CHRISTMAS PRESENTS
The day before Christmas Ruth awoke with an ache in her heart, and
an inexpressible longing for mother and father. It was even worse,
she thought, than the Christmas before when grief for her mother
was so keenly new. Then, she and her father had been so occupied
making the hard day easier for each other that it had passed almost
pleasantly. But now, with her best chum so far away, the longing
for her mother increased tenfold, and Ruth found herself wishing
that she could go to sleep again, and not wake until the holidays
were over.
It was hard to look cheerful at the breakfast-table, and every one
missed the gay laugh and chatter which usually made the meal so
pleasant.
"You're not ill, child, are you?" asked Mr. Hamilton as he rose
from the table.
"Oh, no," answered Ruth quickly, feeling that it would be rank
ingratitude to look melancholy after ail their kindness to her.
"That's right," he said with a farewell pat. "We can't have you
looking sober. You know I depend on you to give me a merry Christmas."
"I'll try," answered Ruth dutifully, but she felt that it would be
an impossibility for her to add to any one's happiness.
"Perhaps you will help me a little, Ruth," said Mrs. Hamilton as they
finished breakfast. "I'm going to pack and deliver some Christmas
baskets this morning, and I really need some assistance in order
to get through with it."
"I'd love to. Mother and I always did that, and I used to think
it almost the nicest part of Christmas. Mayn't I buy something to
put in the baskets, or have you all that you can use?"
"It would be very nice if you would, for I've just heard of a
family this morning where the children haven't the necessary winter
clothing. There are four children, the oldest about seven and the
youngest a baby, and I'm sure you will find a great many things
they need at the little store near the post-office. If you feel
like taking that off my mind I shall be truly grateful."
"Indeed I do," and Ruth, looking more cheerful already, ran off
to put on her coat and gay little hat. It is undeniable that doing
for others is the best cure for an ache in one's own heart, and
Ruth felt almost happy for the next half hour as she bought little
suits of underwear, warm petticoats and stockings, and red mittens
enough for the entire family. She felt quite like Santa Claus as she
walked down the street, for she had made a last purchase of toys
and candy, and enticing-looking bundles stuck out in all directions.
Those who passed couldn't help smiling at the pretty girl who, for
the time, at least, was the embodiment of Christmas cheer.
"There, that was fun," she said with a sigh of satisfaction as she
deposited her bundles on the table. "Now, let me help you pack."
For the remainder of the morning there was no time to be unhappy,
for by the time the baskets were packed the sleigh was at the door.
Mrs. Hamilton's errands took them to the outskirts of the town,
where great fields of snow spread their dazzling whiteness, and
the cool, crisp air blew the cobwebs from one's brain. Ruth learned
a helpful lesson in the art of giving, for Mrs. Hamilton was as
beautifully simple and friendly with the poor women she visited as
with her wealthier friends, and it was a pleasure to see the good
comradeship with which she entered into their joys and sorrows.
"This is my last visit for the morning," said Mrs. Hamilton, as the
sleigh drew up before a neat little house. "I have just a little
Christmas remembrance to leave here, and I think you may find this
the most attractive place of all."
Ruth followed Mrs. Hamilton into the house with real curiosity,
only to be met by a cheerful, rosy-cheeked woman who looked clean
and wholesome, though not especially interesting. She was putting
an extra polish on her little parlor, which already looked spotless,
and singing softly as she did so. As the song stopped Ruth realized
that the words were French and she began to feel curious immediately.
"Ah, Mrs. Hamilton, it ees a great pleasure to see you," the woman
said as Mrs. Hamilton shook hands with her. "Marie will be so happy.
She has so wearied for you."
Mrs. Hamilton and Ruth followed the good woman into the little
room, which was dining-room and sitting-room combined, and where
on a couch lay a girl a year or two older than Ruth. The great dark
eyes, looking out of the palest face Ruth had ever seen, lighted
up with joy, and a flashing smile disclosed faultless teeth as the
girl said with an accent even more marked than Mrs. Perrier's,
"It ees my angel of mercy come again. I am so glad, so glad."
"I thought you might get tired of such an old angel, Marie," laughed
Mrs. Hamilton, "so I've brought a younger one along with me. Come
here, Ruth, and let me make you acquainted with my friend, Marie
Borel, who has left her Swiss mountains, and has come to America
to do great things."
