"That's a bargain and here's my hand on it," cried Dick. "Now, what do
you say to letting me be Santa Claus? Come on in and let's look at
John Trimble. He'd make a splendid Job or Jeremiah, but I wouldn't let
him spoil a Christmas festival!"
"Do let Dick take the part, father,"--and Mrs. Todd's tone was most
ingratiating. "John's terrible dull and bashful anyway, an' mebbe he'd
have a pain he couldn't stan' jest when he's givin' out the presents.
An' Dick is always so amusin'."
Deacon Todd led the way into the improvised dressing-room. He had
removed John's gala costume in order to apply the mustard faithfully
and he lay in a crumpled heap in the corner. The plaster itself
adorned a stool near by.
"Now, John! John! That plaster won't do you no good on the stool. It
ain't the stool that needs drawin'; it's your stomach," argued Mrs.
Todd.
"I'm drawed pretty nigh to death a'ready," moaned John. "I'm rore,
that's what I am,--rore! An' I won't be Santa Claus neither. I want to
go home."
"Wrop him up and get him into your sleigh, father, and take him home;
then come right back. Bed's the place for him. Keep that hot
flat-iron on his stomach, if he'd rather have it than the mustard.
Men-folks are such cowards. I'll dress Dick while you're gone. Mebbe
it's a Providence!"
On the whole, Dick agreed with Mrs. Todd as he stood ready to make his
entrance. The School Committee was in the church and he had had much
to do with its members in former days. The Select-men of the village
were present, and he had made their acquaintance once, in an executive
session. The deacons were all there and the pillars of the church and
the choir and the organist--a spinster who had actively disapproved
when he had put beans in the melodeon one Sunday. Yes, it was best to
meet them in a body on a festive occasion like this, when the rigors
of the village point of view were relaxed. It would relieve him of
several dozen private visits of apology, and altogether he felt that
his courage would have wavered had he not been disguised as another
person altogether: a popular favorite; a fat jolly, rollicking
dispenser of bounties to the general public. When he finally discarded
his costume, would it not be easier, too, to meet his father first
before the church full of people and have the solemn hour with him
alone, later at night? Yes, as Mrs. Todd said, "Mebbe 'twas a
Providence!"
* * * * *
There was never such a merry Christmas festival in the Orthodox church
of Beulah; everybody was of one mind as to that. There was a momentary
fear that John Trimble, a pillar of prohibition, might have imbibed
hard cider; so gay, so nimble, so mirth-provoking was Santa Claus.
When was John Trimble ever known to unbend sufficiently to romp up the
side aisle jingling his sleigh bells, and leap over a front pew
stuffed with presents, to gain the vantage-ground he needed for the
distribution of his pack? The wing pews on one side of the pulpit had
been floored over and the Christmas Tree stood there, triumphant in
beauty, while the gifts strewed the green-covered platform at its
feet.
How gay, how audacious, how witty was Santa Claus! How the village had
always misjudged John Trimble, and how completely had John Trimble
hitherto obscured his light under a bushel. In his own proper person
children avoided him, but they crowded about this Santa Claus,
encircling his legs, gurgling with joy when they were lifted to his
shoulder, their laughter ringing through the church at his droll
antics. A sense of mystery grew when he opened a pack on the pulpit
stairs, a pack unfamiliar in its outward aspect to the Committee on
Entertainment. Every girl had a little doll dressed in fashionable
attire, and every boy a brilliantly colored, splendidly noisy, tin
trumpet; but hanging to every toy by a red ribbon was Mrs. Larrabee's
Christmas card; her despised one about the "folks back home."
[Illustration: HANDS THAT TREMBLED, AS EVERYBODY COULD SEE]
The publishers' check to the minister's wife had been accompanied by a
dozen complimentary copies, but these had been sent to Reba's Western
friends and relations; and although the card was on many a
marble-topped table in Beulah, it had not been bought by all the
inhabitants, by any means. Fifteen cents would purchase something
useful, and Beulah did not contain many Croesuses. Still, here the
cards were,--enough of them for everybody,--with a linen handkerchief
for every woman and every man in the meeting-house, and a dozen more
sticking out of the pack, as the people in the front pews could
plainly see. Modest gifts, but plenty of them, and nobody knew from
whence they came! There was a buzzing in the church, a buzzing that
grew louder and more persistent when Santa Claus threw a lace scarf
around Mrs. Larrabee's shoulders and approached her husband with a
fine beaver collar in his hands: hands that trembled, as everybody
could see, when he buttoned the piece of fur around the old minister's
neck.
