We heard the organ squeak. I turned quickly to watch Bess as she
started pumping on the foot pedals. I knew she would wait just a little
before she began pressing down the black and white keys. She had to get
a sackful of air into the organ before it could make music. She had
explained that to me lots of times.
In a minute Bess began playing. Mama and Papa quit whispering to each
other, and everybody else got quiet, too. The organ's pedals and
bellows sounded louder than ever, but Bess kept pumping her feet up and
down, faster and faster. She pulled out more and more stops till the
music drowned out the organ's whining and wheezing.
"That pump organ's gotta be fixed, Jodie!" Mama whispered.
"Yeah, I know."
Aunt Vic stepped out from between the center curtains. Bess stopped
playing.
"Let us all rise and repeat together the Lord's Prayer. And please
remain standing for the hymn—selection one-eighteen.''
We all stood up and said the Our-Father-Which-Art-In-Heaven prayer, and
then everybody except me began singing a slow, sweet-sounding song I'd
never heard before about the Holy Night.
As soon as we sat down, Bess left the organ and went behind the
curtain. I didn't know what would be next. "Papa, will we get the
presents now?"
"Not yet," he whispered. "I think the schoolteacher's going to speak to
us."
Mister Shepherd went over to the pulpit stand. First, he said good
evening to us all, and then he began making a speech.
He spoke about as loud as Brother Milligan, but I couldn't understand
much of what he was saying. I could always understand Brother Milligan,
for he said the same things every time—all about dying and going to
Hell and somebody putting goats on one side and sheep on the other for
Judgment Day. I knew all the part about hellfire and brimstone burning
and about weeping and wailing and gnashing of teeth.
But Mister Shepherd didn't even mention the fire and red-hot brimstones
that Brother Milligan said were forever waiting for the damned. Mister
Shepherd seemed to want everybody in the church to think about
Christmas Eve instead of damnation. I was glad, because Hell is too far
away to think about.
"This is a night," the schoolteacher was saying, "for the old, young,
and all of us in between! How wonderful it is that you've come and
brought your children and grandchildren to see the beautiful tree, to
get their gifts, and to hear the story told once more.
"It's important that we keep our festive customs and traditions. They
smooth the roughness of life. But it's even more important that we hold
fast to our sacred beliefs and pass them down. They ease life's pain,
give it purpose.
"It's a genuine pleasure being the teacher for your children this year.
Every school day, from eight o'clock in the morning till four in the
evening, my thirty-seven pupils and I are in our own separate world
over across the branch at the schoolhouse. They're as fine a bunch as
I've ever had, and I've been teaching now for seventeen years.
"Yet you can see for yourselves that if I teach these bright pupils
only what is printed in the books, and if you provide only something
for their dinner buckets, clothes to go on their backs, and a shelter
for them at night, we all fail.
"During the short years that boys and girls are in our care, we must
show them more than reading and writing and how to plant crops and how
to get bread and meat on the table and how to marry and rear their own
little ones. If this is all we do, we will have done no more than a
'possum that sacks its young around or any bird that tires its wings
making trip after trip to the nest with worms and bugs for its
fledglings. They too know how to get the necessities and to train their
offspring to do the same.
"If we show children no more about life than this, that's likely all
they'll ever know. The desire to search for life's full meaning, its
sweetness, will never be theirs.
"I don't pretend to understand the purpose of human life. To me, the
struggle to know is, in itself, almost the answer. A man strives all
his days to get for himself that which is pleasant and lovely and good
to think upon. Is not this a groping toward the Divine? Could it be
that we were made to desire the perfect so that we would be drawn to
the Almighty?
"Tonight, let's keep these questions deep in our hearts as the pupils
give their pieces. Some of their recitations and skits are light, but
most are serious. Through such a Christmas entertainment, we can put in
the children's memories forever how God came down to man. In the years
ahead this will help them, too, to struggle, to search, to hope, to
hold fast."
Mister Shepherd moved back toward his chair and Captain Jones, and Aunt
Vic took the lamp from the top of the organ over to the pulpit. She set
it right beside the big Bible.
With the schoolteacher's help, Captain Jones managed to get to his
feet, and both Mister Shepherd and Aunt Vic helped steady him as he
walked toward the stand. Everybody stayed still and quiet, waiting.
Aunt Vic spread open the Bible to where the red ribbon was showing and
then stepped to one side so she could hold up the lamp. "Is this all
right, Captain Jones?"
"Yes, Miss Vic, I can see fine, thank you."
