A Stolen Evergreen
The Brownies and Veve were spending the afternoon rummaging in
Grandmother Gordon’s attic.
Connie had suggested the idea immediately after lunch and everyone had
been enthusiastic. Mrs. Gordon, of course, did not expect the girls
to find her missing locket, but she knew they would have a fine time
poking about among all the old things.
The attic had only one small window to let in light. Everywhere cobwebs
hung from file walls. Veve ran into one as she started toward an old
spinning wheel which stood near the door.
“Ugh!” she exclaimed, fighting it off. “This old boy has me by the
throat.”
“Maybe there are mice in here too,” Rosemary added uneasily.
“Grandma Gordon is too good a housekeeper to have mice,” declared
Connie. She was alarmed lest the girls decide to leave the attic before
they had explored it. “Anyway, Fluff is here to scare them away.”
The cat had followed the Brownies upstairs and was rubbing against
Connie’s legs.
“Fluff is too lazy to catch anything,” laughed Rosemary.
The attic fairly overflowed with boxes, trunks, suitcases and broken
furniture. Eileen tried out an old rocker which squeaked like an animal
in distress.
Connie and Eileen began opening the trunks. In one they found old
shoes, ancient hats and woolen goods scented with moth balls.
One box contained children’s winter clothing, still in good condition
and very little out of style. In another were several old-fashioned
silk dresses with tight waists and long full skirts.
“What fun to dress up!” exclaimed Eileen.
“We couldn’t without asking Mrs. Gordon’s permission,” said Connie.
“If we start to dress up now, we’ll have no time to look at the other
things here.”
“Then let’s do it tomorrow,” Eileen replied, temporarily giving up the
idea.
Suddenly from the far end of the attic came a resounding crash.
Veve, who had tried to peep into a box that was higher than her head,
had pulled it over. Barely missing her feet, it spilled its contents
of books over the floor.
“Oh, Veve! See what you’ve done!” Jane exclaimed impatiently. “If that
box had contained glass, it would have been smashed!”
“It wasn’t my fault,” Veve mumbled, starting to pick up the books. “The
old box just fell over.”
“You mean you accidentally pulled it down. Veve, you never stop to
think before you act, and then when it’s your fault, you don’t like to
admit it! Brownies believe in being honest about their mistakes.”
Although it was quite dark in the attic, Connie saw that tears were
coming into Veve’s eyes. She really thought Jane was being too severe.
“Oh, why make a fuss about it?” she interposed. “Of course, Veve didn’t
mean to do it.”
“She never does,” retorted Jane crossly.
“Well, you’re not being very nice yourself to blame Veve every time she
has an accident,” said Rosemary, siding with Connie. “At lunch today
when you upset your glass of milk, no one said a word.”
Jane started to say that the milk had spilled only because Sunny had
joggled her elbow, but thought better of it.
“Sorry,” she muttered. “I wouldn’t have said anything about the box,
only I think we should be careful or Mrs. Gordon won’t want us to play
up here.”
“We _all_ should be careful,” emphasized Connie.
She and Sunny helped Veve pick up the books and stack them back in the
box. The task had just been finished, when Rosemary let out a squeal of
excitement.
“See what I’ve found!” she cried.
Rosemary had come upon a box of old buttons in a cardboard box tucked
in the drawer of a rusty sewing machine.
“Say, maybe the golden locket is in there!” exclaimed Veve.
Hopefully the girls examined the many odd shapes and designs of the
buttons. Some were of brass or silver; others were of glass and tin.
“Oh, see this button!” declared Jane, selecting one from the
collection. “It has the face of George Washington on it and must be
very rare.”
“And here’s one in the shape of a little house,” added Rosemary. “One
never sees buttons like these today.”
“Except in collections,” contributed Connie. “It would be nice if the
Brownies could save buttons, only we have so many other interesting
things to do.”
The girls spent nearly half an hour studying the assortment. So
fascinating was the pastime, that they forgot their disappointment over
failure to find the missing locket.
Time passed so swiftly that the girls all were quite startled when Mrs.
Gordon called from the foot of the stairs to ask them to wash up for
supper.
“Is it supper time already?” gasped Connie. “Oh, dear, and we’ve only
half explored this wonderful place.”
“Let’s finish up tomorrow if we can,” proposed Sunny as they all
trooped down the stairs. “Maybe we can dress up in the old clothes.
That would be fun.”
