MERRY CHRISTMAS!
The sun waited just about as long as he could stand it on Christmas
morning, and then he poked his yellow nose above the horizon to see what
was going on. And everything that he saw was so merry and gay and full of
Christmas spirit, that he pushed the rest of himself up, and beamed
around in a glad smile of welcome and greeting. As he gave a flashing
glance in at the Maynard girls' window, his rays struck Marjorie full in
the face and wakened her at once. For a moment she blinked and winked and
wondered what day it was. Then she remembered, and with one bound she was
out of bed, and across the room to where Kitty was soundly sleeping.
It was a rule for the Maynard children never to waken one another, for
Mrs. Maynard believed that people, both young and old, need all the sleep
they can take, but Christmas morning was, of course, an exception, and
patting Kitty rather vigorously on her shoulder, Marjorie called out,
"Merry Christmas!"
"Who?" said Kitty, drowsily, rubbing her eyes, as she sat up. "Oh, Mops!
you caught me! Merry Christmas, yourself! Let's go and catch King!"
Throwing on their dressing-gowns, and tucking their feet into bedroom
slippers, they ran to their brother's room, but King, also huddled into a
bath-robe, met them in the hall, and the gay greetings and laughter soon
woke any one else in the house who might have been asleep. Nurse Nannie,
with Rosy Posy, joined the group, and each clasping a pair of bulging,
knobby stockings, flew to the nursery, where this Christmas morning
ceremonial always took place.
A bright fire was blazing in the big fireplace, and in front of it, on a
white fur rug, the four sat down, while Nannie hovered around, ready to
inspect and admire, as she knew she would be called upon to do.
The big, light nursery was a delightful room, and with the morning
sunshine, the shining yellow floor, white-painted woodwork, and bright
fire-brasses, it seemed full of Christmas glow and warmth.
Grouped on the rug, the children immediately proceeded to the business of
emptying their stockings, and as the various things were pulled out and
exhibited, everybody oh'd and ah'd at everybody else, and they all began
to nibble at candies, and at last Christmas had really begun.
The gifts in their stockings were always of a pretty, but trifling
nature, as their more worth while presents were received later, from the
tree.
But there were always lots of little toys and trinkets, and always
oranges and nuts and candies, and always tin whistles and rattles, and
other noise-producing contraptions, so that soon the four grew gay and
noisy and Nurse was obliged to pick up Baby Rosamond, lest she should be
inadvertently upset.
But perched in Nurse's lap, the little one waved a Christmas flag, and
blew on a tiny tin trumpet, and quite made her share of the general
hullaballoo. Marjorie had a new pencil-case, and some pretty
handkerchiefs, and an inkstand, and a silver bangle, and a little diary,
and some lovely hair-ribbons.
And King was rejoicing over a fountain pen, a pocket-knife, a silk
muffler, a rubber-stamp outfit, and some new gloves.
Kitty had a little pocket-book, a silver shoe-buttoner, a blank-book, a
pretty silk pincushion, and a bangle like Marjorie's.
Baby Rosy had dolls and toys, and what with the candies and other
goodies, there was a distracting array of Christmas all about.
"And to think the day has scarcely begun!" said Marjorie, with a sigh of
rapture, as she ate a cream date, at the same time twisting her wrist to
catch the glitter of her new bangle.
"Yes, but it's 'most half-past eight," said King, "and breakfast's at
nine. I'm going to skittle!"
He gathered up his new belongings, and with a sort of combination
war-whoop and "Merry Christmas," he scampered away to his room. The two
girls followed his example, and soon were busily dressing themselves and
helping each other.
Marjorie put on a scarlet cashmere, which, with the big red bows on her
hair, made her look very Christmassy, the effect being added to by holly
sprigs pinned on here and there. Kitty's frock was a sort of electric
blue, that suited her fair hair, and she, too, was holly-decked.
Then, after a hasty inspection of each other, to see that they were all
right, the girls skipped downstairs.
So expeditious had they been that not a Maynard was ahead of them, except
their father, who had just come down.
"Merry Christmas, girlies!" he cried, and just then everybody came down,
almost all at once, and the greetings flew about, as thick as a
snowstorm. Grandma Sherwood, in her soft grey breakfast-gown, beamed
happily at her brood of grandchildren, and soon they all gathered round
the table.
"I wish Christmas was seventy-two hours long, said Marjorie, whose
candies had not taken away her appetite for the specially fine breakfast
that was being served in honor of the day.
