AT MERRY YULETIDE.
“Hurry, Eleanor. We are all waiting for you,” called Constance from the
terrace, where a group of young people stood waiting for the tardy one.
It was the day following Christmas, and such a day as long dwells in
one’s memory of perfect winter days; scarcely a cloud in the sky, and
the air filled with a crispness which set one’s blood a-tingle. The
world wore her white robes of the season, bedecked with a thousand
sparkling jewels. The river was frozen nearly across, and on its
glistening surface groups of skaters darted about, or pushed ice-chairs,
in which were seated older or less vigorous bodies for whom skating was
not.
Early in December, when the weather had turned unusually cold for the
season, the river had commenced to freeze over. It had been thirty years
since such heavy ice had formed, and those who recalled that time
predicted that the present cold snap would hold as that one had held,
and the New Year find, as it had then found, the sleighs crossing to the
opposite shore.
Eleanor Carruth had returned from college three days before Christmas,
to find everyone in the liveliest, gayest mood, and each moment crowded
to its very limit with duties or pleasures. Christmas in Mrs. Carruth’s
home had always been a day of “good will toward man” in its truest,
sweetest sense. No one had time to think of self in her desire to think
of others. For more than sixty years Mammy’s voice had been the first
one to cry “Christmas gif’” to her children, as she went from bed to bed
in the chill Christmas dawn. Try as they might in bygone years, none of
the other servants on the old plantation had been able to creep up to
the bedchambers before her, and now in the newer life of the Northern
world, to which she had followed those she loved, she had never missed
her greeting. In the dark, difficult days when resources were limited
and every penny had to be so carefully expended, the Christmas gifts had
been very simple little remembrances interchanged, but old Mammy had
invariably managed to have _some_ trifle for her “chillen,” and they
would sooner have gone without their own than have failed to have their
token of the season lying at her door on Christmas morning.
But happier days had now dawned for all, and the Christmas day just
passed had been a red-letter one for the family. True, Eleanor’s
resources were not yet equal to Constance’s. Eleanor’s spending money
was derived from the source which, prior to her entrance in college, had
caused Mammy such deep concern. Eleanor still coached a number of the
less brilliant lights of the college. In this way she felt more
independent of her aunt and less dependent upon Constance.
Constance protested and scolded, declaring that it was perfect nonsense
for Eleanor to so burden herself, since the candy kitchen was more than
equal to the demands made upon it. But Eleanor was a Carruth.
As the party stood waiting for her, Jean, keeping fast hold of Haydn’s
hand and jigging up and down in her impatience to be off, Forbes talking
to one of Eleanor’s friends, and the others all chatting at once,
Eleanor came hurrying from the house, carrying in her hand a pair of
shining skates, and carefully tucked under her arm a _broom_.
Haydn was the first to spy it. His eyes began to twinkle, and he quickly
slipped over to Constance’s side.
“Is this a very mid-winter madness?” he asked under his breath.
Constance glanced up quickly. Her eyes instantly caught the twinkle, and
darted toward Forbes, who was too deeply engaged in trying to prove to
his rather skeptical listener that the soft little wraith-like clouds
beginning to gather overhead meant wind, and perhaps more snow also,
within twenty-four hours, to be aware of Eleanor’s unusual departure in
the line of impedimenta. Neither Constance nor Hadyn intended to spoil
the joke by jogging their wits, and the others who were alive to the fun
preferred to see it to the end.
Eleanor hurried up to Forbes and said, as though to confirm his
argument:
“Yes, it _is_ clouding over, isn’t it? Mammy says it is going to snow
and urged me to carry this umbrella. I can always trust Mammy’s ‘bones,’
she ended as she held forth the broom to the bewildered man, who looked
from her face to it as though questioning her sanity.”
Then Eleanor wakened.
“Oh, why—I thought—why, how did I get this?”
“Let me relieve you of your strange burden, Eleanor. Still want an
umbrella? I’ll fetch one if you say so, but you may find the broom more
useful, on second thought. Let’s take it along to clear away the light
snow which fell last night. Come on, people! If we expect to get up an
appetite for Mammy’s luncheon at two o’clock, we’d best make a move
toward the river,” cried Hadyn, leading the way with the broom
shouldered like a musket, and Jean in full prance beside him.