All the Brownies agreed that it would be good sport to put on a style
show. Next morning, however, they had so many other interesting things
to do they had no time to think of the attic.
In the morning the girls played games in the snow and went coasting
again on Hammer Hill.
After lunch, Miss Gordon announced that she would drive to the village
in the sleigh.
“Who wants to ride along and help me select the sled for the Stone
children?” she inquired.
All of the Brownies were eager to accompany her. However, everyone
could not crowd into one sleigh. So in the end, Veve and Eileen were
chosen to go with the Brownie leader.
In the village, Miss Gordon attended to several errands. Then she took
the girls to a hardware store where they inspected a number of sleds.
After much debate, Eileen and Veve settled upon a handsome one which
was large enough for two children to ride on at the same time.
While they were waiting for the sled to be carried out to the sleigh,
Veve wandered to the rear of the store to look at a construction set.
As she stood there, she chanced to hear the owner of the hardware store
talking to another man who was buying a snow shovel.
“Too bad about Stone,” the storekeeper remarked. “I’d help him if I
could, but business is slack now and I can’t give him a place here.”
Hearing Mr. Stone’s name mentioned, Veve listened carefully.
“Yes, I’ve heard he’s had no regular work for more than a month,” the
customer replied, “Pretty tough on that family of his, especially with
Christmas coming on.”
When Veve left the hardware store with Eileen and Miss Gordon, she
repeated the snatch of conversation she had overheard.
“I was afraid the Stone children might face a very meager Christmas,
and this confirms it,” declared Miss Gordon. “I wish we could give them
other things besides just a sled.”
“They must need food and clothing,” said Eileen as she climbed into the
sleigh. “And I noticed the youngsters’ mittens were ragged.”
“We’ll have to do something about it,” said Miss Gordon. “However, I
don’t wish to offend Grandma Gordon, so we must plan carefully.”
After the three had returned to the Gordon home with the new sled, they
reported to the other Brownies what they had learned about Mr. Stone
being out of work.
“If you want to give the children clothing, I know where there’s some!”
exclaimed Connie, before she stopped to think. “A trunk in the attic is
filled with garments--”
Then she broke off, seeing from Grandmother Gordon’s set expression,
that the woman did not want to give any of the clothing away.
“Mr. Stone may be out of work temporarily, but I can’t believe the
family is in actual need,” declared Grandmother Gordon. She lifted a
stove lid to throw a chunk of wood into the fiery red coals. “Besides,
Mr. Stone probably would have a steady job if he weren’t so shiftless.”
“Mr. Stone isn’t shiftless,” corrected Miss Gordon. “Work is very
scarce just at this time. Besides, I know for a fact that he works very
hard at his trap lines and does any kind of work he can get.”
“Other men seem able to find means of providing for their families,”
sniffed Grandmother Gordon. “If I thought for a minute that he actually
were deserving, I’d try to help the family.”
“Isn’t it true you dislike them because you believe Mrs. Stone took
your locket?”
“I suppose it does enter into my feelings,” Grandmother Gordon admitted.
“Yet no matter what you believe about Mrs. Stone, you shouldn’t take it
out on those poor children. It bothers me to think they may not have
enough to eat.”
“Since you’ve talked of it so much, it’s beginning to bother me too,”
admitted Mrs. Gordon. “Why not go there and find out the truth? I know
that’s what you want me to tell you to do!”
“I’m very glad you suggested it,” laughed Miss Gordon. “It’s quite
possible I may take a delegation of Brownies and go there tomorrow.”
Nothing more was said about the matter at that time, but secretly,
all the Brownies hoped Miss Gordon would find a way to help the Stone
children.
Since the girls had arrived at the farm, time had flown very fast
They scarcely could realize that soon their parents would arrive for
Christmas and to take them back to Rosedale.
Before that day came the Brownies planned to make cookies, cakes and
candies and decorate the entire house with greens.
“Mr. Jeffert has promised us a Christmas tree,” Miss Gordon told the
girls. “He said we may have any one we select.”
“One so tall it will touch the ceiling!” cried Rosemary.
“Please, may we choose it this afternoon?” pleaded Eileen, who was
eager to return to the woods. “While we’re there, we could see if the
birds are using the new feeding station!”
“How many Brownies feel equal to another hike?” asked Miss Gordon.
“I do!” shouted Jane.
All the other girls voted for the trip too and ran to put on their warm
snowsuits.
A brisk walk through the frosty air brought the Brownies to the edge of
Mr. Jeffert’s land.
