present!
When Christmas came, the Surprise Book was placed under the tree and
Dotty left all her own presents while she urged Marjorie to open the
big package that was tied with red ribbons. “You’ll like it,” she
laughed. “I made it for you. It’s a book of surprises that last all
through the year--it really is a Surprise Book because there’s so much
fun in it!”
Then Marjorie tore off the paper and red ribbon. When she saw and
understood jail about it, she said she would make Dotty a promise and
the promise was that every time there fell due a story, she’d read it
aloud to Dotty each month.
So, here in this book are the stories that Marjorie read to Dotty,
the stories that were in Marjorie’s Surprise Book, together with the
penwiper, the Valentine, the St. Patrick’s favor for March, the April
Fool, the paper May-basket, the four-leaf clover for June. Beside
these, there were a great many other nice things that came in the
pockets that were not filled with the stories. You shall hear about
them all yourself, as you turn the pages here.
_The Telephone Santa Claus_
_THE DECEMBER SURPRISE_
_Of course, you know as well as Dotty that there was a penwiper in the
first Christmas pocket. The writing on that pocket said,_
“_Not to be opened till after you have seen all your presents from
the Christmas tree on Christmas Eve._”
_Marjorie liked the penwiper ever so much. She said it could be used
at school. It was made of round red circles of cloth and had a button
sewed at its centre. The story pocket was quite bulky and it said,_
“_Open on Christmas Eve for a bed-time story._”
_Marjorie read it aloud as she and Dot curled up in a big cosy
comfortable at bed-time. They had to have a very special dispensation
from Mother. She said that the Surprise Book story that came on
Christmas Eve might keep the bed-time light lit till it was finished.
So Marjorie read aloud, “The Telephone Santa Claus.”_
_II_
_The Telephone Santa Claus_
The shops were full of Christmas toys. There were Christmas greens
and fir trees everywhere. Big ribbon-trimmed holly wreaths began to
appear in front windows and everybody in the streets carried Christmas
bundles. At this time, too, Mary Louise, who lived in the large and
beautiful house with mother and daddy, and who was the only little girl
they had, began to plan what she should ask Santa Claus to bring her.
Can anybody ever have too many toys? Mary Louise had a whole toy closet
full. There were certain “very best toys” put by nurse on the top
shelf for special occasions and there were countless “every day toys,”
some of them a bit broken, but a great many of them quite whole and
splendid, ever so much nicer than the toys that Mary Louise’s little
friends had to play with. Still, Mary Louise wanted more toys. The list
that she was now writing in her round, wiggly handwriting had already
covered several sheets of large pad paper that nurse had given her.
Mary Louise sat at the big flat desk in the library. Her velvet dress
was almost lost in the big arm-chair that was daddy’s favorite. Behind
her was a cheerful fire on the hearth and it snapped and crackled
joyously. Mary Louise’s blue eyes travelled about the room as if
seeking fresh inspiration in the objects that they rested upon. She
already had everything, but she wanted more, and so she put the pencil
on the paper and continued the letter to Santa Claus.
“I want two new Teddy bears, the biggest you have, Santa Claus,” the
pencil said. “I want one that is pure white like snow and another that
is furry and brown. Both should have a squeak and if you have any that
will growl, I’d like that kind, too.
“I want a white doll carriage lined with pink satin. They have them
at Bunty’s Department Store, for I saw them once and they cost
twenty-five dollars. I want a big doll to go in it. I want a whole
wardrobe of clothes for it, a new doll cradle, and it must have a pink
silk dress, too. I want a doll that will open and shut its eyes--one
with real hair. It must talk, too.
“You can bring me, beside this, a boy doll with a sled and all the
different kinds of clothes that a little boy ought to wear. I want a
real toy automobile with a horn and a lamp--not the kind that is like
a tricycle, because I already have one like that--I mean the real kind
that runs with gasoline. They cost a hundred and twenty-five dollars,
maybe a little more, but I don’t think you mind what they cost.
“I want a doll house that is nicer than the one you gave me before. It
ought to be big enough for me to go into myself and I would like to
have it built up in the garden like a real house. You can put it down
by the greenhouses because it will be too big to bring into our house
or carry down the chimney, I know. And then too I want--”
Mary Louise’s blue eyes considered the ceiling for a space of time:
“I want a ring like mother’s--one with a blue stone in it,” she added.
While she was trying to think of something else to ask for, the door of
the library opened and in walked Mary Louise’s big daddy. He glanced
for a minute at Mary Louise and he took up the telephone.
