A WINTER PICNIC
Lois had always liked summer better than winter, but this year she
changed her mind, and thought that nothing could be quite so good as
these December days, when the crisp air sent the blood tingling through
her veins. The white world, with the dark trees powdered with snow,
and in the late afternoons the blood-red sunsets warm and glowing
against the cold white, had an especial charm. And into this world,
as beautiful as fairy-land, Lois walked hand in hand with Jessie and
Ellen; while coasting, sleigh-riding, and skating made a sort of
carnival of each day. Now that her fear of the Morgan boys had been
cured, there was an added interest in having them of the party. Lois
could skate well enough to join the others, and Amyas and Reuben often
took her and Jessie, with their sisters, on coasting-parties. Lois had
never known before the joys of the “double-runner,” and although she
felt she took her life in her hands every time she went down a steep
hill, there was a fearful pleasure in the descent, and a thankfulness
and surprise each time she reached the bottom safely, that made
coasting a pastime of which she never tired.
“I think,” said Jessie, one morning, “that we ought to do something for
those poor Donnellys at Christmas. I wish we could have a Christmas
tree for them. Couldn’t we, Aunt Elizabeth?”
“It would be a great amount of work,” said Mrs. Page, “and I know that
a good deal has been done for the Donnellys already. We have been
making some clothes for them in the sewing-circle.”
“I didn’t mean clothes,” said Jessie; “and we’ll do all the work if
you will only let us have the tree. There are plenty of hemlocks at
Brierfield; I am sure Garrett would cut one down for us. I can see
just the way it would look,” she went on eagerly. “We can get a lot
of candles, and make lovely decorations out of gold and silver paper,
and for very little money we can buy some toys, and the candy can be
put in colored candy-horns, which we can make ourselves. There are six
Donnellys, four girls and two boys, and their rooms are so forlorn! and
we could have the tree in the play-room, where it would not trouble any
one, except the Trio Club, and they could be put into the laundry for
once. Oh, please, Aunt Elizabeth, mayn’t we have it, if we’ll promise
to do all the work, and pay for it ourselves?”
“Oh, mother, dear, it would be so lovely!” said Lois. “I never had a
Christmas tree.”
“You never had a Christmas tree!” Jessie exclaimed. “Why, you poor
darling, that seems terrible! I’ll have to put something on the tree
for you.”
Mrs. Page had learned by experience that Jessie’s ideas were practical
ones, and after a little more debating she said that they could have
the Christmas tree. Anne and Ellen were asked to join in the scheme,
and the children had a secret session one stormy afternoon in the attic
at the top of the Morgans’ house. It was a delightful place, with a
large table and a tool-chest, and plenty of room to work or play.
“Hullo,” said Amyas, coming in to get some tools, “what are you four up
to?”
“It is a secret,” said Ellen solemnly, “and no one is to know anything
about it.”
“What a lot of money you’ve got!” he said, looking into Ellen’s lap,
where the contents of her bank were gathered together in a heap.
“It isn’t so much as it looks. It’s mostly coppers,” said Ellen in
dejected tones. “I thought there would be a lot more. I haven’t got
all the presents for the family yet, so I am afraid I can only
spare fifteen cents, but Lois is going to give twenty-five and Anne
twenty-five, and Jessie a dollar; that makes a dollar and sixty-five
cents. Don’t you want to give us some money, Amyas?” she added in her
sweetest tones. “It is for a perfectly fine cause.”
“No, I thank you. I don’t go it blind. If you want any money, you’ve
got to tell me what it’s for.”
“Why not tell him?” said Anne. “You tell him, Jessie; it is your idea.”
Amyas was far more interested in the plan than they had dared to hope.
He not only promised them fifty cents, but, what was far better, he
proposed that he and Reuben should go over to Brierfield with them to
get the tree. “We’ll go on the Saturday before Christmas,” he decided,
“and we’ll have a regular spree. We’ll start in the morning, and we’ll
take the double-runner, and when we come to Morse’s hill we’ll coast
down it, and we’ll steal one or two rides behind carts, so it won’t be
too long a walk. We’ll have luncheon out of doors, and then cut the
tree down and bring it home on the sled.”
The four girls were greatly thrilled by this exciting programme.
“Oh dear, I’m so afraid mother won’t let me go!” said Lois.
“Oh, she’ll have to! I’ll make her let you,” said Amyas.
Mrs. Page did not altogether approve of the scheme. She was afraid it
would be too much for Lois, and she was sure that some of them would
take cold eating out of doors. She weakened after a time, for they were
so bitterly disappointed, and finally said they might go, if they would
have their luncheon in the house at Brierfield, and take some older
person with them. Susan Morgan cheerfully consented to be the older
person.
Lois was sure it was going to storm on the Saturday before Christmas.
She worked herself up into a fever of anxiety.
“I know it will snow! It is just my luck.”
“And I am sure it will be pleasant; it is just my luck,” said Jessie.
“Why not think it is going to be pleasant, and then you will be sure to
have that much fun out of it?”
Lois waked early the Saturday before Christmas, and she went to the
window and pushed up the curtain. It was not light yet, but there was a
dull streak of red in the east.
“Wake up, Jessie, wake up!” she cried, “it is going to be a pleasant
day.”
