SAMMY PINKNEY’S DEVOTION
Of course Tess and Dot Kenway had gone back to school after a few days.
But while they were housed up Sammy Pinkney learned something. He
scoffed at girls as playfellows quite openly when he was in the company
of the smaller Corner House girls, but in secret he missed their
companionship sorely.
Living as he did, just catercornered across Willow Street from the side
door of the old Corner House, Sammy had been the most familiar
playfellow of Tess and Dot since they had come to Milton. Sammy’s
affairs had always entertained the Corner House family—even his attempts
to run away to be a pirate.
Whatever Tess and Dot did, Sammy had a share in. During the brief time
when they were kept indoors because Ruth and Agnes were so ill, Sammy
concluded that he ought to do something big for the little girls on the
coming holiday.
“I got to give something nice to Tess and Dot,” he told his mother and
father. “They have done a lot of things for me, haven’t they?”
“They are very good friends of yours,” agreed his father.
“You could not have nicer playmates,” said Mrs. Pinkney with
satisfaction. “What do you want to give Tess and Dot?”
“I don’t know yet,” answered Sammy thoughtfully. “I want it to be
something they’ll remember me by after I get so big that I won’t want to
play with girls any more.”
“Why, Sammy!” exclaimed his mother, “I hope that day will never come.”
“Huh!” growled her young son. “It’s bad for boys to play with girls all
the time. Makes ’em sissies.”
Mrs. Pinkney was troubled; but her husband laughed loudly.
“Let me pick out something sweet for the little girls, Sammy,” said his
mother, with a sigh.
“What do you mean, Mom? Candy?” asked Sammy suspiciously. “They always
have candy.”
“No, no. I mean something pretty—for them to wear or look at.”
“Huh!” was the doubtful response. “They don’t need any clothes. Do you
mean pictures? For they’ve got a lot of them. Their playroom walls are
covered with ’em. Pictures printed on the wall-paper. Don’t see much
good in that myself.”
Again Mr. Pinkney expressed his amusement. His wife, who was wholly
without a sense of humor or fun, frowned at her husband’s openly
expressed amusement. Moreover, she wished that Sammy was less
boisterous. And she blamed Mr. Pinkney for encouraging Sammy’s ruder
tastes.
“He is getting old enough now to appreciate better things,” she said in
private to Mr. Pinkney. “See how nice it is of him to think of giving
the little girls a nice present. I wonder what he will decide upon.”
“You leave it to Sammy,” chuckled her husband. “He’ll think of something
that will surprise them—and probably surprise you, too.”
“I hope it will be nice.”
“Remember,” said the man in warning, “that it was Sammy who gave Tess
and Dot that goat, Billy Bumps. It’s been a cross to the rest of the
Corner House crowd, I have no doubt.”
“Oh, dear! Don’t suggest such a thing!” gasped Mrs. Pinkney.
Meanwhile the suggestion Dr. Forsyth had made to Mr. Howbridge regarding
a winter trip South for the Corner House girls, bore fruit. The lawyer
had business at St. Sergius, the capital of one of the island colonies
in the Caribbean Sea. St. Sergius was a commercial port of some
importance, and the business that called Mr. Howbridge there was of
moment.
He had intended to remain at a hotel there for some weeks, and had even
written for hotel booklets and the like. Now he proposed to make the
trip a real outing, and he broached the matter to Ruth.
“Oh, Guardy!” she sighed, “that sounds fine,” and she began, Mrs.
MacCall said, “to perk up immediately.” Heretofore she had shown little
power of recovery from her illness—not as much as Agnes showed. Now she
became almost as enthusiastic as her livelier sister over the proposed
journey into warmer climes.
Of course she wrote at once to Luke about it and from him received the
most amazing reply, worded about like this:
“Tell it not in Gath—nor in Pawtucket! I’ve been as worried as a
ball of knitting-wool in the claws of a six-weeks’-old kitten! I had
a chance offered me, and I didn’t know what to do about it. Believe
me, the wind is tempered to the lawn sham! Professor Keeps, who is a
good friend of mine, is going to spend some weeks in the Caribbean,
starting soon after New Year’s, and he offered me the chance to go
along—and get a salary for so doing! Think of it! Luke Shepard is to
be assistant to a grave professor who is curious about the botany of
those tropic isles.
“I am going to tell him now that I am his for keeps! Pardon the pun.
