A WELCOME CHRISTMAS GIFT
The day before Christmas was a busy one in the Maynard household.
The delightful breakfast that Ellen sent to the table could scarcely be
eaten, so busily talking were all the members of the family.
"Come home early, won't you, Father?" said Marjorie, as Mr. Maynard rose
to go away to his business. "And don't forget to bring me that big
holly-box I told you about."
"As I've only thirty-seven other things to remember, I won't forget that,
chickadee. Any last orders, Helen?"
"No; only those I've already told you. Come home as early as you can, for
there's lots to be done, and you know Steve and Grandma will arrive at
six."
Away went Mr. Maynard, and then the children scattered to attend to their
various duties.
Both James the gardener and Thomas the coachman were handy men of all
work, and, superintended by Mrs. Maynard, they packed the more
substantial portions of the Simpson's Christmas donations.
It took several large baskets to hold the dinner, for there was a big,
fat turkey, a huge roast of beef, and also sausages and vegetables of
many sorts.
Then other baskets held bread and pie and cake, and cranberry jelly and
celery, and all the good things that go to make up a Christmassy sort of
a feast. Another basket held nuts and raisins and oranges and figs, and
in this was a big box of the candies the children had made. The baskets
were all decked with evergreen and holly, and made an imposing looking
row.
Meantime King and Midget and Kitty were packing into boxes the toys and
pretty trifles that they had made or bought. They added many books and
games of their own, which, though not quite new, were as good as new.
A barrel was packed full of clothing, mostly outgrown by the Maynard
children, but containing, also, new warm caps, wraps and underwear for
the little Simpsons.
Well, all the things together made a fair wagon-load, and when Mr.
Maynard returned home about two o'clock that afternoon, he saw the
well-filled and evergreen trimmed wagon on the drive, only waiting for
his coming to have the horse put to its shafts.
"Hello, Maynard maids and men!" he cried, as he came in, laden with
bundles, and found the children bustling about, getting ready to go.
"Oh, Father," exclaimed Kitty, "you do look so Santa Claus-y! What's in
all those packages?"
"Mostly surprises for you to-morrow, Miss Curiosity; so you can scarcely
expect to see in them now."
"I do love a bundly Christmas," said Marjorie. "I think half the fun is
tying things up with holly ribbons, and sticking sprigs of holly in the
knots."
"Well, are we all aboard now for the Simpsons?" asked her father, as he
deposited his burdens in safe places.
"Yes, we'll get our hats, and start at once; come on, Kitty," and
Marjorie danced away, drawing her slower sister along with her.
Nurse Nannie soon had little Rosamond ready, and the tot looked like a
big snowball in her fleecy white coat and hood, and white leggings.
"Me go to Simpson's," she cried, in great excitement, and then Mrs.
Maynard appeared, and they all crowded into the roomy station-wagon that
could be made, at a pinch, to hold them all. James drove them, and Thomas
followed with the wagon-load of gifts.
The visit was a total surprise to the Simpson family, and when the
Maynards knocked vigorously at the shaky old door, half a dozen little
faces looked wonderingly from the windows.
"What is it?" said Mrs. Simpson, coming to the door, with a baby in her
arms, and other small children clinging to her dress.
"Merry Christmas!" cried Midget and King, who were ahead of the others.
But the cry of "Merry Christmas" was repeated by all the Maynards, until
an answering smile appeared on the faces of the Simpson family and most
of them spoke up with a "Merry Christmas to you, too."
"We've brought you some Christmas cheer," said Mr. Maynard, as the whole
six of them went in, thereby greatly crowding the small room where they
were received. "Mr. Simpson is not well, yet, I understand."
"No, sir," said Mrs. Simpson. "They do say he'll be in the hospital for a
month yet, and it's all I can do to keep the youngsters alive, let alone
gettin' Christmas fixin's for 'em."
"That's what we thought," said Mr. Maynard, pleasantly; "and so my wife
and children are bringing you some goodies to make a real Christmas feast
for your little ones."
"Lord bless you, sir," said Mrs. Simpson, as the tears came to her eyes.
"I didn't know how much I was missin' all the Christmas feelin', till I
see you all come along, with your 'Merry Christmas,' and your evergreen
trimmin's."
"Yes," said Mrs. Maynard, gently, "at this season, we should all have the
'Christmas feeling,' and though I'm sorry your husband can't be with you,
I hope you and the children will have a happy day."
"What you got for us?" whispered a little Simpson, who was patting Mrs.
Maynard's muff.
