Rose made Phebe promise that she would bring her stocking into the
“Bower,” as she called her pretty room, on Christmas morning, because
that first delicious rummage loses half its charm if two little
night-caps at least do not meet over the treasures, and two happy voices
Oh and Ah together.
So when Rose opened her eyes that day they fell upon faithful Phebe,
rolled up in a shawl, sitting on the rug before a blazing fire, with her
untouched stocking laid beside her.
“Merry Christmas!” cried the little mistress smiling gaily.
“Merry Christmas!” answered the little maid, so heartily that it did one
good to hear her.
“Bring the stockings right away, Phebe, and let's see what we've got,”
said Rose, sitting up among the pillows, and looking as eager as a
child.
A pair of long knobby hose were laid out upon the coverlet, and their
contents examined with delight, though each knew every blessed thing
that had been put into the other's stocking.
Never mind what they were; it is evident that they were quite
satisfactory, for as Rose leaned back, she said, with a luxurious sigh
of satisfaction, “Now, I believe I've got everything in the world that I
want,” and Phebe answered, smiling over a lapful of treasures, “This is
the most splendid Christmas I ever had since I was born.” Then she added
with an important air,
“Do wish for something else, because I happen to know of two more
presents outside the door this minute.”
“Oh, me, what richness!” cried Rose, much excited. “I used to wish for
a pair of glass slippers like Cinderella's, but as I can't have them, I
really don't know what to ask for.”
Phebe clapped her hands as she skipped off the bed and ran to the door,
saying merrily, “One of them is for your feet, anyway. I don't know what
you'll say to the other, but I think it's elegant.”
So did Rose, when a shining pair of skates and a fine sled appeared.
“Uncle sent those; I know he did; and, now I see them, I remember that
I did want to skate and coast. Isn't it a beauty? See! they fit nicely,”
and, sitting on the new sled, Rose tried a skate on her little bare
foot, while Phebe stood by admiring the pretty tableau.
“Now we must hurry and get dressed, for there is a deal to do to-day,
and I want to get through in time to try my sled before dinner.”
“Gracious me, and I ought to be dusting my parlors this blessed minute!”
and mistress and maid separated with such happy faces that anyone would
have known what day it was without being told.
“Birnam Wood has come to Dunsinane, Rosy,” said Dr. Alec, as he left the
breakfast table to open the door for a procession of holly, hemlock, and
cedar boughs that came marching up the steps.
Snowballs and “Merry Christmases!” flew about pretty briskly for several
minutes; then all fell to work trimming the old house, for the family
always dined together there on that day.
“I rode miles and mileses, as Ben says, to get this fine bit, and I'm
going to hang it there as the last touch to the rig-a-madooning,” said
Charlie, as he fastened a dull green branch to the chandelier in the
front parlor.
“It isn't very pretty,” said Rose, who was trimming the chimney-piece
with glossy holly sprays.
“Never mind that, it's mistletoe, and anyone who stands under it will
get kissed whether they like it or not. Now's your time, ladies,”
answered the saucy Prince, keeping his place and looking sentimentally
at the girls, who retired precipitately from the dangerous spot.
“You won't catch me,” said Rose, with great dignity.
“See if I don't!”
“I've got my eye on Phebe,” observed Will, in a patronising tone that
made them all laugh.
“Bless the dear; I shan't mind it a bit,” answered Phebe, with such a
maternal air that Will's budding gallantry was chilled to death.
“Oh, the mistletoe bough,” sang Rose.
“Oh, the mistletoe bough!” echoed all the boys, and the teasing ended in
the plaintive ballad they all liked so well.
There was plenty of time to try the new skates before dinner, and then
Rose took her first lesson on the little bay, which seemed to have
frozen over for that express purpose. She found tumbling down and
getting up again warm work for a time, but with six boys to teach her,
she managed at last to stand alone; and, satisfied with that success,
she refreshed herself with a dozen grand coasts on the Amazon, as her
sled was called.
“Ah, that fatal colour! it breaks my heart to see it,” croaked Aunt
Myra, as Rose came down a little late, with cheeks almost as ruddy
as the holly berries on the wall, and every curl as smooth as Phebe's
careful hands could make it.
“I'm glad to see that Alec allows the poor child to make herself pretty
in spite of his absurd notions,” added Aunt Clara, taking infinite
satisfaction in the fact that Rose's blue silk dress had three frills on
it.
