angel coming to see me all of a sudden. Sit close, and let me feel
sure it isn't one of the dreams I make to cheer myself when I'm
lonesome."
Kate sat on a little stool at grandma's feet, and, leaning on her knee,
told all her little story, while the old lady fed her hungry eyes with
the sight of the fresh young face, listened to the music of a loving
voice, and felt the happy certainty that some one had remembered her,
as she longed to be remembered.
Such a happy day as Kate spent talking and listening, looking at her
new home, which she found delightful, and being petted by the two old
women, who would hardly let Nursey do any thing for her. Kate's quick
eyes read the truth of grandma's lonely life very soon; her warm heart
was full of tender pity, and she resolved to devote herself to making
the happiness of the dear old lady's few remaining years, for at eighty
one should have the prop of loving children, if ever.
To Dolly and madam it really did seem as if an angel had come, a
singing, smiling, chattering sprite, who danced all over the old house,
making blithe echoes in the silent room, and brightening every corner
she entered.
Kate opened all the shutters and let in the sun, saying she must see
which room she liked best before she settled. She played on the old
piano, that wheezed and jangled, all out of tune; but no one minded,
for the girlish voice was as sweet as a lark's. She invaded Dolly's
sacred kitchen, and messed to her heart's content, delighting the old
soul by praises of her skill, and petitions to be taught all she knew.
She pranced to and fro in the long hall, and got acquainted with the
lives of painted ancestors hanging there in big wigs or short-waisted
gowns. She took possession of grandma's little parlor, and made it so
cosey the old lady felt as if she was bewitched, for cushioned
arm-chairs, fur foot-stools, soft rugs, and delicate warm shawls
appeared like magic. Flowers bloomed in the deep, sunny window-seats,
pictures of lovely places seemed to break out on the oaken walls, a
dainty work-basket took its place near grandma's quaint one, and, best
of all, the little chair beside her own was seldom empty now.
The first thing in the morning a kiss waked her, and the beloved voice
gave her a gay "Good-morning, grandma dear!" All day Anna's child
hovered about her with willing hands and feet to serve her, loving
heart to return her love, and the tender reverence which is the
beautiful tribute the young should pay the old. In the twilight, the
bright head always was at her knees; and, in either listening to the
stories of the past or making lively plans for the future, Kate whiled
away the time that used to be so sad.
Kate never found it lonely, seldom wished for other society, and grew
every day more certain that here she could find the cherishing she
needed, and do the good she hoped.
Dolly and Nurse got on capitally; each tried which could sing "Little
Missy's" praises loudest, and spoil her quickest by unquestioning
obedience to every whim or wish. A happy family, and the dull November
days went by so fast that Christmas was at hand before they knew it.
All the uncles had written to ask Kate to pass the holidays with them,
feeling sure she must be longing for a change. But she had refused
them all, saying she should stay with grandma, who could not go
anywhere to join other people's merry-makings, and must have one of her
own at home. The uncles urged, the aunts advised, and the cousins
teased; but Kate denied them all, yet offended no one, for she was
inspired by a grand idea, and carried it out with help from Dolly and
Nurse, unsuspected by grandma.
"We are going to have a little Christmas fun up here among ourselves,
and you mustn't know about it until we are ready. So just sit all
cosey in your corner, and let me riot about as I like. I know you
won't mind, and I think you'll say it is splendid when I've carried out
my plan," said Kate, when the old lady wondered what she was thinking
about so deeply, with her brows knit and her lips smiling.
"Very well, dear, do any thing you like, and I shall enjoy it, only
don't get tired, or try to do too much," and with that grandma became
deaf and blind to the mysteries that went on about her.
She was lame, and seldom left her own rooms; so Kate, with her devoted
helpers, turned the house topsy-turvy, trimmed up hall and parlors and
great dining-room with shining holly and evergreen, laid fires ready
for kindling on the hearths that had been cold for years, and had beds
made up all over the house.
What went on in the kitchen, only Dolly could tell; but such delicious
odors as stole out made grandma sniff the air, and think of merry
Christmas revels long ago. Up in her own room Kate wrote lots of
letters, and sent orders to the city that made Nursey hold up her
hands. More letters came in reply, and Kate had a rapture over every
one. Big bundles were left by the express, who came so often that the
gates were opened and the lawn soon full of sleigh-tracks. The shops
in the village were ravaged by Mistress Kate, who laid in stores of gay
ribbon, toys, nuts, and all manner of queer things.