It was a merry party which gathered upon the crystal surface of the
river that morning. For many days Jack Frost had been busy, and had done
his wonderful work most effectively, completing it during the previous
night by a light coating of diamond-dust, which glistened and sparkled
in the clear sunshine, or swirled up in fantastic spirals as the skaters
whirled away through it. The boathouse at the river’s edge served as a
shelter for the chilled ones, and, far-sighted woman! Mammy had sent
Charles down there with a great basket of sandwiches, and a heaterful of
steaming chocolate. Somehow nature had made a big mistake when she
fashioned Mammy: she should have formed a man, a _white_ man, and cast
his lot among the great commerical lights of his day.
The chocolate heater had to be replenished more than once, and the
manner in which the sandwiches vanished was almost miraculous.
Eleanor, Constance and Jean were as much at home upon their skates as
upon the soles of their feet, and Hadyn had skated ever since he could
move without assistance; but Forbes had acquired the art during a winter
spent in Northern Europe, and at a date not so remote as to have
lessened the novelty of the experience. He had brought with him from
Holland a pair of skates of truly remarkable design, and it was upon
these “ice boats,” as Hadyn instantly dubbed them, that he was now
demonstrating the extraordinary agility of the Dutch skaters.
“Stand off! Make way!” cried Hadyn, as Forbes, one arm about Eleanor’s
waist and the other holding her hand aloft in what he fondly believed to
be a perfect imitation of the Dutch peasants’ graceful poise and motion,
bore down upon the party, his long, upturned skates and still longer
legs causing Eleanor to cast skittish glances in their direction as she
swung along beside him.
“Great! How do you do it, old man?” asked Hadyn as Eleanor was almost
hurled into his arms, Forbes’ momentum carrying him on and past them
like a runaway motor-car.
“Simplest thing in the world! Be back in a second to show you how.
Nothing like it! Absolutely—” but he was carried beyond his hearers,
whose eyes followed his wild evolutions with more or less apprehension
for “what next?” since it seemed contrary to all laws of gravitation for
any human being to maintain his equilibrium very long if he took such
chances.
“He has turned! He’s coming back! Now watch out, Hadyn, and learn how
it’s done,” laughed Constance, as this skated “Ichabod Crane” bore down
upon them, hair blown on end, arms flying, legs cutting capers legs
never before had cut, and upon his face the expression of “do or die,
man, for _she_ is watching you.”
“Gee, what a swathe he cuts!” cried another man, as the light snow lying
upon the ice flew from beneath the rushing skates.
“Now watch out! Clear the track! Look sharp, and you’ll all catch the
knack of it without half trying. Nothing easier,” shouted the skater as
he drew nearer, pride in his eyes, glory descending upon him. But alack!
it’s said ’a haughty spirit goeth before a fall.’ There _may_ have been
an ice fissure. Forbes insisted there _was_ one in which he caught his
skate; but there certainly _was_ the fall both actual and figurative. As
the enthusiast came within ten feet of his spellbound audience, a pair
of very long legs came up, and a very loosely-hung body came down with
dispatch. The legs flew apart until the figure resembled an ice-boat
under full headway, nor did its momentum perceptibly lessen as it sped
past its audience, the light snow piling up in front of it and flying
over its shoulders as it flies back from a snow-plow. For fully thirty
feet the wild figure slid along before it lost its impetus. Then it came
to a dazed stop. Only one of the audience was prepared to go to its aid;
the others were entirely helpless, and were hanging upon each other’s
necks—let us hope in tears of sympathy.
“Can—can I help you?” stammered Hadyn, as he bent over to raise the
prone one. “You—you rather came a cropper that time, and—and—”
“Get behind me, for heaven’s sake. Do you think a man can slither along
on the ice for thirty feet and—and not damage his garments? Quick,
before all those people get wise. Is your long cape in the boathouse?
Yes? Thanks, I’ll take it, and I don’t care a hang if _you freeze_;” and
scrambling to his feet Forbes sped for the boathouse, and the world saw
him not again that day.
Scarcely had Forbes left the party on the pond when a new member was
added to it, or, at least, arrived upon the scene with a very firmly
fixed intention of being added to it if he could contrive to be.
