TABITHA'S CHRISTMAS
Christmas Day dawned bright and clear and with the first peep of dawn
Tabitha was out of bed, shaking Chrystobel vigorously and calling,
"Merry Christmas, lazybones! Wake up; it's day! The rising bell has
rung. Didn't you hear it?"
"Oh, you are dreaming," drowsily murmured the weary girl in the other
bed. "This is vacation time."
"But we have to get up just the same," laughed Tabitha. "I am going to
wake Carrie and the others."
She bounced across the room, flung open the door and stopped abruptly,
for suspended to the transom above her head hung two immense tarlatan
stockings, stuffed to the very brim with bundles of all sorts and sizes.
Across the hall from Carrie's transom swung two more similar socks, and
dangling against Bertha's door was a third set.
Tabitha's wild shriek of surprise and delight brought the other five
girls standing in their beds, and Carrie chattered anxiously, "Oh, what
is the matter? Is the building on fire?"
"No, indeed. Merry Christmas!" shouted the black-eyed girl, tugging at
the stocking marked with her name. "Open the door and see what you find.
Santa Claus surely has been here while we slept."
There was the sound of pattering feet in the three rooms, and
Chrystobel, now thoroughly awake, reached Tabitha's side just as the
door across the hall and the one next to theirs burst open and four
excited girls tumbled out. "Oh-h-h!" came a chorus of long-drawn-out,
rapturous sighs, as five pair of eager arms clasped the bulky socks and
jerked them loose.
"Ow!" shrieked Grace. "There is something awfully hard in mine. It
nearly knocked a hole in my head. It's a handkerchief box, as sure as I
am alive! Isn't it a dear? That is from Esther. Well, Kitty, what are
you doing down there?"
Tabitha, in nightgown and slippers, sat in the middle of the floor, her
huge stocking up-side down in her lap, and gifts scattered all about
her, as with shining eyes and trembling hands she unwrapped each package
in turn and gloated over its contents.
"A bunch of violets from Miss Pomeroy--she never forgets one of us.
There is Bertha's scarf that Cassandra tattled about--thank you, Bertha!
You must have worked like a Trojan on that. I never could embroider
silk. Here is a lovely handkerchief from Edith, a book from June, a
calendar from Estelle, a--a silk waist from Carrie! You darling! Look at
this lovely photo of Jessie and Julia, and isn't the frame cute! A book
of poems from Cassandra--she said her gift ought to make me the happiest
of all because it would give me something new to recite--queer little,
dear little midget! A set of Shakespeare from the Leonard twins, a
bonbon dish from Vera. Here is a kiss in return. An apron from Grace,
three ties, a pair of gloves, chocolates, handkerchiefs,--oh, did ever
anyone see so many pretty things belonging to one person! I am perfectly
crazy with happiness. Here is one weenty package more in the very tiptoe
of my stocking--from Chrystobel--a ring with a real ruby in it. If there
were another thing to open, I should be bawling in earnest. That is the
first ring I ever owned, girls--"
"Oh, there goes the first bell for breakfast," interrupted Bertha,
whisking up her stocking full of packages. "Ten minutes to dress in!
Run, scuttle, hustle! We mustn't be late
'On Christmas morn, on Christmas morn'."
She vanished abruptly, humming the beautiful carol; and three of her
companions, following her example, swept up their numerous packages and
flew away to dress.
Oh, that was a merry Christmas indeed for Tabitha! So bewildered, so
delighted, so happy was she, that teachers and scholars were kept in a
perfect gale of laughter during the breakfast hour, for the spirit of
the day was upon her, the love of her new friends, manifested even in
this material way, had touched her more deeply than anyone could guess,
and the effervescent gladness in her heart had to bubble over. So they
lingered long over the breakfast table, loath to bring to a close such a
happy hour; but at length Miss Pomeroy rose, and smiling down into the
expectant fares of her six holiday charges, she said,
"I think the first thing on our morning's program is a long walk, say
to the park, and back. It is such a glorious day we mustn't waste a
moment of it, and we have all laughed so much we certainly need some
exercise. Miss Summers looks positively worn out with mirth. By the time
we get back, the postman and expressman may have visited us again, and I
am sure the minutes will pass more quickly for each of us impatient
children if we are busy doing something. My box from home isn't here
yet, and I am as eager as you are to see what my nieces and nephews have
sent me."
"A walk is just what I need to work off my surplus energy," declared
Tabitha enthusiastically. "May we take some crackers to feed the swans?"
"And oh, may I take my kodak, my spandy new Christmas kodak, for some
pictures?" asked Grace eagerly. "I will snap you the very first one if
you will say yes."
"That is quite an inducement," laughed Miss Pomeroy. "Of course you may
take all the crackers you wish and as many kodaks as you possess."
So thus armed, a merry eight left Ivy Hall a few moments later and
tramped gayly away to the park.
Upon their return, as the principal had predicted, they found the
reception hall table loaded down with letters and parcels from the mail,
while several express packages lay piled in a heap on the floor.