Mary Louise’s daddy was busy there several minutes. He watched Mary
Louise nibbling the end of her pencil and he looked over her shoulder
at the letter. As he did so, a smile crossed his face. “Writing to
Santa Claus, Mary Louise?” he asked when he put down the receiver.
“I was wondering what to ask for next,” Mary Louise informed him. “I
think I’ll ask for another pony. Nibbles is very nice, of course, but
I’d rather like one that will trot faster. I think I’d like a white
pony with a white kid harness and a white basket-cart.”
“You’re asking for a great many things, aren’t you?” daddy suggested.
“Maybe it might be well to close the letter now. I’ll take it with me
and mail it on the way down town--better address the envelope.”
“I might think of something more,” remonstrated Mary Louise. But she
folded the six sheets of pad paper and put them into the envelope that
daddy held out. Then she addressed it to Mr. Santa Claus, Santa Claus
Land, Santa Claus Country, North Pole, exactly as nurse had told her.
Daddy put it into his overcoat pocket as Mary Louise had seen him put
letters that he posted for mother. Then as the library door closed, she
plumped herself down upon the thick black fur rug in front of the fire
to look at a picture book.
She had not been there very long when the telephone bell rang. James
didn’t come as he ought and Marie was upstairs, so Mary Louise
incommoded herself by getting up from the rug to answer it. It had
already rung three times and she was quite ready to scold Marie for not
answering it. But she did not have the chance as Marie still did not
come. So Mary Louise took up the receiver. “Hello!” she called.
“Hello,” came a cheery answer.
“What is it?” inquired Mary Louise.
“I want to talk to Miss Mary Louise Snow,” came the answer. “I’m Santa
Claus.”
“Oh, I’m her!” gasped Mary Louise. “I’m--I’m her!” Never before had
Santa Claus called Mary Louise up by telephone! Never had she spoken to
him except for a few brief minutes at a Christmas party celebration.
“You are,” returned the voice. “Well, I’m glad you are at home, Mary
Louise. There’s something very special that I want to talk about. It’s
almost time for me to receive your usual Christmas letter. I suppose
there are a great many things that you will want. Have you been a good
little girl this year?”
“Sometimes,” Mary Louise faltered. “I have tried very hard not to have
tantrums. Maybe I did once or twice but I tried not to say things when
Marie _would_ unsnarl my hair.”
“Have you learned your multiplication tables?”
“Up to sevens,” answered Mary Louise. “I think I can say them, but I
can’t _always_ remember what seven times nine is and I forget seven
times twelve.”
“That sounds as if you had tried fairly well,” the voice of Santa
Clause commented. “There are a great many Christmas presents that you
would like, I suppose?”
“Yes,” returned Mary Louise, “Oh, yes, Santa Claus! I just wrote you my
letter and I hadn’t quite finished it when daddy came in and took it to
mail, so maybe I’ll write another later on. I didn’t ask for any games
or things. I might send another letter when I think of what I want.
If you like, I will tell you the things that I asked for in my first
letter if I can remember them. I want a big, big doll that can talk,
and it must have real hair and shut and open its eyes and it must have
blue eyes and real eye-lashes too. I asked for a pink silk dress and
gloves, I think--I can’t remember. And there were to be two big Teddy
bears with a growl and a squeak _both_--very big bears, one pure white
and the other furry and brown. I want a white pony, too, and a white
cart and harness. The letter will tell you all about _that_--I forget
all that I said in the letter,” she explained. “It was ’most six pages
long of big pad paper.”
“That was rather long,” chuckled Santa Claus.
“Yes,” smiled Mary Louise, “but I think I forgot to say that I wanted
gloves for the doll.”
“I’m not sure I can bring the gloves,” Santa Claus said. “I think,
however, that I might get the doll to you. Would you rather have a doll
than the two Teddy bears?”
“I want _both_,” replied Mary Louise. It seemed strange that Santa
Claus should not understand a thing, as simple as _that_! “Teddy bears
are very po-pular, I know, but I guess you must have ever so many and
you’ve usually brought me nicer things than you’ve given other little
girls that I know.”
“Well, maybe I can bring a Teddy bear, if there’s one left over, Mary
Louise, but I’m not at all sure I can bring the pony this year, you
know. I’m afraid I’ve got to cut down on your presents, Mary Louise.
That’s why I called up. I have something very, very important to ask
you. I want to know if you can help me? I’m trying to distribute my
gifts more--more properly this year. You know, of course, Mary Louise,
that there are ever so many little children that do not get Christmas
presents, especially in war time.”
“Are there?” inquired Mary Louise. “I suppose it’s the children who
have been naughty.”
“Oh, no.”
“What is it, then?”
