CHRISTMAS AT CASTLE DEAN
“Have peace my lambs on Christmas Day,
The white light shines across the way.
The angelkind look down and sing
Upon the little new-born King.
The manger’s straw—a sorry bed
For Him to lay His baby head;
Yet, sweet, my lambs, the light streamed free
Across man’s lost eternity.”
Miss Susanna awoke on Christmas morning with the sound of fresh, young,
tuneful voices in her delighted ears. Her door stood half open which
explained why she could understand so clearly the quaint words of the
old Irish carol which floated up to her on an harmonic tide from
downstairs.
She was so raptly engaged in listening she neither heard Marjorie’s
light step or saw her witching face framed for a brief second in the
half-open doorway. Marjorie gleefully tiptoed down stairs to report the
awakening of the Lady of the Arms.
“Let us sing Brooke Hamilton’s favorite, ‘God rest you merry,
gentlemen,’ though it is one merry little lady who will get no more rest
in bed this day,” Leila said drolly, after hearing Marjorie’s report.
“You should have seen her! She was sitting straight up in bed, looking
so happy, and as though she was loving the music. After we sing this
carol, I’ll take her breakfast up to her. After breakfast we’ll escort
her downstairs to see our tree and—”
“You can’t lose me,” remarked a matter-of-fact voice from the doorway.
Miss Susanna trotted toward the group at the piano, looking smaller than
ever in her warm, blue eider down dressing gown.
“So we notice,” laughed Vera.
“And I notice you have been booning, as the Irish say, with Jeremiah
Macy,” was Leila’s sly comment. “Such slang!”
“Something like that,” impishly returned Miss Susanna. She showed marked
enjoyment of her own lapse into slang.
“What is your pleasure first, Lady of the Arms?” Marjorie inquired, as
she led Miss Susanna to a brocade chaise lounge, the nearest seat to a
gorgeous heavily-laden Christmas tree.
“Sing me his favorite carol.” Miss Susanna gently tweaked one of
Marjorie’s brown curls. To please the girls she had allowed her curls to
hang, decorated by a pale pink satin topknot bow, which matched her pale
pink negligee.
“With pleasure.” Marjorie dropped a light kiss on the old lady’s hand,
then joined the group at the piano. Robin instantly touched the light
opening strains and started the stately English carol.
They sang it as they had sung it many times before with all the
expression and animation of youth for its old-world charm. When they had
finished Robin slipped from the piano stool with: “No more carols after
that for a while. _N’est ce pas_, Miss Susanna.”
“_Oui_,” responded the last of the Hamiltons absently. She glanced
immediately at Robin, however, with her quick bright smile. “I will tell
you some day why it was his favorite carol,” she said. “Not today. It is
too sad a story for today. I wish only to be happy while I am at Castle
Dean.”
“And you’re going to be. The next happiness today will be breakfast. You
upset Captain’s and my plan to serve it to you in bed. And the next
happiness after that will be our Christmas tree.” Marjorie caught Miss
Susanna’s hands and pulled her to her feet with a frisky show of energy.
She placed light hands on the old lady’s shoulders and marched her ahead
to the dining room.
Miss Hamilton was the only late breakfaster, the girls having been up
and stirring early. Each had had a mysterious visit to the drawing room
tree to make, there to deposit under its spreading branches her own
consignment of holiday bundles. Miss Susanna’s consignment had been
turned over to Captain Dean with due secrecy, shortly after her arrival
at Castle Dean.
Her bodyguard trailed faithfully in her wake to the dining room there to
supplement the breakfast they had already eaten with sticky cinnamon
buns and coffee. “Not because we are stuffers,” Robin carefully
exonerated; “merely to keep you company, Miss Susanna.”
Afterward they went upstairs in leisurely fashion to dress for the day.
It was to be “a regular dress parade,” each girl having brought with her
from Hamilton what she considered her prettiest afternoon gown. General
Dean had ordered assembly in the drawing room at eleven o’clock sharp.
He had placed conspicuously in the hall a large notice which stated:
“The Army is hereby ordered to appear in the assembly room of
the barrack at eleven o’clock A.M. in full dress uniform. Any
one appearing in forage cap, sweater, boudoir cap or goloshes
will be severely disciplined. No carrying of canes, bumbershoots
or other civil impedimenta will be tolerated. Tardiness and
failure to comply with orders will be punished by loss of
presents. Forfeited presents will be confiscated by General Dean
as chief nabbing officer of the day. Signed. GENERAL DEAN.”
The worthy general himself presently appeared and took a determined
stand in the hall where he could keep an eye on matters. Frequent
ringing of the door bell kept him occupied in hustling to the door.
Before long he had admitted Lucy, Kathie, Ronny, Jerry, Helen, Hal,
Charlie Stevens and Muriel.
