CHRISTMAS
Aunt Lucinda was playing Christmas carols; it seemed to Blue Bonnet,
listening in her big chair by one of the long windows, that the air had
been full of carols all day. At church in the morning, at Sunday school
in the afternoon; and later, as she and Grandmother made their rounds
in the big, old-fashioned sleigh, carrying Christmas cheer to more than
one home, the very bells had seemed to be singing a carol of their own.
The little bank had been emptied of its contents the morning before,
considerably more coming out than Blue Bonnet herself had put in,
though she had been faithful in those weekly contributions; and she and
Uncle Cliff had spent a delightful hour in a little toyshop, rather off
the main stream of traffic--chosen because it was little and looked
sort of lonely and forlorn, whose proprietor had been most sincere in
his urgent request that they should call again.
That long day in Boston,--with the blessed knowledge at the back of
one’s mind that one had “passed,” and that school was done with for
ten whole days; with the wind nipping one’s fingertips and reddening
one’s cheeks; with the stores reminding one of the fairy-land, and
the streets almost as gay and wonderful as the stores; with Uncle
Cliff declaring that Christmas only came once a year, and that this
was the first time they had ever had a chance to go shopping together
properly,--had been a day not soon to be forgotten.
And then the making up of the baskets in the evening! Grandmother
insisted that one sleigh would never carry them all.
“Every part of Christmas seems the nicest,” Blue Bonnet had sighed,
happily, filling a bag with nuts and raisins for the small Pattersons,
and almost envying Luella Patterson the brown-eyed, brown-haired doll
lying smiling up at her from its box.
Nor had this “between-time” Sunday lacked its own particular charm. “It
gives one a little chance to get one’s breath,” Blue Bonnet confided
to Solomon, curled up in the chair beside her, “Though it hasn’t been
what one would call precisely an idle day! But I’ve got everything
ready--think of that, Solomon! All the home things packed away in the
closet, and after supper, Uncle Cliff and I are going to take Alec’s
and the ‘We are Seven’ theirs. Think what a lot of presents I’ve had to
wrap up and write on!”
Solomon wriggled appreciatively; there was something for him,--he had
been told so.
While out in the hall stood a big, travel-stained box, object of
Solomon’s liveliest curiosity. It had arrived the day before from Texas.
“Don’t you want to come sing this, Blue Bonnet?” Aunt Lucinda asked;
and as Blue Bonnet came to the piano, she struck the opening chords of
Mrs. Clyde’s favorite carol: “O Little Town of Bethlehem.”
Blue Bonnet sang it all, looking out to where above the familiar street
the silent stars went by, and trying to picture to herself the little
hillside town of Bethlehem, resting in its quiet sleep.
“‘O holy Child of Bethlehem!
Descend to us, we pray;
Cast out our sin, and enter in,
Be born in us to-day.
We hear the Christmas angels
The great, glad tidings tell
Oh, come to us, abide with us;
Our Lord Emmanuel!’”
The girl’s clear voice sounded softly through the quiet parlor, with
its trimmings of evergreen and holly, carrying two of her listeners
back to more than one Christmas Eve in the past.
All in all, Christmas Eve was almost as nice as Christmas itself, Blue
Bonnet decided that night, sitting on the hearth-rug before the fire in
her own room. Then her face grew suddenly wistful. It was not so many
years ago that her mother had sat on this same hearth-rug, thinking of
the joys to come on the morrow, while the clock on the mantel ticked
away the moments bringing the great day of days nearer and nearer.
Solomon was the first to give her Christmas greeting the next morning,
choosing Christmas for his first venture above stairs before breakfast;
aided and abetted therein by Delia. Sure, and the child should have
somebody to talk to on Christmas morning--and Solomon was wiser than a
deal of humans.
He received warm welcome; Blue Bonnet was sitting up in bed, a little
square, pasteboard box in her hand. “I found it under my pillow,” she
told the ever-curious Solomon. “Now how did Grandmother smuggle it in
without my knowing it?”
She slipped the slender gold band with its one deep, dark blue stone on
her finger. “Isn’t it pretty, Solomon?”
And it was with the brightest of Christmas faces that Blue Bonnet came
down to breakfast half an hour later. No one was in the dining-room,
but the table stood ready, a true Christmas table, with its shining
silver and bowl of crimson roses; its pile of presents at each place;
overflowing, in Blue Bonnet’s case, from table to floor.
“Please!”--Blue Bonnet went to the door--“Won’t everybody hurry! I
don’t think I can wait much longer!”