"I really think she's lost her mind," said the post-master as she flew
out of the office one day with a handful of letters.
"Pretty creter! I wouldn't say a word against her, not for a mint of
money. She's so good to old Mrs. Coverley," answered his fat wife,
smiling as she watched Kate ride up the village street on an ox-sled.
If grandma had thought the girl out of her wits, no one could have
blamed her, for on Christmas day she really did behave in the most
singular manner.
"You are going to church with me this morning, grandma. It's all
arranged. A close carriage is coming for us, the sleighing is lovely,
the church all trimmed up, and I must have you see it. I shall wrap
you in fur, and we will go and say our prayers together, like good
girls, won't we?" said Kate, who was in a queer flutter, while her eyes
shone, her lips were all smiles, and her feet kept dancing in spite of
her.
"Anywhere you like, my darling. I'd start for Australia to-morrow, if
you wanted me to go with you," answered grandma, who obeyed Kate in all
things, and seemed to think she could do no wrong.
So they went to church, and grandma did enjoy it; for she had many
blessings to thank God for, chief among them the treasure of a dutiful,
loving child. Kate tried to keep herself quiet, but the odd little
flutter would not subside, and seemed to get worse and worse as time
went on. It increased rapidly as they drove home, and, when grandma
was safe in her little parlor again, Kate's hands trembled go she could
hardly tie the strings of the old lady's state and festival cap.
"We must take a look at the big parlor. It is all trimmed up, and I've
got my presents in there. Is it ready, Doll?" asked Kate, as the old
servant appeared, looking so excited that grandma said, laughing,--
"We have been quiet so long, poor Dolly don't know what to make of a
little gayety."
"Lord bless us, my dear mum! It's all so beautiful and kinder
surprisin', I feel as ef merrycles had come to pass agin," answered
Dolly, actually wiping away tears with her best white apron.
"Come, grandma," and Kate offered her arm. "Don't she look sweet and
dear?" she added, smoothing the soft, silken shawl about the old lady's
shoulders, and kissing the placid old face that beamed at her from
under the new cap.
"I always said madam was the finest old lady a-goin', ef folks only
knew it. Now, Missy, ef you don't make haste, that parlor-door will
bust open, and spoil the surprise; for they are just bilin' over in
there," with which mysterious remark Dolly vanished, giggling.
Across the hall they went, but at the door Kate paused, and said with a
look grandma never forgot,--
"I hope I have done right. I hope you'll like my present, and not find
it too much for you. At any rate, remember I meant to please you and
give you the thing you need and long for most, my dear old grandma."
"My good child, don't be afraid. I shall like any thing you do, and
thank you for your thought of me. What a curious noise! I hope the
fire hasn't fallen down."
Without another word, Kate threw open the door and led grandma in.
Only a step or two--for the old lady stopped short and stared about
her, as if she didn't know her own best parlor. No wonder she didn't,
for it was full of people, and such people! All her sons, their wives
and children, rose as she came in, and turned to greet her with smiling
faces. Uncle George went up and kissed her, saying, with a choke in
his voice, "A merry Christmas, mother!" and everybody echoed the words
in a chorus of good-will that went straight to the heart.
Poor grandma could not bear it, and sat down in her big chair,
trembling, and sobbing like a little child. Kate hung over her,
fearing the surprise had been too much; but joy seldom kills, and
presently the old lady was calm enough to look up and welcome them all
by stretching out her feeble hands and saying, brokenly yet heartily,--
"God bless you, my children! This _is_ a merry Christmas, indeed! Now
tell me all about it, and who everybody is; for I don't know half the
little ones."
Then Uncle George explained that it was Kate's plan, and told how she
had made every one agree to it, pleading so eloquently for grandma that
all other plans were given up. They had arrived while she was at
church, and had been with difficulty kept from bursting out before the
time.
"Do you like your present?" whispered Kate, quite calm and happy now
that the grand surprise was safely over.
Grandma answered with a silent kiss that said more than the warmest
words, and then Kate put every one at ease by leading up the children,
one by one, and introducing each with some lively speech. Everybody
enjoyed this and got acquainted quickly; for grandma thought the
children the most remarkable she had ever seen, and the little people
soon made up their minds that an old lady who had such a very nice, big
house, and such a dinner waiting for them (of course they had peeped
everywhere), was a most desirable and charming grandma.
