The Three Happy Children were looking at the calendar. It was a large
one which had been given to Father by Silas Drown who kept the
Hardware Store. On it was a picture of a meadow, with a green brook
running through it; and people were haying in the meadow. It was
undoubtedly a beautiful picture, but the children weren't interested
in it at all. They were gazing at the numbers underneath.
Now one would suppose that nothing could be quite so dull as figures,
or so uninteresting. But these told a very fascinating story. There
were thirty-one of them, all in little black squares like those that
make up a checkerboard. Thirty of the numbers were black like the
squares, but one was red, bright red. And there lies the story. You
see, there was a good reason for that one being red, oh, a very good
reason!
Jehosophat took out a pencil and climbed on a chair, while Marmaduke
and Hepzebiah looked on in wonder. The pencil made a mark at
23.
"Only two more days," said the older boy.
"Hooray!" exclaimed his brother.
"Hooway!" echoed their little sister.
Then they all sighed--three long-drawn out sighs--it was so hard to
wait. And when they were through sighing, they all stood and stared at
all those numbers, and particularly that bright 25, their eyes
growing rounder each minute.
There was something in the air, most decidedly, something that the
children couldn't exactly feel or touch or handle. It was as though
the sky, and air, and the trees, and the house itself, were carrying a
secret, a happy secret, and one almost too big to be kept.
They could get hints of that secret everywhere. Sometimes they caught
Mother and Father whispering about things--very mysterious things.
Mother, too, was working late these nights. What she was making they
could never find out, though they looked and guessed and wondered.
The Toyman wouldn't let them in his shop. And Father, when he went to
town, for once refused to let the children go with him and old
Methusaleh.
But the closets were the most mysterious of all. Some of them were
actually locked, and, though Marmaduke tried to peek through the
keyholes, all he could see was darkness--like midnight.
Once Mother saw him peeking.
She went over to the door and unlocked it. But she didn't open it.
"I thought I would keep it locked, children," she said, "but after all
I've decided I won't. Trust is stronger than any key. And I think I
can trust you, can't I?"
"Y-y-yes," said Jehosophat.
"Y-y-yes," said Marmaduke.
"Y-y-yeth," lisped Hepzebiah.
"Thank you, my dears," she said, then went away, leaving the door
unlocked.
For two whole weeks they hadn't peeked. They had hung around that
closet and stared and sighed, but never once did they even try the
door. And I think they were rather brave, when they knew there were
packages inside, all wrapped in red paper and tied with green ribbon,
and they could almost hear the paper rustle. Oh, well they knew those
packages were there, for hadn't they caught Mother inside with her
apron over packages and things, the bits of red and green showing
through the folds of the apron. Besides that, they had seen Father go
to the largest closet of all with parcels covered by a blanket. And it
is very hard to know that there are things, wonderfully beautiful
things like treasures, hidden in dark closets, and not to be able to
investigate and find out about them. But then, of course, there was
the fun of guessing. And they guessed everything under the sun, enough
toys and articles to fill the biggest store in the world, or the whole
of Santa Claus' workshop, which stands under the North Star where the
polar bears live and the Aurora weaves pretty scarfs in the sky.
Well, that day passed, and in the morning Jehosophat climbed on a
chair again and put a little mark through the next number--24.
"Tomorrow!" he said in a solemn whisper. And the whispers of the other
two children, echoing him, were quite as full of wonder and awe.
Then they went to the window. Snow was on the ground.
"It's as white as the feathers of the Foolish White Geese," Jehosophat
happened to remark.
"No, it's prettier than that," Marmaduke corrected him. "It's like the
coats of the Hippity-Hop Bunnies. And the sky is just as gray as the
Quaker ladies over in the meeting-house on Wally's creek," he added.
That afternoon they heard sleigh-bells, clear, tinkling, but never
jangling, on the still air.
"Whoa!" yelled the Toyman.
The big sleigh stopped by the side porch. Hal the Red Roan and Teddy
the Buckskin Horse tossed their heads merrily, and the sleigh-bells
jingled even after the team had come to a halt.
"All aboard!" shouted the Toyman, as he stamped the snow from his
boots and entered the kitchen. "We're going to find the biggest,
finest tree in the whole woods! Who wants to go?"
Who wouldn't want to go! There was a scurrying for boots and coats,
mufflers and mittens. Then they tumbled in, the sleighbells jingled,
and off they flew through the deep, powdery, sparkling snow.
The river was not in motion; it was not flowing at all this day, but
lay like a long lead pipe, twisting between the white snow banks.
Sometimes, when the sun came out and shone upon it, the lead was
changed to pearl.
They drove away from it now, up by Jake Miller's place, and past the
Fizzletrees' and the Van Nostrands', then up the hill to the woods.
