It was the middle of November. A wild, cold wind was sweeping over the
Mountain, and driving black clouds in quick succession across the tops
of the woodlands. It howled around the farmhouse and, as now and again
a more furious blast hurled itself against doors and windows, the
children drew nearer together on the rug before the huge fireplace with
a delightful sense of safety and cosiness.
A kettle of molasses was simmering on the stove, and Chi was wielding
the corn-popper with truly professional skill before the open fire.
It was such fun to see the hurry, and scurry, and hustle, and rattle,
and pop, and sudden white transformation of the heated kernels! A huge,
wooden bowl received the contents of the popper, and March salted them.
Oh, how good it smelt! And Rose was going to make molasses corn-balls
to put aside for the next evening.
"It's just like having a party every night, there are so many of us,"
said Hazel, clapping her hands in delight.
"I should think you 'd miss some of your real parties, Hazel," said
Rose, thoughtfully.
"Miss them! Not a bit; why, they are n't half so nice as this, and at
home it's so lonesome when papa isn't there. Is n't it lovely to think
he 's coming up Christmas? Even up here, you know, it would n't be quite
Christmas for me without him. That makes me think, I must write him
very soon about some things." Hazel looked mysterious.
"We hung up our stockings last year, but we did n't get what we wanted,"
said Cherry rather mournfully.
"Why not?" asked Hazel.
"Coz Popsey was so sick he could n't go out to the Wishing-Tree, and so
he did n't know."
"What is the Wishing-Tree?" said Hazel, consumed with curiosity.
Cherry's mouth was full of corn, so Budd carried on the conversation
between mouthfuls.
"I 'll show you to-morrow. It's a big butternut up in the corner of the
pasture, an' there 's a little hollow in the trunk where the squirrels
used to hide beech-nuts, but March has made a door to it with a hinge
and put a little padlock on it--that's the key hanging up on the clock."
Hazel saw a tiny key suspended by a string from one of the pointed knobs
that ornamented the tall clock.
"'N' nobody touches it till All-hallow-e'en," said Cherry, when the
sound of her munching had somewhat diminished, although her articulation
was by no means clear. "'N' then Chi goes up with us in the dark, 'n' we
put in our wishes, 'n'--"
"Let me tell Hazel," said Budd. "You 've begun at the wrong end. You
see, we write what we want for Christmas down on paper, an' seal it with
beeswax, an' then don't tell anybody what we 've written; an' then Chi
goes up there with us after dark, an' we 're all dressed up like
Injuns--"
"Indians, Budd," corrected March.
"Well, Old Pertic'lar, Indians, then," said Budd, a little crossly, "an'
then--
"Oh, you 've forgot the dish-pan and the little tub," Cherry's voice
came muffled through the corn. "We take the dish-pan, Hazel, 'n' the
little wash-tub, me 'n' Budd between us, 'n' beat on them with the iron
spoon 'n' the dish-mop handle, 'n' play 'tom-toms'--"
"Yes, an' March gives an awful war-whoop--" Budd, in his earnestness,
had risen and gone over to Chi's side, and now sat down by the big bowl,
but, unfortunately, on the popper which Chi had just emptied. There was
a smell of scorched wool, and, simultaneously, a wild, "Oh, gee-whiz!!"
from Budd, who leaped as if shot, and stood ruefully rubbing the seat of
his well-patched knicker-bockers, while the rest rolled over on the rug
in their merriment.
"Oh, do go on, Budd!" cried Hazel, wiping the tears of mirth from her
eyes. Cherry had laughed so hard that she was hiccoughing with
outrageous rapidity; and March--forgetting May--chose that opportune
moment to give forth a specimen of his best war-whoop, for the purpose,
as he explained afterwards, of frightening her out of them.
By the time order had been restored, Cherry was able to take up the
thread of the story;
"'N' we join hands--Chi 'n' all of us--'n' sing as loud as we can sing:
"'Intery, mintery, cutery corn,
Apple seed, apple thorn;
Wire, briar, limber lock,
Five geese in a flock--
Sit and sing by the spring;
You are OUT.'
Then we all give a great shout and grunt like In-di-ans--," said Cherry,
emphatically, looking at March; and March nodded approval.
"How's that?" asked Hazel, who was listening with all her ears.