“It’s not because I forget them or because they are naughty,”
explained Santa Claus’ voice. “It’s because too many goodies go to the
rich little children. Then the poor little children who would like
toys--they have nothing.”
“Oh,” gasped Mary Louise. “Then, I suppose you’ve given me more than my
share?”
“I’m afraid so,” answered Santa.
“Don’t the poor children have _anything_?”
“Sometimes I’ve given to the wrong people,” came the evasive answer.
“You see, I have a great deal to do. I ought to have a lot of people
to help me. How can one person do it _all_! Sometimes I don’t find the
right children and I use up the things that grow in the Santa Claus
Land and then I have nothing left after the long, long lists are made
up for the very particular little rich children.”
“Oh, dear!”
“Yes, that’s why. Do you want to give up some of your things this year
so that they can go to the poor children?”
Mary Louise reflected. “Which?” she asked. “Do you mean the doll or the
pony or the automobile or the new doll house?”
“You have about a hundred dolls, haven’t you?”
“No,” corrected Mary Louise, “only just seventy-six, counting the
little bits of china ones in the doll house. Without these there are
about forty--but only twenty are big ones.”
“Well,” chuckled Santa Claus, “that seems to me a good deal too many.
You _could_ give up the doll, I think. Suppose that _you_ were a little
girl who had never had any doll ever!”
“Well, but I’d like the pink doll--”
“I’ll tell you what,” Santa Claus suggested. “You think things over.
Maybe I’ll find that I _can_ spare a pink doll for you, after all. But
I want you to help me look out for some of the poor children this year
and I want you to buy at least six presents out of your very own money.
I want you to find some children that I ought to know about. I want you
to help them for me. I’ll telephone you some addresses where there are
little poor children and you must write these down and keep them and
see that the boys and girls have proper Christmas presents. Will you do
it?”
“Oh, yes, Mr. Santa Claus, gladly,” returned Mary Louise. “I have
nineteen dollars in my bank, I think. My daddy will help me.”
“No, I don’t want your daddy to help you. It’s to be your very own
money!”
“All right. I’ll not ask him. Of course I want to help you, Mr. Santa
Claus. I’ll love to do it.”
“Well, good-bye. If I can, I’ll come on Christmas eve to your tree. You
do the very best you can, Mary Louise, and invite the poor children to
share your tree!”
The receiver was hung up at the other end of the line and Mary Louise
stood bewildered before the library table where she had just written
her long Christmas list. She stood there thinking it all over from
beginning to end. She, _she_ had been asked to help Santa Claus! It was
a great distinction! Poor overworked Santa Claus had appealed to her as
a very rich little girl who already had everything--and she mightn’t
get the pink doll at all!
Then Mary Louise could not keep the secret any longer and she dashed up
the stairs to mother’s room. She wouldn’t let mother go out of the room
till she had told her the whole story and mother had a very important
engagement and was all ready to go out in the car. Together they
emptied Mary Louise’s bank and counted out exactly nineteen dollars and
fifty-three cents. Mary Louise wanted to take it and start right out
in the car to buy the presents, but with difficulty mother explained
that she had better wait till Santa Claus sent in the names and she had
found out what the children wanted.
And Santa Claus did telephone the names. Mary Louise was at dinner and
James answered the telephone. Mary Louise felt badly that she had not
been called, but there was no need to take her away from dinner; James
had the addresses on the telephone pad, mother said. She was sure they
were right.
Mary Louise wished daddy were home. It seemed to her that he would
never come. As she felt sure she would need to buy a tree for the
Christmas party, she got nurse to take her to that shop in the
afternoon. But it is wonderful to think that a Christmas tree costs
money! Before this, Mary Louise had never considered the subject. It
was a very tall tree and it was an expensive tree. The charge for it
ate into the nineteen dollars and fifty-three cents considerably. The
things that went onto the tree must all be new. Santa Claus must see
that Mary Louise had bought new ones to please him. So she bought
ever so many-stars and birds, and balls of red, yellow, blue, green,
white, silver, gold. And there was need of tinsel. If Mary Louise had
had her own way, she would have spent almost all the nineteen dollars
and fifty-three cents just on that tree without thinking of the
consequences. Why, if she had, how could she have bought any presents
for the poor children?
Next day, after having told daddy all about it, she wrote to the
addresses that Santa Claus had given her. She wrote the letters in ink
and used her very bestest best blue note-paper. All the letters were
sealed with a Santa Claus sticker. It did take a great deal of time, I
assure you.