The trees stood still like a great congregation, Marmaduke thought.
There were giant oaks, their heavy branches all gnarled and twisted;
tall chestnuts with rough gray trunks; shaggy hickories with bark
always ready to peel off like "proud flesh"; little ironwood trees
whose wood was so tough that the axe must be sharp to cut them at all;
and silver birches, gracefully swaying in the wind, and white against
the snow. Most of them were naked and bare, but on the oaks and
birches rustled a few little left-over leaves, brown and dried-up, and
crackling and cackling like little old people. Ah! but everywhere, in,
and around, and between, the naked trees, and on higher up the hill,
were others still clothed in green,--trees that never cast off their
cloaks, even when winter came,--spruces, cedars, firs, and hemlocks
and pines. They were decorated, too, for on their green branches hung
tufts of snow like the pieces of fur on the carriage robe of the
neighbor's baby.
The Toyman tied the horses to the fence-rail and they all jumped out
of the sleigh. He lifted little Hepzebiah, then started to help
Marmaduke.
"No, thank you," said that little boy, "I don't need any help," and,
all alone, he climbed over the fence after his big brother.
Then on they tramped, through the snow, and under the branches and
around the bushes, looking for that great tree which soon was to have
the place of honor in their house.
"There's one," said Marmaduke.
"No," replied the Toyman, "that won't do. See-it has clumps of needles
like a porcupine's quills. It looks beautiful in the woods, but it
wouldn't look so pretty in the parlor. And that cedar yonder is too
thick to hang the presents and the ornaments on.--Yes, that hemlock is
pretty, and that fir--but I guess we'll stick to the spruce. Let's
find one that's shapely and just the right height."
So they hunted around until he said:
"Now there's a likely young spruce."
It was covered with little needles that ran evenly all along the
twigs, leaving plenty of room on the branches for all they were going
to put on them. And it looked very soft and feathery and green against
the snow.
The Toyman looked up at the topmost twig, carefully measuring it with
his eye.
[Illustration: "'Stand back, fellows,' the Toyman shouted, 'and watch
the chips fly.'"]
"It will just about reach the parlor ceiling," he declared, and the
boys guessed so, too.
Then he took the axe from his shoulder.
"Stand back, fellows," he shouted, "and watch the chips fly!"
Crack! went the sharp axe blade. A little cut appeared in the tree,
about fifteen inches above the ground. Crack! again, and a little cut
appeared in the trunk, about four inches under the other mark. Crack!
again, and a piece of wood flew out of the spruce.
"A little farther back, youngsters!" called the Toyman, and the
children sought the shelter of the big oak nearby.
Fast flew the axe, still faster the white chips. My! how strong the
Toyman was! Now a big hole yawned in the trunk of the spruce, like the
jaws of the alligator when he basks in the sun. It grew wider and
wider. The Toyman looked around to make sure that the children were
well out of harm's way, then he swung once more, one great hefty
stroke, and with a great crash the spruce fell and measured its length
in the snow. And the Toyman put the axe and the tree too, over his
shoulder--he certainly was strong, that Toyman--and through the woods
they tramped back again, and loaded the tree on the sleigh.
Then he paused for a moment.
"Think a little jag of green would go nice on the windows," he
remarked, "and a touch of red to brighten things up a bit."
So they looked and found plenty of green for wreaths, and some
bayberries like coral, and some holly, besides, by the ruins of the
deserted house that had burned down years before they were born.
It had been a long hunt and, though the sky had cleared, it was
growing pretty dark when they climbed in the sleigh. As the Toyman
clambered upon the seat and took the reins, he turned around and
looked up the hill.
"The stars are beginning to twinkle," he said, "and look, youngsters,
there is a whole army of Christmas trees for you."
They turned around and gazed in the direction in which his finger
pointed, and there, sure enough, the evergreens,--the spruces, pines,
and hemlocks, the firs, and the cedars, too, were standing so still,
and the stars were peeping out between their twigs and branches all
over the hill, twinkling like little candles. There were hundreds and
hundreds of Christmas trees, standing up straight on that hill, with
millions and millions of candles on them.
"My, but that's pretty!" the Toyman exclaimed.
As for the children, they said, "Oh," and "Ah," all in one breath. It
was so wonderful to see all those live Christmas trees growing and
shining in the forest.
"You see," the Toyman went on to explain, "that's how they first got
the notion of a Christmas tree, seein' the little stars shine through
the forest.--A good notion, too, I should say."
A good one? Why, the best in the world! So the Three Happy Children
thought as they drove down the hill and back by the river.
And when they turned in the drive and Teddy and Hal walked off to the
barn, the sleighbells jingling like Christmas chimes in the air, they
shouted "hooray" again, one and all.