“She's a very intelligent child, and has a nice little manner of her
own,” observed Aunt Jane, with unusual affability; for Rose had just
handed Mac a screen to guard his eyes from the brilliant fire.
“If I had a daughter like that to show my Jem when he gets home, I
should be a very proud and happy woman,” thought Aunt Jessie, and then
reproached herself for not being perfectly satisfied with her four brave
lads.
Aunt Plenty was too absorbed in the dinner to have an eye for anything
else; if she had not been, she would have seen what an effect her new
cap produced upon the boys. The good lady owned that she did “love a
dressy cap,” and on this occasion her head gear was magnificent; for
the towering structure of lace was adorned with buff ribbons to such an
extent that it looked as if a flock of yellow butterflies had settled on
her dear old head. When she trotted about the rooms the ruches quivered,
the little bows all stood erect, and the streamers waved in the breeze
so comically that it was absolutely necessary for Archie to smother the
Brats in the curtains till they had had their first laugh out.
Uncle Mac had brought Fun See to dinner, and it was a mercy he did,
for the elder lads found a vent for their merriment in joking the young
Chinaman on his improved appearance. He was in American costume now,
with a cropped head, and spoke remarkably good English after six months
at school; but, for all that, his yellow face and beady eyes made a
curious contrast to the blonde Campbells all about him. Will called him
the “Typhoon,” meaning Tycoon, and the name stuck to him to his great
disgust.
Aunt Peace was brought down and set in the chair of state at table, for
she never failed to join the family on this day, and sat smiling at them
all, “like an embodiment of Peace on earth,” Uncle Alec said, as he took
his place beside her, while Uncle Mac supported Aunt Plenty at the other
end.
“I ate hardly any breakfast, and I've done everything I know to make
myself extra hungry, but I really don't think I can eat straight
through, unless I burst my buttons off,” whispered Geordie to Will, as
he surveyed the bounteous stores before him with a hopeless sigh.
“A fellow never knows what he can do till he tries,” answered Will,
attacking his heaped-up plate with an evident intention of doing his
duty like a man.
Everybody knows what a Christmas dinner is, so we need waste no words in
describing this one, but hasten at once to tell what happened at the
end of it. The end, by the way, was so long in coming that the gas was
lighted before dessert was over, for a snow flurry had come on and the
wintry daylight faded fast. But that only made it all the jollier in the
warm, bright rooms, full of happy souls. Everyone was very merry, but
Archie seemed particularly uplifted so much so, that Charlie confided to
Rose that he was afraid the Chief had been at the decanters.
Rose indignantly denied the insinuation, for when healths were drunk
in the good old-fashioned way to suit the elders, she had observed that
Aunt Jessie's boys filled their glasses with water, and had done the
same herself in spite of the Prince's jokes about “the rosy.”
But Archie certainly was unusually excited, and when someone remembered
that it was the anniversary of Uncle Jem's wedding, and wished he was
there to make a speech, his son electrified the family by trying to do
it for him. It was rather incoherent and flowery, as maiden speeches are
apt to be, but the end was considered superb; for, turning to his mother
with a queer little choke in his voice, he said that she “deserved to be
blessed with peace and plenty, to be crowned with roses and lads'-love,
and to receive the cargo of happiness sailing home to her in spite of
wind or tide to add another Jem to the family jewels.”
That allusion to the Captain, now on his return trip, made Mrs. Jessie
sob in her napkin, and set the boys cheering. Then, as if that was not
sensation enough, Archie suddenly dashed out of the room, as if he had
lost his wits.
“Too bashful to stay and be praised,” began Charlie, excusing the
peculiarities of his chief as in duty bound.
“Phebe beckoned to him; I saw her,” cried Rose, staring hard at the
door.
“Is it more presents coming?” asked Jamie, just as his brother
re-appeared, looking more excited than ever.
“Yes; a present for mother, and here it is!” roared Archie, flinging
wide the door to let in a tall man, who cried out,
“Where's my little woman? The first kiss for her, then the rest may come
on as fast as they like.”
Before the words were out of his mouth, Mrs. Jessie was half-hidden
under his rough great-coat, and four boys were prancing about him
clamouring for their turn.