"Oh, Miss Pomeroy," shouted Carrie, reaching the bundles first and
eagerly scanning the addresses. "Here is yours all right, and it is
heavy as lead. This one is addressed to Grace; here is mine from
Grandma; that is for Bertha; the big box is Pussy's, and so is this
little fellow, and the other box is addressed to you and me together
from papa. Here's a heap of letters. You can distribute them, Vera; I am
too excited. Where is the hammer?"
"Not so fast, not so fast!" laughed Miss Pomeroy. "John will open these
boxes and carry them up to your rooms where you can unpack them all by
yourselves. Take your mail and scamper!" She shooed the capering girls
up the wide stairway, where they were followed very shortly by the
smiling John, bearing their new cargo of gifts.
"Oh, John, hurry, hurry!" coaxed Carrie, skipping about in a fever of
impatience. "I can't wait. Who is yours from, Puss? Tom?"
"No; it isn't his writing, anyway. There is a little package from him
and a letter--but--the big box is--from Reno, too."
"Why don't you open it and see who sent it?" asked Chrystobel, busy
herself with a big home box.
"I will as soon as I investigate the things Mrs. Vane sent me. Aren't
they pretty? A glove box with two pair of gloves in it. The hair-ribbons
are from Mrs. McKittrick; but this package, I can't make out where it
came from, either. It's a kodak! Grace, a kodak like yours!"
"You will need a detective," said Grace, dropping her own treasures to
examine the mysterious packages of her companion. "What does the tag
say?"
"Just, 'A brand from the burning'. Isn't that queer?"
Carrie paused in her excited unpacking of goodies from home, studied the
little card for a moment and then said, "What will you bet that isn't
from the hermit?"
"Why didn't I think of that before?" murmured Tabitha, dropping back on
the floor, suddenly lost in thought.
"Well, Kitty, if you aren't the craziest!" exclaimed Vera at length.
"Here you sit mooning over that camera when you haven't opened your
brother's packages, or that big box I am dying to see, or even looked at
the things Carrie has dumped into your lap from her folks."
Tabitha roused with a start and immediately tore off the coverings of
the second mysterious box, saying with a smile, "I am keeping the best
for dessert. I like to guess at what is inside each parcel before I open
it. Oh, what a pretty hat!"
"Isn't it a darling! And look at that pretty dress goods! That is all
the rage now."
"Chrystie, see Kitty's new shoes. Aren't they fine?"
"A whole outfit," murmured Grace, half enviously.
"Yes, and here is an envelope, Puss," added Carrie. "That ought to tell
who sent it."
Tabitha mechanically broke the seal of the envelope bearing her name in
the same writing as that on the outside of the box, and a twenty dollar
bill dropped into her lap. "That is all there is in it," she said,
shaking the paper again. "No, it isn't. Here is a little scrap which
reads, 'For dressmaker's bills'. Now isn't that provoking!"
"Provoking!" echoed Chrystobel. "I should call it luck!"
"Oh, I didn't mean the money and things. Those are splendid. But isn't
it a shame not to know where they came from?"
"Why, didn't your brother send them?" asked Bertha in surprise, for she
had been so deeply engrossed with her own gifts that only snatches of
her companions' conversation had reached her.
"No, that isn't a bit like his writing, you see; and besides, he
couldn't afford such things."
"Maybe Tom's letter tells," Carrie ventured. "Why don't you read it and
see?"
"I had forgotten," laughed Tabitha, looking foolish, and hastily tearing
open the letter in her lap. Then the rosy color in her cheeks paled, her
eyes grew big with amazement, and her breath came in quick gasps. "Dad
sent them," was all she said, and as if doubting the truth of her own
statement, she read again the last paragraph of the busy brother's brief
note:
"This is a poor apology for a letter, Puss, but if I get it off in this
next mail I haven't time for anything lengthy. I suppose by this time
you have received the book I mailed you yesterday, and I hope the _big
surprise_ arrives in season to help you enjoy Christmas Day. What do you
think! Dad stopped at Reno on his way back from another trip East, and
he called on me to go shopping with him this morning. He himself
selected the dress, but deferred to my notions in regard to the other
frills, so if they don't suit, blame me. I noticed that most of the
girls in Reno were wearing those fuzzy hats, so at my suggestion Dad got
one to match your dress. I thought you would prefer a brown suit, but he
wanted blue, and blue it is. I showed him around town and took him
through the college buildings, and when he was gone I found fifty
dollars in greenbacks on my dresser--my Christmas gift from him."
Tabitha slowly folded the paper, dropped it down into the box with its
precious gifts, and lifting her shining eyes to the faces of her curious
mates, she whispered softly, "I think I am perfectly happy!"
"And so are we," cried Chrystobel impulsively. "This has been the
loveliest Christmas vacation I can remember. I wouldn't have missed
staying here for anything."
"Nor I!" echoed Grace and Vera in the same breath, while Carrie and
Bertha smiled their happiness.
