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[Illustration: _"WE'LL ASK HER FOR A DRINK," RESPONDED SAMMY, NEVER AT A
LOSS_]
Little Friend Lydia
BY
ETHEL CALVERT PHILLIPS
_With Illustrations by_
EDITH F. BUTLER
_Boston and New York_
HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY
_The Riverside Press Cambridge_
1920
COPYRIGHT, 1920, BY ETHEL CALVERT PHILLIPS
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Table of Contents
CHAPTER I--Christmas Eve
CHAPTER II--The Real Christmas Present
CHAPTER III--The New Home
CHAPTER IV--A Picture and a Party
CHAPTER V--The Story of Little Gwen
CHAPTER VI--Daffodils and Daisies
CHAPTER VII--Dr. Wolfe
CHAPTER VIII--Maggie Medicine
CHAPTER IX--Cobbler, Cobbler, Mend My Shoe
CHAPTER X--Robin Hill
CHAPTER XI--Who Stole the Brown Betty?
CHAPTER XII--Roger Comes Home
Illustrations
"We'll ask her for a drink," responded Sammy, never at a loss
"This is your bedroom, Lydia"
"It's spring, Lucy Locket," chattered Lydia. "That's why you
have a new hat and a new dress"
Such a cobbler's shop had never been seen before
Little Friend Lydia
CHAPTER I--Christmas Eve
It was Christmas Eve, and twenty little boys and girls were watching for
Santa Claus. Ten little boys in blue-striped blouses and dark-blue
neckties, ten little girls in blue-checked aprons and dark-blue
hair-ribbons fixed their eyes on the big folding doors and thought the
time for them to open would never come.
All day long excitement had reigned supreme in the Children's Home, a
roomy comfortable house set on the very edge of the big city, and where
were gathered the motherless and fatherless children who found love and
care under its hospitable roof. Each ring of the doorbell brought
chattering groups to hang over the banisters, each sound of wheels on
the driveway was the signal for excited faces to be pressed against the
window-pane and for round eyes to try in vain to bore through the paper
wrappings of mysterious bundles whisked out of sight all too soon. Peeks
through the parlor keyhole were forbidden, but passing the door on the
way to luncheon several children were seen to stop and sniff the air as
though they might actually smell out the secret.
"Nurse Norrie called it an 'entertainment,'" said big Mary Ellen to a
group gathered round her in the playroom. "I do wonder what 't will be.
It will be to-night anyway; she said so."
"It's cowboys and Indians, that's what it is," declared Sammy, an agile
youth who all morning had somehow managed to look out of the window and
over the banisters at the same time when occasion demanded. "It's going
to be a Wild West show to-night, I think." And Sammy galloped up and
down the playroom in imitation of the dashing broncos he hoped to see
that night.
"Do you think Miss Martin would have horses in the parlor?" asked Mary
Ellen scornfully. "I hope it will be tableaux." And Mary Ellen
immediately pictured herself the most beautiful tableau of them all,
attired as a Red Cross nurse draped in the American flag, with a noble
expression on her face, and perhaps supporting a wounded soldier or two.
Little Tom took his finger out of his mouth long enough to say, "I hope
it's candy"; and at this pleasing thought Luley and Lena, the fat little
twins, clapped their hands in agreement. Polly, always a little
behindhand, hadn't made up her mind yet what the surprise was to be. So
Mary Ellen turned to Lydia, a quiet little girl whose brown eyes looked
out shyly upon the world from under a thatch of yellow curls. Now Lydia
remembered clearly her Christmas a year ago, so although she felt a
little shy about speaking out before them all, she was sure she had
guessed the secret.
"I think it's Santa Claus," said Lydia timidly, "and maybe a Christmas
Tree too."
Miss Martin, who took good care of these little children and loved them
every one, stood in the doorway listening and laughing.
"I'll give you just one hint," said she, "if you promise not to ask me
another question. Lydia is the warmest. Sammy is freezing cold, so is
Mary Ellen. Tom is warm, too, but Lydia is hot, red-hot I should say."