Of course, there was a joyful tumult for a time, during which Rose
slipped into the window recess and watched what went on, as if it were
a chapter in a Christmas story. It was good to see bluff Uncle Jem look
proudly at his tall son, and fondly hug the little ones. It was better
still to see him shake his brothers' hands as if he would never leave
off, and kiss all the sisters in a way that made even solemn Aunt Myra
brighten up for a minute. But it was best of all to see him finally
established in grandfather's chair, with his “little woman” beside him,
his three youngest boys in his lap, and Archie hovering over him like a
large-sized cherub. That really was, as Charlie said, “A landscape to do
one's heart good.”
“All hearty and all here, thank God!” said Captain Jem in the first
pause that came, as he looked about him with a grateful face.
“All but Rose,” answered loyal little Jamie, remembering the absent.
“Faith, I forgot the child! Where is George's little girl?” asked the
Captain, who had not seen her since she was a baby.
“You'd better say Alec's great girl,” said Uncle Mac, who professed to
be madly jealous of his brother.
“Here I am, sir,” and Rose appeared from behind the curtains, looking as
if she had rather have stayed there.
“Saint George Germain, how the mite has grown!” cried Captain Jem, as he
tumbled the boys out of his lap, and rose to greet the tall girl, like
a gentleman as he was. But, somehow, when he shook her hand it looked so
small in his big one, and her face reminded him so strongly of his dead
brother, that he was not satisfied with so cold a welcome, and with
a sudden softening of the keen eyes he took her up in his arms,
whispering, with a rough cheek against her smooth one,
“God bless you, child! forgive me if I forgot you for a minute, and be
sure that not one of your kinsfolk is happier to see you here than Uncle
Jem.”
That made it all right; and when he set her down, Rose's face was
so bright it was evident that some spell had been used to banish the
feeling of neglect that had kept her moping behind the curtain so long.
That everyone sat round and heard all about the voyage home how the
Captain had set his heart on getting there in time to keep Christmas;
how everything had conspired to thwart his plan; and how, at the very
last minute, he had managed to do it, and had sent a telegram to Archie,
bidding him keep the secret, and be ready for his father at any moment,
for the ship got into another port, and he might be late.
Then Archie told how that telegram had burnt in his pocket all
dinner-time; how he had to take Phebe into his confidence, and how
clever she was to keep the Captain back till the speech was over and he
could come in with effect.
The elders would have sat and talked all the evening, but the young
folks were bent on having their usual Christmas frolic; so, after an
hour of pleasant chat, they began to get restless, and having consulted
together in dumb show, they devised a way to very effectually break up
the family council.
Steve vanished, and, sooner than the boys imagined Dandy could get
himself up, the skirl of the bag-pipe was heard in the hall, and the
bonny piper came to lead Clan Campbell to the revel.
“Draw it mild, Stevie, my man; ye play unco weel, but ye mak a most
infernal din,” cried Uncle Jem, with his hands over his ears, for this
accomplishment was new to him, and “took him all aback,” as he expressed
it.
So Steve droned out a Highland reel as softly as he could, and the boys
danced it to a circle of admiring relations. Captain Jem was a true
sailor, however, and could not stand idle while anything lively was
going on; so, when the piper's breath gave out, he cut a splendid
pigeon-wing into the middle of the hall, saying, “Who can dance a Fore
and After?” and, waiting for no reply, began to whistle the air so
invitingly that Mrs Jessie “set” to him laughing like a girl; Rose and
Charlie took their places behind, and away went the four with a spirit
and skill that inspired all the rest to “cut in” as fast as they could.
That was a grand beginning, and they had many another dance before
anyone would own they were tired. Even Fun See distinguished himself
with Aunt Plenty, whom he greatly admired as the stoutest lady in the
company; plumpness being considered a beauty in his country. The merry
old soul professed herself immensely flattered by his admiration, and
the boys declared she “set her cap at him,” else he would never have
dared to catch her under the mistletoe, and, rising on the tips of his
own toes, gallantly salute her fat cheek.
How they all laughed at her astonishment, and how Fun's little black
eyes twinkled over this exploit! Charlie put him up to it, and Charlie
was so bent on catching Rose, that he laid all sorts of pitfalls for
her, and bribed the other lads to help him. But Rose was wide-awake,
and escaped all his snares, professing great contempt for such foolish
customs. Poor Phebe did not fare so well, and Archie was the only one
who took a base advantage of her as she stood innocently offering tea to
Aunt Myra, whom she happened to meet just under the fatal bough. If
his father's arrival had not rather upset him, I doubt if the dignified
Chief would have done it, for he apologized at once in the handsomest
manner, and caught the tray that nearly dropped from Phebe's hands.