The invitations were to Mamie and Johnnie and Toby Smith. They were to
Tony Pettino and Lily Wicks and Benny Wicks who lived in a part of the
city Mary Louise had never seen. Nurse said it was a very sad part of
the city. When Mary Louise asked if she might go there and see it and
see the children, nurse said she guessed Santa Claus didn’t know what
he was talking about--she guessed _not_. Mary Louise insisted, but all
in vain. Santa Claus had told her what the children’s ages were and
left the gifts to Mary Louise’s selection.
When daddy had taken the letters to the poor children in his overcoat
pocket to mail, Mary Louise fell to planning about the gifts. Only one
little girl--all boys! How dreadful! But mother helped Mary Louise by
suggesting things that little boys might like. From her own playthings
Mary Louise selected her biggest doll for Lily and would have given her
ever so many other dolls, had not mother thought that Mary Louise might
add other little girls to her Christmas list of poor children and make
the helping of Santa Claus more equally distributed among those who
might otherwise be forgotten.
How fast the nineteen dollars and fifty-three cents did go--just buying
the tree and the fixings, and the sled and the overcoat and mittens,
and skates, and carts, and baseball bats! It was a tragic moment when
Mary Louise suddenly discovered that Benny had been neglected and
didn’t have as many gifts as the others. She consulted daddy, as there
were no boys’ toys among her playthings and nothing seemed right. Daddy
said--well, he said she might work and earn the money to buy Benny a
present.
Never in her life had Mary Louise worked to earn money! “How can I earn
money?” she asked.
Daddy thought. “If you will learn the seven times seven table, and the
eight, and the nine and any of the others, I’ll give you a dollar for
every one you can say perfectly. That’s very special, Mary Louise,
because it’s Christmas, you know.”
Dear me! To think of having to sit down quietly in all the excitement
of Christmas rush and learn horrid multiplication tables! If anything
was work, that surely was!
But where there’s a will there’s a way and Mary Louise did it. She
did it so well that she remembered all of the seven table perfectly.
She also went on and learned the eight and nine table and the ten
table--that was easy. Then, being quite enthusiastic, she tried hard at
the others and mastered the twelve table after keeping at it a steady
day. With the proceeds of these earnings, paid gravely by daddy, she
was able to buy Benny a game, and when she went to buy it and found
some little poor children right by the car that stopped at the entrance
of Bunty’s Department Store, she was able to invite them then and there
and go right in and buy presents for them. They needed woolen scarfs
and mittens, and Mary Louise had found presents on the toy shelf among
the toys kept for very special occasions. These would do for them.
When once Mary Louise had started to help Santa Claus, there was no
knowing where she would end. Whenever she went out, she saw little
children whom she was sure Santa Claus had forgotten because they
looked so wistfully in at shop windows. Some of them nurse let her
speak to and she added these to her list for the party. There seemed
to be no table of thirteens to learn but daddy gave a dollar for every
poem she could recite and Mary Louise knew ever so many and it was easy
to learn short ones.
Oh, dear! Oh, dear! How the time did fly! Before Mary Louise knew it,
Christmas Eve was there! There had been all the fun of fixing the tree
and daddy and mother had helped. Mary Louise hoped Santa Claus wouldn’t
disappoint her! She hoped that he surely would come! She was very much
relieved when James came in and said that he had just been asked to
deliver a message that came from Santa Claus over the telephone. It was
a telegram and it said:
Will be at your Christmas party Christmas Eve eight o’clock.
SANTA CLAUS.
After that, Mary Louise didn’t worry. She let Marie take the tangles
out of her hair and help her into her very best pink silk dress and
then she dashed downstairs to wait for all the guests who had been
invited to come. She wanted to play games with them and she wanted
to tell them all about Santa Claus and she hoped they would like to
sing carols and dance around the tree--but most of all she hoped that
they would like the presents she had arranged for them at Santa Claus’
suggestion. Oh, wouldn’t it be fun to see Santa Claus give out the big
white Teddy bear and the big brown fuzzy bear and the pink doll and the
cart and the skates and--and--
But here the doorbell rang and there was a scuffle of happy feet. It
was Lily and Benny and Tony and all the rest. They were as happy as
happy could be. Mary Louise greeted them all and then they beamed upon
her almost as if she were Santa Claus herself, but I just wish you
could have heard the shrieks of delight when the front doorbell rang
and James ushered in Santa Claus himself! It was just too bad that
daddy wasn’t there to see all the fun, though mother did hope that
maybe he might be able to come later. Oh, what a good time they all did
have! It was the very best and happiest Christmas that Mary Louise had
ever, ever, _ever_ had! It was wonderful!
Why, Mary Louise had such a good time that she forgot all about the
pink doll till Santa Claus came and gave it to her, after giving
out all the other gifts. It was the very doll that Mary Louise had
wanted, but she asked Santa Claus to be sure he could spare it and
that he had neglected nobody else to give _her_ the doll. He said he
guessed not--at least he hoped not, and then they sat on the sofa
and ate ice cream together while Santa Claus joked and told stories.