And then Miss Martin closed the door and fled. In the hall she met fat
Nurse Norrie carrying a pile of clean blouses.
"Hark ye to the noise in there," said Nurse Norrie with a chuckle. "I'm
thinking if we live through this day we'll live through anything."
But at last evening came and they were all gathered in the back room
with only a few moments more to wait. Patient Miss Martin took pity on
them and answered the same questions over and over as she moved about
the room straightening twisted neckties and perking up fallen
hair-ribbons.
"Yes, I'm sure Santa Claus is coming," said Miss Martin for the tenth
time to Luley and Lena, who hand in hand trotted up with the question
every few minutes as if asking something new each time. "Why am I sure,
Polly? Because he comes every year to the Children's Home. He has never
forgotten us yet."
"Maybe he's stuck in the snow," said Sammy gloomily; "it's deep, deep.
Maybe he's having a fight with the Indians."
At this thought Sammy brightened, but Luley and Lena put out their under
lips in such pitiful fashion that Miss Martin was glad to hear Mary
Ellen say sturdily:
"I don't believe there ever was a snowdrift or an Indian either that
could keep Santa Claus away."
"Good, Mary Ellen," said Miss Martin with an approving smile; "I'm sure
you are right. Take your finger out of your mouth, Tom. Yes, Lydia, what
is it?"
Lydia stood on tiptoe and spoke softly. She didn't want any one else to
hear her question.
"Miss Martin," whispered she, "will Santa Claus bring you whatever you
ask for--even if it won't go into your stocking?"
"Of course he will," answered Miss Martin with an arm about Lydia.
"Think of our big swing he brought last year. That wouldn't go in a
giant's stocking. Think of the big--What's that sound, children?"
Every one listened. Nearer and nearer and nearer came the jingle of
sleigh-bells, little by little the folding doors slid open, and there
before their very eyes Santa Claus himself came into the room. Sammy
said afterward he knew he saw him come down the chimney and step out of
the fireplace, and this in spite of Mary Ellen who declared she saw him
come walking through the door. But however he came, there he was,
covered with snow and with a big pack on his back fairly bursting with
toys. Dolls and drums and horns, jack-in-the-boxes, toy lambs, furry
dogs, soft white rabbits stuck out in every direction. Luley and Lena
fixed their round eyes upon two white cats peeping slyly side by side
over the edge of the pack, and oh, how they hoped that Santa Claus would
know that they wanted those pussies more than anything in the world.
Santa Claus stationed himself beside the big glittering Christmas Tree
gay with its colored horns, shining balls, red and white cranberry and
popcorn chains.
"Here I am, children, at last," said he, with an engaging smile all
round. "A little late, but it's not my fault. You must blame my reindeer
for that. Dancer and Prancer were in such a hurry to get here that on a
roof near by they didn't look where they were going, and Prancer stubbed
his toe quite badly against the chimney. But here we are now, with a
bagful of toys--something for every one."
Santa Claus looked for a moment into the blue eyes, the black eyes, the
gray and the brown eyes all earnestly fixed on him.
"First of all," began Santa Claus with a merry nod, "here are twin
pussycats who are looking for two little girls just like these." And he
stepped straight over to Luley and Lena and put the pussies into their
outstretched arms. How did he know that that was what they wanted?
Perhaps because they had been looking so longingly at them ever since he
came into the room. But then how did he know that Mary Ellen wanted a
paint-box and a Red Cross doll, and Sammy a Noah's Ark and a drum and a
horn? It was really wonderful how Santa Claus could tell exactly what
each one wanted. There was little Tom who longed to play with dolls, but
who couldn't bear it when the big boys laughed and called him "a girl."
And what should Santa Claus give to him but a soldier boy in khaki
uniform, carrying a shining bayonet. Surely no boy would be ashamed to
play with that, and yet at night, with the bayonet under Tom's pillow,
General Pershing, Jr., would cuddle as well as any baby doll.