"But you'd fall asleep after twelve hours of it," said Uncle Steve; "so
what good would it do you?"
"I wouldn't!" declared King. "I could spend twelve hours having our
regular Christmas in the house; and then twelve more outdoors, skating or
something; and then twelve more--"
"Eating," suggested his father, glancing at King's plate. "Well, since we
can't have seventy-two hours of it, we must cram all the fun we can into
twelve. Who's for a run out of doors before we have our Christmas tree?"
The three older children agreed to this, and with Mr. Maynard and Uncle
Steve they went out for a brisk walk.
"Wish we could snowball," said King, as they returned, and stood for a
few moments on the verandah. "It's cold enough, but there no sign of
snow."
"Pooh, you don't have to have snow to play a game of snowballs!" said his
father. "Why didn't you say what you wanted sooner? You are such a
diffident boy! Wait a minute."
Mr. Maynard disappeared into the house, and returned with a large paper
bag filled with something, they did not know what.
"Come out on the lawn," he said, and soon they were all out on the brown,
dry, winter grass.
"Catch!" and then Mr. Maynard threw to one and another, some swift, white
balls. They were really white pop-corn balls, but at first they looked
like snowballs.
The children caught on at once, and soon two or three dozen balls were
whizzing from each to each, and they had the jolliest game! The balls
were too light to hurt if they hit them, yet solid enough to throw well.
To be sure, they broke to bits after many tosses, but the game lasted a
half hour, and then Mr. Maynard declared that it was tree time.
"Sounds like tea-time," said Kitty, as they trooped in.
"Sounds a whole lot better than that!" said King.
The tree was in the living-room. It had been brought in, and trimmed
after the children went to bed the night before. So they had had no
glimpse of it, and were now more than eager to see its glories.
"Are we all here?" asked Mr. Maynard, as he looked over the group in the
hall, awaiting the opening of the doors.
"All but Uncle Steve," said Marjorie. "Why doesn't he come?"
"We won't wait for him," said Mr. Maynard, and he gave a loud knock on
the double doors of the living-room.
Like magic the doors flew open, and waiting to receive them was Santa
Claus himself!
His jolly, smiling face was very red-cheeked, and his white hair and
beard streamed down over his red coat, which was of that belted
round-about shape that seems to be Santa Claus's favorite fashion.
His red coat and trousers were trimmed with white fur and gold braid, and
his high boots were covered with splashes of white that _looked_ like
snow. He wore a fur trimmed red cap, and big gold-rimmed spectacles. The
latter, with the very red cheeks and long white beard, so changed Uncle
Steve's appearance that at first no one seemed to recognize him.
But they knew in a moment, and Marjorie grasped one hand and Kitty the
other, as they cried out:
"Hello, Uncle Santa Claus! how did you get so snowy?"
"I came down from the arctic regions, my dears," said the smiling saint,
"and up there we have perpetual snow."
"It seems to be perpetual on your boots," observed King; "I'm sure it
won't melt off at all!"
"Yes, it's first-class snow," agreed Santa Claus, looking at his boots,
which were really splashed with white-wash. "And here's little Miss Rosy
Posy," he continued, picking up the baby, who, at first, was a little shy
of the strange-looking figure. "This is the very little girl I've come to
see, and she must pick something off the tree!"
Rosy Posy recognized Uncle Steve's voice now, and contentedly nestled in
his arms as he carried her to the tree. And such a tree as it was!
It reached to the ceiling, and its top boughs had been cut off to get it
in the room at all.
The blinds had been closed, and the shades drawn, in order that the
illuminations of the tree might shine out brightly, and the gorgeous
sight quite took the children's breath away.
The big tree was in the end of the room, and not only did sparkling
tinsel rope deck the green branches, but its strands also reached out to
the wall on either side, so that the tree seemed to be caught in an
immense silver spider-web. Sparkling ornaments decked every limb and
twig, and shining among them were hundreds of tiny electric lights of
different colors.
Many beautiful presents hung on the tree, without wrappings of any sort
to hide their pretty effect, and many more gifts, tied in be-ribboned
papers, lay on the floor beneath.
Altogether, it looked as if the whole end of the room were a sort of
glittering fairyland, and the children promptly agreed it was the most
beautiful tree they had ever had.
As Santa Claus held Baby Rosamond up to select for herself a gift from
the tree, he held her so that she faced a big doll, almost as large as
herself.