By the time the first raptures were over Dolly and Nurse and Betsey
Jane (a girl hired for the occasion) had got dinner on the table; and
the procession, headed by Madam proudly escorted by her eldest son,
filed into the dining-room where such a party had not met for years.
It would be quite impossible to do justice to that dinner: pen and ink
are not equal to it. I can only say that every one partook copiously
of every thing; that they laughed and talked, told stories, and sang
songs; and when no one could do any more, Uncle George proposed
grandma's health, which was drunk standing, and followed by three
cheers. Then up got the old lady, quite rosy and young, excited and
gay, and said in a clear strong voice,--
"I give you in return the best of grandchildren, little Kate."
I give you my word the cheer they gave grandma was nothing to the shout
that followed these words; for the old lady led off with amazing vigor,
and the boys roared so tremendously that the sedate tabby in the
kitchen flew off her cushion, nearly frightened into a fit.
After that, the elders sat with grandma in the parlor, while the
younger part of the flock trooped after Kate all over the house. Fires
burned every where, and the long unused toys of their fathers were
brought out for their amusement. The big nursery was full of games,
and here Nursey collected the little ones when the larger boys and
girls were invited by Kate to go out and coast. Sleds had been
provided, and until dusk they kept it up, the city girls getting as gay
and rosy as Kate herself in this healthy sport, while the lads
frolicked to their hearts' content, building snow forts, pelting one
another, and carousing generally without any policeman to interfere or
any stupid old ladies to get upset, as at home in the park.
A cosey tea and a dance in the long hall followed, and they were just
thinking what they would do next when Kate's second surprise came.
There were two great fireplaces in the hall: up the chimney of one
roared a jolly fire, but the other was closed by a tall fire-board. As
they sat about, lasting after a brisk contra dance, a queer rustling
and tapping was heard behind this fire-board.
"Rats!" suggested the girls, jumping up into the chairs.
"Let's have 'em out!" added the boys, making straight for the spot,
intent on fun.
But before they got there, a muffled voice cried, "Stand from under!"
and down went the board with a crash, out bounced Santa Claus,
startling the lads as much as the rumor of rats had the girls.
A jolly old saint he was, all in fur, with sleigh-bells jingling from
his waist and the point of his high cap, big boots, a white beard, and
a nose as red as if Jack Frost had had a good tweak at it. Giving
himself a shake that set all the bells ringing, he stepped out upon the
hearth, saying in a half-gruff, half-merry tone,--
"I call this a most inhospitable way to receive me! What do you mean
by stopping up my favorite chimney? Never mind, I'll forgive you, for
this is an unusual occasion. Here, some of you fellows, lend a hand
and help me out with my sack."
A dozen pair of hands had the great bag out in a minute, and, lugging
it to the middle of the hall, left it beside St. Nick, while the boys
fell back into the eager, laughing crowd that surrounded the new-comer.
"Where's my girl? I want my Kate," said the saint, and when she went
to him he took a base advantage of his years, and kissed her in spite
of the beard.
"That's not fair," whispered Kate, as rosy as the holly-berries in her
hair.
"Can't help it,--must have some reward for sticking in that horrid
chimney so long," answered Santa Claus, looking as roguish as any boy.
Then he added aloud, "I've got something for everybody, so make a big
ring, and the good fairy will hand round the gifts."
With that he dived into his bag and brought out treasure after
treasure, some fine, some funny, many useful, and all appropriate, for
the good fairy seemed to have guessed what each one wanted. Shouts of
laughter greeted the droll remarks of the jolly saint, for he had a
joke about every thing, and people were quite exhausted by the time the
bottom of the sack was reached.
"Now, then, a rousing good game of blind man's buff, and then this
little family must go to bed, for it's past eleven."
As he spoke, the saint cast off his cap and beard, fur coat, and big
boots, and proceeded to dance a double shuffle with great vigor and
skill; while the little ones, who had been thoroughly mystified,
shouted, "Why, it's Alf!" and fell upon him _en masse_ as the best way
of expressing their delight at his successful performance of that
immortal part.
