"WHEN THE PIE WAS OPENED, THE BIRDS BEGAN TO SING!"
The children went out the back door quietly, and were presently lost to
sight, Sarah Maud slipping and stumbling along absent-mindedly as she
recited, under her breath,
"It--was--such--a--pleasant--evenin'--an--sech--a--short
--walk--we--thought--we'd--leave--our--hats--to--home."
Peter rang the door bell, and presently a servant admitted them, and,
whispering something in Sarah's ear, drew her downstairs into the
kitchen. The other Ruggleses stood in horror-stricken groups as the
door closed behind their commanding officer; but there was no time for
reflection, for a voice from above was heard, saying, "Come right up
stairs, please!"
"Theirs not to make reply,
Theirs not to reason why,
Theirs but to do or die."
Accordingly, they walked upstairs, and Elfrida, the nurse, ushered them
into a room more splendid than anything they had ever seen. But, oh
woe! where was Sarah Maud! and was it Fate that Mrs. Bird should say,
at once, "Did you lay your hats in the hall?" Peter felt himself
elected by circumstance the head of the family, and, casting one
imploring look at tongue-tied Susan, standing next him, said huskily,
"It was so very pleasant--that--that" "That we hadn't good hats enough
to go round," put in little Susan, bravely, to help him out, and then
froze with horror that the ill-fated words had slipped off her tongue.
However, Mrs. Bird said, pleasantly, "Of course you wouldn't wear hats
such a short distance--I forgot when I asked. Now, will you come right
in to Miss Carol's room, she is so anxious to see you?"
Just then Sarah Maud came up the back-stairs, so radiant with joy from
her secret interview with the cook, that Peter could have pinched her
with a clear conscience, and Carol gave them a joyful welcome. "But
where is Baby Larry?" she cried, looking over the group with searching
eye. "Didn't he come?"
"Larry! Larry!" Good Gracious, where was Larry? They were all sure
that he had come in with them, for Susan remembered scolding him for
tripping over the door-mat. Uncle Jack went into convulsions of
laughter. "Are you sure there were nine of you?" he asked, merrily.
"I think so, sir," said Peoria, timidly; "but, anyhow, there was
Larry;" and she showed signs of weeping.
"Oh, well, cheer up!" cried Uncle Jack. "I guess he's not lost--only
mislaid. I'll go and find him before you can say Jack Robinson!"
"I'll go, too, if you please, sir," said Sarah Maud, "for it was my
place to mind him, an' if he's lost I can't relish my vittles!"
The other Ruggleses stood rooted to the floor. Was this a dinner
party, forsooth; and, if so, why were such things ever spoken of as
festive occasions?
Sarah Maud went out through the hall, calling, "Larry! Larry!" and
without any interval of suspense a thin voice piped up from below,
"Here I be!" The truth was that Larry, being deserted by his natural
guardian, dropped behind the rest, and wriggled into the hat-tree to
wait for her, having no notion of walking unprotected into the jaws of
a dinner-party. Finding that she did not come, he tried to crawl from
his refuge and call somebody, when--dark and dreadful ending to a
tragic day--he found that he was too much intertwined with umbrellas
and canes to move a single step. He was afraid to yell! When I have
said this of Larry Ruggles I have pictured a state of helpless terror
that ought to wring tears from every eye; and the sound of Sarah Maud's
beloved voice, some seconds later, was like a strain of angel music in
his ears. Uncle Jack dried his tears, carried him upstairs, and soon
had him in breathless fits of laughter, while Carol so made the other
Ruggleses forget themselves that they were soon talking like
accomplished diners-out.
Carol's bed had been moved into the farthest corner of the room, and
she was lying on the outside, dressed in a wonderful soft white
wrapper. Her golden hair fell in soft fluffy curls over her white
forehead and neck, her cheeks flushed delicately, her eyes beamed with
joy, and the children told their mother, afterwards, that she looked as
beautiful as the pictures of the Blessed Virgin. There was great
bustle behind a huge screen in another part of the room, and at
half-past five this was taken away, and the Christmas dinner-table
stood revealed. What a wonderful sight it was to the poor little
Ruggles children, who ate their sometimes scanty meals on the kitchen
table! It blazed with tall colored candles, it gleamed with glass and
silver, it blushed with flowers, it groaned with good things to eat; so
it was not strange that the Ruggleses, forgetting that their mother was
a McGrill, shrieked in admiration of the fairy spectacle. But Larry's
behavior was the most disgraceful, for he stood not upon the order of
his going, but went at once for a high chair that pointed unmistakably
to him, climbed up like a squirrel, gave a comprehensive look at the
turkey, clapped his hands in ecstacy, rested his fat arms on the table,
and cried, with joy, "I beat the hull lot o' yer!" Carol laughed until
she cried, giving orders, meanwhile, "Uncle Jack, please sit at the
head, Sarah Maud at the foot, and that will leave four on each side;
Mama is going to help Elfrida, so that the children need not look after
each other, but just have a good time."
