Christmas morning had opened brightly with David Dubbs. The sun,
preceded down the court by hustling winds that knocked at every
citizen's door and demanded admittance for their oncoming master, had
left at each house a gift of golden cheerfulness. The sky above was so
blithe and blue that it smiled down at even so insignificant a crack as
David Dubbs's court must have appeared to it; and the cold was a jolly
and snappish cold.
The twins and David's Little Scout were as merry as the Christmas chimes
they lingered and listened to, and not the daintiest dinner that Mr.
Cuffy (and that gentleman held the subject somewhat in mind, too, on
Polly's account) could have delivered at their door would have added one
jot of happiness to their abundance. David's poor old back bent under
the stress of poverty that would permit him no indulgences for them--all
the more dear on that day; but, used to loving self-denial, they never
missed what they so little desired, and so far were they from giving it
a thought, that if David had spoken out what he so wilfully turned over
and over in his mind, that would have given them far more pain and
anxiety. Mr. Tripple was early in his shop, presumptively to attend to
some forgotten duties, but, as he did not pay very active attention to
anything but carefully tying up a square box in white paper, and as he
did pay very active attention to what went on up-stairs, at the same
time exhibiting no hurry to get home to dinner, David, who had, towards
noon, gone around the corner with Polly to make some little purchases of
groceries before the stores closed, dropped in on his way back and
invited Mr. Tripple up-stairs. Mr. Tripple at first firmly refused, and
said, "Very much obliged, Dave, but couldn't think of it. Indeed not.
They'd 'spect me at home, ye know, Dave." Whereupon Miss Polly added her
entreaties, and said he needn't expect anything very much, but if he
would walk up they would be very happy to have him. Mr. Tripple would
have walked up--and, indeed, wanted very much to walk up--at first, but
his extreme awkwardness, aggravated by holiday clothes of a tight cut
and by a paper collar bent above his coat like a scimetar, and almost as
sharp and glistening as that weapon, impelled him to do violence to his
wishes in order to appear calm--under _her_ eyes--and to deceive them
politely as to his real desire. But now, lured on by the siren voice of
Polly, he consented to go up "a little while" (which meant all the
afternoon), and taking the white box under his arm he locked the
shop-door and followed them up the creaking stairs.
Arrived in the room and relieved of hat and coat, Mr. Tripple bowed
mysteriously to Dolly, and, intrusting her with the box, whispered,--"Go
and hand that to sister Polly, little un." Polly, receiving it from her,
exclaimed in surprise,--
"For me, Mr. Tripple?"
"Yes, miss," he replied, growing red and smiling broadly, "a little
something for Christmas, that's all."
Polly opened the box and extracted a pasteboard plane with some
artificial shavings pasted upon it, which, when lifted apart, discovered
a heap of sweetmeats. Dolly and Molly, looking on, exclaimed, "Why, Mr.
Tripple, what a surprise!" and Polly blushingly added, "So very
unexpected!"
Mr. Tripple grew redder and nervously crossed his legs, saying, "I
thought 'twould be kind a appropriate to the trade, you know, and so I
just fetched it up, and----"
Then Polly, seeing his embarrassment, called on David and the rest to
come and help themselves, and there was good humor and laughing until
the twins darted away to got dinner, which was soon prepared, for there
was little enough to get, and all invited to sit up to the table.
All were duly in their places, and David had, in accordance with
Christmas custom, offered grace. Mr. Tripple and the girls were slowly
raising their bowed heads, when a loud knock announced a visitor, and
hastened the raising of heads to an unseemly hurry.
"Tom!" all exclaimed.
Molly hurried down-stairs, and the rest rushed to the stair-landing,
where, in a moment, they received, not Tom, but a large, square basket
that emitted a very fragrant smell of roasted fowl, in the arms of the
returning Molly. Once in the room, the lid was off in a twinkling, and
out came a sizable plate, enveloped in dainty, clean napkins, which,
being removed in layers, exhibited, in all its brown deliciousness, a
huge turkey, just done to a turn.
The party gathered around in pleased wonder, and as Molly threw the
napkins into the basket a card fell on the floor. She picked it up and,
astonished, read, "Emanuel Griffin."
"What!" said David, snatching it and reading it aloud to himself,
"Emanuel Griffin. So it is, and no mistake!" and then he burst out,
"Hurrah! hurrah for Griffin! I knew he couldn't forget us this year!"