"Oh, that will be my dollie!" she announced, holding out her little arms.
The big doll was detached from its perch and handed to the child, who ran
to nurse with her treasure, and would not be parted from it all day long.
Then said Santa Claus: "Marjorie, next, may come and choose anything she
would like to use."
He offered his arm, and, with exaggerated ceremony, led Midget to the
tree.
She was a little bewildered by the glitter, and the variety of gifts
hanging about, but she spied a lovely muff and boa of fluffy white fur
that she felt sure must be meant for her.
At any rate they were her choice, and Santa Claus gave them to her with
hearty assurance that she had chosen well.
Then he announced: "Next, of course, is little Kitty. Choose, my dear!
Take something pretty!"
Kitty advanced slowly. She knew well what she wanted, but she didn't see
it on or under the tree.
Santa Claus watched her roving eyes and then said: "If you don't like
what you see, look around behind the tree!"
So Kitty peered around, and sure enough, almost hidden by the strands of
tinsel, there stood a bookcase.
"I'll choose that!" she cried, in glee, and Mr. Maynard and Santa Claus
pulled it out into view. It was the adjustable kind, with glass fronts,
and Kitty had long desired just such a one for her room.
"Isn't it beautiful!" she exclaimed, sitting down on the floor to examine
it, and to imagine how it would look filled with story books.
"Now, Sir Kingdon, approach," called out Santa Claus; "carefully scan the
branches o'er, and help yourself from its ample store!"
King came toward the tree, eying it carefully in search of something he
wanted very much, yet scarcely dared hope for.
But, half hidden by a paper fairy, he spied a gleam of gold, and pounced
upon the dream of his heart, a gold watch!
"This will do me!" he said, beaming with delight, at the fine time-piece,
with its neat fob. It was a handsome affair for a boy of fourteen; but
King was careful of his belongings, and Mr. Maynard had decided he could
be trusted with it.
Then the elder people received gifts from each other and from the
children, and then everybody began to open bundles, and "thank you's"
flew around like snowflakes, and tissue paper and gay ribbons were knee
deep all over the floor.
"I didn't know there were so many presents in the world!" said Marjorie,
who sat blissfully on an ottoman, with her lap full of lovely things, and
more on the floor beside her. Grandma had brought her an unset pearl.
This was not a surprise, for Grandma had given her a pearl every
Christmas of her life, and when the time came for her to wear them, they
were to be made into a necklace.
Uncle Steve had brought her a bureau set of ivory, with her monogram on
the brushes, and the children gave her various trinkets.
Then Stella and Molly had sent gifts to her, and Gladys and some of the
other school girls had also sent Christmas remembrances, with the result
that Midget was fairly bewildered at her possessions. The others too, had
quantities of things, and Uncle Steve declared that he really had spilled
his whole sack at this house, and he must rescue some of the things to
take to other children. But he didn't really do this, and the Maynards,
as was their custom, arranged their gifts on separate tables, and spent
the morning admiring and discussing them.
At two o'clock they had the Christmas feast.
Nurse Nannie played a gay march on the piano, and Mr. Maynard, offering
his arm to Grandma, led the way to the dining-room. King, escorting Rosy
Posy, walked next, followed by Midget and Kitty. Last of all came Mrs.
Maynard and Uncle Steve.
The dining-table was almost as beautiful as the Christmas tree. Indeed,
in the centre of it was a small tree, filled with tiny, but exquisite
decorations, and sparkling with electric lights. The windows had been
darkened, and the shining tree blazed brilliantly.
The table was decorated with red ribbons and holly and red candles, and
red candle shades and everybody had red favours and red paper bells.
"I feel like a Robin Redbreast," said Marjorie; "isn't it all beautiful!
Did you do it, Mother?"
"Yes, with Sarah's help," said Mrs. Maynard, for her faithful and clever
little waitress was of great assistance in such matters.
"It's like eating in an enchanted palace," said Kitty. "Everything is so
bright and sparkly and gleaming; and, oh! I'm _so_ hungry!"
"Me, too!" chimed in the other young Maynards, and then they proceeded to
do ample justice to the good things Ellen sent in in abundance.
But at last even the young appetites were satisfied, and while the elders
sipped their coffee in the library, the children were sent off to play by
themselves.
The baby was turned over to Nurse Nannie, and the other three tumbled
into their wraps and ran out of doors to play off some of their exuberant
enthusiasm.