“So hungry as all that, Honey?” her uncle laughed, coming in from his
morning constitutional on the veranda. “Merry Christmas!”
“You were in very good time this morning, my dear!” Miss Lucinda
laughed, when the various Christmas greetings had been exchanged and
they all sat down to breakfast.
“Wasn’t I?” Blue Bonnet’s fingers were busy with ribbon and paper.
There were furs from Uncle Cliff, books, ribbons, and neckwear from
Grandmother, skates and the prettiest fur skating-cap from Aunt
Lucinda, books from the “Boston relatives,” remembrances from Alec and
each of the girls, from Katie and Delia, a new collar for Solomon from
Denham. There were any number of odd little trifles such as girls love,
which Mr. Ashe had picked up for her in New York; there was a box of
chocolates big enough to promise the entire club much enjoyment; and
under her napkin--when at least she had calmed down enough to remember
to unfold it, was a slip of paper which told that “Darrel’s mare” was
Darrel’s no longer but belonged to the owner of the Blue Bonnet Ranch.
By that time, Blue Bonnet had quite given up trying to put her delight
and gratitude into words, but her shining eyes said it very plainly to
the three watching her.
“How did everybody know exactly what I wanted, when I hadn’t begun to
think of half so many lovely things myself?” she said.
As for Blue Bonnet, she and Uncle Cliff had put their heads together to
very good purpose. Grandmother, whose pet hobby was fine china, openly
rejoiced over the delicate beauty of the tea-set filling the box at her
place; while Aunt Lucinda--who was a true music lover--bent delightedly
over the lives of her favorite musicians, in their soft, rich bindings.
For Uncle Cliff, Blue Bonnet had gone to Grandmother for advice; and
the girl’s laughing, happy face looking out at him from the purple
velvet miniature case pleased him as nothing else could have done.
“It won’t be quite like going back without you now, Honey,” he told her.
After breakfast, came the unpacking of the Texas box; a box with
something in it for everyone; bright-colored Mexican _serapes_, some
of Benita’s fine drawn work--at sight of which Grandmother and Aunt
Lucinda exclaimed delightedly; there were jars of highly spiced Mexican
conserves, which Blue Bonnet rejoiced over; a tin box of Lisa’s best
pinochie; and down at the bottom were eight wonderfully fringed and
trimmed Mexican saddle blankets--one for each of the “We are Seven’s”
and Alec, and there was even a cleverly-wrought leather leash for
Solomon.
“Isn’t it the nicest Christmas!” Blue Bonnet cried, her lap full of
treasures. “There’s Alec! I’ll give him his blanket right away! I
reckon he’s come to take me skating--I sha’n’t have to borrow skates
now.”
“But dear,” Mrs. Clyde laid a detaining hand on her arm, “there will
not be time for skating before church.”
“Are we going to church--on Christmas?” Blue Bonnet looked rather blank.
“Isn’t that the time of all others to go, dear; to return thanks for
the greatest Gift of all--on His own day?”
Blue Bonnet’s eyes deepened. “I’ll be ready on time,” she promised, and
ran to welcome Alec.
“Oh, I say!” he cried, as she gave him his saddle blanket, “how
uncommonly jolly in them to remember me! And I’ve come to say thank you
for something else, too.”
“Alec, are you going to church?” Blue Bonnet asked, as they went out to
the dining-room to examine the skates and other presents.
He nodded. “But we can go skating after dinner--the pond’s in fine
condition. Boyd’s coming too--between us we’ll get you taught in no
time.”
It was a typical New England winter’s day, all white and blue; even in
the sun, it was necessary to move pretty briskly if one wanted to keep
warm.
[Illustration: “‘ISN’T IT THE NICEST CHRISTMAS!’ BLUE BONNET CRIED, HER
LAP FULL OF TREASURES.”]
The broad village street was alive with people; the bells were ringing
for the Christmas service; on every side one had cheery Christmas
greetings. Blue Bonnet, a knot of holly pinned to her dark furs, looked
up at her uncle with eager face. “Isn’t it all like being part of a
Christmas card scene--the crystallized kind?”
“So it is,” he agreed.
“After Texas, I believe I love Massachusetts,” Blue Bonnet decided.
“There go Ruth and Susy--it must be nice having a sister almost one’s
own age on Christmas. Oh, me, I can’t help hoping Mr. Blake won’t
preach very long.”
But Mr. Blake was under the spell of the day, quite like other people.
It was hardly a sermon at all he gave them, just a simple Christmas
talk starting with the message of peace and good-will brought down by
the angels at that first far-off Christmas-tide.
