CHRISTMAS JOYS
Russ, who was about to take a bite out of a cookie that Mrs. Thompson
had given him, stopped with the piece half-way to his mouth. He looked
at Rose with wide-open eyes.
The other little Bunkers also looked at their sister, who had left her
chair and was standing in the middle of the room.
"What did you say, my dear?" asked Mrs. Thompson.
Before Rose could answer again came a queer, hollow, groaning noise,
that sounded, the children said afterward, "as if a sick bear had hidden
down the cellar and couldn't get out."
Just what sort of noise a sick bear makes I don't know, for I never
heard one. But this noise at any rate, must have been very strange.
"Umph! Umph! Urr-rumph!" it went.
"There it is!" cried Rose. "That's the ghost! It sounds just like the
noise at Great Hedge, doesn't it, Russ?"
"It--it sounds something like it," Russ had to admit. "But there isn't a
ghost--Daddy said so."
"A ghost, child! I should say not!" cried Mrs. Thompson. "Of course
there is no such thing."
"But what makes the sound?" asked Russ. "Don't you hear it?"
"I hear it!" exclaimed Laddie.
"So do I," said Violet.
Mun Bun and Margy probably heard it, also, but they were too busy
finishing their bread and milk to say anything. Probably they knew that
Russ and Rose, who always looked after them, would take care of the
strange noise.
"Oh, _that_ noise!" exclaimed Mrs. Thompson, as once more the hollow
groan sounded, throughout the house. "You weren't afraid of that, were
you?" And her eyes began to twinkle, then she laughed.
"A--a little," admitted Rose.
"It sounds like the cur'us noise at Great Hedge," added Russ.
"Well, I didn't know you had a curious noise at your grandfather's
place," went on Mrs. Thompson. "First I ever heard of it."
"Oh, yes, there's a ghost there, only it isn't a ghost 'cause there's no
such thing! Daddy said so!" exclaimed Rose. "But we got----"
"We've got a funny noise there," said Russ, breaking in on what his
sister was saying. "It sounds like your noise, too."
"Well, there's nothing so very curious about this noise," laughed Mrs.
Thompson. "That's only my husband playing on the big horn he used to
blow when he was in the band. He hasn't used it much for years, and
can't blow it as well as he used to. But that's what the noise is. Every
once in a while he takes a notion and goes up into the attic and blows
on the horn. I imagine he did it this time to amuse you children. I'll
ask him.
"Jabez!" she called up the stairs that led to the small second story of
the house. "Jabez! Is that you blowing the old bass horn?"
"Yes, Sarah, that's me," was the answer.
"Only I can't seem to blow it just right. Something appears to have got
stopped up in the horn, or else maybe it's frozen. It doesn't blow like
it used to."
"I should think it didn't!" laughed his wife. "Stop your tooting, and
bring the horn down where the children can see it. Some of 'em thought
it was a ghost, such as they have at Great Hedge. Did you ever hear of a
ghost there?"
"Oh, I've heard some talk of it," answered Mr. Thompson, and now the six
little Bunkers could hear him coming downstairs. He seemed to be
carrying something large and heavy.
"Why didn't you tell me about it?" asked his wife. "I like ghost
stories."
"Oh, this isn't really a ghost," quickly explained Rose. "It's just a
queer, groaning sound, and it comes in the middle of the night
sometimes, and my daddy and grandpa can't find out what it is."
"Maybe it was Mr. Thompson blowing his horn," suggested Russ. "It
sounded like that."
"Well, I'm sorry my playing sounds as bad as that," laughed Mr.
Thompson, and then he came into the room where the children were,
carrying a large brass horn, the kind that play the bass, or heavy,
notes in a band. Putting his lips to the mouthpiece Mr. Thompson made
the same "umph-umph!" sound that had so startled the children at first.
"Does that sound like the ghost?" he asked Russ.
"Just like it, only louder," was the answer.
"I wonder what it can be at Great Hedge," said Mrs. Thompson. "I should
think it would scare you dreadfully," she went on.
"Why, no," answered Rose. "But we want to find out what it is. So does
my daddy and Grandpa Ford. We're going to help him, Russ and I, only
every time we hear a funny noise it turns out to be Mun Bun falling out
of bed, or an alarm clock beating a drum or something like that."