"At this time, Captain Jones will read for us, as he has these many
years." Aunt Vic lifted the lamp a little higher.
When Captain Jones had straightened the nose piece of his glasses, he
began reading:
And it came to pass in those days, that there went out a decree from
Caesar Augustus, that all the world should be taxed.…
That wasn't anything for me to listen to, I could tell, for I didn't
even know Caesar Augustus. I wished Aunt Vic would hurry and say, "At
this time, we will start taking presents off the tree." But I knew it
would be hours before she got around to saying that.
Then, I made another wish: I wished that one of the popcorn balls would
fall to the floor and that Mama would let me eat it up! But, none fell.
They just stayed still, hanging there on the holly limbs, as if they
too were waiting. Nothing on the tree was moving, except the flickering
tips of the candle flames, and little wisps of smoke rising from each
blaze. Nothing in the whole church was moving, except those candle
lights and Captain Jones's lips and his quivering beard.
The stiff pasteboard in my paper hat was bothering my head so much I
wanted to pull the hat clear off. I reached up to get it, but Mama made
such a frown I knew to leave it alone.
Then we saw Aunt Vic raise one of her hands in a quick waving motion.
Immediately somebody back on the stage gave the ropes a hard jerk and
the curtains opened wide.
Of all things! An apple crate right in the middle of the stage with hay
sticking out at the top and on all sides! I couldn't imagine why we
needed hay at church.
Bess and Jim-Bo were sitting there beside the hay box, their hands
folded as if for saying prayers. They weren't praying, though. They
weren't moving their lips or keeping their eyes closed. They were just
gazing down into the straw. "Mama," I whispered, "what's down in the
box?"
"Sh-sh! Pay attention to Captain Jones so you can understand the
pageant."
I started to listen to him. Then I happened to glance toward the far
side of the stage. I was glad I did! There came all the school
girls—Mierd and Irene and Sally and all the rest—every one dressed up
like an angel with pretty shining wings. And right behind the girls
were Wiley and Wallace Goode and the Hansen boys. But they didn't have
on wings. They were just toting little pasteboard sheep, gray and
droopy, and long crooked sticks. Slowly the angels and the sheep boys
circled around behind Bess and Jim-Bo, and every last one of them
leaned their heads over to look down in the hay.
"Mama, there's something down in that box!"
"Sh-sh, Bandershanks. If you can't see, why here, stand up on the bench
a minute."
I stood on tiptoe and stretched my neck. "It's a baby, Mama!"
"I know."
"He's asleep!"
"Be quiet, Bandershanks, and sit back down."
"Mama, how come the baby's in the hay?"
"Hon, the baby is like the Little Lord Jesus."
I stood up again to look.
"He's got red hair! Mama, that's Miss Ophelia's baby! He—"
We heard a big commotion outside, and everybody turned toward the back
door. Mister Goode opened the door. But instead of going outside, he
beckoned for whoever was at the doorsteps to come into the church.
Three curious-looking men filed in, one close behind the other. They
marched, clomp, clomp, straight up on the stage.
"Look, Nannie," Papa whispered, "now we know why Lida Belle bought that
calico!"
"I declare to my soul, Jodie. I can't believe it!"
The men had on the most peculiar clothes I'd ever seen: long, flowing
robes that dragged to the floor; high, bespangled headgear that reached
halfway to the ceiling. They looked a good bit like the kings in my
storybook. That's what they were! Real live kings! But where did they
come from?
I jumped up to see what they would do with the pretty sparkling chests
they were toting. These might be three more presents to put on the tree
for somebody. No. The kings didn't even look at the Christmas tree.
They lined up in a straight row in front of the sleeping baby. Then the
one who wore the purple robe nodded to the one in yellow. He, in turn,
cut his eyes around toward the one wearing red. All together, the three
bowed themselves down to the floor and lifted up the three golden
chests.
I noticed that the big king men all had on regular high-top shoes just
like Papa's. I looked up at their faces.
"Mama! They ain't no kings! That's them bad Bailey—"
"Hush!" Mama clamped her hand across my lips and pulled me down into
her lap. "Tonight, hon, they're kings, the Orient Kings. You listen to
Captain Jones."
I had forgotten all about him. He was standing up there in front of
Aunt Vic and the lamp, still reading, his white beard quivering.
…they saw the young child with Mary his mother, and fell down, and
worshipped him: and when they had opened their treasures, they
presented unto him gifts; gold, and frankincense, and myrrh.
Captain Jones stopped. He closed the Bible. Still, nobody moved or said
a word.