He was arrayed, from his standpoint of a proper toilet for the occasion,
in a costume altogether irresistible, and which it had cost him no
little time and outlay to procure.
Heavy tan shoes, a plaided Scotch tweed suit, a sweater of gorgeous red,
and a sealskin cap.
With many a curve and flourish, for the man _could_ skate, he came up to
the group, and with a most impressive bow to Constance, raised the fur
cap, and, standing uncovered, said:
“Good-morning, Miss Carruth. Fine sport, ain’t it? May I compliment you
on your skating? You ain’t got a rival on the ice, nor off it, neither.”
For a moment Constance was at a loss to place the man, then she recalled
his visit to her Candy Arch about three weeks before. It was Elijah
Sniffins.
The very audacity of this move deprived her of speech for a moment, and
the others with her were too amazed to come to her rescue. Indeed, they
did not know the man at all, and, consequently, did not realize the
extent of his presumption.
Then Constance came to herself. Looking straight into the man’s eyes,
her own ominous with indignation, and her cheeks flushing with
resentment, she replied:
“Haven’t you made a slight mistake, Mr. Sniffins? I believe the business
matter upon which you called at the Arcade was settled then and there,
for I had already made other arrangements. I hardly think there is
anything more to be discussed.”
“Oh, that’s all in the sweet bygones. You needn’t think I’ve got to talk
business every time we meet any mor’n you have; I just give myself a
holiday once in so often just like you do, and this is one of ’em. Great
day for a holiday. But, by the way, did you get a nice girl for your
counter?—one that’s goin’ to have some snap to her and do a rushin’
business with all the young folks anxious to get rid of their money?”
“She is quite satisfactory, thank you, and good-morning, Mr. Sniffins.”
“Oh, I say, won’t you give me just one turn? Never see anyone could
skate like you—”
“Hadyn, isn’t it about time we went home? Just one more spin, please,”
and turning toward Hadyn Stuyvesant Constance held out both hands toward
him. He had turned to speak to another member of the party, and until
that moment had not been aware of Sniffins’ intrusion. At sight of
Constance’s face his own changed, and he gave a quick glance at the man,
who seemed undecided as to whether it would be wiser to accept his
dismissal or persist in his unwelcome attentions. It may have been
something in Hadyn’s glance which deterred him, for with another
impressive bow he skated rapidly away, muttering:
“Little snob! Thinks she’s out of sight; but she ain’t any better’n
others who are makin’ their pile, and I’ll learn her yet.”
“Who is he? What is the matter, little girl?” asked Hadyn, as he and
Constance swung away over the ice.
“Why, it’s that odious man. I don’t know what to make of him. This is
the second time he has forced himself upon me, and why he does so is
more than I can fathom. He is the Fire Insurance Agent down in State
Street; and the only time we have ever had any intercourse whatsoever
with him was when the house burned. But _I_ did not see him even then.
Mother or Mammy were the only ones who had any dealings with him at that
time, though once later, when the Candy Booth in the Arcade caught fire,
he did speak to me, now I remember, though I had quite forgotten it.
What in this world can the man want? I declare he half frightens me, he
is so audacious.”
She then told Hadyn of Sniffins’ visit to the Arcade. He listened
attentively, seeing far more in it than the girl beside him guessed, but
taking care not to let her know.
“And you did not engage his sister, after all?” he inquired.
“No; I have a Katherine Boggs doing duty there. She’s a quiet, nice
little thing, and not likely to do the ’rushin’ business with all the
young fools,’ which this idiot seems to think a requisite qualification.
Ugh! How I loathe the very sight of that man! It’s mighty lucky I did
not engage his sister, isn’t it? He would have used her as a wedge to
force his presence upon me, though why on earth he wishes to is more
than I can understand.”
The face she turned up to Hadyn’s was the very personification of
sweetness and modesty.
He looked at her, a slight color creeping into his own and a light
filling his eyes, which for the first time since she had known him sent
an odd little thrill to the girl’s heart, which caused it to beat a
trifle quicker, and her eyes to fall before his. It was all over in a
moment, and all he said was:
“Keep your modesty, little girl. It is a valuable asset to womanhood.
And now we must get back home, or the little Mother and Mammy will get
after us.”