The Christmas Tree
Old Mr. Sharpe insisted upon the children coming into the cottage and
having some refreshment. It was too early for tea, but he produced some
home-made ginger beer, and some currant cake. His daughter, a sad-faced
young woman, had traces of tears on her cheeks. She had been talking
about the young husband killed in the war. But she smiled at the
children's eagerness and enthusiasm for the garden.
"Oh, Mums, such rows and rows of daffodils and narcissus! Isn't it a
pity it's too late to plant them now?"
"And, Mums, you should have seen the flowers in the hot-houses, but
none of them will grow out of doors now!"
"And the little trees, all coming out in pink and white flowers!"
It was not until they were on the way home that Mrs. Inglefield was
told of the purchases.
Diana had chosen nothing but flowers. She had a tiny rose tree coming
up the next day to be placed in the middle of her bed.
"It will be the queen," she said with the dreamy look in her grey eyes
that her mother loved to see; "and I shall have her ladies-in-waiting
all round her: Lady Pansy, and Lady Blue Cornflower, and Lady Pink
Verbena, and Lady Snapdragon, and Lady Yellow Eschscholtzia; and then
her little pages will be Tom Thumb Nasturtiums. Don't you think my bed
will be lovely, Mums?"
"Lovely, darling. You have done very well, I think. What is Chris's
choice?"
"I've got mustard and cress, and radishes," he said sturdily, "and one
strawberry plant. And two red geraniums are coming to me when it's time
to put them in the ground. And I've a lot of mixed sweet-peas, and one
little gooseberry bush."
"You have a lot for your money. First rate," said his mother. "What has
Noel got?"
Diana looked at Chris, and they both giggled.
Noel looked at them angrily, and turned to his mother:
"I'm going to have one fing only, but it's quite big, it's what we
never had in India, and what I've always been wanting ever since you
read me about it in my fairy book."
"I believe I can guess," his mother said: "it's a Christmas tree."
"Yes, that's just what it is. And Mr. Sharpe and me choosed for ever so
long before we found a big one, and it's coming to-morrow."
"But, my darling, won't it be rather a dull garden with only that tree
in it?"
"It won't be dull to me," said Noel. "I love it. And it will be ready
for next Christmas. It's been wondering when its turn was coming to be
taken away, it didn't know it was coming into this lovely garden with
me to love it. Don't you r'ember the fir tree that was always finking
and being disappointed? I mean to tell mine exac'ly what's going to
happen to him."
"You're a funny darling," said his mother, but she kissed him and said
no more.
"Mr. Sharpe gave him some flower seeds as a present," said Chris, "but
he says he isn't going to put them in his garden."
"No, my Christmas tree won't like them. He likes plenty of room all to
himself, and I shall put those seeds where I want to."
Mrs. Inglefield looked at him a little perplexedly.
"You're a funny boy," she said again; "but if your Christmas tree
will make you happy, I shall say nothing against it. You've made your
choice, so it's all right."
Noel seemed quite content. But he refused to tell Diana and Chris his
plan about his seeds. All three of them wanted to go into the garden
after tea, but Nurse refused to let them do it.
"It is too cold, and rain is beginning to fall. You must just stay in
the nursery."
"We can go to Mums," said Diana.
"No, you can't. The mistress is going to rest. She's been at it all day
long."
So they tried to make themselves happy in this new nursery of theirs.
Chris got out his paint-box and began to colour the picture in a
story-book of his. Diana got out her beloved sheets of paper and
commenced a fresh story under the inspiration of this fresh home. Noel
got a chair and knelt up at the window, looking out upon the English
scene with keen, observant eyes.
Suddenly he looked round:
"What are those green lumps all over the church garden?" he asked.
"Those are graves, of course," said Chris, "where people are buried
when they die."
"Why do they crowd into the church garden? Haven't they gardens of 'er
own?"
"Oh, that wouldn't be proper," said Chris.
"I s'pose," Noel went on thoughtfully, "they try and get as near to God
as they can, poor fings! But they aren't really vere at all, it's only
their bodies. It isn't a very pretty garden: God ought to have a better
one."
Chris made no reply.
Noel was always dressed first, and then Nurse went to Diana. It was a
lovely sunny morning. Directly Nurse's back was turned, Noel slipped
downstairs very quietly: then he ran out into the garden, opened the
little gate that led to the churchyard and began his operations. Going
from one green mound to another, he made a hole with his finger in the
middle of each, opened his precious packet of seeds and dropped one or
two seeds in it. Then he carefully covered it up with earth, and went
on to another. Mr. Sharpe had put several varieties of seed into his
packet. There was mignonette, aster, lobelia, and a few other summer
flowers. Noel knew nothing about the names or the flowers, but he went
on steadily planting seed by seed, and by and by a clergyman came out
of the church. He looked at the small boy in surprise. He was a young,
cheerful-looking man with a very quick, decided manner.
"Now, what on earth are you doing here?" he asked. "And who are you?
We've never seen each other before, have we?"
"I'm Noel. Who are you?"
"I'm John Wargrave, the parson. And this place belongs to me."
Noel looked at him stolidly.