But he couldn’t stay very long, he said, and he had to go. Then just
afterwards, alas, in came daddy, who might have met Santa Claus, if
only he had got there a wee bit sooner! And the children danced around
the tree and sang carols. And then they all wished Mary Louise a Happy
Christmas and went home with arms laden with packages that they hugged
tight and smiled and chuckled over.
After the children went, there was just mother and daddy left. They
both kissed Mary Louise and vowed that they’d have another party again
next year, maybe. Then daddy took Mary Louise upon his knee and put a
little blue ring upon her finger. It was the kind of a ring that Mary
Louise had wanted--one just like mother’s, only little. And mother
told Mary Louise that _her_ Christmas present was the doll house. It
was coming as soon as possible. It was so big that one could play
inside and it was to be placed right close to the garden greenhouses.
It was a Christmas that Mary Louise never forgot and couldn’t forget,
even if it had not been for the blue ring and the multiplication
tables!
_The Penny Bank Window_
_THE JANUARY SURPRISE_
_The January surprise pocket had held a little picture calendar.
Marjorie had opened it according to directions that said_:
“_Open sometime when you want to write a letter._”
_As there was a Christmas thank-you letter to write upon the very first
day of January, Marjorie had opened that pocket and found the calendar.
Then she had looked to see just when she might open the story pocket.
The writing on this one said_:
“_Open on some Saturday afternoon, when you are sitting by the
fire._”
_The very first Saturday afternoon that came in January, Marjorie took
the Surprise Book and went to the fireside. She could not wait to find
out what was in the story pocket. She told Dotty that the time had come
for the story and Dotty curled happily at her feet on the rug while she
read “The Penny Bank Window” that was the January story._
_III_
_The Penny Bank Window_
“That penny bank is to blame for it all,” said Billy Williams. “If it
hadn’t been for the bank, nothing would have happened.” The bank was
quite full of pennies that Billy had been saving carefully ever since
his birthday. It had been given him then with nine times nine bright
pennies to put into it. That was because Billy was nine years old.
One afternoon Billy took up the china bank and shook it to hear it
rattle. Really, when the bank rattled, it made Billy feel tremendously
rich. There was almost a whole dollar in the bank by now! But right
here, out fell one dull penny and it rolled along the floor.
Billy let it roll till it stopped and the rattle of the bank seemed
quite as big without the missing penny, so he suddenly decided to spend
it--but for what? Why, just at that very minute, Billy felt hungry.
Mother was off at work and would not be home to get their dinner till
six. Billy was all alone in the rooms over the drygoods shop where he
lived with his mother. He had eaten the bread and butter that she left
out for his lunch and he was hungry. It suddenly dawned upon him that
he wanted a lollypop and that he could find a nice, sweet, red one at
the candy store around the corner. “All right!” beamed Billy. He put
the dull penny in his pocket and raced off to get the lollypop.
If it hadn’t been for the bank, there would not have been the lollypop.
If it had not been for the lollypop, there would have been no penny
bank window. So, you see, the bank _was_ responsible. Hardly had
Billy bought the red lollypop and torn the paper off than he became
quite absorbed in eating it--and he stepped down from the curb at the
street corner quite without looking. It was a careless thing to do,
for he didn’t see what was coming. What was coming happened to be an
automobile that rounded the corner without tooting its horn!
The doctor felt Billy all over and pronounced him a very lucky boy
indeed. “There might have been nothing left of you, my son,” said he.
“But there happens to be a good deal left in spite of the fact that
your foot got bumped into. You’ll have to keep quiet for a while; then
you’ll be as good as new.”
“I suppose I mightn’t be so lucky another time,” grinned Billy, “but
I guess I’ll be more careful in crossing streets. It’s the fault of
the lollypop.” But it didn’t seem very lucky to be hurt and have to
sit all day in a chair while mother was away. It was fearfully lonely.
Even though Mrs. Finger from the next-door flat brought in magazines
and two picture books; even though, after school, some of the boys came
in to play checkers and dominoes and they stayed as long as they could
when they really wanted to be outdoors with the other kids. Even though
Billy learned to knit for the soldiers; even though he snipped pillows
for the Red Cross, it was frightfully lonely till mother came home from
work.
After he watched the children pass on their way to school one morning,
his eyes roved across the yard where the leafless trees beyond shut
off the view of the roofs of other houses. Below in the quiet street
hopped sparrows. It was cold out there and they found nothing to eat.