"Such great things I have done!" said Marie, reproachfully. "The
first thing ees to get seeck so that my good aunt should have to
take care of me. I do not like to make so much trouble."
"It is nothing," said her aunt affectionately as she patted the thin
hand. "The uncle and I, we care only for your pain and trouble. It
ees a pleasure to have you with us."
Marie looked at her with such loving gratitude in her soft eyes
that her aunt retreated to the kitchen where Mrs. Hamilton followed
her on the pretext of obtaining a promised recipe.
Left to themselves the girls chatted in friendliest fashion, and
Ruth soon learned at least the outlines of Marie's story. Her father
had been pastor in a quaint little town of French Switzerland, and
there Marie had been born and had lived until death had taken both
father and mother within a year. Then, heart-broken over her loss,
she had accepted with gratitude an invitation from her aunt, who
had gone to America with her husband when Marie was a little girl.
It was a trial of Ruth's self-control when Marie told so simply
and pathetically of the death of her mother and father, for her own
loss seemed so terribly near. "I've lost my mother, too, Marie,"
she said softly, "and my father has gone so far away that sometimes
I feel quite alone."
"Ah, then you can understand how hard it is to be brave when one
has so great a sorrow."
"Indeed I can. And I'm not always brave. But tell me what happened
to you after you got here."
"Something, my grief, perhaps, or the voyage, made me so seeck.
But it ees much better already, for now I can read a little and
can also sew." As she spoke Marie took from a little bag lying by
her side a piece of embroidery which to Ruth's eyes seemed a marvel
of neatness and beauty.
"Oh, how lovely!" she said admiringly. "How can you do such fine
even work?"
"We are taught to make such fine stitches when we are very little
girls," answered Marie much gratified at the praise. "And I also
make the pillow lace. Have you ever seen that made?"
Ruth looked with greatest interest at the plump cushion with its
rows of pins, and watched intently while the thin hands deftly
tossed the bobbins around in most mysterious fashion.
"Oh, you do that so fast and so carelessly," she said at last, "and
yet that beautiful pattern comes so perfectly." "Isn't it wonderful,
Ruth?" asked Mrs. Hamilton, coming into the room. "I hoped Marie
would show you her lace pillow and her embroidery."
"It's perfectly fascinating," declared Ruth, "and I'd like to
learn, but I know I should tie all those threads in a tight knot
right away."
"Come over and I will teach you a simple pattern that in my country
quite little children learn to make," urged Marie, who longed for
another visit from her new friend.
"I'll come again gladly, but I'm not sure that I shall ever have
courage to attempt anything so wonderful," laughed Ruth as she rose
to go.
"I'm so glad you took me there, Aunt Mary," she said as they got
into the sleigh. "You seem to know just what to do for people when
they are miserable."
"I knew that what you wanted most I couldn't give you, dear, so I
tried the next best thing."
"Marie was so cheerful and patient that it made me ashamed to
be anything else when I'm so well and have father. Only it seems
as though I never wanted my mother more than I do to-day." Ruth's
voice trembled and the tears filled her eyes.
"Dear, we think you are brave, and we have appreciated your struggles
more than you suspect," said Mrs. Hamilton tenderly. "We are so
grateful for what you have done for Arthur, and the whole house
seems more cheerful when our borrowed daughter is in it."
Ruth's face brightened, and her hand sought Mrs. Hamilton's under
the robe and squeezed it hard. She was silent for a moment and
then she cried gayly, "From now on I 'solomon promidge,' as some
one used to say, to be good and cheerful for the rest of the day."
"That's right, darling; and now let's see if any Christmas greetings
have arrived while we've been away," said Mrs. Hamilton as they
entered the house.
"I should say they had," said Arthur, who had just come down to
lunch, and was scrutinizing the addresses on several interesting
looking packages. "Here's a heavy box for Ruth, and several small
packages for you, mother."
"Oh, would you open it now, or would you wait until to-morrow?"
cried Ruth, as she weighed the package in her hands and studied
the outside. "It's too fascinating, and I really can't wait," she
decided, and cutting the string with the knife Arthur held out to
her, she soon disclosed a box of unmistakable intent.
"Tyler's!" she said rapturously, "and five pounds of it, I'm sure.
