LADY JANE’S CHRISTMAS PRESENTS
Christmas came and went; and whatever hopes, desires, or regrets
filled the loving little heart of Lady Jane, the child kept them to
herself, and was outwardly as bright and cheerful as on other days,
although Pepsie, who watched her closely, thought that she detected
a wistfulness in her eyes, and, at times, a sad note in the music of
her happy voice. If the affection that finds expression in numerous
Christmas gifts can make a child contented, Lady Jane had certainly no
reason to complain.
The first thing on which her eyes fell when she awoke was her
stockings, the slender legs very much swollen and bulged, hanging
in madame’s chimney-corner, waiting to be relieved of their undue
expansion. Even Raste—the extravagant and impecunious Raste—had
remembered her; for a very dressy doll, with a French-gilt bangle
encircling its waist (the bangle being intended not for the doll, but
for Lady Jane), bore a card on which was inscribed in bold characters,
“M. Adraste Jozain,” and underneath the name, “A mery Crismus.” Adraste
was very proud of his English, and as Lady Jane was more grateful
than critical it passed muster. Then there was a basket of fruit from
Gex, and beside the basket nestled a little yellow duckling which
came from Mam’selle Diane, as Lady Jane knew without looking at the
tiny old-fashioned card attached to it. And, after she had been made
happy at home, she still had another pleasure in store, for Pepsie,
wishing to witness the pleasure of her little friend, had the Paichoux
presents, with her own and Madelon’s, beautifully arranged on her
table, and carefully covered, until the important moment of unveiling.
Every Paichoux had remembered Lady Jane, and a finer array of picture
books, dolls, and toys was never spread before a happier child; but the
presents which pleased her most were a small music box from Madelon, a
tiny silver thimble from Pepsie, and Mam’selle Diane’s little duckling.
These she kept always among her treasures.
“The day _I_ like best,” said Pepsie, after Lady Jane had exhausted all
the adjectives expressive of admiration, “is the _jour de l’an_, New
Year’s, as you call it. Then Tante Modeste and the children come and
bring bonbons and fireworks, and the street is lighted from one end to
the other, and the sky is full of rockets and Roman candles, and there
is so much noise, and every one is merry—because the New Year has come.”
At that moment, Tite Souris entered with an expressive grin on her
ebony face, and an air of great mystery:
“Here you, chil’runs, I done got yer Crismus; doan’ say nufin ’bout it,
’cause ’t ain’t nufin’ much. I ain’t got no money ter buy dolls an’
sech; so I jes bought yer boaf a ‘stage-plank.’ I lowed yer might lak a
‘stage plank.’”
Unfolding a large yellow paper, she laid a huge sheet of coarse black
ginger-bread on the table among Lady Jane’s treasures.
“Thank you, Tite,” said Lady Jane, eyeing the strange object askance.
“What is it?”
“Oh Lor’, Miss Lady, ain’t ye neber seed a ‘stage plank’? It’s ter eat.
It’s _good_,—ain’t it, Miss Peps’?”
“I don’t know, Tite; I never ate one,” replied Pepsie, smiling broadly,
“but I dare say it’s good. It’s kind of you to think of us, and we’ll
try it by and by.”
“Dear me!” said Pepsie, after Tite, who was grinning with satisfaction,
had left the room. “What shall we do with it? We can’t eat it.”
“Perhaps Tony will,” exclaimed Lady Jane, eagerly. “He will eat almost
anything. He ate all Tante Pauline’s shrimps, the other day, and he
swallowed two live toads in Mam’selle Diane’s garden. Oh, he’s got a
dreadful appetite. Tante Pauline says she can’t afford to feed him.”
And she looked anxiously at her greedy pet.
“Well, we’ll try him,” said Pepsie, breaking off a piece of the ‘stage
plank’ and throwing it to Tony. The bird gobbled it down promptly, and
then looked for more.
Lady Jane clapped her hands delightedly. “Oh, isn’t Tony nice to eat
it? But we mustn’t let Tite know, because she’d be sorry that _we_
didn’t like it. We’ll keep it and give it all to Tony,” and in this way
Tite’s “stage plank” was disposed of.
If Christmas was a merry day to Lady Jane, New Year’s was certainly
a happy one. The Paichoux children came, as Pepsie said they would,
loaded with bonbons and fireworks, and all day the neighborhood was
lively with their fun—and such a dinner as they brought with them!
Lady Jane thought there never could be anything as pretty as the table
in Madelon’s little room, loaded, as it was, with all sorts of good
things. Tante Modeste went home to dine with her husband, but the
children remained until the milk-cart came for them when it was quite
dark.
After they were all gone, and quiet was restored to the tiny dwelling,
Lady Jane remarked to Pepsie that she thought New Year’s _was_ better
than Christmas.
“But just wait,” said Pepsie, smiling mysteriously, “just wait until
Carnival. Christmas and New Year’s are lovely; but Mardi-gras—oh,
Mardi-gras! there’s _nothing_ like it in the world!”
Lady Jane wondered very much what “Mardi-gras” was, but tried to wait
patiently until that wonderful day should arrive. The time did not pass
slowly to her, surrounded as she was by tender care and affection.