Then Aunt Vic gave a quick motion with her hand. The curtains went
together, and such noisy scrambling and talking broke out back on the
stage that both Aunt Vic and Mister Shepherd had to hurry behind the
curtains to quiet the school children.
"Now is it time for our presents, Mama?"
"Not yet. It's time for you to go get ready for your part."
"Now?"
"Yes, you run on back there and find Aunt Vic. And, hon, you do exactly
like she says."
I found Aunt Vic, and I watched and listened as she and the
schoolteacher sent the big kids out front by two's and three's to give
their readings. Aunt Vic went through my piece with me again and had me
whisper it to her three times. Then, right in the middle of Irene's
verses about a hot Christmas pudding—and before I knew it was anywhere
near my turn—Aunt Vic said I would be next.
"Sugar, repeat your recitation to me one more time now, real slow."
I rattled it off.
"Fine! You're just about the smartest girl I ever saw!"
Aunt Vic handed me Papa's rumpled hat that I had brought from home and
told me to follow her.
"Hold the hat out in front of you, sugar. With both hands."
When Aunt Vic and I got out to the middle of the stage, she took a big
breath and made her voice go high and clear. "At this time, our little
walking tree will recite the old-time Beggar's Rhyme, and this will
conclude our program for the evening."
To me she whispered, "Now, hon, lift up your chin and say it."
I started to look up, but I saw the churchful of people. I looked down
at my feet, trying to think what to do. If I were home, I could crawl
under Grandma's bed. I tried to think some more. The churchful of folks
were still looking. If I could just be a crawfish instead of a
Christmas tree, I could scoot backwards and hide behind the curtain!
But Aunt Vic had stepped back there. She motioned for me to take my
finger out of my mouth and say my piece.
"Christmas is—" she whispered.
_"Christmas is a-coming,"_ I started. "And, and, uh—" I looked back at
Aunt Vic.
"The goose—" she whispered.
_"Christmas is a-coming.
"The goose is a-getting fat!
"Please put a penny in the old man's hat!
"If you ain't got a penny,_
"If you ain't— If you ain't— If—" I had to look at Aunt Vic again. She
whispered, "Half penny."
_"If you ain't got a penny,
"A half a penny'll do.
"If you ain't got no half penny,
"God bless you!"_
A roar of laughter swept the whole church, and everybody started
clapping hands, even the school kids behind the curtains! The clapping
kept swelling louder and louder till it waked Ginger. He didn't like
it. And I didn't either! He gave a shrill yip, jumped up, and came
rushing up on the stage, barking at me like a big dog baying at a coon.
The more he barked, the louder everybody laughed and clapped their
hands. Finally Aunt Vic called Ginger, and Papa came and got me.
Papa started smoothing out the leaves of my dress. I didn't care about
the dress any more! I grabbed him around the knees, begged him to sit
down and take me up in his lap.
"No, no, Bandershanks! You go on and finish what Aunt Vic wants you to
do. Pass the hat and then let her pin on the little presents. You're a
walking Christmas tree! Remember? And trees don't cry! Now, scoot!"
I scooted! From one side of the church to the other, I ran back and
forth in front of each bench. And every person I passed dropped money
into Papa's ragged old hat: pennies, or one or two nickels, or a dime,
or two bits. By the time I came to the back pews, the bottom of the hat
was sagging down. As Uncle Dan and the other men started tossing in
four-bit pieces, it got heavier and heavier. The last people I came to
were Mister Wes and Miss Lida Belle.
"You sure recited a nice little piece, hon," Miss Lida Belle told me as
I squeezed my way between her thick knees and the bench behind me. She
didn't drop any money in the hat, but as soon as she turned her head
the other way, Mister Wes slipped in a whole silver dollar!
Leaning over close to me, he whispered, "Little lady, you see the
pretty blue tie up yonder on the tree?"
"Yes, sir."
"I bet you, if you ask her, Miss Vic will fasten that fine tie on you
and let you take it straight to the schoolteacher!"
Aunt Vic stopped calling out names long enough to pin the tie on my
shoulder.
"Hurry right back, hon," she told me. "There are more presents for you
to take."
"Where's Mister Shepherd at?"
"Right over yonder by the side door. Doctor Elton just got here, and
he's talking to him and Captain Jones."
"I see him!"
By weaving my way in and out between people I got through to Mister
Shepherd. I stopped and stood—straight as any tree—right in front of
him. But he wouldn't quit listening to Doctor Elton and look down at
me.