"This is God's garden," he said, "and that place you've come out of is
God's house. It all belongs to Him."
"So it does, sonny. You've corrected me. But it isn't nice to make a
playground of the churchyard. What are you doing?"
"I'm not playing. I'm working very hard."
Noel spoke in an injured tone. Mr. Wargrave looked at the packets of
seeds in his hands, and wondered. Then Noel explained himself.
"I've made myself into God's gardener, and I'm going to make flowers
come all over His garden. God loves flowers. Mums told me He did. It's
an ugly garden now: not half as nice as ours."
"Do you love God?" Mr. Wargrave asked gently.
Noel nodded.
"It's a very nice thought, my boy, but a lot of people own a bit of
ground here. The graves belong to them, and they wouldn't like you to
meddle with them. Have you many seeds left?"
Noel spread out three small packets.
"Well, look here. There is a rose tree over the church porch. It is in
a bed of its own, and you can plant the rest of your seeds there. I'll
come and help you do it now."
Noel was quite willing. Mr. Wargrave produced a trowel from a little
room at the back of the church, and they made quite a good job of it.
He soon found out who Noel was and where he lived, and he said he was
coming to call on Mrs. Inglefield very soon. They were good friends
when they parted, and Noel trotted upstairs to his nursery breakfast.
Nurse scolded him for his dirty hands, but supposed he had been playing
in the garden. He did not tell anyone what he had been doing.
But later in the day when his Christmas tree arrived, and Diana and
Chris were busy with their gardens, he was asked where his seeds were.
"God has got them," he said solemnly; "I've given them to Him."
He would say nothing more.
Diana remarked to Chris:
"I can't think why Noel is so religious. He isn't a good boy at all,
and yet he is always talking about God."
"He's too little to know he oughtn't to do it," said Chris decidedly.
"Why oughtn't we to do it, I wonder?" said Diana musingly. "The people
in the Bible talked about God."
"It isn't respectful," said Chris: "rev'rent, I mean. Granny always
hushed us about religious things."
"Yes, but Mums talks about them quite easily: she doesn't whisper."
Chris gave it up.
"I only know Noel wouldn't do it if he was amongst a lot of other boys.
They'd laugh at him."
"We laugh at him, but he doesn't care."
"He's a most cocky little beggar!"
The Christmas tree almost overshadowed Noel's small garden. It looked
strangely out of place there, and would do so even more when surrounded
by spring and summer flowers. Chris and Diana, up in the medlar tree
the next day, watched Noel standing, hands in pockets, in front of it.
A pert saucy robin came and perched on the topmost branch. Noel stood
so still that he did not frighten it away, but he commenced to talk to
it.
"You're sitting on my tree. I don't know if you know it. I'm a
Chris'mas child and the tree is a Chris'mas tree, and we bofe belong to
the best day in the whole year, and that's Jesus Christ's birfday and
mine. It will take a long time to come this year, for we haven't got
to the summer yet, but I'm going to be patient, and as for my tree, he
is finking all the time of the wonderful day that's coming to him: the
glorious, beautiful day when he'll be dressed from his head to his feet
all over with lovely shining fings of glory, and crowds of chil'en and
people will be dancing round him and looking up at him as if—as if he
was a king. So, Mr. Robin, if you sit on his branches, you must re'mber
you're almost sitting on a king!"
"Isn't he a funny boy?" whispered Diana to Chris.
Then Noel went on talking to his tree:
"I'm going to call you Firry; you must have a name. I hope you're happy
in this garden; you haven't got any bruvvers to talk to, but I'd rather
talk alone than to Chris. He never understands, and so you must be like
me and like best to be alone. And if the trees wiv flowers on laugh at
you, tell them that when winter comes—the English winter—they'll be
dead and gone, and you'll be alive and glorious, it will be Chris'mas,
and the very happiest day in the whole year. I don't want you to be
unhappy, Firry. I cried for the poor little Chris'mas tree in Germany
that was forgotten when Chris'mas Day was over. I shall never forget
you. That's why I brought you here. I'll talk to you all the summer and
tell you what's coming to you, and after Chris'mas you shall come back
here and live and be happy and get ready for the nex' Chris'mas."
"He's talking drivel!" said Diana, and then she sprang down from the
tree with a shout, and Noel, after giving a violent start, walked away
and didn't go near his Christmas tree again that day.
The first Sunday came.
To Chris and Diana church was no treat; yet they looked forward to the
novelty of going to a strange church and seeing strange people. To Noel
this was a momentous day. He had never been to church in England yet.
In London, for several reasons, he had not been taken there.
It was a bright sunny morning. Noel was dressed in his white sailor
suit. It was a new one, and he felt rather self-conscious in it. As
Mrs. Inglefield walked down the garden and through the little gate into
the churchyard, she felt proud of her children. Diana had slipped her
hand into her mother's, but Chris and Noel were having a tussle the
other side of her. Each felt he ought to be nearest to his mother. When
they reached the church door, Mrs. Inglefield looked down upon two hot,
rather angry faces, and she said immediately:
"Now, boys, I can't have this. I am going to have Diana on one side
of me in church, and Noel the other. Chris must be content to be the
outside one. He shall sit near the aisle, for he is my eldest son, and
that is where his father would sit if he were with us."
