"JINGLE BELLS, JINGLE BELLS"
One morning early in February the girls looked out of their windows to
behold a wonderful new world--a white one to replace the dull gray one,
which would have made their spirits sympathetically gray, perhaps, had
they been older. But, happily, it must be a very smoky gray indeed that
can depress fifteen.
"Quick, Edith, come and look!" and then, flying across the room, Ruth
thumped upon Toinette's door, and called out: "Sleigh-bells! Sleigh-bells!
Don't you hear them?"
The snow had fallen steadily all night, piling up softly and silently the
great white mounds, covering up unsightly objects, laying the downiest of
coverlids upon the dull old world until it was hardly recognizable. Every
ledge, every branch and tiny twig held its feathery burden, or shook it
softly upon the white mass covering the ground. Hardly a breath of air
stirred, and the fir trees looked as though St. Nick had visited them in
the night to dress a tree for every little toddler in the land.
Down, down, down came the flakes, as though they never meant to stop, and
as one threw back one's head to look upward at the millions of tiny
feathers falling so gently, one seemed to float upward upon fairy wings
and sail away, away into the realms of the Snow Maiden.
It was hard to keep one's wits upon one's work that day, and many a stolen
glance was given to the fairy world beyond the windows of the
recitation-rooms. About five o'clock the weather cleared, the sun setting
in a glory of crimson and purple clouds. An hour later up came my lady
moon, to smile approval upon the enchanting scene and hint all sorts of
possibilities.
Lou Cornwall came flying into Toinette's room just after dinner to find it
well filled with seven or eight others.
"May I come, too?" she asked. "Oh, girls, if we don't have a sleigh-ride
to-morrow, I'll have a conniption fit certain as the world."
"Do you always have one when there is snow?" asked Toinette.
"Which, a sleigh-ride or a conniption fit?" laughed Lou. "You'd better
believe we have sleigh-rides."
"You'd better believe! I've been here five years, and we've never missed
one yet. Do you remember the night last winter, when we all went sleighing
and came home at eleven o'clock nearly frozen stiff, Bess? Whew! it was
cold. When we got back we found Miss Preston making chocolate for us.
There she was in her bedroom robe and slippers. She had gotten out of bed
to do it because she found out at the last minute that that fat old Mrs.
Schmidt had gone poking off to bed, and hadn't left a single thing for
us."
"I guess I _do_ remember, and didn't it taste good?" was the feeling
answer.
"You weren't here the year before," said Lou. "Sit still, my heart! Shall
I ever forget it?"
"What about it? Tell us!" cried the girls in a chorus.
"That was the first year Mrs. Schmidt was here, and, thank goodness, she
isn't here any longer, and she hadn't learned as much as she learned
afterwards. My goodness, wasn't she stingy? She thought one egg ought to
be enough for six girls, I believe. It took Miss Preston about a year to
get her to understand that we were not to be kept on half rations. Well,
that night we were expecting something extra fine. We got it!" and Lou
stopped to laugh at the recollection. "We rushed into the house, hungrier
than wolves, and ready to empty the pantry, and what do you think we
found? A lot of _after-dinner coffee cups_ of very weak cocoa, with _nary_
saucer to set them in, and two small crackers apiece. 'I was thinking you
would come in hungry, young ladies, so I make you some chocolate. You
don't mind that I have not some saucers, it make so many dishes for
washing,' she said, smiling that pudgy smile of hers. Ugh! I can't bear to
think of it even to this day, and she was ten million times better before
she left last spring. That was the reason Miss Preston took matters into
her own hands the next time, I guess."
Just then a tap came at the door, and Miss Preston put her head in to
ask:
"Can you girls do extra hard work between this and eight o'clock?"
Had she entertained any doubts of their ability to individually do the
work of three, the shout which answered her in the affirmative would have
banished them forever, for the girls were not slow to guess that some
surprise was afoot.
"Very well, I'll trust you all to prepare tomorrow's lessons without
exchanging an unnecessary word, and at eight o'clock I'll ring my bell,
and then you must all put on extra warm wraps and go out on the piazza
to--look at the moon. I shall not expect you to come in till ten-thirty."
As the last word was uttered Miss Preston met her doom, for five girls
pounced upon her, bore her to the couch and hugged her till she cried for
mercy.
"Come with us, oh! come with us," they cried. "It will be twice as nice if
you'll come!"
"Come _where_? Do you suppose I've lived all these years and never seen
the _moon_?" and laughing merrily she slipped away from them, only pausing
to add: "It is ten minutes of seven now."
The hint was enough, and not a girl "got left" that night.
At eight o'clock a silvery ting-a-ling was heard, and never was bell more
promptly responded to. Had it been a fire alarm the rooms could not have
been more quickly emptied.
The moonlight made all outside nearly as bright as day, and when the girls
went out upon the porch they found three huge sleighs, with four horses
each, waiting to whirl them over the shining roads for miles. Miss Preston
did not make one of the party, but Miss Howard was a welcome substitute,
for, next to Miss Preston, the girls loved her better than any of the
other teachers, and Toinette was sorely divided in her mind as to which
she was learning to love the better.
Off they started, singing, laughing at nothing, calling merrily to all
they overtook, or passed, and sending the school yell, which Miss Howard
had made up upon the spur of the moment for them,
"Hoo-rah-ray! Hoo-rah-ray!
Sunny Bank, Montcliff,
U. S. A.,"
out upon the frosty air, until the very hills rang with the cry, and flung
it back in merry echoes.
Miss Howard's sleigh led the van, and one or two of the girls had
clambered up to ride upon the high front seat with the driver, a sturdy
old Irishman, who would have driven twenty horses all night long to please
any of Miss Preston's girls. Ruth sat beside him, with Toinette next to
her, and Edith was squeezed against the outer edge. But who cares about
being squeezed under such circumstances? It's more fun.
The snow had fallen so lightly that sometimes the runners cut through
slightly; but, all things considered, the sleighing was very good. Still,
the driver kept the horses well in hand, for they were good ones and ready
to respond to a word. Moreover, the hilarity behind them seemed to have
proved infectious, for every now and again a leader or a wheeler would
prance about as though joining in the fun, and presently another animal
became infected and wanted to prance, too. Had she not, the next chapter
need not have been written.