A sprig of holly lay by each plate, and nothing would do but each
little Ruggles must leave his seat and have it pinned on by Carol, and
as each course was served one of them pleaded to take something to her.
There was hurrying to and fro, I can assure you, for it is quite a
difficult matter to serve a Christmas dinner on the third floor of a
great city house; but if every dish had had to be carried up a rope
ladder the servants would gladly have done so. There was turkey and
chicken, with delicious gravy and stuffing, and there were half-a-dozen
vegetables, with cranberry jelly, and celery, and pickles; and as for
the way these delicacies were served, the Ruggleses never forgot it as
long as they lived.
Peter nudged Kitty, who sat next him, and said, "Look, will yer, ev'ry
feller's got his own partic'lar butter; I suppose that's to show yer
can eat that much 'n no more. No, it ain't neither, for that pig of a
Peory's just gittin' another helpin'!" "Yes," whispered Kitty, "an'
the napkins is marked with big red letters. I wonder if that's so
nobody 'll nip 'em; an' oh, Peter, look at the pictures painted right
on ter the dishes. Did yer ever!"
"The plums is all took out o' my cramb'ry sarse, an' it's friz to a
stiff jell!" shouted Peoria, in wild excitement.
"Hi--yah! I got a wish-bone!" sung Larry, regardless of Sarah Maud's
frown; after which she asked to have his seat changed, giving as excuse
that he gen'ally set beside her, an' would "feel strange;" the true
reason being that she desired to kick him gently, under the table,
whenever he passed what might be termed "the McGrill line."
"I declare to goodness," murmured Susan, on the other side, "there's so
much to look at I can't scarcely eat nothin!"
"Bet yer life I can!" said Peter, who had kept one servant busily
employed ever since he sat down; for, luckily, no one was asked by
Uncle Jack whether he would have a second helping, but the dishes were
quietly passed under their noses, and not a single Ruggles refused
anything that was offered him, even unto the seventh time. Then, when
Carol and Uncle Jack perceived that more turkey was a physical
impossibility, the meats were taken off and the dessert was brought
in--a dessert that would have frightened a strong man after such a
dinner as had preceded it. Not so the Ruggleses--for a strong man is
nothing to a small boy--and they kindled to the dessert as if the
turkey had been a dream and the six vegetables an optical delusion.
There was plum-pudding, mince-pie, and ice-cream, and there were nuts,
and raisins, and oranges. Kitty chose ice-cream, explaining that she
knew it "by sight," but hadn't never tasted none; but all the rest took
the entire variety, without any regard to consequences.
"My dear child," whispered Uncle Jack, as he took Carol an orange,
"there is no doubt about the necessity of this feast, but I do advise
you after this to have them twice a year, or quarterly, perhaps, for
the way they eat is positively dangerous; I assure you I tremble for
that terrible Peoria. I'm going to run races with her after dinner."
"Never mind," laughed Carol, "let them eat for once; it does my heart
good to see them, and they shall come oftener next year."
The feast being over, the Ruggleses lay back in their chairs languidly,
and the table was cleared in a trice; then a door was opened into the
next room, and there, in a corner facing Carol's bed, which had been
wheeled as close as possible, stood the brilliantly lighted
Christmas-tree, glittering with gilded walnuts and tiny silver
balloons, and wreathed with snowy chains of pop-corn. The presents had
been bought mostly with Carol's story money, and were selected after
long consultations with Mrs. Bird. Each girl had a blue knitted hood,
and each boy a red crocheted comforter, all made by Mama, Carol and
Elfrida ("because if you buy everything, it doesn't show so much love,"
said Carol). Then every girl had a pretty plaid dress of a different
color, and every boy a warm coat of the right size. Here the useful
presents stopped, and they were quite enough; but Carol had pleaded to
give them something "for fun." "I know they need the clothes," she had
said, when they were talking over the matter just after Thanksgiving,
"but they don't care much for them, after all. Now, Papa, won't you
PLEASE let me go without part of my presents this year, and give me the
money they would cost, to buy something to amuse them?"