Billy bent forward and lifted the window. From his breakfast tray that
mother had left, he took a slice of bread and tossed it far out. The
sparrows darted for it and chirped and twittered. Billy laughed. “Don’t
I wish they’d come up here to the window,” he sighed. “Guess I’ll try
it an’ see if they will.” And there was one venturesome sparrow who did
come! Billy was still watching him when the doctor came for his morning
visit.
“If I were you, Billy Williams, I’d start a bird window,” the doctor
suggested. “My little girl knows all about bird windows and she’s made
several at home. The birds come every day. That foot looks as if it
were doing well--suppose I ask my little girl to come in and make _you_
a bird window?”
Billy said he’d like it jim dandy. It really was awfully lonesome.
Nothing ever passed in the street. If there were birds to watch, it
would be fun. “You won’t forget about the bird window,” he cautioned,
as the doctor took up his grip to go. And the doctor said he surely
wouldn’t.
Knitting progressed that day rather slowly. All Billy’s bread went into
the street to the sparrows. But Billy had reached almost as far as the
end of his gray muffler in the afternoon--and the boys had come in
from school for a hasty, “Hello, kid, we’re glad you’re alive and gay!
We can’t stop because--” Yes, of course, they couldn’t come every day
but it was lonesome. Then there came a knock at the door and in came a
little girl. She was as bright and cheerful as her crimson cloak.
“Hello,” she greeted. “If you’re the boy that ate the lollypop and got
run into, I know all about you. I’m the doctor’s little girl. I came to
help you make a bird window--bird windows are my specialty, you know,”
she laughed.
“I’ve got some money, if you need to buy anything,” Billy announced.
“I want a real jim dandy window! You’ll make me a nice one, won’t you?
I like birds and animals, don’t you? I never had any pets but I always
did want a bird or something. Maybe I can tame the birds when they come
to my window. How do you fix it?”
“Well, you have to have a shelf of some kind--a box that is shallow
will make _that_,” explained the doctor’s little girl. “I brought some
nails and a hammer with me and I brought a lump of suet that the cook
gave me. She sometimes won’t give it to me but this time I told her
about you and she gave it without another word. She says she’s sorry
for you and so’m I. I’m going to fix you up a splendid window.”
The doctor’s little girl thrust up the sash of Billy Williams’ window.
“I’m awfully hard up,” she pursued, “or I’d have bought some sunflower
seed to bring with me. You ought to have sunflower seed to sprinkle on
your bird-shelf, for it brings the chickadees and the purple finches
and ever so many other kinds of birds. The woodpeckers come for the
suet and if you have peanuts, beautiful big blue jays will come and
carry them off. Could I have twenty cents to buy sunflower seed, do you
suppose? It costs ten cents a pound at the druggist’s.”
Billy showed her the penny bank and they shook it and shook it till
there was really more money than twenty cents--“If it hadn’t been for
the bank, I’d have been running about now,” Billy grumbled. “That
bank’s got to give me something nice now anyhow!”
“Well, I’m shaking it to punish it,” laughed the doctor’s little girl.
“I’m shaking it ever so hard. I don’t believe it likes to be shaken.
You did have ever so much money in it. I don’t wonder that you wanted
the lollypop!”
She slipped the money into her purse and went off to make purchases.
Billy told her to get anything that the money would buy. He wanted
a bird window that would be the best anybody could have. He waited
anxiously for her to come back and when she came, her arms were full.
Billy had to laugh. She had a small evergreen tree that she had bought
for thirty-five cents. She had two pounds of sunflower seed that had
cost twenty cents--oh, ever so much seed comes for that price and it
will last a long time, too. She had a shallow grocery box that was long
and flat and without any cover. It was about the length of Billy’s
window ledge. She had a package that came from the ten cent store.
When it was undone, it showed two tin strainers at five cents apiece.
Now, what did all this mean?
The doctor’s little girl rolled up her sleeves and put on Billy
Williams’ mother’s blue gingham apron. First, she took the shallow
grocery box and nailed it to the window ledge. Billy was surprised to
see that the doctor’s little girl could drive a long nail almost as
well as he himself!
“That’s the bird-shelf,” she explained. “You sprinkle sunflower seed
on it every day. The birds can light on its rim. Some days you’ll have
as many as twenty at a time. The chickadees are darling and the purple
finches are beautiful and they sing too.”
She took a handful of striped gray and white sunflower seed and
sprinkled it on Billy’s new bird-shelf. “You’ll have to wait a while
till the birds find out about the shelf,” she said, “but it doesn’t
take them long.” Then she took the little green fir tree and some stout
cord. She tied the wee tree to one side of Billy’s blind. She tied its
trunk at top and at bottom with several twists of heavy string. It made
the window pretty--almost as if one were looking out over the top of a
fir tree. The doctor’s little girl paused after her work and smiled at
Billy. “I think that’s nice, don’t you?” she asked.