"A hannah--a hannah--a hannah," grunted the children as well as they
could, hampered by mouths full of corn. "An' then," went on Budd, "we
drop the wishes into the hollow in the tree-trunk, an' Chi locks the
door an' keeps it, an'--"
"'N' each of us ties two feathers from a rooster's tail to different
colored strings, 'n' fastens them on to a branch of the tree, 'n' that
brings us good luck; March calls it 'winging the wishes.' That's the
way we get our presents."
"Oh, what fun!" cried Hazel. "May I do it this year?"
"Course," replied Budd, "but how will your father know anything about
it?"
"I never thought of that," said Hazel, all her Christmas castles
toppling over suddenly.
"We 'll fix it somehow, Lady-bird," said Chi, who, having finished his
labors, had seated himself in a chair behind the children and provided
himself with a private bowl of his own.
"But now, speakin' of roosters, I 'd like to know how you 're comin' out
about chicken money. I sold the last lot but one down in Barton's
to-day. There 's been a lot of express to pay, 'n' I thought I 'd
better pay dividends to-night, 'n' get it off my mind, seein' it's most
Wishin'-Tree time."
Rose took her little account book from her pocket. "We cleared one
hundred and ten dollars on our preserves and jams after we 'd paid Hazel
what we had borrowed for the jars and sugar, and paid for the express
and boxes. I 'm awfully sorry we could n't fill all the orders, but we
'll try to next year. I 'll go and get the money. I like to look at
it, knowing it means so much to us all."
She ran upstairs and came back with a little wooden box that Chi had
made for her years ago. The children crowded about her. "There," said
Rose, proudly, as she took out the money and smoothed it, one crisp bill
after another, on her knees; "they 're all in ones, so it will seem as
if we had more when we divide. Now we 've agreed to divide this
equally, so that 'll make just twenty-two apiece."
"Let's play 'Hold-fast-all-I-give-you' in earnest," said Cherry, sitting
down again on the rug and holding out her hands. "That 'll be
twenty-two times round and make it seem a lot more."
"Good for you, Cherry," said March, approvingly, and they all followed
her example. With a gravity befitting the occasion, the "truly-bruly"
game, as Budd called it, went on to the supreme satisfaction of those
interested as well as the enjoyment of father and mother and Chi; for to
the two former the money-making had long been, of necessity, an open
secret.
Chi, after watching them a little while, left the room. When he
reappeared a few minutes later, he was greeted with a prolonged "Ah!" of
satisfaction; for in one hand he held his old account-book, and in the
other a long, dark blue woollen stocking which bulged fearfully from the
toe halfway up the leg, where it was tied with a stout piece of leather
whip-lash.
The whole business of disposing of the chickens had been intrusted to
Chi, and the members of the N.B.B.O.O. Society had pledged themselves
not to ask him any questions in regard to the sale of them until he
should tell them of his own accord. This pledge they had kept, and now
they were to have their rewards.
"If this is going to be a meeting of the N.B.B.O.O. Society, I move we
ask those who aren't members to adjourn to the bedroom," said March,
looking significantly at his mother and father. Mr. and Mrs. Blossom
took the hint, and, without waiting for anyone to "second the motion,"
betook themselves, laughing, into the other room.
"Guess we 'll sit up to the table 'n' count it out," said Chi, "coz we
don't want any of it to fly up chimney. We should never find it again
in this gale."
He emptied the stocking of its contents--bills, pennies, and silver
pieces of all denominations--upon the table, and the children drew up
their chairs.
"Now we 'll sort," said Chi. "You take the bills, Rose, 'n' the rest
take the other pieces, 'n' make little piles before you of a dollar
each. Then we can reckon up easy. I 'll take the pennies and the
nickels."
"I choose the ten-cent pieces," said Cherry, "an' you take the quarters,
Budd." March and Hazel took the rest.
"This is a kind of stockholders' meetin'," said Chi, as the piles were
completed. "We 'll divide the proceeds accordin' the number of hens
each set; coz I could n't keep run of so many chicks after they'd struck
out for themselves."
He opened his book.
"Here 's some items you better hear, before you find any fault with the
management:
"Mem. July. 15 chicks killed by hen-hawks.
"Mem. August. 21 chicks died of the pip.
"Mem. September. Skunks stole ten.
"Mem. October. 2 can't find.
"There 's a dead loss to all the stockholders, share 'n' share alike.
Now for expenses:
"Mem. Corn for feed till October--7 bushels.
"Mem. November. Express, $5.50. Crates expressin'--$1.10. Now for
the profits!" said Chi, with a ring of triumph in his voice. "Count up
your piles."