Upstairs Miss Susanna and the four girls wondered as they completed
their Christmas toilettes what was the occasion for the treble shrieks
of mirth which invariably followed the opening of the heavy front door.
“What is that ridiculous general of yours up to now, I wonder?” Miss
Susanna said to Marjorie and her mother, who had come into the old
lady’s room to admire her in the beauty of an imported gown of wisteria
satin, paneled and further embellished with rose-patterned deep natural
silk lace.
“Let’s find out this minute. Come, my fair lady in silk and lace.”
Marjorie crooked her arm invitingly to Miss Hamilton. “Ready, girls?”
she called back, as the two began a buoyant descent of the stairs, with
Captain, smiling indulgently, in their wake.
“Te, he, he,” Miss Susanna’s own special chuckle was heard as she caught
sight of General Dean.
The high executive of military maneuvers of the Dean Barrack had obeyed
his own order to appear in full dress. He wore a pair of leaf green
trousers and a scarlet uniform coat heavily trimmed with gilt braid. On
his head perched a bright green fez with a long scarlet plume curving
around it and far down on one shoulder. Added to the plume a sprig of
holly had been neatly fastened on the front of the fez.
“I see nothing to laugh at,” he sternly reprimanded the mirthful trio on
the stairs. “I am giving what I consider a faithful representation of
the holiday spirit.”
“You look like a chocolate nut nightmare,” Lieutenant Dean
disrespectfully compared.
“I never saw one, so how can I possibly know how I look.”
“A two-pound ration of chocolate nuts eaten before Taps will introduce
you to one,” retorted the lieutenant.
“Two hours in the guard house for disrespect to a superior officer,”
penalized General Dean. “Forward march. Don’t block the highway.
Discipline must be preserved in the Army. Three at the head of the
stairs—quick time, March,” he rumbled as he spied Leila, Vera and Robin
about to descend.
Miss Hamilton’s entrance into the drawing room was the signal for a
chorus of Christmas greetings from the lively company now in possession
of the apartment. Jerry led her under the mistletoe bough, which
decorated the top of the indirect dome, and kissed her on both cheeks.
The others followed her example.
“What have you done with your guests?” she demanded of her affectionate
callers. “I am surprised at you for running away from them! What must
they think of you?” She drew down her small features in exaggerated
disapproval. Her bright, bird-like eyes wandered from one to another of
the frolicsome group. She read pleasant, suppressed excitement in every
face. She innocently attributed the cause of the mysterious, smiling air
of the callers to a probable delightful conspiracy on their part against
General and Captain Dean. She did not stop to consider herself. She was
of the grateful opinion that she had been already surfeited with
generous, loving attention.
“We have to obey orders.” Lucy Warner volunteered this over-solemn
information. “‘Obedience is a soldier’s first duty,’” she quoted
tritely.
“When the bugle calls, et cetera, et cetera, you know,” Jerry helped the
old saw along. She waved a plump hand by way of furthering her vague
explanation.
“I never heard a bugle call et cetera, et cetera,” General Dean remarked
in interested wonder. “I shall investigate the matter as soon as I am
off duty.”
“I’ll help you,” offered Miss Susanna, to the open and pronounced glee
of the high executive officer. “Such a phenomenon should be
investigated.”
“We may need the services of these two civilians,” General Dean airily
indicated Hal and Charlie Stevens. “Let me see. What was it we were
going to investigate? I have so many important matters on my mind, I—”
He grew cheerfully apologetic.
“Don’t try to implicate us,” warned Hal.
“Please, sir, we’re only a couple of Christmas strays,” Charlie Stevens
rolled humorous black eyes at Mr. Dean. He was still the droll youngster
of early childhood days, but now coming into a boyish appreciation of
the spirit of humor which always prevailed in the little circle of young
folks unconsciously dominated by Marjorie’s friendly ways.
“Sh-h-h! I know it.” The General whispered loudly to Charlie behind his
hand. “I hadn’t intended to mention it.” He elevated his heavy eyebrows
to an alarming degree. “Since you’ve given yourself and your partner
away you’d best try to become social successes.”
“Much obliged, old top.” Hal indecorously lifted the General’s Christmas
fez from his head, then jammed it down again on the presiding officer’s
crown. “I’m going to offer the season’s greetings to my little lavender
Lady.” He and Charlie at once began to pay extravagant court to Miss
Susanna.
General Dean continued to buzz about among the congenial little throng
with a great deal of loud remark concerning “the promoting of good
behavior in the Army.” At length he succeeded in seating the animated,
festive detachment to his liking. He assigned Miss Susanna to the center
of the gold brocade chaise lounge and ranged Marjorie and Leila on each
side of her. The others he ordered into an open group about the golden
dais. Finally he appeared satisfied. He crossed the room to the gift
tree at a magnificent military strut:
“Attention,” he boomed in a voice so stentorian it set the chattering
formation to laughing.
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