"Well, we'll soon show you." said Mr. Maynard, overhearing the child.
Then he opened the door and bade his two men bring in the things.
So James and Thomas brought them in, box after box and basket after
basket, until the Simpsons were well-nigh speechless at the sight.
"How kin we pay for it, Ma?" said one of the boys, who was getting old
enough to know what lack of funds meant.
"You're not to pay for it, my boy," said Mr. Maynard, "except by having a
jolly, happy day to-morrow, and enjoying all the good things you find in
these baskets." Then the Maynard children unwrapped some of the pretty
things they had made, and gave them to the little Simpsons.
One little girl of about six received a doll with a cry of rapture, and
held it close to her, as if she had never had a doll before. Then
suddenly she said, "No, I'll give it to sister, she never had a doll. I
did have one once, but a bad boy stole it."
"You're an unselfish little dear," cried Marjorie; "and here's another
doll for you. There's one for each of you girls."
As there were four girls, this caused four outbursts of joy, and when
Marjorie and Kitty saw the way the little girls loved the dollies, they
felt more than repaid for the trouble it had been to dress them. The
boys, too, were delighted with their gifts. Mr. Maynard had brought real
boys' toys for them, such as small tool chests, and mechanical
contrivances, not to mention trumpets and drums. And, indeed, the
last-named ones needed no mention, for they were at once put to use and
spoke for themselves.
"Land sakes, children! stop that hullabaloo-lam!" exclaimed Mrs. Simpson.
"How can I thank these kind people if you keep up that noise! Indeed, I
can't thank you, anyway," she added, as the drums were quiet for a
moment. "It's so kind of you,--and so unexpected. We had almost nothing
for,--for to-morrow's dinner, and I didn't know which way to turn."
Overcome by her emotion, Mrs. Simpson buried her face in her apron, but
as Mrs. Maynard touched her shoulder and spoke to her gently, she looked
up, smiling through her tears.
"I can't rightly thank you, ma'am," she went on, "but the Lord will bless
you for your goodness. I'm to see Mr. Simpson for a few moments
to-morrow, and when I tell him what you've done for us he'll have the
happiest Christmas of us all, though his sufferings is awful. But he was
heartsick because of our poor Christmas here at home, and the news will
cure him of that, anyway."
"I put in some jelly and grapes especially for him," said Mrs. Maynard,
smiling, though there were tears in her own eyes. "So you take them to
him, and give him Christmas greetings from us. And now we must go, and
you can begin at once to make ready your feast."
"Oh, yes, ma'am. And may all Christmas blessing's light on you and
yours."
"Merry Christmas!" cried all the Maynards as they trooped out, and the
good wish was echoed by the happy Simpsons.
"My!" said King, "it makes a fellow feel sober to see people as poor as
that!"
"It does, my boy," said his father; "and it's a pleasure to help those
who are truly worthy and deserving. Simpson is an honest, hard-working
man, and I think we must keep an eye on the family until he's about
again. And now, my hearties, we've done all we can for them for the
present; so let's turn our attention to the celebration of the Maynard's
Christmastide. Who wants to go to the station with me to meet Grandma and
Uncle Steve?"
"I!" declared the four children, as with one voice.
"Yes, but you can't all go; and, too, there must be some of the nicest
ones at home to greet the travellers as they enter. I think I'll decide
the question myself. I'll take Kitty and King with me, and I'll leave my
eldest and youngest daughters at home with Motherdy to receive the guests
when they come."
Mr. Maynard's word was always law, and though Marjorie wanted to go, she
thought, too, it would be fun to be at home and receive them when they
come.
So they all separated as agreed, and Mrs. Maynard said they must make
haste to get dressed for the company.
Marjorie wore a light green cashmere, with a white embroidered _guimpe_,
which was one of her favorite frocks. Her hair was tied with big white
bows, and a sprig of holly was tucked in at one side.
She flew down to the living-room, to find baby Rosamond and her mother
already there. Rosy Posy was a Christmas baby indeed, all in white, with
holly ribbons tying up her curls, and a holly sprig tied in the bow. The
whole house was decorated with ropes and loops of evergreen, and stars
and wreaths, with big red bows on them, were in the windows and over the
doorways.
The delicious fragrance of the evergreens pervaded the house, and the
wood fires burned cheerily. Mrs. Maynard, in her pretty rose-colored
house gown, looked about with the satisfied feeling that everything was
in readiness, and nothing had been forgotten.
At last a commotion was heard at the door, and Marjorie flew to open it.