The game of blind man's buff that followed was a "rouser" in every
sense of the word, for the gentlemen joined, and the children flew
about like a flock of chickens when hawks are abroad. Such peals of
laughter, such shouts of fun, and such racing and scrambling that old
hall had never seen before. Kate was so hunted that she finally took
refuge behind grandma's chair, and stood there looking at the lively
scene, her face full of happiness at she remembered that it was her
work.
The going to bed that night was the best joke of all; for, though
Kate's arrangements were peculiar, every one voted that they were
capital. There were many rooms, but not enough for all to have one
apiece. So the uncles and aunts had the four big chambers, all the
boys were ordered into the great play-room, where beds were made on the
floor, and a great fire blazing that the camping out might be as
comfortable as possible. The nursery was devoted to the girls, and the
little ones were sprinkled round wherever a snug corner was found.
How the riotous flock were ever got into their beds no one knows. The
lads caroused until long past midnight, and no knocking on the walls of
paternal boots, or whispered entreaties of maternal voices through
key-holes, had any effect, for it was impossible to resist the present
advantages for a grand Christmas rampage.
The girls giggled and gossiped, told secrets, and laid plans more
quietly; while the small things tumbled into bed, and went to sleep at
once, quite used up with the festivities of this remarkable day.
Grandma, down in her own cosey room, sat listening to the blithe noises
with a smile on her face, for the past seemed to have come back again,
and her own boys and girls to be frolicking above there, as they used
to do forty years ago.
"It's all so beautiful I can't go to bed, Dolly, and lose any of it.
They'll go away to-morrow, and I may never see them any more," she
said, as Dolly tied on her night-cap and brought her slippers.
"Yes, you will, mum. That dear child has made it so pleasant they
can't keep away. You'll see plenty of 'em, if they carry out half the
plans they have made. Mrs. George wants to come up and pass the summer
here; Mr. Tom says he shall send his boys to school here, and every
girl among them has promised Kate to make her a long visit. The thing
is done, mum, and you'll never be lonely any more."
"Thank God for that!" and grandma bent her head as if she had received
a great blessing. "Dolly, I want to go and look at those children. It
seems so like a dream to have them here, I must be sure of it," said
grandma, folding her wrapper about her, and getting up with great
decision.
"Massy on us, mum, you haven't been up them stairs for months. The
dears are all right, warm as toasts, and sleepin' like dormice, I'll
warrant," answered Dolly, taken aback at this new whim of old madam's.
But grandma would go, so Dolly gave her an arm, and together the two
old friends hobbled up the wide stairs, and peeped in at the precious
children. The lads looked like a camp of weary warriors reposing after
a victory, and grandma went laughing away when she had taken a proud
survey of this promising portion of the rising generation. The nursery
was like a little convent full of rosy nuns sleeping peacefully; while
a pictured Saint Agnes, with her lamb, smiled on them from the wall,
and the firelight flickered over the white figures and sweet faces, as
if the sight were too fair to be lost in darkness. The little ones lay
about promiscuously, looking like dissipated Cupids with sugar hearts
and faded roses still clutched in their chubby hands.
"My darlings!" whispered grandma, lingering fondly over them to cover a
pair of rosy feet, put back a pile of tumbled curls, or kiss a little
mouth still smiling in its sleep.
But when she came to the coldest corner of the room, where Kate lay on
the hardest mattress, under the thinnest quilt, the old lady's eyes
were full of tender tears; and, forgetting the stiff joints that bent
so painfully, she knelt slowly down, and, putting her arms about the
girl, blessed her in silence for the happiness she had given one old
heart.
Kate woke at once, and started up, exclaiming with a smile,--
"Why, grandma, I was dreaming about an angel, and you look like one
with your white gown and silvery hair!"
"No, dear, you are the angel in this house. How can I ever give you
up?" answered madam, holding fast the treasure that came to her so late.
"You never need to, grandma, for I have made my choice."
VIII.
THE MOSS PEOPLE.
"Rain, rain, go away,
Come again another day,"
Sang little Marnie, as she stood at the window watching the drops
patter on the pane, the elm-boughs toss in the wind, and the
clover-blossoms lift up their rosy faces to be washed. But the rain
did not go away, and, finding that mamma had fallen asleep over her
book, Marnie said to herself,---
"I will go and play quietly with my fairy-land till mamma wakes up and
cuts me some paper fairies to put in it."