How the cheeks flushed and the eyes grew dark with excitement as the
counting proceeded: "One hundred--one hundred and thirty-two--one
hundred and seventy-seven--two hundred!"
"Oh-ee!" cried Hazel, as March fairly thundered "Two hundred!" "There
's more, there 's more!"
"Go on, go on!" she cried again, almost beside herself with excitement.
"Two hundred and seven--TWO HUNDRED AND SEVENTEEN!!"
"Chi!" exclaimed Rose, almost breathless, "How _did_ you make all that?"
and thereupon, without waiting for his answer, she sprang up from her
chair, and, to Chi's amazement, took his weather-worn face between her
two hands, and popped a kiss upon his forehead.
Chi cleared his throat and attempted to make his explanation, but was
interrupted by March, who got hold of his right hand and wrung it
without speaking. Chi saw the boy turn a little white about the mouth
and his gray eyes flash through tears; words were not needed.
Budd and Cherry did not realize all this meant to the elder brother and
sister, but they did not wish to be outdone by the others in expressing
their appreciation of Chi. So Budd thumped him unmercifully on the back,
saying, "You 're a trump, Chi; tell us how you did it," in a most
patronizing tone, and Cherry danced around the table, singing; "I love
my Love with a big, big C!"
Hazel looked on, rejoicing in their joy, but wondering why such a little
sum, less than her yearly allowance, should create all that happiness.
"But tell us how you did it, Chi," said Rose again.
"Well, I sold most of them for broilers, they bring a pretty good price;
'n' then I sold the feathers; 'n' you forget all those forty hens have
been layin' the last two months, 'n' I sold the eggs. Then, too,--" a
slow smile wrinkled Chi's eyes--"I was n't interfered with, 'n' that
made a great difference in the business. How much have you got
altogether?"
"Three hundred and twenty-seven dollars," said March.
"What you goin' to do with it? that's the next question. You can't let
your money lay round in wooden boxes 'n' old stockin's. It ought to be
bringing you in interest."
"I 'm going to give my share to Rose, to prepare for college with," said
Hazel.
"Indeed, I sha'n't take your money, Hazel; you 've earned it fairly for
yourself. I should be ashamed to accept it, but it's lovely of you to
think of it-- Why, Hazel!" she cried, throwing her arm around her, for
the tears were rolling down Hazel's cheeks, and her chest heaving with a
bona fide sob.
But Hazel flung off the encircling arm and threw herself full length
upon the settle in an abandonment of woe.
"I don't care anything about your old money," she sobbed. "I did n't
want it for myself, and I 've worked so hard picking berries and
all--and you said you 'd keep the by-law--and I 've been so happy
working to help others, and I never would have believed it of you, Rose
Blossom, that you 'd go back on your word--you promised--you promised to
help others--a regular solemn pl-pledge, Chi says, and now--and the only
way you could help me--was to let--to let me help y-ou-oo-oo!"
March and Rose looked at each other aghast at this unwonted outburst
from Hazel, and Mrs. Blossom, hearing the wail, made her appearance from
the bedroom.
"Why, Hazel dear, what is the matter?" she said.
"They 've spoiled all my good times," sobbed Hazel, refusing to be
comforted even when Mrs. Blossom, sitting down by her, stroked her head
and begged her to sit up and tell her all about it.
"Oh, mother!" cried Rose, holding back the tears as well as she could,
"it's all my fault. It's my old pride that keeps coming up at every
little thing, somehow, and I know it 'll be the death of me! March has
it, too; and between us we have made it just horrid for Hazel."
"Why, Rose, what do you mean?" asked her mother, gravely.
"Things that we 've kept from you, Martie. Hazel wanted to give us the
jars and the sugar, and we would n't let her; and she wanted to give me
a blue wash silk like hers, because I said I wished I could afford one
like it,--and I--and I was a little angry, and showed it; and March
spoke up and said we would n't be patronized if we were poor--"
"Why, March Blossom!" was all his mother said.
"Yes," broke in Budd, ready to place himself on the side of
righteousness, "an' Cherry told her that March called her 'a perfect
guy,' an' that meant she was homely; an' that Chi said she was awful
poor, an' we were a great deal richer than she was, an' that you would
n't have had her here if you had n't pitied her--"
"Children!" Not one of them ever remembered to have heard their mother
speak with such stern anger in her voice. "I 'm ashamed of you; you
have disgraced your parents' name." Then she turned to Hazel, drew her
up into her arms, and said, tenderly:
"Hazel, my dear little girl, why did n't you come to me with this
trouble?"
