Christmas morning, and oh, how early every one woke and jumped out of
bed! Sammy was the first to look out of the window, and his shouts of
joy brought everybody pell-mell to look out too.
"Snow," he called, "more snow! Hurry up and get dressed."
Sure enough the ground was covered with a fresh fall of snow, and at
that moment up came the red winter sun making a beautiful sparkling
Christmas world for the children to look upon.
Breakfast over, out they all trooped, and up went a snowman only to fall
under a hail of snowballs. Mary Ellen and Polly pulled Lydia and the
twins about on the sled, refreshing themselves between-times with wild
toboggans down the hill. It seemed only a moment before Miss Martin
called them in to make ready for church.
Two by two they walked along, past houses with wreaths of holly in the
windows, sometimes catching glimpses between curtains of Christmas Trees
like their own.
In the church it was green and sweet-smelling. From their seats in the
balcony the children looked up at a big red star blazing high among the
pine and balsam boughs. They sat quietly, the older ones now and then
understanding a little of what was said, while between-times they
counted the organ-pipes or swung their feet softly, the unlucky Sammy
occasionally coming up against the pew with a thump. Every one--Miss
Martin, too--was glad when their turn came to sing, and they could
stretch stiff little legs and open their mouths wide. They sang--
"Away in a manger,
No crib for a bed,
The little Lord Jesus
Lay down His sweet head.
The stars in the sky
Looked down where He lay,
The little Lord Jesus
Asleep on the hay.
"The cattle are lowing,
The dear baby wakes.
The little Lord Jesus
No crying He makes.
I love Thee, Lord Jesus,
Look down from the sky,
And stay by my cradle
To watch lullaby."
Lydia had a clear little voice and she sang out with a will, and all the
while she sang she was thinking of Santa Claus's promise.
After church came dinner--turkey and plum pudding--and then the children
settled down around the Tree to play with their new toys. Lydia was
rocking Lucy Locket to sleep when Nurse Norrie came into the room.
"Friend Morris has sent for you, Lydia," said she. "Alexander is waiting
outside."
Nurse Norrie looked carefully at Lydia's face and hands.
"You're as clean as a pin," said she. "It would be well if others were
more like you." And she rapped gently upon Sammy's head as she passed.
Sammy looked up with a grin.
"I don't care," said he with Christmas daring. "I don't want to be
clean. It's sissy."
On the doorstep Lydia slipped her hand in Alexander's, and off they
started. Alexander and his wife, Friend Deborah, were Quakers who had
lived for many years with Mrs. Morris, and the children knew them well.
Friend Deborah wore a drab stuff dress and a kerchief like Friend
Morris, and Alexander's broad-brimmed hat was quite different from that
worn by other men.
"No, Lydia," Alexander was saying, "thee is not going to Friend Morris's
house. She is spending the afternoon with friends in the city, and thee
is to go there. And thee is going to ride on the Elevated cars."
Alexander knew that Lydia would like this.
Lydia gave a little skip of happiness. She did like to ride on the
Elevated train high up in the air and look straight into the windows of
the houses as they passed. To-day, as she kneeled on the seat and looked
out, she saw Christmas Trees and family dinner-parties, a baby fastened
in a high chair drumming on the window with his new rattle, and a little
girl holding up her Christmas dolly to look out of the window too. At
that moment the train stopped, and Lydia and the little girl smiled and
waved and the dolly threw a stiff kiss in Lydia's direction. Then on
they went again, and all too soon Lydia and Alexander left the train,
climbed down the steep flights of steps, and turned into a narrow little
street with small, old-fashioned brick houses on either side of the way.
Before one of them Alexander stopped and rang the bell, and in a moment
the door was opened by a pretty lady with pink cheeks and soft brown
hair who said, "Merry Christmas, Alexander. And this must be little
Friend Lydia. Come in, Lydia. Friend Morris is upstairs waiting for
you."
And the pretty lady, whose name was Mrs. Blake, led Lydia into a bedroom
to leave her hat and coat, and then upstairs where first of all Lydia
spied a little kitchen and then a big room where Friend Morris sat
before a blazing open fire.
It sounds topsy-turvy, doesn't it? the bedrooms downstairs and the
kitchen upstairs? But this is how it happened. Mr. Blake was an artist.
He painted the most beautiful pictures in the world, Lydia thought, when
she saw them, and his workroom or studio was the whole top floor of the
house, except for a tiny little kitchen tucked away in a corner at the
head of the stairs. So you see for yourself why the bedrooms were
downstairs, and as Lydia afterward came to think it the nicest house
that could ever be, it must have been a good arrangement after all.
Lydia felt at home at once, Friend Morris was so smiling, and Mrs. Blake
so friendly, and Mr. Blake so full of fun. He stood before the fire
looking down at the little girl, and something in the tall figure with
the merry smile made her thoughts fly back to Santa Claus and her
conversation with him the night before.