Marnie's fairy-land was as pretty a plaything as any child could wish
for, and, as every child can make one in the summer-time, let us tell
what it was. The little girl firmly believed in elves and was always
wishing she could go to fairy-land. That rainy day, when she had
longed for something to do, her mother said,--
"As you can't go to fairy-land, why don't you make one for yourself?"
Such a happy thought, and such a busy little girl as Marnie was,
working away, forgetful of rain or loneliness! Mamma was so kind and
helpful in suggesting ways and supplying means, that the new fairy-land
really did seem to rise as if by enchantment.
A long, shallow box, filled with earth, which was covered with moss of
all kinds, gathered by Marnie the day before; some green as grass, some
soft as velvet, some full of red-brimmed cups, some feathery and tall,
some pale and dry: marsh, rock, tree, and field had given their share,
and out of this the little hands fashioned a dainty pleasure-ground for
the elves. Ferns and spires of evergreen were the trees fencing in the
garden, standing in groups or making shady avenues. Silver-white
mushrooms with rosy lining stood here and there, like little tables,
and mossy mounds or colored pebbles served for seats. Marnie's china
bowl was sunk deep in the moss, filled with water, on which floated
pea-pod boats with rose-leaf sails. Acorn-cups, with blue and white
comfits for eggs, were fastened in the trees, and toy-birds brooded
over their nests in the most natural manner. Dead butterflies,
lady-bugs, and golden-green beetles from Marnie's museum, hung here and
there, as if alive. On a small mound stood a pretty Swiss châlet, with
some droll wooden men and women near it. One girl was churning,
another rocking a mite of a baby, a man and his donkey were just going
up the hill, and a family of wooden bears from Berne sat round a table
eating dinner. A little marble hound with a golden chain about its
neck guarded this child's paradise, and nothing was wanted to make it
quite perfect but some of the winged paper dolls with prettily painted
faces that mamma made so nicely.
"I must wait till she wakes up," said Marnie, with a patient sigh, as
she drew her little chair before the table where the box stood, and,
leaning her chin on her chubby hand, sat looking admiringly at her work.
The ruddy glow of the fire shone warmly over the green hills and dales
of fairy-land, the soft patter of the rain sounded like tiny feet
tripping to and fro, and all the motionless inhabitants of the garden
seemed waiting for some spell to break their sleep. Marnie never knew
how it happened, but, as she sat looking at the Swiss cottage, she
suddenly heard a rustling inside, and saw something pass before the
open windows. She thought the chrysalis she had put in there had come
to life, and waited, hoping to see a pretty butterfly pop its head out.
But what a start she gave when suddenly the little door opened and a
wee man came marching out. Yes, actually a living tiny man, dressed
like a hunter, in green from top to toe, with a silver horn slung over
his shoulder and a bow in his hand.
Marnie held her breath lest she should blow him away, and peeped with
all her eyes from behind the hemlock-boughs, wondering what would
happen next. Up the steps ran the little man to the balcony that
always hangs outside a Swiss châlet, and lifting his horn to his lips
blew a blast so soft and clear it sounded like the faint, far-off carol
of a bird. Three times the fairy bugle sounded, and at the third
blast, swarming up from the moss below, dropping from the ferns above,
floating on the ripples of the mimic lake, and turning somersaults over
the mushrooms, came hundreds of lovely little creatures, all gay, all
graceful, all in green. How they danced to and fro, airy as motes in a
sunbeam! how they sung and shouted as they peeped everywhere! and how
their tiny faces shone as they rejoiced over the pleasant land they had
found! For the same peal that brought the moss people from their beds
woke up every inanimate thing in fairy-land.
The toy-birds began to sing, the butterflies and lady-bugs fluttered
gayly about, the white hound broke his chain and frisked away, the
wooden maid began to churn, the mother set the cradle rocking, while
the mite of a baby kicked up its wooden legs, and the man whipped the
donkey, which gave such a natural bray Marnie couldn't help laughing,
it was so droll. Smoke rose from the Swiss cottage, as if fairy feasts
were being cooked within; and the merry moss people, charmed with the
pretty house, crowded it so full that every window showed half-a-dozen
bright faces, the balcony quite creaked with the weight of them, and
green caps came bobbing out at the chimney-top.