Chris brightened up immediately. They took their seats in the middle
aisle, not very far from the pulpit. There was a good congregation, and
the service was a hearty one. Mr. Wargrave, the young vicar, preached
so earnestly and simply that even Noel could understand him. His big
blue eyes seemed to be taking in everybody and everything. He was very
still; he did not fidget as much as Chris did, and when they came out
of church, he looked up at his mother with shining eyes:
"When I grow up, I shall have a white dress on, and stand up in church
and preach like that man. I shall be a padre when I grow up."
Mrs. Inglefield looked down upon him tenderly.
"You couldn't be anything better, Noel," she said.
And then an old lady came up to them and shook hands with Mrs.
Inglefield in a delighted way.
"I heard you were coming back to these parts. How's your mother? Still
wedded to her town life? And are these your children? Bring them to tea
with me to-morrow. Four o'clock. Good-bye. So glad to welcome you."
And then she bustled off and got into a car and was whirled away from
them before Mrs. Inglefield had time to say a word. She turned to her
children.
"That is Lady Alice Herbert. She's an old friend of Granny's. She lives
at the Hall, and her husband, General Herbert, is a great invalid."
"And we're all going to tea with her. What fun!" said Chris.
In the afternoon the three children went into the garden whilst their
mother rested; but by and by Mrs. Inglefield heard a little tap at the
door, and Noel walked in. He did not look very happy.
"Am I asturbing you, Mummy?" he asked in his most angelic tone.
"No, darling, I am not sleeping; come and sit down by the couch here.
What have you been doing?"
"I don't like those uvver two," said Noel, shaking his head with a
heavy frown. "They're always playing and talking outside me."
"You mean without you; but you see they've not been accustomed to have
a third in their games. I hope you're nice to them?"
"I don't want to have nuffin' to do with them. They laugh at me about
the Chris'mas tree. You and me, Mummy, can be two as we've always been,
and they can be just a two away from us."
"Oh, my darling," said Mrs. Inglefield, half laughing, yet with a
perplexed face, "you mustn't talk so! This comes of bringing you up
away from them. You all belong to me and to each other, and we must be
a very happy little family. I can't talk to you any more now, so if
you want to stay with me, get a picture-book from my table over there.
There's that one you love about the boys in the Bible."
Noel got the book, and drawing a stool up by his mother's side, was
quite happy till tea-time.
Chris and Diana appeared in very good spirits, and if Noel was rather
silent, they did not seem to be impressed by it.
They were full of anticipation of going to Lady Alice Herbert's to tea
the following day, and talked about it till bedtime.
Very great was their disappointment the next morning when their mother
told them that she had received a letter from Lady Alice saying that,
as the General was not very well, she would not ask the children, but
only herself.
Diana pouted, Chris cried "What a shame!" and Noel stumped up and down
the room in real anger.
"Never mind, chicks, she will ask you another day, I am sure, and
perhaps it is just as well, for it looks like rain."
And rain it did in an hour's time. The children played contentedly in
the nursery all the morning. They had their early dinner downstairs
with their mother, and afterwards she took them up to her boudoir, and
read a story to them till it was time for her to go off to the Hall.
The car came for her a little before four o'clock, and the children
watched her depart with envious eyes. They waved their hands to her,
standing on the doorstep till they could see her no more, and then very
reluctantly they went back to their nursery.
"What is there to do?" said Chris discontentedly as he put his hands
deep in his jacket pockets and stood gazing out of the window at the
driving rain and sodden garden.
"I'm going to finish my story, and then I'll read it to you," said
Diana happily, as she drew her chair up to the table and produced some
crumpled sheets of paper out of her pocket. Diana always carried her
story about with her, in case of sudden inspiration seizing her.
"Read it to us first, and finish it afterwards," said Chris with a grin.
Noel looked at him contemptuously, and Chris caught the look and
resented it.
"What are you going to do, Baby?" he asked.
Noel's eyes flashed.
"I aren't going to play with you," he said, and then, he marched out of
the room.
A few minutes later a little figure in sailor cap and overcoat was
plodding down the path to the gate, in the rain.
It was Noel. He felt that he could not be shut up in the nursery with
his brother and sister all the afternoon, and suddenly thought that he
would go and see Mr. Wargrave. Then he changed his mind. He would go
into the church if the door was unlocked. There were a lot of things he
wanted to see and understand there.
Half an hour later the house was being searched by Nurse for the
truant. When she missed his cap and coat she was very angry with Chris
and Diana.
"I was only ironing in the kitchen; you might have kept him quiet and
out of mischief, the two of you," she said. "He's a child, I'll say
that, but if he's wandering about in this rain, he'll be laid up with
cold, with his Indian constitootion."
"He's most likely in the garden talking to his fir tree, or in the
churchyard," said Chris. "Shall I go and look for him and bring him in?"
"Put on your mackintosh then, and be quick about it," said Nurse. "'Tis
your fault he's wandered out, I consider. You're none too kind to him,
either of you!"