Blue Bonnet listening to it, her eyes turning, as they always did in
church, to the memorial window beyond, with the winter sunshine shining
through its rich coloring, wondered if her mother and father knew how
very happy she was to-day? Knew, too, of the new thoughts and resolves
stirring within her. Every Christmas all her life should find someone
the richer, happier, for her being here in this world--that, at least,
she was determined on; not just the home people and friends.
And after church, surrounded by the other six club members, each
insisting that she come with them and see their things, Blue Bonnet
could hardly keep from dancing from very happiness.
They compromised at last; the seven would adjourn to the parsonage,
that being the nearest point; after dinner they would all meet at the
pond, and from the pond they would go to Blue Bonnet’s.
“Think of it!” Blue Bonnet exclaimed. “The mare’s my very own! I’m
going to name her Chula! I thought of it in--church!”
“What else have you been thinking about--in church?” Kitty demanded.
“Oh, any amount of things--Christmas things! Wasn’t it dear of Uncle
Cliff?”
“You shouldn’t have him _all_ the time for an uncle,” Debby protested.
“It isn’t a fair division.”
The sitting-room at the parsonage told plainly what day of the year it
was. Five small Blakes, ranging from twelve to three, swooped joyously
down upon the newcomers.
“What did you get?” resounded on every side, broken by excited
exclamations of admiration and sympathy.
“I am glad Aunt Lucinda thought of my skates!” Blue Bonnet rejoiced.
“We’ll go every afternoon, won’t we?--while the ice holds.”
“I’ll have to go now--not skating,” Debby said, and at that the party
broke up.
There was to be only a home dinner that day, at the usual time, in
order to give Delia and Katie their Christmas holiday; so Blue Bonnet
was waiting when the boys came for her.
Boyd Trent, though several months younger than his cousin, was taller
and stronger looking in every way than Alec. Blue Bonnet wondered, as
the three went down the path and out at the back gate, why she felt so
sure that she should never really like him.
He certainly gave her no cause for complaint that afternoon; between
him and Alec, she got on very well.
“You’ll get there,” Boyd assured her. “Let go, Alec--she mustn’t have
too much help.”
“Like it?” Kitty asked, coming up.
“I love it!” Blue Bonnet declared.
“How many tumbles so far?”
“Did you think we would let her fall?” Boyd asked.
“She doesn’t always wait to be let--before doing things,” Kitty
answered, “particularly, in school.”
“But you see we prevented any desire,” Alec explained.
“Let’s see you try it alone?” Kitty urged, and Blue Bonnet took a few
not too unsteady steps.
The wide pond was crowded with skaters; they made a pretty sight,
darting about, the girls in their bright coats and caps, the boys in
bright sweaters.
Not until the west was all aglow and the wind sweeping down from the
hills too keen and nipping, did the “We are Seven’s” and their especial
friends turn their faces homewards.
At the Clyde gate the club members turned in, slipping in at the side
door and straight on up to Blue Bonnet’s room. She had spread most of
her gifts out on her bed, trying to realize them that way.
“But I can’t--yet,” she said now. “I wonder if anyone ever felt as rich
as I do.”
“Not everyone has such cause,” Debby answered. All of the others had
fared well; but, as Kitty put it, it almost seemed as if Blue Bonnet
had fared too well for her own good. “You haven’t anything left to
_want_ for,” she insisted.
“I don’t want Uncle Cliff to go West.”
“Nor do we,” Ruth laughed.
“Let’s talk about the party,” Amanda suggested; for Blue Bonnet’s party
was to be on Thursday night. “Who’s coming, Blue Bonnet?”
“You all:--”
“I should rather think so,” Kitty remarked.
“And Alec and his cousin, and a lot of the other boys and girls. Some
of them I don’t know very well.”
“It’ll be a real big party, won’t it?” Susy rejoiced. “Mother says that
when she was a girl she liked the parties here better than any she
went to. She has one of her old party dresses still.”
“I wonder,” Amanda said, as the six were on their way home, “what Blue
Bonnet’s going to wear Thursday night?”
“It won’t be anything fussy,” Debby remarked. “Miss Clyde doesn’t
approve of fussy things for girls.”
“She is quite right,” Sarah said; “young people shouldn’t--”
“Couldn’t you let it go at that, please!” Kitty interposed.
“Kitty! Besides, you don’t know what I was going to say!”
“Oh, yes, we do, Sallykins!” It was the final straw, and Kitty knew it,
calling Sarah Sallykins.
“If I were Blue Bonnet,” Debby interposed, “I’d have all the pretty
clothes I wanted.”