And the minister? He had been half in, and half out of, a puzzling
dream for ten minutes, and when those hands of Santa Claus touched
him, his flesh quivered. They reminded him of baby fingers that had
crept around his neck years ago when he patiently walked the parsonage
floor at night with his ailing child in his arms. Every drop of blood
in his veins called out for answer. He looked above the white cotton
beard and mustache to a pair of dark eyes; merry, mischievous, yet
tender and soft; at a brown wavy lock escaping from the home-made wig.
Then those who were near heard a weak voice say, "My son!" and those
who were far away observed Santa Claus tear off his wig and beard,
heard him cry, "Father!"--and, as Mrs. Todd said afterwards, saw him
"fall on to the minister's neck right there before the whole caboodle,
an' cling to him for all the world like an engaged couple, only they
wouldn't 'a' made so free in public."
No ice but would have thawed in such an atmosphere! Grown-up Beulah
forgot how much trouble Dick Larrabee had caused in other days, and
the children had found a friend for all time. The extraordinary number
of dolls, trumpets, handkerchiefs, and Christmas cards circulating in
the meeting-house raised the temperature considerably, and induced a
general feeling that if Dick Larrabee had really ever been a bit wild
and reckless, he had evidently reformed, and prospered, besides.
Yes, no one but a kind and omniscient Providence could have so
beautifully arranged Dick Larrabee's homecoming, and so wisely
superintended his complete reinstatement in the good graces of Beulah
village. A few maiden ladies felt that he had been a trifle immodest
in embracing, and especially in kissing, his father in front of the
congregation; venturing the conviction that kissing, an indecorous
custom in any event, was especially lamentable in public.
"Pity Letty Boynton missed this evenin'," said Mrs. Todd. "Her an'
Dick allers had a fancy for each other, so I've heard, though I don't
know how true. Clarissa Perry might jest as well have stayed with the
twins as not, for her niece that spoke a piece forgot 'bout half of it
an' Clarissa was in a cold sweat every minute. Then the niece had a
fit o' cryin', she was so ashamed at failin', an' Clarissa had to take
her home. So they both missed the tree, an' Letty might 'a' been here
as well as not an' got her handkerchief an' her card. I sent John
Trimble's to him by the doctor, but he didn't take no notice, Isaac
said, for the doctor was liftin' off the hot flat-iron an' puttin'
turpentine on the spot where I'd had my mustard.--Anyway, if John had
to have the colic he couldn't 'a' chosen a better time, an' if he gets
over it, I shall be real glad he had it; for nobody ever seen sech a
Santa Claus as Dick Larrabee made, an' there never was, an' never will
be, sech a lively, an' amusin' an' free-an'-easy evenin' in the
Orthodox church."
[Illustration]
X
"Bless the card!" sighed David thankfully as he sat down to smoke a
good-night pipe and propped his feet contentedly against the little
Hessian soldiers. The blaze of the logs on his own family
hearth-stone, after many months of steam heaters in the hall bedrooms
of cheap hotels, how it soothed his tired heart and gave it visions of
happiness to come! The card was on his knee, where he could look from
its pictured scene to the real one of which he was again a glad and
grateful part.
"Bless the card!" whispered Letty Boynton to herself as she went to
her moonlit bedroom. Her eyes searched the snowy landscape and found
the parsonage, "over the hills and far away." Then her heart flew like
a bird across the distance and beat its wings in gladness, for a faint
light streamed from the parson's study windows and she knew that
father and son were together. That, in itself, was enough, with David
sleeping under the home roof; but to-morrow was coming and to-morrow
might be hers--her very own!
"Bless the card!" said Reba Larrabee, the tears shining in her eyes as
she left the minister alone with his son. "Bless everybody and
everything! Above all, bless God, 'from whom all blessings flow.'"
"Bless the card," said Dick Larrabee when he went up the narrow
parsonage stairs to the room of his boyhood and found everything as it
had been years ago. He leaned the little piece of paper magic against
the mantel clock, threw it a kiss, and then, opening his pocket-book,
he went nearer to the lamp and took out the faded tintype of a
brown-haired girl in a brown cape. "Bless the card!" he said again,
with a new note in his voice: "Bless the girl! And bless to-morrow if
it brings me what I want most in all the world!"
[Illustration]