Robin thought that Christmas would never come. To the Captain and his
wife it seemed to come too fast. They had hoped it might bring
reconciliation with the old man, but it seemed they had hoped in vain.
There were times, now, when the Captain almost regretted the old
bachelor's bequest. The familiar scenes of her old home sharpened his
wife's grief. To see her father every Sunday in church, with marks of
age and infirmity upon him, but with not a look of tenderness for his
only child, this tried her sorely.
"She felt it less abroad," thought the Captain. "An English home, in
which she frets herself to death, is, after all, no great boon."
Christmas Eve came.
"I'm sure it's quite Christmas enough, now," said Robin. "We'll have
'The Peace Egg' to-night."
So, as the Captain and his wife sat sadly over their fire, the door
opened, and Pax ran in, shaking his bells, and followed by the nursery
mummers. The performance was most successful. It was by no means
pathetic, and yet, as has been said, the Captain's wife shed tears.
"What is the matter, mamma?" said St. George, abruptly dropping his
sword and running up to her.
"Don't tease mamma with questions," said the Captain; "she is not very
well, and rather sad. We must all be very kind and good to poor, dear
mamma;" and the Captain raised his wife's hand to his lips as he spoke.
Robin seized the other hand and kissed it tenderly. He was very fond of
his mother. At this moment Pax took a little run and jumped on to
mamma's lap, where, sitting facing the company, he opened his black
mouth and yawned with a ludicrous inappropriateness worthy of any clown.
It made everybody laugh.
"And now we'll go and act in the kitchen," said Nicholas.
"Supper at nine o'clock, remember," shouted the Captain. "And we are
going to have real frumenty and Yule-cakes, such as mamma used to tell
us of when we were abroad."
"Hurray!" shouted the mummers, and they ran off, Pax leaping from his
seat just in time to hustle the Black Prince in the doorway.
When the dining-room door was shut, St. George raised his hand, and
said, "Hush!"
The mummers pricked their ears, but there was only a distant harsh and
scraping sound, as of stones rubbed together.
"They're cleaning the passages," St. George went on; "and Sarah told me
they meant to finish the mistletoe, and have everything cleaned up by
supper-time. They don't want us, I know. Look here; we will go real
mumming, instead. That will be fun!"
The Valiant Slasher grinned with delight.
"But will mamma let us?" he inquired.
"Oh, it will be all right if we are back by supper-time," said St.
George, hastily. "Only, of course, we must take care not to catch cold.
Come and help me to get some wraps."
The old oak chest in which spare shawls, rugs, and coats were kept was
soon ransacked, and the mummers' gay dresses hidden by motley wrappers.
But no sooner did Darkie and Pax behold the coats, etc., than they at
once began to leap and bark, as it was their custom to do when they saw
any one dressing to go out.
Robin was sorely afraid that this would betray them; but, though the
Captain and his wife heard the barking, they did not guess the cause.
So, the front door being very gently opened and closed, the nursery
mummers stole away.