Doctor Elton wouldn't quit talking, either. He was so hoarse he could
hardly speak. Every word was just a croak. Doctor Elton smelled of
medicine worse than ever tonight. He kept on croaking and frowning and
chewing the stuffing out of his cigar butt.
"Shepherd, the rascal has been hiding out down in Louisiana all this
time! I wasn't surprised to hear it, 'cause I never did think he
drowned. But I can't figure out how he bought a automobile! I'll ease
up front and tell Jodie. But let's keep it quiet. No need to disrupt
things and get the womenfolks and children in a panic."
While Doctor Elton was trying to get over to the center aisle, Old Man
Hawk walked up and began asking him about the influenza
ep-i-something-or-other down below State Line Road. The schoolteacher
still hadn't seen me. He moved over and sat down beside Captain Jones.
I tapped on one of his legs. "Mister Shepherd! Mister Shepherd! Here's
a present!"
"Why, hello, Little Tree!"
"It's for you!"
"My, how pretty! But it couldn't be for me. Let me see whose name's on
the tag."
Just as Mister Shepherd leaned over to look at the slip of paper pinned
to the tie, we heard a big rumbling and rattling -right outside the
window. Then came a loud honking. I'd never heard such a horn before!
Mister Shepherd jerked up his head, got to his feet, and turned around
to Doctor Elton and Mister Hawk.
"Doc, you don't suppose that's—"
"It's him! Come to show off! A few of us men had better get out there.
Shepherd, get word to the others. I'll go on." Doctor Elton bumped
against me. "Green Tree Gal, step over a little so I can get through
here!"
"Y'all lem'me get out too!" Mister Hawk was right behind the doctor. "I
gotta go see 'bout my mule!"
When Mister Hawk saw there were so many people between him and the side
door, he headed to the nearest window, raised it, and eased himself
through.
Doctor Elton hurried on around me, but before he could get to the door,
Papa came elbowing his way down the aisle, Uncle Dan right behind him.
"We'd better see who's out yonder, don't you think, Doctor Elton?" Papa
was talking low, fast.
"I know who 'tis, Jodie! It's Ward!"
"Great Jehoshaphat and gully dirt! Let's get him! Come on, y'all! Let's
get him down to my store and hold him there till we can send for the
sheriff!"
Doctor Elton caught Papa's elbow. "Wait a minute, Jodie! Let's sorta
stroll out slow—so we don't start a commotion. Let's make out like
we're all dying to look at the automobile. Then, the minute he steps to
the ground, grab him!"
"Yeah, we'll do it that way," Papa agreed.
Doctor Elton, moving along right behind Papa, began chewing his cigar
faster than ever. "If we can ever plow our way through this jam of
folks, we'll—God! Too late! Here he comes busting in the church! He's
got a gun, Jodie!"
The front door had swung open, and there stood Mister Ward—waving a
pistol above his head!
"Merr-rr-r Chris— Chris'mus! Merr-rr-r Chris'mus, ever'-body!"
Papa, the doctor, and Uncle Dan rushed on toward him, while everybody
standing in the front of the church just sort of melted back against
the walls—tramping one another's feet as they scrambled out of the way.
Doctor Elton croaked out, "Why, hello there, Ward," and slapped him on
the back like he was glad to see him. Papa grabbed his arm, Uncle Dan,
his coat!
Before I could see what would happen next, Mister Shepherd pulled me
back from the aisle and had me scrooch down under a bench. Here, I
couldn't see a thing but shoes and britches legs and Captain Jones's
walking stick. I couldn't even hear what Papa and the other men were
telling Mister Ward. But I could sure hear Mister Ward talking—loud,
and like his mouth was full of baked 'taters.
"Y'all s'prised to see me, ain't you? What y'all grabbin' me for? I
ain't done nothin'! Charged with kidnappin'? Hell, I just took the
young'un for a automobile ride. Weren't my fault she jumped out.
Anyhow, y'all found her. I come to get Ophelia and my young'uns. I
ain't havin' my baby boy in no Chris'mus doin's with them damn Baileys.
Naw, Doc, don't touch my gun! Where's Wes Bailey? I brung him a message
from Addie Mae. Wes thinks I don't know where she's at! Doc, Wes is
here, ain't he? Somebody tell Wes to come see my automobile! I bought
the first automobile in Drake Eye Springs! What'd you say, Doc? Hell,
yeah, you can ride on it! I left the motor runnin'."
I raised up, peeping, to see if I could see Mister Wes. I saw him,
trying his best to get to Mister Ward. But he couldn't break away from
Miss Lida Belle and Mister Goode, who had him hemmed up in the corner.