“Our track has completely disappeared!” declared Miss Gordon. “Last
night’s snow was heavier than I thought.”
The trail to the birds’ feeding station had been completely blotted out
by the light fall of snow. Eileen and Jane, however, knew the way.
“Follow us!” Eileen directed the girls.
She and Jane broke track through the snow. Now and then they glimpsed
stretches of the old trail which had not been completely covered, so
they were sure they were going the right way.
A moment later, Jane sang out: “Here we are. Our tree was right beside
this tall one--but where is it now?”
She and Eileen, who were ahead, both stopped short. Only an ugly stump
arose from the place where the birds’ Christmas tree had stood the
previous day.
Someone had chopped down the evergreen during the night!
“Why, it’s gone! Our lovely tree is gone!” cried Eileen in a shrill
voice.
The Brownies were so stunned they hardly said a word. They could not
believe a mistake had been made in the tree’s location, for in the snow
nearby were bits of ribbon and string and a pine cone with food still
pressed into it.
“Oh, how could anyone be so mean?” demanded Connie.
“Especially when the woods is filled with nice evergreens,” added
Rosemary, stooping to pick up the pine cone. “Why couldn’t Mr. Jeffert
have cut down another tree?”
“I don’t believe Mr. Jeffert did it,” said Connie soberly. “Our tree
probably was chopped down by that same thief who has been sneaking onto
his property.”
“And I agree,” commented Miss Gordon. “Mr. Jeffert never would have cut
down our tree.”
Behind them, the girls heard footfalls in the snow. Whirling around,
they saw Mr. Jeffert himself striding toward them.
“Who speaks my name?” he called cheerily.
“Oh, Mr. Jeffert!” cried Connie. “You didn’t take our tree, did you?”
She pointed to the stump and told the land owner what had happened. Mr.
Jeffert’s round face became as dark as a late afternoon sky.
“I certainly did not cut that tree!” he exclaimed. “But I have a good
idea who may have chopped it down. Late last night I saw Clem Stone
walking this way. He saw me watching from the woods and went on. I have
a notion he may have sneaked back later.”
“Then you believe Mr. Stone is the one who has been stealing your
trees?” Miss Gordon asked, looking worried.
“I’ve no proof. Clem is out of a job though, and he may be trying to
raise money by selling a few of my trees. He didn’t speak last night
when he went past, and he was carrying an axe.”
“But so was Mr. Gossart,” revealed Connie.
“Mr. Gossart?”
“We met him after we fixed the tree for the birds,” Connie explained.
“He was carrying an axe the same as Mr. Stone.”
“Well, one can’t convict a man for having an axe,” admitted Mr.
Jeffert. “I probably was hasty in saying Mr. Stone could have cut the
tree. It might have been anyone.”
“Then you don’t think it was Mr. Stone after all?”
“I honestly don’t know. I’ve watched the woods night after night
without catching the culprit. The fellow, whoever he is, is too smart
for me.”
Now that the birds’ tree had been taken, the Brownie hike seemed quite
purposeless. After talking with Mr. Jeffert for a while, the girls
selected another evergreen which he promised to cut for their Christmas
at the farm, and then they turned toward home.
“Let’s take a shortcut through the fields,” proposed Sunny who had
wearied.
Accordingly, they rolled under a wire fence, and set off through the
deep snow. Although the distance was much shorter than by the road, the
drifts made walking very hard.
When the snow was firm, the girls could walk along quite easily. But
every few feet the crust would give way, and down they would plunge,
nearly to their waists. However, it was fun and even Miss Gordon did
not mind.
“Who lives in that little cabin?” Connie asked as they drew near a
lighted dwelling.
Although it was not yet supper time, shadows were deepening everywhere.
In another half hour it would be very dark.
“Why, the Stones live there,” said Miss Gordon.
Smoke curled lazily from the cabin’s chimney. A shaggy dog lounged on
the back doorstep. The Stone children were nowhere to be seen.
The Brownies trudged on, coming quite close to the cabin. There were no
curtains or blinds at the windows. Without meaning to look the girls
peered directly into the Stones’ kitchen.
Just inside the window stood a perfectly shaped Christmas tree!
Strings of popcorn and cranberries were its only decoration.
Jane Tuttle saw the tree and clutched Connie’s arm excitedly.
“There it is!” she cried. “Our evergreen! Mr. Jeffert was right! Mr.
Stone did chop it down!”