Pepsie was teaching her to read and sew, and Mam’selle Diane was
drilling her in scales,—although at times Madame d’Hautreve grumbled
and quavered about the noise, and declared that the child was too
young; for, stretch them all she could, her tiny fingers would _not_
reach an octave.
And then there were the dancing lessons, which were always a pleasure,
and a constant source of amusement in which Pepsie and Tite Souris
shared; Pepsie as an enraptured spectator, and Tite Souris by
personating Mr. Gex in Lady Jane’s frequent rehearsals; and even Tony
had caught the spirit of Terpsichore, and under Lady Jane’s constant
instruction had learned to take steps, to mince and hop and pirouette,
if not as correctly, at least as gracefully as the ancient Professor
Gex.
Tite Souris had happened to pass Gex’s little shop one day while Lady
Jane was taking her lesson, and from that moment the humorous darky
could never speak of the little dancing-master without loud explosions
of laughter. “Oh Lor’, Miss Peps’, I wish you jes’ done seed littl’
Mars Gex, a-stanin’ up wid he toes turn out so he look lak he o’ny
got one foot, an’ he ap’on roll up un’er he arms, an’ he hands jes’
so,”—here Tite caught the sides of her scant skirt, displaying two
enormous feet and a pair of thin black legs—“a-steppin’, an’ a-hoppin’
an’ a-whirlin’ an’ a-smilin’ wid he eyes shet, jes’ as if he done got
religion, an’ was so happy he doan’ know what’er do. An’ Miss Lady,
wid ’er head on one side, lak a morkin bird, a-holdin’ out ’er littl’
skirt, an’ a-steppin’, an’ a-prancin’, for all de worl’ jes’ lak Mars
Gex, an’ a-puttin’ ’er han’ on ’er bre’s’, an’ a-bowin’ so er yaller
har all-a-mos’ tech der flo’. Lor’, Lor’, I done mos’ die a-larfin’.
Such cuttin’s up yer nebber did see! It’s might’ funny, Miss Peps’, all
dis yer dancin’ an’ a-caperin’, but I’se scared ’bout Miss Lady wid all
dem goin’s on. I’m feared der gobble-uns’ll ketch ’er sum time, w’en
’ers a-steppin’ an’ a-hoppin’, an’ tote ’er off ter dat dar ole wicked
_devil_, wat’s watchin’ fer triflin’ chil’ren lak dat, ’cause Deacon
Jone say, der devil’ll git all pussuns wat dance, shore, _shore_.”
“Nonsense, Tite, go away!” cried Pepsie, laughing till the tears came
at her handmaid’s droll pantomime. “If what you say is true, where
do you think you’ll go to? Haven’t you been acting Mr. Gex for Miss
Lady, over and over, when she’s been repeating her dancing-lesson to
me? Haven’t you been standing right up on that floor, holding out your
skirt, and dancing back and forth, and whirling, and prancing, as much
like Mr. Gex as you possibly could? _Haven’t_ you now, Tite? And I’m
sure the ‘gobble-uns’ would take an ugly black thing like you before
they would a little angel like Miss Lady.”
“But I war jes’ a-funnin’, Miss Peps’. Date ole devil know I war jes’
a-funnin’; an’ he ain’t gwine ter tote me off w’en I ain’t done no
harm; ’t ain’t lak I war in earnest, yer know, Miss Peps’.” And with
this nice distinction Tite comforted herself and went on her way
rejoicing.
About this time Madame Jozain was seized with a sudden spasm of piety
and took to going to church again. However, she kept at a discreet
distance from Father Ducros, who, at the time of the death of the young
widow, had asked her some rather searching questions, and several times
when he met her afterwards remarked that she seemed to have given up
church-going. She was very glad, therefore, when about this time she
heard that he had been sent to Cuba on a mission, which Madame hoped
would detain him there always. One Sunday it occurred to her that she
ought to take Lady Jane to church with her, and not allow her to grow
up like a heathen; and besides, the child dressed in her best had
such an air of distinction that she would add greatly to the elegant
appearance Madame desired to make.
Pepsie had a knack of dressing Lady Jane as Madame never could; so the
little girl was sent across the street to be made beautiful, with
flowing glossy hair and dainty raiment. And when Madame, dressed in one
of the young widow’s elegant mourning suits, somewhat changed to better
suit her age and position, leading Lady Jane by the hand with a gentle
maternal air, limped slowly up the broad aisle of the Cathedral, she
felt perfectly satisfied with herself and her surroundings.
Lady Jane had never been in a church before, and the immense interior,
the grand, solemn notes of the organ, and the heavenly music of the
choir made a deep and lasting impression upon her, and opened up to her
new vistas of life through which her pure little soul longed to stray.
The musical nature is often a religious nature, and in the child was a
deep vein of piety, which only needed working to produce the richest
results; therefore, the greatest of all her pleasures from that time
was to go to church and listen to the music, and afterwards to tell
Pepsie of all she had seen and enjoyed, and to repeat, as far as it
was possible with her small, sweet voice, the heavenly strains of the
anthems she had heard.