"They wouldn't let me have anything to eat, Lydia," said he, taking
Lydia's hand in his, "and I'm as hungry as a bear. But now that you've
come perhaps they will give me a cake."
Lydia saw the cakes on a little table in the corner, and hoped that she
might have one too. But before she could answer some one jumped down
from the window-sill and walked slowly toward her. It was a big Angora
cat gray all over save for four white boots and a white necktie.
"This is Miss Puss Whitetoes," said Mr. Blake. "Miss Puss, will you
shake hands with Lydia?"
Sure enough, Miss Puss held out her paw and shook hands most politely.
Then as Lydia sat on the floor beside her, she jumped into the little
girl's lap and in no time they were the best of friends.
"Lydia!" said a voice from far away, "Lydia!"
Lydia looked up from gently scratching Miss Puss's head and saw that
Mrs. Blake, busy at the tea-table, was calling her. Every one was
smiling, so she smiled back.
"Mr. Blake can't wait any longer for his cakes, Lydia," said Mrs. Blake.
"Will you help me pass the tea?"
Lydia very carefully carried a cup of tea to Friend Morris, and one to
Mr. Blake, and then in her own cup of milk she dipped the silver
tea-ball one, two, three times. It really almost tasted of tea after
that. And as for the cakes--Lydia never before ate anything quite so
good as those little cakes.
"And now, Friend Lydia, will thee sing a song for us?" asked Mrs.
Morris.
So Lydia sang:
"I saw three ships go sailing by
On New Year's Day in the morning."
Then Mr. Blake and Lydia recited "The Night Before Christmas," and were
loudly applauded by Friend Morris and Mrs. Blake.
Now the room began to grow dark. Miss Puss settled herself for a nap in
front of the fire, and Mr. Blake took Lydia on his lap. He was glad to
hold a little girl in his arms again, for once he had had a little
daughter of his own and had lost her.
"Did you have a nice Christmas, Lydia?" he asked. "What did Santa Claus
bring you?"
"He brought me a doll," answered Lydia, settling down on his lap with a
sigh of content, "and she has a ring and a locket and so I named her
Lucy Locket. But that's not my real present. I must wait for that; and
Santa Claus will try to bring it to me by-and-by. He promised."
"A real present?" said Mr. Blake. "And what kind of a present is that?"
"It's a father and a mother," whispered Lydia in his ear, "a real father
and mother of my own. Do you think he'll bring it to me?"
"I do," said Mr. Blake, "I do, indeed. I'm almost sure he will."
He looked straight at Lydia as he spoke, and something in his blue eyes
made her say, "You look just like Santa Claus--the way he did last
night."
"Do I?" said Mr. Blake with a laugh. "Well, I don't know a better person
to look like than Santa Claus."
Lydia put up her hand and patted his face.
"I'm going to give you something," said she. "I was saving it for Mary
Ellen. It's mine, I didn't eat it myself, but I want to give it to you.
It's one of those good little cakes." And she drew it from her crummy
pocket and put it in Mr. Blake's hand.
"Thank you, Lydia," said he, "thank you. But I wouldn't be surprised if
Mrs. Blake could make up a little box for you to take home to Mary
Ellen. Mother!" he called, "Mother!"
Mrs. Blake came into the room, and then, instead of saying anything
about little cakes for Mary Ellen, "You tell her, Mother," said Mr.
Blake. "You tell her."
"Oh, Friend Morris," said Mrs. Blake, "you tell Lydia, won't you?"
So Friend Morris came forward, and she was smiling as she had smiled all
afternoon.
"Friend Lydia," said she, "last night thee asked a present of Santa
Claus, and to-day the present is given thee. Here are a good father and
a good mother who will love thee well, and in turn they will have the
love of a good little daughter. Does thee not understand what I am
saying to thee, Friend Lydia?"
For Lydia was staring at Friend Morris with wide-open eyes. She could
scarcely believe her ears. Friend Morris was still smiling, but tears
were in her eyes. Then Lydia threw her arms about Mr. Blake's neck. "A
real father," said Lydia. She turned to Mrs. Blake and held her as if
she would never let her go. "And my own mother," said Lydia, "my own
mother."
And there they were just so when Alexander's knock came at the door.
"This is the nicest Christmas we've ever had, isn't it, Lydia?" said Mr.
Blake, his voice a trifle husky. Lydia smiled up into his face and
softly patted the big hand laid upon her shoulder.
"And you'll come back day after to-morrow, Lydia, to stay," said Mrs.
Blake, her arm still round the little girl, "and never go away again."
Lydia nodded happily. She wasn't able to talk about it yet. It seemed
too good to be true. But she gave every one a parting hug all round.
Then she whispered something in Mr. Blake's ear.
"Please don't forget the little cakes for Mary Ellen," said little
Friend Lydia.