"Mercy sakes!" exclaimed Mrs. Thompson. "You must have great goings-on
at Great Hedge!" She laughed when Russ and Rose told her of the
different queer noises, each one turning out to be something that was
only funny and easily explainable.
"Well, I'm sorry I startled you," said Mr. Thompson. "I sometimes take a
notion to go off by myself and blow the old horn as I used to in the
band when I belonged to it years ago. That wasn't here; it was in
another village. But I had no idea I sounded like a ghost."
"Oh, it--it sounded nice after we knew what it was," said Rose, thinking
Mr. Thompson's feelings might be hurt if they said they didn't like his
horn.
"Well, I'll not blow it again while you're here," he said. "And now,
unless I'm mistaken, I think I see your grandfather coming back. He'll
soon have the sled fixed."
The six little Bunkers rushed to the window and saw Grandpa Ford riding
down the road on the back of Major. Prince had been left in Mr.
Thompson's barn. In a little while Russ and Rose were telling their
grandfather about the queer noise of the bass horn.
"I never heard you had a ghost at Great Hedge," said Mrs. Thompson to
Grandpa Ford.
"Well, I call it a ghost for want of a better name," he replied. "It's
just a noise, and I thought we would find out what it was before this,
but we haven't. However, we don't worry about it. What do you think of
my six little Bunkers?"
"I love them--each and every one," said Mrs. Thompson. "Let them come
over and see me again."
"I will," promised Grandpa Ford.
"And I promise I won't play the horn for you," added Mr. Thompson,
laughing.
He helped Mr. Ford fix the big sled, and soon it had been turned right
side up, the horses were again hitched to it, and the children, after
bidding their new friends good-bye, got in, and away they drove again,
the merry bells jingling.
"Well, I wish we could find out what the queer noise is here at Great
Hedge as easily as you children found out what the one was at the
cabin," said Grandma Ford, when Russ and Rose and Laddie and Vi, by
turns, had told her what had happened when Mr. Thompson blew his horn.
"Did the ghost sound while I was away?" asked Grandpa Ford.
"Yes, and louder than ever," said Mother Bunker. "We looked all over,
but we couldn't find out what made the sound."
"Maybe it was Santa Claus," said Violet. "He's coming here, and maybe
he's trying the chimney to see if it fits him."
"We thought of that before," said Rose. "But the noise sounded long
before Santa Claus comes around. I'm sure it couldn't be him."
"But he's coming, anyhow," said Violet. "Grandpa said so, and I hope he
brings me a new cradle for my doll."
"I want a new pair of skates," said Russ. "Mine are getting too small."
"I want a ship I can sail in the Summer, and a bigger sled," came from
Laddie.
And so the children began to talk about Christmas, and what they wanted
Santa Claus to bring them.
The weather was now cold and blowy and blustery, with a snowstorm nearly
every day. But the six little Bunkers went out often to play, even if it
was cold. They had lots of fun.
Now and again the queer noise would sound, but, though each time the
grown folks went to look for it, they could not find it. It seemed to
sound all through the house, almost like the blowing of Mr. Thompson's
horn, only not so loud.
"Well, I declare!" exclaimed Grandpa Ford after one night's search, when
nothing had been found, "this surely is a mystery!"
"I could make a riddle about it, only I'd never know the answer," said
Laddie. "And a riddle without an answer is no good."
"That's very true!" said his grandfather, laughing.
The days passed. Christmas came nearer and nearer. There was to be a
tree at Great Hedge, and the children were also going to hang up their
stockings. Grandpa Ford and Daddy Bunker went out into the woods and cut
the tree, which was placed in the parlor, and the doors shut.
"It wouldn't do for any of you to go in there from now on," said Mrs.
Bunker. "You might surprise Santa Claus, and he doesn't like to be
surprised."
Finally came Christmas Eve. The children listened to the reading of
Bible stories as they sat before the fire, and then went early to bed
so "morning would come quicker."
But, in spite of the fact that they wanted to go to sleep, it was some
time before the older ones dropped off into Slumberland. Then, in the
middle of the night, it seemed, there sounded throughout the house the
sound of a horn being blown.
"Oh! Oh!" exclaimed Rose, suddenly awakening and sitting up in bed. "Is
that--is that the----"
"It's the horn of Santa Claus!" cried Mrs. Bunker. "Wake up! It's
Christmas morning!"
And so it was.