ON the morning of the day before Christmas Sam awoke unusually early,
and jumped out of bed so soon as his eyes were fully open.
“I must hurry as fast as I can,” he said to Mary, “for I shall be
awfully busy all day;” and while he was dressing he talked about the
presents he was to give. “And the best of all is the present I am going
to have myself,” he added. “I suppose you know what that is.”
“Is it the little dog-cart for your pony it is?” asked Mary.
“No, indeed it is not!” exclaimed Sam, contemptuously. “It is something
ever and ever so much better than that. Just think, poor Billy is going
to see, and I sha’n’t have to lend him my eyes any more.”
“Won’t that be nice!” said Mary; but his grandpapa from the door of his
dressing-room heard Sam’s words with a heavy heart.
“What shall we do about it?” he asked Grandmamma when he had repeated
their little grandson’s words. “I think we ought to explain about the
operation that Billy must undergo; but we have let him think so long
that Billy will see by Christmas he will take it very hard. I thought
the boy would be all right by Christmas time, and I wanted Sam to be
spared the pain of knowing what poor Billy would have to go through.”
“I thought so, too,” replied Grandmamma, “and I don’t like to disturb
Sam’s innocent faith. I don’t know how he will take it.”
At this point in burst Sam, full of excitement.
“I shall have to hustle around to get through before night,” he said
in his decided way. “We shall have to start right after breakfast to
get the wreaths and things to hang up, sha’n’t we, Grandmamma? And we
mustn’t forget to bring some for Billy, too, you know.”
“Wouldn’t you rather spend the money in something Billy could enjoy
more?” asked Grandmamma. “You know wreaths and garlands are only to
look at, and poor Billy can’t see yet.”
“But he _will_ see them to-morrow, don’t you see?” said Sam,
triumphantly. “You forget, Grandmamma, about my Christmas present, I
guess.”
“My dear boy,” said Grandmamma, gently, “don’t feel so sure about
Billy’s seeing exactly on Christmas Day. It may come a little later,
you know.”
“Oh, no, it won’t!” replied Sam, decidedly. “You will see, Grandmamma!”
and he was off before his grandmother could answer.
So soon as breakfast was over, during which Sam was so excited that he
ate very little, the sleigh came around to the door, and Sam and his
grandmother started for the evergreens. It was quite a long drive to
the big market, for they always bought them there, because the little
boy enjoyed so much seeing the large building arrayed in its Christmas
dress.
The streets, as they approached the business part of the city, were
crowded even at that early hour. Everybody carried packages, and
every face seemed to have caught the spirit of Christmas, which is
a loving and generous spirit. The shop windows were gay with bright
colors and garlands of evergreen, and groups of people were collected
in front of the most attractive of these windows. In one of them was
a real Christmas scene, and Sam wanted so much to look at it that his
grandmother told the driver to stop. By standing up on the seat of the
sleigh, Sam got a splendid view. It was a winter scene, with snow on
the trees and on the ground, and there was Santa Claus sitting in his
little sleigh, which was piled full of presents, and four beautiful
little reindeer were harnessed to it. The crowd in front of this
window reached out to the street, and on the outside, waiting to take
advantage of an opening to slip through and get a view of the window,
were three children, a boy and two girls.
Mrs. Ledwell, who was always ready to see just what was needed, caught
sight of these children who were waiting so patiently for their turn to
come. Seeing them look toward the sleigh and at Sam, who was so intent
in watching the beautiful Santa Claus that he had not noticed them, she
saw that they looked as if they recognized her little grandson.
“Say, Maysie,” said the boy, pulling his little sister by the sleeve,
“do you mind the time when the gentleman gave us the nice cakes?”
“Of course I does,” replied Maysie, promptly.
“That is the same sleigh he was in, and the same horses, and it is the
same boy, for I minded the fur cap of him.”
Mrs. Ledwell beckoned to the children to come nearer. “Did you say you
had seen this little boy before?” she asked kindly.
“Yes, once,” replied Johnny, promptly.
“It was the time the gentleman gave us the cakes,” said Maysie,
eagerly. “They tasted awful good;” and Maysie almost smacked her lips
at the thought of them.
The elder sister gave Maysie’s dress a little pull. “I’m not going to
ask for any,” replied Maysie, in a loud whisper, “so you needn’t twitch
my dress so hard.”
A smile came over Mrs. Ledwell’s face. “Would you like to buy some
cakes to-day?” she asked.
“Yes,” replied Maysie, promptly, “but I’d rather buy a doll.”
“Why, Maysie,” said her sister, reproachfully, “I should think you’d be
ashamed of yourself.”
“I ain’t,” replied Maysie, without any appearance of mortification.
“She asked me, so there!”
“Yes, I asked her,” said Mrs. Ledwell, “and there is no harm in telling
what she wants most, for Santa Claus is about, you know, at this time,
and he has very sharp ears.”
“Do you suppose he heard what I said?” asked Maysie, straining her neck
to get a glimpse of the Santa Claus in the window.
“I shouldn’t be surprised if he did,” replied Mrs. Ledwell. “You will
find out to-morrow. Now tell me where you live, Maysie.”