Billy nodded. “What’s it for?” he inquired.
“You tie bits of suet lumps to its limbs,” she explained. “The birds
will light on the branches. Suppose you cut up the suet into two or
three-inch lumps. Tie string around each and tie the lumps to the
different branches. Can you do it?”
Yes, Billy could. The little girl had to help a bit, but not so very
much.
“The strainers are to be tacked up. You put seed into them. When it
rains, the seed doesn’t get soaked. Birds don’t like the soaked seed,
you know.” The strainers went at the other side of Billy’s blind,
opposite the fir tree.
It seemed as if the bird window was all done but it wasn’t! The
doctor’s little girl took a good-sized tree-twig that she had brought,
and nailed this against the window frame to make a perch. There were
three perches made this way. She put them near the two strainers and
tied suet to each perch. She said that the woodpeckers would come to
these tree-perches; they didn’t come to the fir-tree because--well,
woodpeckers couldn’t.
When all this was done, the doctor’s little girl took something else
from her pocket. It was what Billy thought--bird-seed. It was a mixture
of seed: millet, wheat, rape, cracked corn. She said that one could get
it mixed at a grain store--eight cents a pound. If Billy wanted her to,
she’d buy some and bring it to him tomorrow, but for today all was done.
It was twilight and almost dark by now, so they shut down the window.
The birds must all have gone off to shelter. It was too late to expect
anything of the bird window that day, but the doctor’s little girl
promised to put a bit of suet on a bush under Billy’s window as she
went home. It was to attract the birds and call attention to the window.
That night when mother came home, she thought the bird window a
splendid thing. Billy dreamed of it all night. Indeed, he could not
wait for morning to come. He woke at four o’clock and kept wondering if
any birds would come. Then, because he was so drowsy, he fell asleep.
He woke with a sudden start just at sunrise. Was it true?--Yes, yes!
Knock--knock--knock! What kind of bird was it? There was a bird at the
suet that was tied to the perch at the window. _That_ must be it! Billy
sat up in bed and bent forward to look. There on the perch that was
highest was a black and white bird with a bright scarlet cap--it was
brother woodpecker busy eating a breakfast of suet!
My, how exciting! Billy hardly dared to draw a breath, he was so afraid
that the woodpecker would see him and fly away. Billy had hardly been
in his chair near the window for more than a few minutes when there
was a flutter of wings and a strange little slate-gray bird lit upon
another perch and circled it, making queer, cheerful little noises. The
bird had a black head and it seemed full of sociable curiosity. Billy
wondered what it was. He did not remember ever to have seen a bird like
it before! He resolved to ask the doctor’s little girl what it was. And
then came wee little birds that called dee--dee--dee. They were the
chickadees, little gray birds with black hoods. They seemed very tame.
They came in a cluster and besieged the limbs of the little green
fir tree. While they were there, came birds like sparrows, too. They
were _not_ sparrows though--some of them were rosy red in color. Oh,
they must be what the doctor’s little girl had called purple finches!
My, how exciting! How they quarreled! What fun! They were all over
the bird-shelf, eating the striped sunflower seed in a very hungry
way. When a big blue jay came screaming toward a near-by tree, they
flew off in a hurry and the blue jay with his crest acock carefully
reconnoitered the premises and decided to eat from the bird-shelf too.
Oh, wasn’t it gay! When the doctor came, he quite agreed that it was
jolly and he brought a bird book from his little girl and a package of
the mixed seed that he laughingly called “medicine.”
It must have been medicine, for Billy’s foot, so the doctor claimed,
grew well in a wonderfully rapid manner from this time on. And the
time passed so quickly at the bird window that really the days went
by before Billy had time to be lonely. The birds were great company.
The same ones came from day to day--the little Miss Chickadees
were the tamest. They really learned to take shelled peanuts from
Billy’s fingers and to sit upon his warm hand while they ate. Brother
Woodpecker and his wife came early. They needed no alarm clock to wake
them. Billy heard the knock--knock before he was in his chair of a
morning. Then the curious little nuthatches,--those strange little gray
birds with the funny noise that sounded like quack, quack--they came,
too, regularly. In snow and sleet and rain and sun, Billy had his bird
friends. He had the doctor’s little girl, too, some days. They sat
by the window and played games while she told him all she knew about
birds. Then, when his foot got so well that the doctor let him go out,
Billy’s first trip was to the drugstore to buy more sunflower seed with
her.