That's Uncle Jerry's writing on the envelope. 'For the Social Six,
whose acquaintance I hope to make in the near future.' How dear
of him! And that means that he's coming to Boston some time this
winter! Oh, I shall be so happy if he does."
"He's a wise young man to pave the way beforehand so sweetly," said
Mrs. Hamilton with a laugh. "Ail the girls will think him quite
perfect."
"He's the nicest uncle that ever lived, and we do have such good
times together. He's only twelve years older than I am, you know,
and he seems more like a brother than an uncle." As Ruth spoke the
front door opened suddenly and Mr. Hamilton entered.
"Am I just in time for lunch?" he asked gaily. "I thought I'd come
out early to-day and play with Ruth. Besides, I have a package here
which she might like to investigate."
He gave Ruth a bundle which was almost covered with seals, stamps
and addresses, and a letter which bore a foreign postmark.
"From father," exclaimed Ruth. "Excuse me if I open it now. Do listen
to this," she said as her eyes traveled quickly over the familiar
handwriting. "'The package which I am sending in Mr. Hamilton's
care contains some little gifts for the girls and boys about whom
you have written to me. They have all been so kind to you that I
am glad to express my gratitude to them even in so slight a manner.
I shall leave you to bestow them as you think fit, and only hope
that they will enjoy them as much as I have enjoyed choosing them.'
"Isn't that the loveliest thing you ever heard of?" said Ruth,
turning to Mrs. Hamilton. "Won't we have fun deciding about them?"
"Let's have an impromptu party, to-night, if we can get the girls
and boys together," said Mrs. Hamilton, who was as much a girl as
Ruth about some things.
"Splendid!" said Ruth, and then added in comical dismay, "I don't
see how you expect me to eat any lunch with such exciting times in
prospect."
"We'll eat and plan at the same moment," consoled Mrs. Hamilton,
"and then you won't feel that you're losing precious time."
It was decided that they should invite only the Social Six girls,
and the boys of the Candle Club, and to Ruth was left the pleasant
task of telephoning where she could, and sending John with notes
to the others. Every one in the house was busy, for each wanted to
have a hand in making Ruth's first party in her new home a happy
one. Delicious odors began to come from the kitchen, where Ellen
was flying around with a red and beaming face, and even Arthur was
shut up in his room carrying out mysterious directions his mother
had given him.
"I've been racking my brains to think up some quite novel way to
give these presents," said Ruth as she and Mrs. Hamilton finished
making their selections.
"Just leave it to me. I have a plan for that, and all you need to
do is to make them into nice little packages. You can use these
small cards for marking them."
Ruth sat in her room making her parcels gay with gold cord and sprigs
of holly until she heard Mrs. Hamilton calling her. Then she went
down-stairs to find the family assembled in the dining-room for
a light and early supper. Until they had met at the table it had
not occurred to Ruth to wonder how Arthur would take this sudden
festivity.
So it was with real purpose but with an apparently careless manner
that she stopped him on his way to the stairs to say, "Do be down
before any one comes, for I want you to help me out. I feel really
embarrassed over my first party."
"I'm not coming down," he answered abruptly.
"Not coming down? Oh, Arthur, that's too bad of you. Does your
mother know?"
"No, not yet. I told her I'd try, and I have, but I can't manage
it." Arthur's face and manner were so forlorn that it took all
Ruth's courage to continue. She glanced around but there was no
one within hearing, and at last she said, "Why won't you come down?
Is it because you can't bear to have the boys and girls see you on
crutches?"
Arthur nodded uncomfortably. He hated to talk of this to any one,
and he hadn't expected any determined interference in his plans.
"Don't you suppose they ail know about it? And if they do will just
seeing you make any difference?" continued Ruth, quite surprised
at her own eloquence, and still persistently barring the way to
the stairs. "I know that they are all longing to have you with them
again, and that none of the good times seem the same without you.
I heard Frank and Joe say the other day that if you kept up this
sort of thing much longer they were going to make a raid on your
room and have it out with you."
"I wish they would," answered Arthur gloomily. "Perhaps they might
knock some sense into me."
"Well, if you want to know what I think," Ruth went on, feeling that
her courage was fast departing, and on that very account growing
more and more severe, "I think it's cowardly to shut yourself away
from your friends and spoil everything like this. I dare say you
are one of the very boys who think that ail girls are cry-babies,
but I can't see why it isn't playing baby to do as you are doing."