“I daresay she has,” Ruth laughed; “she has all she needs, at any
rate--and they’re always pretty.”
“Then, Debby,” Amanda objected, “you wouldn’t be Blue Bonnet! One of
the nicest things about Blue Bonnet Ashe is the way she never seems to
realize how much she could have, nor to want it.”
Debby still looked unconvinced; but then Debby was the youngest of
several sisters, and her mother had a talent for “making over.”
“Please, Grandmother!” Blue Bonnet came to a standstill in the center
of her grandmother’s room, “Aunt Lucinda said for me to come show
myself. Do I look--partified?”
Mrs. Clyde turned from her dressing-table to glance with pleased eyes
at the speaker. Blue Bonnet was all in white from head to foot, save
for the spray of crimson holly berries in her brown hair. “You look,”
Grandmother said slowly, “very happy; and you are dressed as I like to
see a school girl dressed--simply and becomingly.”
Blue Bonnet swung her fan by its slender chain,--they had been Alec’s
Christmas present; “Aunt Lucinda wasn’t taking any chances to-night;
she didn’t send Delia.”
Grandmother smiled. “This party is in honor of ‘Miss Elizabeth Blue
Bonnet Ashe,’ not ‘_Señorita_.’”
“And I’m on time! Grandmother, you look lovely!” Blue Bonnet’s eyes
sparkled. “Just as I like to see--a grandmother dressed.”
“And now, having exchanged compliments, shall we go down?” Mrs. Clyde
asked.
In the hall below, they found Mr. Ashe waiting.
“Well! well!” he said, as Blue Bonnet swept him a courtesy, “I wish
Uncle Joe and the folks back there could see you, Honey!”
“Come and have a turn before anyone gets here!” Blue Bonnet begged,
as from the back parlor came the strains of old “Uncle Tim’s” fiddle.
“Uncle Tim” and his grandson “Young Tim” were Woodford’s standbys in
affairs of this sort. No one could play dance music like old black Tim,
though his grandson bade fair to follow in his steps. The old man’s
kindly wrinkled face beamed now at sight of Blue Bonnet--“Want ter
dance a bit ’fore de folkses gits yere? All right--yo’ shore looks like
yo’ all ready for de dancin’.”
The two long parlors thrown into one and cleared for dancing made an
admirable ballroom; at one end, potted palms fenced off the corner
reserved for the elders.
“Isn’t it all too delightful!” Blue Bonnet said, as she and her uncle
waltzed gaily down the length. “Please, Uncle Cliff,” she gave him her
programme, “put your name down for just as many as you want--before
anyone else gets here.”
“I’m not out looking for trouble, Honey!” Mr. Ashe laughed. “You play
with the young folks to-night--why, that was one of the things you came
East for!”
“I came East because--you know now why I wanted to come,--and what made
me so horrid all that time.”
“If you’re going to call my ward names, I’ll quit dancing with you,”
Mr. Ashe insisted.
“There’s Kitty!” Blue Bonnet exclaimed.
Kitty had come luggage laden; she was to stay over night, Mrs. Clyde
having declared that one of the pleasantest things about a party was
the talking it over in bed afterwards.
“How nice you look!” Blue Bonnet said warmly: “Come on upstairs--and,
oh, Kitty! You must see my flowers! Ever and ever so many sent me
flowers!”
“Naturally,” Kitty observed; “didn’t you expect they would? Whose are
those?” she touched the white carnations in Blue Bonnet’s girdle.
“Uncle Cliff’s, I couldn’t wear them all--and I thought he’d like it if
I chose his--he’s going away so soon now, too.”
Kitty gave her hair a few touches here and there. “I’m ready now!”
There was nothing formal about Blue Bonnet’s manner of receiving her
guests; she was glad to see them, and she said so. Her own enjoyment
was evident; loving dancing herself, she was quite sure everyone else
must be equally fond of it, and she was determined that there should
be no wall-flowers at her party. Uncle Cliff was an invaluable ally,
dancing with whomever she bade him.
“This is better than tea-parties?” Alec asked, when his turn with her
came.
“Yes, indeed.”
“So I think; I wasn’t at that tea-party, you may remember?”
“I remember you very nearly prevented my being at it.”
“Is that the reason you’re turning me down now?”
“I’m not. The next three are duty dances--with boys I don’t know very
well.”
“Thanks--for not including this among them.”
Blue Bonnet turned to her next partner, a tall boy--one of the coming
graduates; she hoped he wasn’t as serious as he looked.