"Because--because you were n't _my mother_, you were theirs; but, oh! I
wish you were mine! I love you so--" Hazel flung both arms around Mrs.
Blossom's neck and sobbed out,--"I 've wanted to call you Mother Blossom
and hug and kiss you like the rest--but Cherry was so jealous--the first
time I did it--that she--she stuck burrs in my bed and led me through
the nettle-patch when we were raspberrying, because she knew I did n't
know nettles; and Chi told me we 'd got to be brave if we joined the
N.B.B.O.O., and I knew I ought to bear it--for I _do_ love to be
here--and I love them all, for most of the time they 're lovely to
me;--and I don't think you 've been horrid, Rose, only you did hurt my
feelings when you would n't let me give you the blue silk--and--and it
is n't my fault if I _am_ rich, and it is n't fair not to like me for
it!"
[Illustration: "Hazel flung both arms around Mrs. Blossom's neck"]
"No more it ain't, Lady-bird," said Chi, who, after drawing the back of
his hand across his eyes, was apparently the only dry-eyed one in the
room. March had flung himself on the other end of the settle and buried
his face deep among the patch-work cushions. Rose was sobbing outright
with her head on her arms as she sat at the dining-room table.
Cherry, in her shame and misery--for she had come to love Hazel dearly
without wholly conquering her jealousy--softly opened the pantry door
and slipped inside where she sniffed to her heart's content. As for
Budd, he stood over the wood-box, repiling its contents while the tears
ran off his nose so fast that he saw all the sticks double through them.
"You may go to bed, children," said Mrs. Blossom, still holding Hazel in
her arms. At this fiat, there was a general increase in the humidity of
the atmosphere; and, knowing perfectly well when their mother spoke in
that tone, that words, tears, or prayers would not avail, they, one and
all,--for Cherry had been listening at the pantry door,--made a rush for
the stairs and stumbled up, blinded by their tears.
Mrs. Blossom led Hazel still sobbing into her own little bedroom, and
shut the door.
Chi, president of the vanished N.B.B.O.O. Society, was left alone. He
gazed meditatively awhile at the little piles of money and the vacant
chairs opposite each. Then he gathered them up carefully and placed
them in orderly rows in the wooden box. His next move was to the shed
door. As he opened it, a gust of wind extinguished the lamp on the
table.
"Guess I 'll go to bed, too," said Chi to himself, coming back for the
box, which the firelight showed plainly enough. "The barometer's
dropped, 'n' it always makes me feel low in my mind."
He heaved a prodigious sigh and went out into the shed and up the back
stairs. The wooden box he put under the head of the mattress; he
barricaded the door and placed his rifle beside it against the wall.
Then he turned in and drew the coverlet up over his head with another
sigh, so long, so profound, that it mingled with the wind as it swept
through the cracks of the shed beneath, and made a part of the dismality
of the night.
Mrs. Blossom returned to the long-room, and, sitting down in her low
rocker before the fire, waited. She knew her children.
Soon, it might have been within half an hour, she heard Rose call softly
at the top of the stairs:--
"Martie."
"Yes, Rose."
"May I come?"
"Yes, dear."
"O Martie! may I, too?" wailed Cherry.
"Yes."
"I 'm coming, mother," said March, speaking in a low, determined voice
through the knot-hole.
"Very well, March."
"Come along, Budd," said March, and Budd was only too glad to grip his
brother's pajamas and follow after.
Down they came, tiptoeing in their bare feet, Rose heading the
penitential procession. She knelt by her mother's side, and March and
Budd and Cherry knelt, too.
Then, to their mother's, "Are you _truly_ ready, children?" they
answered heartily, "Yes, Martie."
Together they said in subdued but earnest tones, "Our Father;" together
they prayed, "'Forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who
trespass against us'"--and after the heart-felt, "Amen," each received a
kiss by way of absolution; and together, until the clock struck ten,
they talked the whole matter over and resolved to fight their Apollyons
daily and hourly, and, with God's grace, conquer them.
These were the rare hours, the memory of which held March Blossom in the
way of right and honor when he went out to battle for himself in the
world. These were the hours, the memory of which kept him in his
college days unspotted from the world. It was such an hour that ripened
Rose Blossom into a thinking, feeling woman, and made Budd into a knight
of the Twentieth Century.
It was for such an hour that Jack Sherrill would have given his entire
fortune.