Jamie boldly invited all the ladies to come and salute him; and as for
Uncle Jem, he behaved as if the entire room was a grove of mistletoe.
Uncle Alec slyly laid a bit of it on Aunt Peace's cap, and then softly
kissed her; which little joke seemed to please her very much, for she
liked to have part in all the home pastimes, and Alec was her favourite
nephew.
Charlie alone failed to catch his shy bird, and the oftener she escaped
the more determined he was to ensnare her. When every other wile had
been tried in vain, he got Archie to propose a game with forfeits.
“I understand that dodge,” thought Rose, and was on her guard so
carefully that not one among the pile soon collected belonged to her.
“Now let us redeem them and play something else,” said Will, quite
unconscious of the deeply-laid plots all about him.
“One more round and then we will,” answered the Prince, who had now
baited his trap anew.
Just as the question came to Rose, Jamie's voice was heard in the hall,
crying distressfully, “Oh, come quick, quick!” Rose started up, missed
the question, and was greeted with a general cry of “Forfeit! forfeit!”
in which the little traitor came to join.
“Now I've got her,” thought the young rascal, exulting in his fun-loving
soul.
“Now I'm lost,” thought Rose, as she gave up her pin-cushion with a
sternly defiant look that would have daunted anyone but the reckless
Prince. In fact, it made even him think twice, and resolve to “let Rose
off easy,'' she had been so clever.
“Here's a very pretty pawn, and what shall be done to redeem it?” asked
Steve, holding the pin-cushion over Charlie's head, for he had insisted
on being judge, and kept that for the last.
“Fine or superfine?”
“Super.”
“Hum, well, she shall take old Mac under the mistletoe, and kiss him
prettily. Won't he be mad, though?” and this bad boy chuckled over the
discomfort he had caused two harmless beings.
There was an impressive pause among the young folks in their corner, for
they all knew that Mac would “be mad,” since he hated nonsense of this
sort, and had gone to talk with the elders when the game began. At
this moment he was standing before the fire, listening to a discussion
between his uncles and his father, looking as wise as a young owl, and
blissfully unconscious of the plots against him.
Charlie expected that Rose would say, “I won't!” therefore he was rather
astonished, not to say gratified, when, after a look at the victim,
she laughed suddenly, and, going up to the group of gentlemen, drew her
uncle Mac under the mistletoe and surprised him with a hearty kiss.
“Thank you, my dear,” said the innocent gentleman, looking much pleased
at the unexpected honour.
“Oh, come; that's not fair,” began Charlie. But Rose cut him short by
saying, as she made him a fine courtesy,
“You said 'Old Mac,' and though it was very disrespectful, I did it.
That was your last chance, sir, and you've lost it.”
He certainly had, for, as he spoke, Rose pulled down the mistletoe and
threw it into the fire, while the boys jeered at the crestfallen Prince,
and exalted quick-witted Rose to the skies.
“What's the joke?” asked young Mac, waked out of a brown study by the
laughter, in which the elders joined.
But there was a regular shout when, the matter having been explained to
him, Mac took a meditative stare at Rose through his goggles, and said
in a philosophical tone, “Well, I don't think I should have minded much
if she had done it.”
That tickled the lads immensely, and nothing but the appearance of a
slight refection would have induced them to stop chaffing the poor Worm,
who could not see anything funny in the beautiful resignation he had
shown on this trying occasion.
Soon after this, the discovery of Jamie curled up in the sofa corner, as
sound asleep as a dormouse, suggested the propriety of going home, and a
general move was made.
They were all standing about the hall lingering over the good-nights,
when the sound of a voice softly singing “Sweet Home,” made them pause
and listen. It was Phebe, poor little Phebe, who never had a home, never
knew the love of father or mother, brother or sister; who stood all
alone in the wide world, yet was not sad nor afraid, but took her bits
of happiness gratefully, and sung over her work without a thought of
discontent.
I fancy the happy family standing there together remembered this and
felt the beauty of it, for when the solitary voice came to the burden of
its song, other voices took it up and finished it so sweetly, that the
old house seemed to echo the word “Home” in the ears of both the orphan
girls, who had just spent their first Christmas under its hospitable
roof.