He was twisting and turning, but they wouldn't let go!
Mister Ward's loud, blubbering talk got louder.
"Wes, I see you now! Cuss your hide, come out and look at my
automobile! I'm aimin' for you to take one good, long look at it—'fore
I shoot you! Soon's I tell you what Addie Mae says, I'll kill you! Naw,
Doc! Lemme have my pistol back! I gotta use it! I'm startin' up the
Williams-Parker feud again! I ain't Jake Williams's great nephew for
nothin'! Great nephew! Sounds plum good! My Uncle Jake, he stopped the
feudin' one Chris'mus Eve. I'm a-startin' it back tonight! You men are
just dyin' to see my automobile? Shore, I got plenty time to show
y'all! Come on! Hell, yeah, I'll let all y'all ride it!"
The church door slammed.
Everybody started milling around, talking all at once and making such a
babble I couldn't tell who was saying what.
"Hush and sit still, Ophelia! Sit still!" That was Miss Dink.
"No, Wes! I don't care if you are the Justice of the Peace! He'll kill
you! You heard him say it, didn't you?" That couldn't be anybody except
Miss Lida Belle.
"I gotta go!"
Mister Goode hollered, "Wes, you'd better stay right here in this
church! They can handle him! I'll go phone the sheriff myself!"
Mister Shepherd grabbed up Captain Jones's walking stick and started
rapping the pew above my head with it. He almost hit me! "Let's be
calm," he called out. He kept rapping till everybody got quiet. "Take
your hymnals, please, and we'll sing another Christmas song. Then Miss
Vic and the young folks can proceed with passing out the gifts. Miss
Bess, please start playing the organ. I suggest we sing 'Angels We Have
Heard On High.' It's a fine, fine old French hymn! You'll find it on
page seventeen."
Bess started playing the organ. I didn't know whether to stand up to
sing or not. Nobody could hear me if I kept sitting on the floor.
"Mister Shepherd, can I get—"
"Oh, sugar, I'd forgotten you! You can crawl out now. Everything's all
right. They'll take Ward to be locked up. Let's sing loud!"
We sang loud, but everything seemed all wrong.
Right in the middle of our song—at the part saying "Come adore on
bended knee"—Doctor Elton came back inside, his cigar gone, his mouth
drooping down at the corners. He was coughing.
"We let the fool outsmart us!" he whispered to Mister Shepherd. "He'd
left his motor going. He made out like he wanted to raise the hood and
show it to us. 'Stead of that, he jerked loose, jumped on the seat, and
tore off down the road !"
"I hate to hear that!"
"Jodie and them are trying to head him off, but—" Doctor Elton started
coughing again. "They're trying to head him off before he gets to the
bridge, but they'll never make it. Saddle horses just aren't a match
for these automobiles! I'd 've tried to help, but me and my mares
have—" The doctor took another coughing spell. "We've simply had it for
today."
I pulled on the teacher's coat sleeve. "Mister Shepherd, is Mister Ward
gonna come back and steal me again?"
"Of course not! Come on, let's keep singing! Loud, Little Tree! Sing
loud!"
In dreams that night I grew to be a great tree, tall and shining, with
ten arms instead of two, each a strong branch bent down by gifts of
gold and precious things. I stood on the banks of Rocky Head Creek, not
far from the bridge.
One low-hanging limb, heavy with blue silk ties, had been propped up
with walking sticks, while at my roots lay Papa's good
Sunday-go-to-meeting hat. It, too, was big, as big as a barrel. In the
middle of it a fat, fat goose had made her nest. And there she sat,
hatching out popcorn balls and pennies by the hatful.
Mister Ward came whizzing across the bridge, his new automobile loaded
with guns and axes. He stopped to chop me down! But Ginger came
frisking along just then and barked so loud it scared him and his
automobile away.
Old Mister Hawk came walking along the far bank of the creek, leading
his mule to get water. She saw me and blinked her eyes and gave her
tail a swish. Before I could say anything, though, Mister Hawk took her
away without even looking up. All he said was, "Let's go, Nellie."
Then, three kings on bay horses came galloping by, their calico robes
rippling in the wind, their laughter ringing through the woods.
"Pick some presents!" I called.
All whirled around and came back, and they gathered fine gifts from my
boughs-enough to fill their saddlebags.
"Where are you going in such a rush?"
"To see the Holy Babe!" they cried.
"Why not take me?" I asked.
"Yeah! Let's take the whole tree!"
So, with merry shouts, they pulled me up and carried me away to the
Holy Babe in the hay box.