His poor old face was almost young again, and his voice,--why, it could
actually be heard as he ran on: "Why, there never was such a year for
the china trade, Tripple, and how could he forget me? Jacob Tripple,
your hand! A kiss, Little Scout! Why, your old father's 'most young
again, and his good girls shall dine like other good girls, after all!
How very thoughtful of Griffin to send it in the nick of time, too.
Come, sit up again before it gets cold, and I wish we had something as
hot to drink Griffin's health in. Why, I believe I could sing a song
again if we had something hot. I do, indeed!"
So he ran on in his childish delight at the thought of being remembered,
and at the far more grateful thought that his beloved daughters were to
share the gift with him.
When he had ceased, all turned to Molly and asked in one breath who had
left it. When the clamor slackened, she replied, "Why, young Cuffy from
the baker's, and all he said was, 'David Dubbs,--to be sent--card
inside,' and then kissing his hand, and crying 'Love to her,' meaning I
don't know who," with a smirk at Polly, "he jumped aboard his wagon and
flew away down the court."
Never was a turkey enjoyed so much, and never had a turkey better
deserved it.
Mr. Tripple grew bland and talkative under its juicy influence. He even
winked at Polly occasionally, and one time actually chucked her under
the chin. She sat next to him, remarking that if he had his way she
should live forever on turkey and sugar-plums. David ventured to say
that that course of diet would be pretty indigestive, whereupon Mr.
Tripple fondly suggested, as he gazed into her eyes, "How would love do
for a substitute, then?" implying that "his way" would supply that
abstract edible in equally large doses.
David dryly added "Starvation," and thereupon Polly covered her face
with her hands, but left open a laughing eye at Molly, and Mr. Tripple
looked boldly around the board as a man who had said a very bright thing
indeed, after which survey he broke out into a not very comfortable
laugh. All the rest laughed, too, then, and such good humor prevailed
that nothing seemed amiss, and Mr. Tripple's inexperience was kindly
overlooked.
But now the turkey was fast becoming skeletonized, and the good company
was fast becoming the reverse. The jollity was increasing and the
serious intentions of Mr. Tripple were impending and ready to fall into
open profession on the slightest encouragement. The Little Scout's
pinched and pale face--sweet and uncomplaining, even through hunger and
want--smiled gently and less sadly as it leaned in Molly's arms, and,
looking up, she said,--
"Poor father! How quiet you were last night when we were walking home.
I knew you were thinking about to-day and the poor dinner. How kind it
was of good Mr. Griffin. I'd like to thank him myself, father!"
"And so you shall, Little Scout," said David, gayly, bending over and
kissing her with boyish contempt of aged bones; "and so you shall, and I
make no doubt he'll be glad to see you, too, Deary."
The clock in a neighboring steeple, simultaneously with its ancient
kinsman on the shelf, and followed by incoming echoes of a score of
others, struck one; but the company little heeded that, and the
conviviality was far from diminishing when another summons rattled the
street door, and again all exclaimed "There's Tom!" and crowded to the
landing as before.
Polly this time tripped down and came back in a moment with only a
letter, saying,--
"A young man, father, with this letter for Mr. Griffin. It's addressed
to his store, but he said it was important, and, knowing you lived here,
he depended on you to deliver it at once."
"Has he gone?" said David, grasping it.
"Yes, father," replied Polly, "right off."
Here was a pitiable state of affairs indeed. David Dubbs, aroused from
the joyful celebration of his Christmas dinner and from the midst of
this cosey party and sent off across the river to his master's house
with a miserable letter and by a miserable young man (and if delivering
letters when every other well-intentioned man is eating his turkey isn't
miserable, why what is it?). Sent off on a graceless errand for nothing,
perhaps. But his kind employer, who had done so much for his comfort and
joy that very day, must not suffer by his neglect, and off he must post;
that was imperative. Mr. Tripple offered his services when David had
started down-stairs, and when there was no chance of his turning back,
but David said, "No, no, Tripple; you just stay and keep the girls
company till I get back, and that'll be enough for you to attend to.
Good-by, girls. Good-by, Little Scout; if it wasn't so cold, she should
go too." And off he trudged, as patient, and cheerful, and proud of his
master's attention and of his mission, too, now he had fully set out, as
many a younger and better dressed man would have been.