It was a pretty sight; the long rooms, still wearing their Christmas
trimmings of evergreen and holly, filled with light-hearted,
bright-faced young people, keeping time to the strains of the waltz
“Uncle Tim” was playing. To the elders, looking on from their sheltered
corner, it was like a return to old times.
“Isn’t it lovely?” Amanda said, as she and Debby met for a moment
between dances. Amanda felt that Susy’s mother was right--_she_ had
never been to a nicer dance.
“There’s Blue Bonnet with Alec’s cousin. Do you like him?” Debby asked.
Amanda hesitated. “He’s--very polite.”
“Sarah’s looking real pretty, isn’t she?” Debby said; it was Debby’s
private opinion that all the club members had done themselves proud
this evening. She gave her soft pink skirts a smoothing touch; pink
was Debby’s color, and this was a perfectly new dress.
“She certainly is,” Amanda agreed; “and she looks as though she were
having a good time, too. Mostly, one can never be quite sure whether
Sarah Blake is really having a good time, or just being polite.”
Then Blue Bonnet bore down upon them. “What are you two doing off here?
You are neither ‘elders’ nor chaperons!”
“Comparing notes,” Debby answered.
“Oh, we’re having the best time ever!” Amanda cried enthusiastically.
Blue Bonnet Ashe wasn’t the sort of girl who never cared whether anyone
else had a good time or not, so long as she had one herself; Amanda
knew girls like that.
“Aunt Lucinda says we’re to form for the supper march soon,” Blue
Bonnet said; “I’ve never been to this kind of a party before--but then
I reckon I’ve never been to a really truly party before--but I’m trying
my hardest to be a credit to the family. Please say I’ve succeeded so
far!” she begged, laughingly.
“You have--so far as I’ve seen,” Debby teased.
“Oh, there’s the General!” Blue Bonnet exclaimed. “He promised to look
in during the evening. I wish I might go out to supper with him, or
Alec, or Uncle Cliff--someone I really know--instead of that big boy
from the first grade. Imagine! He started talking ‘Sargent,’ before
we’d been dancing five seconds!”
“I think, Blue Bonnet,” Sarah said, coming up, “that Miss Clyde is
looking for you.”
“So do I.” Blue Bonnet gave Sarah’s knot of blue ribbons a little pat.
“_Are_ you having a _good_ time, Sarah _mia_?”
“Very! So good that I am almost afraid it will be rather difficult to
go back to one’s regular way of living to-morrow.”
“Then don’t think of it now!” Blue Bonnet advised.
The line was forming for the march out to supper; once in the
dining-room, it broke up into little groups, four to a table.
And then, from every side came eager exclamations of surprise and
pleasure; for in the center of each table was a little candle-lighted
Christmas tree, from the base of which ran four crimson ribbons, to
which were attached the place cards, with their borders of Christmas
elves bearing dainty sprays of holly and mistletoe; while among the
decorations on the trees were tiny favors, both pretty and amusing.
It was all as much a surprise to Blue Bonnet as to her guests; she
had known that Miss Lucinda was giving considerable thought to the
details of her party, but she had never dreamed of anything like this.
Blue Bonnet told herself, that she _never, never_ would be vexed or
impatient with Aunt Lucinda again--let her seem ever so exacting.
If it would only go on and on indefinitely! “Why must all the nicest
things come to an end so soon?” Blue Bonnet asked her partner abruptly.
He looked down at her in surprise--for not the first time that evening.
“Doesn’t everything come to an end sooner or later?”
“That’s just what I’m complaining of! There ought to be more than sixty
minutes to an hour--at times like these.”
“But, Miss Blue Bonnet, think what confusion--”
“You know--” Blue Bonnet’s eyes were most demure, “we really manage
little things like that much better out in Texas.”
“And I verily believe he thought I was in earnest,” she confided to
Ruth later. “Now why didn’t Aunt Lucinda send him out with Sarah?”
“Perhaps she has an eye for contrasts,” Ruth suggested. “Well, I
suppose it’s all over--I’m mighty sorry!”
“So am I,” Blue Bonnet said.
And after she had said good-night to the last departing guest, and
had seen Kitty on her way upstairs, promising to come too, directly,
Blue Bonnet came back to where her aunt and grandmother were talking
together. “You’ve given the nicest, prettiest party that ever could
be!” she said gratefully, slipping a hand into both Grandmother’s and
Aunt Lucinda’s; “and I just can’t thank you enough--but I’ll never,
never forget it.”
“I think we may call it a perfect success from start to finish,” Miss
Lucinda said.