Before long every one's arms were full. Even the grown-up visitors,
enjoying the scene from a distant corner, were not forgotten, but held
boxes of candy shaped like little doll houses. Polly carried a white
rabbit and a big picture-book off into her special corner. Sammy,
skillfully performing on horn and drum simultaneously, woke echoes in
the attic. Toy trains ran merrily round and round. Fire engines dashed
bravely in every direction. It seemed as if Santa Claus's pack must be
empty. But no, there he stood holding a baby doll in long white dress
and little white cap, a baby doll who stretched out her arms as if
asking some one to come and hold her, please.
"Here's a baby looking for a mother," called out Santa Claus. "Perhaps
she will tell me her mother's name." And Santa Claus held the baby up to
his ear.
"She says she wants Lydia," announced Santa Claus. "Where's Lydia?"
"Yes, where is Lydia?" asked Miss Martin, looking about. "I haven't seen
her for a long time."
At this one of the visitors came forward, a visitor all the children
knew, for she came often to see them. It was Mrs. Morris, a little old
Quaker lady, who always wore a gray silk dress, a snow-white kerchief,
and sometimes a little white cap. The children called her "Friend
Morris" after a fashion she loved, and well might they call her so, for
she gave generously of time and thought and money for their happiness
and welfare. Friend Morris stepped to an open door and peeped behind it.
"Here is little Friend Lydia," said she. "Come out, Lydia. Surely thee
is not afraid of the good Santa Claus." And she took Lydia gently by the
hand and drew her out of her corner.
Lydia shook her head.
"No, Friend Morris," said she, "I'm not afraid of Santa Claus. But I
want him to give away all his toys, and then I will ask him for my
present."
"But see what Santa Claus has for thee, Friend Lydia," said Mrs. Morris,
leading her to where Santa Claus stood watching them with a smile on his
lips. "A beautiful baby doll. Surely that is the present thee wants."
"No, I want to whisper it in his ear," persisted Lydia.
She raised her brown eyes to Santa Claus, who looked down at her a
moment in silence and then lifted her in his arms.
"What is it, Lydia?" he said softly. "Tell me."
"I want," whispered Lydia with her arm about Santa Claus's neck, "I want
a father and a mother, a real father and mother of my own. Miss Martin
said you could give a present that wouldn't go in a stocking. And I will
give you back the baby doll."
Santa Claus thought for a moment, and then he tightened his hold upon
the little girl looking so anxiously into his face.
"Now, Lydia," said he, "I'll tell you just how it is. I don't carry that
kind of a present around in my bag with me, but I'll try to get it for
you if you are willing to wait a little while for it. You keep the baby
doll. Take good care of her, and I'll go to work and see what I can do
for you. How will that be?"
Santa Claus had merry blue eyes, and now he looked straight at Lydia as
if he meant what he said.
"You won't forget?" asked Lydia.
"I won't forget," said Santa Claus. "I promise."
He put Lydia on the ground with a parting pat on her head.
"And now I must be off," said he. "My reindeer won't stand much longer.
I believe they're out on the lawn here now. Merry Christmas, children!
'Merry Christmas to all and to all a good-night!'"
And Santa Claus was out of the window, across the porch, and out of
sight before you could turn around. The jingle of the sleigh-bells died
away, the Christmas party was over, and it was time to go to bed.
Lydia slowly climbed the stairs with the new dolly in her arms. Mary
Ellen was beside her, admiring her own Red Cross nurse as she went.
"What shall you name your doll?" asked Mary Ellen. "Mine is Florence
Clara Barton Nightingale. See the little ring your doll has. And a gold
locket round her neck."
"Her name is Lucy Locket," answered Lydia in a flash. "I've thought of
it just this minute."
Upstairs ten little boys popped into bed before you could say Jack
Robinson. They had no long hair to be brushed and braided. But Miss
Martin and good-natured Nurse Norrie worked quickly, and before long ten
little girls were tucked snugly into their beds too. Miss Martin lighted
the night light and turned to go.
"'Merry Christmas to all and to all a good-night,'" said Miss Martin
softly, just like Santa Claus.
Lydia was the only little girl wide awake enough to answer.
"Merry Christmas," said Lydia sleepily. "Lucy Locket, you heard Santa
Claus promise, didn't you?"
And then little Friend Lydia fell fast asleep too.