Then came the grand dinner, and after that the games. They danced, they
sang, they played everything they could think of, they messed in the
kitchen, bribing the cook to surrender her domains to them for a candy
pull, they inveigled the stately principal and shy Miss Summers into
their romps, and how they did enjoy every minute of the gala day! But
like all other days, it came to an end at last, and as the laughing
group of weary merrymakers climbed the wide stairway at the bedtime
hour, Carrie, who had lingered a moment behind the others in the hall
below, bounded up the steps, calling excitedly, "Oh, girls, Miss Pomeroy
says we don't have to sleep in our own rooms tonight, but can pair off
any way we want to, and sleep wherever we choose. Isn't that great fun?
Whom will you take, Puss?"
Tabitha stopped abruptly on the stairs. "Oh, I can have Carrie all to
myself tonight," she thought to herself, but as she opened her lips to
speak, she saw Chrystobel's eyes fixed wistfully upon her own, and
suddenly there rose before her a vision of her room-mate's
self-sacrifice in electing to spend the holidays at school when she knew
what pleasures would have been hers at her own beautiful home. She
hesitated, looked at Carrie's eager face, read the longing in Bertha's
eyes, saw its reflection in Grace and Vera, and answered, "I choose all
of you. What are you going to do about it?"
"Draw lots, you dear little Christmas queen!" cried Bertha promptly.
"You are the most popular girl in school, Kitty Catt. Just see how we
fight over you! Here are some slips of paper from our guessing game.
Take your turn. The two longest, the two middle and the two shortest are
mates."
There on the stairs they drew their fate--Tabitha and Chrystobel, Grace
and Bertha, Carrie and Vera. Then with a merry laugh over the result,
they linked arms and marched up to bed, with one exception a little
disappointed, perhaps, but happy nevertheless.
The lights went out, five pair of sleepy eyes closed in slumber, the
great city grew still, but Tabitha lay awake in her narrow bed looking
up into the star-lit sky with bright, sparkling, happy eyes which held
no trace of sorrow or longing, as she whispered reverently:
"O little town of Bethlehem,
How still we see thee lie!
Above thy deep and dreamless sleep
The silent hours go by."
She thought of all the joys the day had brought her, such unexpected
pleasures that it seemed as if her heart would burst with gladness; she
thought of the girls who had done so much to give her this beautiful
holiday; she thought of the scene on the stairs, and of Bertha's words,
which, without a particle of conceit, she felt were the truth; she
thought of Tom away at college, and wondered if his holiday had been as
delightful as hers; she thought of the friends at Silver Bow, of Aunt
Maria in the East, of the stern father keeping lonely vigil on the
desert, and here her thoughts lingered. Had he received the calendar she
sent him, and was he glad? What had prompted him to buy her the lovely
gifts the express box had contained? Was he, after all, growing to be
like jolly Mr. Carson? His remembrance had been the crowning touch of
the day. How could she ever thank him? An idea suddenly popped into her
mind as if in answer to her question, but she frowned at it, shook her
head, protested that she could never do such a thing, and then--she did
it.
Creeping carefully, noiselessly out of bed, she threw a kimono over her
nightgown, turned on the electric light, drew out writing materials and
began her first letter to the father whom she did not know or
understand.
"Dear Father," she wrote, "I take my pen in hand to try to express in a
feeble measure my deep and sincere gratitude for the many beautiful
gifts you have sent me--
"Oh, rats!" The pen stopped its deliberate movements, the paper was
roughly crumpled and flung into the waste basket. "That would make him
sick with disgust. What in the world shall I say?
"Dear Father,--The Christmas box arrived this morning and its contents
are greatly appreciated, I can assure you. How am I ever to thank you
enough!--
"Certainly not by such a stilted scribble as that. Sounds as if I might
be addressing the president of the Associated Charities. Oh, dear, it is
such a piece of work to write to one's father! Carrie never has half the
fuss; but then I don't suppose I would either if Dad was like Mr.
Carson--or Tom. That's it. I will just pretend I am writing to Tom; I
can say anything to him. Here goes!
"Dear Dad,--The things arrived this morning, and they are--
"Shall I say 'bully'? Tom would, but that is a boy's word, and it is
slang besides. Miss Pomeroy says a lady doesn't use slang. I will use
'great'. No, that isn't much better. Well, 'splendid' will do."
The busy pen went on scratching until the page was filled, then a
second, a third, and still she had not finished. The clock struck
midnight, then one; and with a flourish, Tabitha wrote at the bottom of
the tenth closely scribbled page, "With love, Tabitha," sighed with
weary satisfaction, folded the sheets neatly, and slipped them into an
envelope just as Chrystobel's eyes opened and the surprised girl
inquired sleepily, "Whatever are you doing, Kitty, up at this time of
night?"
"Writing a letter."
"Couldn't you wait until morning?"
"No, dear, I have waited too long already," answered Tabitha, turning
out the light and scrambling back into bed. "I _had_ to tell him how
good everyone is to me, and how good he is, too."