They all seemed to come in at once, and after an embrace from Grandma,
Marjorie felt herself lifted up in Uncle Steve's strong arms.
"That's the last time, Midget," he said as he set her down again.
"There's too much of you for me to toss about as I used to. My! what a
big girl you are!"
"Toss me, Uncle Teve," said Rosy Posy, and she was immediately swung to
Uncle Steve's shoulder.
"You're only a bit of thistle-down. I could toss you up in the sky, and
you could sit on the edge of a star. How would you like that?"
"I'd ravver stay here," said Rosy Posy, nestling contentedly on her
perch. "'Sides, I _must_ be here for Kismus to-morrow."
"Oh, _is_ Christmas to-morrow? How could I have forgotten that?"
"You didn't forget it, Uncle Steve," said Kitty, "for I see bundles
sticking out of every one of your pockets!"
"Bless my soul! How odd! Santa Claus must have tucked them in, as I came
through his street. Well, I'll put them away until to-morrow. They're of
no use to-night."
"Put them in here, Steve," said Mrs. Maynard, opening a cupboard door,
for there was a possibility that the good-natured gentleman might be
persuaded to unwrap them at once.
Meantime Grandma was reviewing the small Maynards. Marjorie she had seen
in the summer, but the others had been absent a longer time.
"You've all grown," she said, "but I do believe I like you just as well
bigger."
"Good for you, Grandma!" cried King. "'Most everybody says, 'Why, how
you've grown!' as if we had done something wrong."
"No, the more there is of my grandchildren, the more I have to love, so
go right on growing. Marjorie, Molly and Stella sent love to you, and
they also sent some little gifts which I will give you to-morrow."
The Maynards did not follow the custom of having their tree on Christmas
eve.
Mrs. Maynard thought it unwise, because the children often became so
excited over their gifts and their frolic that it was difficult for them
to settle down to sleep until "all hours."
So it was the rule to go to bed rather early on Christmas eve, and have a
long happy day to follow.
But the dinner, on the night before Christmas, always assumed a little of
the coming festivities. On this occasion, the table was decked with holly
and flowers, and the dishes were a little more elaborate and festive than
usual.
"Ice cream, oh, goody!" exclaimed Kitty, as dessert appeared. Kitty's
fondness for ice cream was a family joke, but all welcomed the little
Santa Clauses made of orange ice, and carrying trees of pistache cream.
After dinner a game of romps was allowed.
Mrs. Maynard, Grandma and Baby Rosy did not join in this, but went off by
themselves, leaving the living-room to the more enthusiastic rompers.
"Fox and Geese" was a favorite game, and though there were scarcely
enough of them to play it properly, yet that made it all the more fun,
and Uncle Steve and Mr. Maynard seemed to be little, if any, older than
Kingdon, as they scrambled about in the frolic. Then Kitty begged for
just one round of Puss in the Corner.
Kingdon and Midget thought this rather a baby game, but they willingly
deferred to Kitty's choice, and the grown up men were such foolish,
funny pussies in their corners that everybody fell a-laughing, and the
game broke up because they were too exhausted to play any more.
"Now to quiet down pleasantly, and then ho, for bed," said Mr. Maynard.
So when they had recovered their breath, Mrs. Maynard and Grandma
returned, Rosy Posy having already gone to her little crib. Mrs. Maynard
sat at the piano, and they all gathered round and sang Christmas carols.
The children had clear, true voices, and the grown-ups sang really well,
so it was sweet Christmas music that they made. They sang many of the old
English carols, for the children had sung them every Christmas eve since
they were old enough, and they knew them well.
Grandma loved to hear the music, and after it was over the three children
were kindly but firmly requested to retire.
"We hate awfully to have you go, dear friends," said Mr. Maynard. "We
shall be desolate, indeed, without your merry faces, but the time is
ripe. It's nine o'clock, and Christmas morning comes apace. So flee,
skip, skiddoo, vamoose, and exit! Hang up your stockings, and _perhaps_
Santa Claus may observe them. But hasten, for I daresay he's already on
his rounds."
Laughing at their father's nonsense, the children rather reluctantly
backed out of the room and dawdled upstairs.
But there was still the fun of hanging up their stockings, and then,
after that nothing more but to hurry to get to sleep that Christmas might
come sooner.
Rosy Posy's tiny socks were already in place, and soon three more pairs
of long, lank stockings were dangling emptily, and then, in a jiffy the
Maynard children were all asleep, and Christmas Day was silently drawing
nearer and nearer.