"You can have both," said Mr. Bird, promptly; "is there any need of my
little girl's going without her Christmas, I should like to know?
Spend all the money you like."
"But that isn't the thing," objected Carol, nestling close to her
father; "it wouldn't be mine. What is the use? Haven't I almost
everything already, and am I not the happiest girl in the world this
year, with Uncle Jack and Donald at home? Now, Papa, you know very
well it is more blessed to give than to receive; then why won't you let
me do it? You never look half as happy when you are getting your
presents as when you are giving us ours. Now, Papa, submit, or I shall
have to be very firm and disagreeable with you!"
"Very well, your Highness, I surrender."
"That's a dear Papa! Now, what were you going to give me? Confess!"
"A bronze figure of Santa Claus; and in the little round belly, that
shakes, when he laughs, like a bowl full of jelly, is a wonderful
clock. Oh, you would never give it up if you could see it."
"Nonsense," laughed Carol; "as I never have to get up to breakfast, nor
go to bed, nor catch trains, I think my old clock will do very well!
Now, Mama, what were you going to give me?"
"Oh, I hadn't decided. A few more books, and a gold thimble, and a
smelling-bottle, and a music-box."
"Poor Carol," laughed the child, merrily, "she can afford to give up
these lovely things, for there will still be left Uncle Jack, and
Donald, and Paul, and Hugh, and Uncle Rob, and Aunt Elsie, and a dozen
other people."
So Carol had her way, as she generally did, but it was usually a good
way, which was fortunate, under the circumstances; and Sarah Maud had a
set of Miss Alcott's books, and Peter a modest silver watch, Cornelius
a tool-chest, Clement a dog-house for his "lame puppy," Larry a
magnificent Noah's ark, and each of the little girls a beautiful doll.
You can well believe that everybody was very merry and very thankful.
All the family, from Mr. Bird down to the cook, said they had never
seen so much happiness in the space of three hours; but it had to end,
as all things do. The candles flickered and went out, the tree was
left alone with its gilded ornaments, and Mrs. Bird sent the children
down stairs at half-past eight, thinking that Carol looked tired.
"Now, my darling, you have done quite enough for one day," said Mrs.
Bird, getting Carol into her little night-dress; "I am afraid you will
feel worse to-morrow, and that would be a sad ending to such a good
time."
"Oh, wasn't it a lovely, lovely time," sighed Carol. "From first to
last, everything was just right. I shall never forget Larry's face
when he looked at the turkey; nor Peter's, when he saw his watch; nor
that sweet, sweet Kitty's smile when she kissed her dolly; nor the
tears in poor, dull Sarah Maud's eyes when she thanked me for her
books; nor--"
"But we mustn't talk any longer about it to-night," said Mrs. Bird,
anxiously; "you are too tired, dear."
"I am not so very tired, Mama. I have felt well all day; not a bit of
pain anywhere. Perhaps this has done me good."
"Perhaps; I hope so. There was no noise or confusion; it was just a
merry time. Now, may I close the door and leave you alone? I will
steal in softly the first thing in the morning, and see if you are all
right; but I think you need to be quiet."
"Oh, I'm willing to stay alone; but I am not sleepy yet, and I am going
to hear the music by and by, you know."
"Yes, I have opened the window a little, and put the screen in front of
it, so that you will not feel the air."
"Can I have the shutters open; and won't you turn my bed a little,
please? This morning I woke ever so early, and one bright beautiful
star shone in that eastern window. I never saw it before, and I
thought of the Star in the East, that guided the wise men to the place
where Jesus was. Good night, Mama. Such a happy, happy day!"
"Good night, my precious little Christmas Carol--mother's blessed
Christmas child."
"Bend your head a minute, mother dear," whispered Carol, calling her
mother back. "Mama, dear, I do think that we have kept Christ's
birthday this time just as He would like it. Don't you?"
"I am sure of it," said Mrs. Bird, softly.