Everybody came to see Billy’s window and the fame of it spread far and
wide. Billy always declared afterwards that it had almost been worth
the red lollypop accident, but it was the penny bank that really did it
all, you know!
_Angelina’s Valentine_
_THE FEBRUARY SURPRISE_
_Of course, anybody might guess that the valentine card came in the
first pocket of the Surprise Book in February. It did! It was a red
heart cut from bright red paper and it had a verse upon it, too. The
story for February was a valentine story, too. It was in a pocket that
was sealed with an embossed rose. The writing said:_
“_Open after school at 3.30 on Valentine’s Day afternoon._”
_Marjorie and Dotty watched the clock till the exact seconds had
ticked. Then, with the arm of her own Valentine about her, Marjorie
read aloud the story of “Angelina’s Valentine.”_
_IV_
_Angelina’s Valentine_
The ten cent store was the first to show valentines. On the very first
day of February, its windows were filled with bright red hearts and
wonderful pictures made with lacy gilt papers. Some were of little
birds and some were of little boys and little girls, and there was
one that showed a sleek gray pussy-cat like the one that belonged to
the Parillo family. Twice a day, coming to school and returning home,
Maria, Louisa and Angelina passed by the beautiful valentines in that
window.
“Maria,” begged Louisa, “let us go in--just a little minute! We need
not go right home today!”
“Please,” wheedled Angelina. “Please, Maria, do let us!”
“Valentine’s Day is still a long way off,” returned Maria. “There
is work to be done at home. I must see to the fire and wash and iron
Angelina’s dress and then get supper. We cannot stop.” This was the
way it happened every afternoon that the three little Italian girls
passed homeward from school. It was Maria who had taken her mother’s
place. She was the mother of the family now. Was it not she who cooked,
washed, cleaned? Was it not she who with twelve years of wisdom
governed Louisa and Angelina? Did not her father trust her to do the
marketing? Maria with her duties at home was superior to valentines.
Valentines were meant for children. Maria was duty bound, and so every
day the three little Parillos marched past the ten cent store without
stopping to go in. They lived in the three rooms of the brown tenement
on the outskirts of the town. There was a corner to turn after one
had passed by the ten cent store. Often Louisa and little Angelina
hung back and peeped in at the valentines, waiting till Maria should
reach the corner. Then they dashed after her lest she turn and scold,
“Angelina and Louisa, come at once! There is no time to loiter. The
fire in the stove will have gone out if you do not hurry. It will take
time to build another and the rooms will be cold--come, I say!”
“We saw them,” Louisa would announce, almost out of breath, quite as
if Maria were interested. “If I were rich and had money I would buy
the valentine that is beautiful with red roses. I would give it to my
teacher at school.”
“And I would buy more than one,” Angelina would smile. “There is one of
a pussy-cat like ours. I would give it to Marguerite Santos and I would
give her many others beside.”
“The idea!” Maria interrupted. “Marguerite Santos! The unmannerly
child! She is a class behind you in school and you do not know her.
The Santos think themselves better than the Parillos and they will not
let her play with you--all because their father has a fruit store with
candy and peanuts and a telephone!”
“It is because Angelina has the cross teacher this year that she wants
to give valentines to Marguerite,” suggested Louisa. “Her teacher is
not nice and Marguerite has a beautiful red plush cloak--”
“She smiles at me,” defended Angelina. “I like her. I would like to
know her and play with her. I do not think she is at all unmannerly,
Maria.”
But Maria was fitting the key into the home lock and she took her time
to reply. As she hung over the kitchen stove to poke the slumbering
fire, she gave it more than one dig. “The Santos child is unmannerly
and I have seen it,” she insisted. “She did a most unmannerly thing
only the other day as she passed by on the road here going homeward
after school--”
Angelina’s eyes flashed. “Tell me,” she broke in, “tell me what it was,
for I do not believe it!”
“She did! She said _shoo_, it was just like that: she said it to our
good gray cat who was peacefully sleeping in the sun at the doorstone.
It was very unmannerly to shoo our cat!”
Angelina sniffed. “That was nothing,” she defended, “I shoo cats, too.
Marguerite likes cats even as I do, but I often say shoo, shoo! I do it
to see the cat blink its eyes and look at me. Some cats will jump and
run. One does not know what they will do--and I have seen Louisa--”
But here Maria put a hand over Angelina’s mouth. “I do not care what
Louisa has done,” she admonished. “Go get me the soap that is by the
basin in the bedroom so that I may wash the dress. There is no use to
start a quarrel. There is no money to buy valentines at all, either for
Louisa’s teacher or for Marguerite Santos.”