"BIRDS OF A FEATHER FLOCK TOGETHER."
Uncle Jack did really come on the twentieth. He was not detained by
business, nor did he get left behind nor snowed up, as frequently
happens in stories, and in real life too, I am afraid. The snow-storm
came also; and the turkey nearly died a natural and premature death
from over-eating. Donald came, too; Donald, with a line of down upon
his upper lip, and Greek and Latin on his tongue, and stores of
knowledge in his handsome head, and stories--bless me, you couldn't
turn over a chip without reminding Donald of something that happened
"at College."
One or the other was always at Carol's bedside, for they fancied her
paler than she used to be, and they could not bear her out of sight.
It was Uncle lack, though, who sat beside her in the winter twilights.
The room was quiet, and almost dark, save for the snow-light outside,
and the flickering flame of the fire, that danced over the "Sleeping
Beauty's" face, and touched the Fair One's golden locks with ruddier
glory. Carol's hand (all too thin and white these latter days) lay
close clasped in Uncle Jack's, and they talked together quietly of
many, many things. "I want to tell you all about my plans for
Christmas this year, Uncle Jack," said Carol, on the first evening of
his visit, "because it will be the loveliest one I ever had. The boys
laugh at me for caring so much about it; but it isn't altogether
because it is Christmas nor because it is my birthday; but long, long
ago, when I first began to be ill, I used to think, the first thing
when I waked on Christmas morning, 'To-day is Christ's birthday--AND
MINE!' I did not put the words close together, because that made it
seem too bold but I first thought, 'Christ's birthday,' and then, in a
minute, softly to myself--AND MINE!' 'Christ's birthday--AND MINE!'
And so I do not quite feel about Christmas as other girls do. Mama
says she supposes that ever so many other children have been born on
that day. I often wonder where they are, Uncle Jack, and whether it is
a dear thought to them, too, or whether I am so much in bed, and so
often alone, that it means more to me. Oh, I do hope that none of them
are poor, or cold, or hungry; and I wish, I wish they were all as happy
as I, because they are my little brothers and sisters. Now, Uncle
Jack, dear, I am going to try and make somebody happy every single
Christmas that I live, and this year it is to be the 'Ruggleses in the
rear.'"
"That large and interesting brood of children in the little house at
the end of the back garden?"
"Yes; isn't it nice to see so many together? We ought to call them the
Ruggles children, of course; but Donald began talking of them as the
'Ruggleses in the rear,' and Papa and Mama took it up, and now we
cannot seem to help it. The house was built for Mr. Carter's coachman,
but Mr. Carter lives in Europe, and the gentleman who rents his place
doesn't care what happens to it, and so this poor Irish family came to
live there. When they first moved in, I used to sit in my window and
watch them play in their backyard; they are so strong, and jolly, and
good-natured; and then, one day, I had a terrible headache, and Donald
asked them if they would please not scream quite so loud, and they
explained that they were having a game of circus, but that they would
change and play 'Deaf and Dumb School' all the afternoon."
"Ha, ha, ha!" laughed Uncle Jack, "what an obliging family, to be sure."
"Yes, we all thought it very funny, and I smiled at them from the
window when I was well enough to be up again. Now, Sarah Maud comes to
her door when the children come home from school, and if Mama nods her
head, 'Yes,' that means 'Carol is very well,' and then you ought to
hear the little Ruggleses yell--I believe they try to see how much
noise they can make; but if Mama shakes her head, 'No,' they always
play at quiet games. Then, one day, 'Cary,' my pet canary, flew out of
her cage, and Peter Ruggles caught her and brought her back, and I had
him up here in my room to thank him."
"Is Peter the oldest?"
"No; Sarah Maud is the oldest--she helps do the washing; and Peter is
the next. He is a dressmaker's boy."
"And which is the pretty little red-haired girl?"
"That's Kitty."
"And the fat youngster?"
"Baby Larry."
"And that freckled one?"
"Now, don't laugh--that's Peoria!"
"Carol, you are joking."
"No, really, Uncle dear. She was born in Peoria; that's all."
"And is the next boy Oshkosh?"
"No," laughed Carol, "the others are Susan, and Clement, and Eily, and
Cornelius."
"How did you ever learn all their names?"
"Well, I have what I call a 'window-school.' It is too cold now; but
in warm weather I am wheeled out on my little balcony, and the
Ruggleses climb up and walk along our garden fence, and sit down on the
roof of our carriage-house. That brings them quite near, and I read to
them and tell them stories; On Thanksgiving Day they came up for a few
minutes, it was quite warm at eleven o'clock, and we told each other
what we had to be thankful for; but they gave such queer answers that
Papa had to run away for fear of laughing; and I couldn't understand
them very well. Susan was thankful for 'TRUNKS,' of all things in the
world; Cornelius, for 'horse cars;' Kitty, for 'pork steak;' while
Clem, who is very quiet, brightened up when I came to him, and said he
was thankful for 'HIS LAME PUPPY.' Wasn't that pretty?"
"It might teach some of us a lesson, mightn't it, little girl?"
"That's what Mama said. Now I'm going to give this whole Christmas to
the Ruggleses; and, Uncle Jack, I earned part of the money myself."
"You, my bird; how?"
"Well, you see, it could not be my own, own Christmas if Papa gave me
all the money, and I thought to really keep Christ's birthday I ought
to do something of my very own; and so I talked with Mama. Of course
she thought of something lovely; she always does; Mama's head is just
brimming over with lovely thoughts, and all I have to do is ask, and
out pops the very one I want. This thought was, to let her write down,
just as I told her, a description of how a little girl lived in her own
room three years, and what she did to amuse herself; and we sent it to
a magazine and got twenty-five dollars for it. Just think!"
"Well, well," cried Uncle Jack, "my little girl a real author! And
what are you going to do with this wonderful 'own' money of yours?"
"I shall give the nine Ruggleses a grand Christmas dinner here in this
very room--that will be Papa's contribution, and afterwards a beautiful
Christmas tree, fairly blooming with presents--that will be my part;
for I have another way of adding to my twenty-five dollars, so that I
can buy everything I like. I should like it very much if you would sit
at the head of the table, Uncle Jack, for nobody could ever be
frightened of you, you dearest, dearest, dearest thing that ever was!
Mama is going to help us, but Papa and the boys are going to eat
together down stairs for fear of making the little Ruggleses shy; and
after we've had a merry time with the tree we can open my window and
all listen together to the music at the evening church-service, if it
comes before the children go. I have written a letter to the organist,
and asked him if I might have the two songs I like best. Will you see
if it is all right?"
"BIRDS NEST, Dec. 21st, 188-.