“It seems almost too cold to go,” said Mrs. Page, after breakfast, as
she looked at the thermometer; “it is only nine above zero, and there
is a wind.”
“But, mother, you will let us go,” begged Lois.
“Of course, dear, if the others go, but I am afraid you will not get
very much pleasure out of it.”
Not get very much pleasure out of it! Jessie and Lois expected to enjoy
the day as they had never enjoyed anything in their whole lives!
At ten o’clock the Morgans appeared,--such a merry, lively company in
their gay tam-o’-shanters and sweaters, that Mrs. Page changed her
mind, and decided that they were going to have a good time in spite of
the weather.
“Poor mother,” said Lois, “I hope you won’t be lonely. I wish you were
coming too.”
“Do come along, Mrs. Page,” Amyas said; “you can get on the
double-runner whenever you are tired.”
But Mrs. Page was very busy over some Christmas presents, and she was
glad to have a quiet day to herself.
Every one they passed, as they went along the village street, glanced
at the children with interest.
“We look as if we were going coasting,” said Ellen. “No one will
imagine what else we are going to do.”
The first person to speak to them was Captain Taft. “Going coasting?”
he asked.
“Yes.”
“Well, I should say there was too cold a wind, but young folks don’t
mind. I suppose I wouldn’t have minded myself, once.”
And the next was Mrs. Robertson. “Are you going coasting?” she inquired
in disapproving tones. “It is much too cold. I wouldn’t let Dora go.”
And the third was Joel Carpenter. “Are you going coasting?” he said
joyfully. “I’ll come along too.”
They were not particularly anxious to have him share their secret, but
they did not know how to get rid of him, and so he joined them.
They had a glorious coast down Morse’s hill. Lois was on the forward
sled, and it was very exciting to fly past the vanishing trees and then
sweep around the curve near the bottom. She had certainly thought they
would tip over that time. Presently there came along an empty cart
bound for the woods.
“Let’s steal a ride,” whispered Amyas. He hitched the sled on behind,
and they all got on silently with stealthy tread like conspirators. A
little later the driver turned his head.
“Good-morning,” he said genially. “Won’t you all get into my cart?”
His cordiality was something of a shock, and took the zest out of the
stolen ride.
The lunch at Brierfield was one of the pleasantest parts of the day,
for some huge logs were burning in the hall fireplace, and they all sat
in a semi-circle around the cheerful blaze. Susan and Jessie unpacked
the lunch, and they had a merry meal. If it was not quite so romantic
eating their sandwiches and cake before the fire as it would have been
under the pine-trees, it was certainly more comfortable.
Best of all was the walk in the afternoon and the choosing a
hemlock-tree. It was very cold and still in the woods, and the snow
was as white as if it had fallen that very day. The mayflowers were
hidden now, and the birches and maples lifted bare branches to the
sky. Everything was different from what it had been on the April day
when Lois was so glad that icy winter was far away, except the pines
and hemlocks, that were as green as if they had forgotten it was not
spring. A red-headed woodpecker, that had perched on a neighboring
branch, flew away at their approach into the heart of the woods.
“Oh, how beautiful it is!” said Lois. “What a pity that everybody can’t
have such a good time!”
“Every one can have out of doors if they want it,” said Jessie.
“Amyas, do see what a nice tree this is! Let’s cut this one down,” said
Ellen.
“What, that scrubby thing?” Reuben asked. “That’s too lop-sided.”
“Let’s each choose a tree,” said Anne, and they scattered like a covey
of birds.
Lois and Jessie kept together, and they found a tree, almost perfect in
its symmetry, tall and yet not too tall. The moment they saw it they
felt it must be _the_ tree. Even Ellen was forced to acknowledge the
wisdom of their choice, and the boys soon felled it and strapped it to
the double-runner.
The journey back in the afternoon was not so delightful as the morning
trip.
“I wish that hills could be tipped the other way, like a teeter,” said
Ellen, when they came to Morse’s hill. “It is perfectly horrid to have
that long, steep climb.”
Lois was beginning to feel very tired, but she tried to look as if she
liked to climb hills.
“You are tired out, Lois,” said Susan Morgan kindly.
“I’m not much tired.”
Reuben began untying the tree.
“What are you doing?” Amyas asked. “The tree is all right.”
“I am going to carry it awhile,” said Reuben, “and then Lois and Jessie
can get on the sled, and you and Joel can pull them up the hill.”
“I am not a bit tired,” said Jessie, and she looked so fresh that Lois
felt ashamed to have given out.
“I’d like to ride,” said Ellen.
Reuben gave a scornful laugh. “You? You are as well able to pull Amyas
up the hill as he is to pull you. You’re just lazy.”
“Why isn’t Lois lazy?”
“She is tired.”
“I am sorry to give you so much trouble,” said Lois, as she got on the
sled. She wondered why the boys were so good to her, when in their
heart of hearts they must think her so poor-spirited to get tired. She
wished she were as strong as Jessie and Ellen.
“We had a splendid time, mother,” said Lois, when they reached home.
“It was great,” said Jessie.
“I had a successful day, too,” said Mrs. Page. “I got Grandmother
Lois’s Christmas box packed, and I finished your present and Jessie’s.”
“How exciting that sounds, mother! I wish we knew what they were.”