I will be there with bells on, Ruthie. You can’t lose me. Maybe we
can sail in the same boat for St. Sergius. Tell Mr. Howbridge to try
to make the _Horridole_ of the Black Pennant Line. She is some boat.
I am coming down to see you before the start. Package of
remembrances starts with this letter for Christmas. Hang ’em on the
tree. I forbid your peeping into yours, Ruthie, until Christmas
morning.”
Naturally this news could not be hidden. All the household at once knew
that Luke Shepard would be able to spend some of the time, at least,
with the party which was to go to St. Sergius.
By this time, too, Tess and Dot, knowing that they were to be included
in the party, were telling everybody they met of the good times in store
for them.
“Huh! You’d better stay home,” said Sammy Pinkney disappointedly, for he
knew that this was a party which he could have no part in. “There’ll be
more going on here than down there in the West Indies. You wait and
see!”
“But they won’t be the same things,” declared Tess. “We know all about
the things that happen in Milton in winter.”
“You don’t know everything,” said the boy, wagging his head.
“What’s going to happen here, Sammy?” cried Dot. “Oh! Do tell us.”
“You’re going to get a present.”
“We always get presents,” said Tess.
“What sort of present?” demanded Dot. “Something for my Alice-doll?”
“It’s going to be a great one!” said Sammy. “I’m going to give it to
you. Mike Donlan——Well, never mind! You’re going to be surprised.”
“I like to be surprised,” confessed Dot.
“You will be,” said Sammy, nodding vigorously.
“Well, we are not going until after Christmas,” said Tess, with sudden
memory. “So it will be all right.”
“But if I give you this present you ought to stay home and look out for
it,” declared their boy friend.
“It must be alive,” said Tess thoughtfully.
At that, Sammy, much afraid that he might “give it away,” departed in
haste. He could not be confident of his own ability to dodge any
cross-examination of Tess Kenway’s.
Christmas Eve came at last. For the first time she could remember Ruth
went to bed without putting the last touches to the Christmas tree in
the big dining-room. But she really was not equal to it. So Mrs. MacCall
did all that, aided by Linda and old Uncle Rufus.
As usual the toys and games for the little folks were numberless. And
nobody was forgotten. Sammy Pinkney, however, had come to Uncle Rufus
early in the evening and begged him to leave the side door of the Corner
House unlocked when the family had got through dressing the tree.
“What yo’ got in your haid, boy?” Uncle Rufus demanded.
“’Tain’t in my head. It’s in our woodshed,” confessed Sammy. “But don’t
you tell nobody, Uncle Rufus.”
“I can’t tell what I don’t know,” admitted the old colored man, who
always entered into the spirit of the children’s plays.
“It’s going to be a surprise for everybody,” declared Sammy. “You leave
the door unlocked, Uncle Rufus, and you’ll all know what it is in the
morning.”
And it certainly was a surprise! Sammy Pinkney was famous for surprising
people.
Everybody had at last gone to bed in the big house—Linda and Uncle Rufus
on the third floor, and Mrs. McCall and the rest of the family in their
several rooms on the second. Midnight had some time passed when
everybody was awakened—but that gradually—by a tintinnabulation of
silvery bells.
“What is it?” gasped Dot, from her little bed, to Tess, in hers. It was
a wonder that the littlest Corner House girl woke up at all, for she was
usually a very sound sleeper. But her head was full of Santa Claus on
this night. “Is that reindeer bells, Tess?” she demanded.
“Then they are inside the house, and I don’t believe they could come
down our chimney, big as it is,” declared Tess.
“Sammy Pinkney came down it once—you remember?”
“But he doesn’t ring like bells,” was the very practical reply.
Even Aunt Sarah Maltby heard the bells. She poked her head out of her
room door in her nightcap and demanded:
“What’s all that? Those are the bells on the Christmas tree. What does
it mean, Mrs. MacCall?”
The housekeeper was already up. She came out into the hall and sent the
little folks back to bed.
“Whatever it is, human or sperrit, I’ll be goin’ by myself tae see,” she
declared. “The night before Christmas is no time for you bairns to be
out of your beds.”
“Do you s’pose it is Saint Nick?” asked Dot, in an awed tone.
“It may be,” said the housekeeper, descending the front stairs. “And if
it is, he doesn’t want to see you. Go back to bed as I tell ye.”