Maysie rattled off the address in a loud voice, for she hoped that
Santa Claus would overhear it and send the doll she wanted so much.
Mrs. Ledwell then left Sam sitting in the sleigh, and entered the
store. She picked out a beautiful doll, a pretty chatelaine bag, and a
boy’s sled, and ordered them to be sent to the address Maysie had given
her. Then with a glow at her warm heart, to think of the pleasure these
gifts would carry with them, she joined her little grandson.
“Do you remember to have seen those children before, Sam?” she asked,
as they drove along.
“Yes, I remember them,” replied Sam. “They were looking in at the cakes
in the bake-shop window, and Grandpapa bought them a great bagful of
them. They looked as if they didn’t have cakes every day, Grandpapa
said.”
Sam had taken no special notice of the dog the little boy had with him
on that occasion, or he would probably have recognized the lost dog he
had found in the park as the same one.
The market was soon reached, and Sam and his grandmother went up
the steps. The front of the large building was piled high with long
garlands of evergreen for trimming, and green wreaths bright with red
berries. Christmas-trees and branches of holly filled every vacant
nook. Here also were groups of children, eager to obtain as many
glimpses as possible of the Christmas pleasures they could not expect
to have.
Mrs. Ledwell’s tender heart was touched at the sight of the little
patient faces, and her ready hand went straight to her well-filled
purse. She knew by experience that these little people would be there,
and had provided a goodly supply of change. “Sam,” she said to her
little grandson, “would you like to give those children something for
Christmas?”
“Yes, indeed I should, Grandmamma,” replied the little boy, delightedly.
Each child seized the coin Sam held out to him, and darted away with
his prize with the speed of the wind. Very few stopped to express
thanks for the gift, but the happy faces spoke more eloquently than
words could have done.
“They remind me of chickens snatching up a worm and running off
that the others may not take it away from them,” said Mrs. Ledwell
to herself, as she watched the little waifs darting off with their
presents.
“I just wish Grandpapa could have seen how happy those little children
looked to think they could buy something for Christmas,” said Sam, as
he followed his grandmother into the market.
“Oh, Grandpapa is feeling very happy to-day,” she replied, “for he has
been sending Christmas dinners to a great many little boys and girls.”
“It _smells_ just like Christmas here, doesn’t it, Grandmamma?” said
Sam, as they passed down the long building, the stalls on both sides
tastefully decorated with evergreens and bright berries.
“Now, Sam,” said Grandmamma, stopping before one of the stalls, “we
must pick out a nice turkey for Mrs. Hanlon and Billy.”
“You must give me a very nice turkey, Mr. Spear,” said Sam, trying to
talk as Grandpapa did.
“I’ll do the best I can for you,” replied Mr. Spear; and after looking
over a pile of turkeys he selected a fine, plump one and placed it
before the little boy.
“I don’t like the looks of that bird,” said Sam, with a very decided
air.
“Why, Sam,” said his grandmother, “what do you mean?”
“I don’t like the looks of those legs,” said Sam in the same decided
manner.
“What is the matter with them?” asked Mr. Spear, greatly amused at the
little boy’s grown-up air.
“I don’t like the color of them,” persisted Sam.
“Why, what color do you expect them to be?” asked Mr. Spear, trying to
keep from smiling. “I don’t know what other color they could very well
be.”
“Oh, yes, they could!” replied Sam, shrewdly. “I want a turkey with
yellow legs, because they are the best.”
“I don’t know as I ever saw a turkey with yellow legs,” replied Mr.
Spear, gravely. “If I had one, I would give it to you.”
“Why, Sam,” said Grandmamma, who had been greatly amused at the
conversation, “what made you ask for a turkey with yellow legs? They
are always lead-color, like this one.”
“Grandpapa always asks for _yellow_-legged ones. He says the
blue-legged ones are not fit to eat,” replied Sam, “and you know that
Grandpapa is _very particular_.”
“I guess he’s thinking of _chickens_,” said Mr. Spear, “and has got
’em kind of mixed up with turkeys in his mind.”
“That must be it,” replied Mrs. Ledwell. “Well, I will have this one
and another just like it. You would like to send one to the little
children we saw looking at Santa Claus, wouldn’t you, Sam?”
Then cranberries and apples and potatoes were bought to go with the
turkeys, and some huge squashes took Sam’s fancy so greatly that one
was sent with each turkey.
After that, wreaths and garlands were selected and piled upon the seat
opposite Sam and his grandmother, and they drove home, the fragrance
from the evergreens mingling with the crisp air.
After lunch, came what Sam considered about the best part of Christmas,
the pleasant task of distributing presents at the houses of their
friends. Sam liked to do this all by himself, it gave him such a
grown-up feeling. So soon after lunch the sleigh was brought around
and piled high with packages of every size and shape, each one neatly
addressed. Then Sam was tucked in on the back seat all by himself, and
he looked like a little rosy Santa Claus, with his fur cap, the fur
robes, and the presents piled high about him.
Whenever they stopped to leave a present, Sam would run up the steps
and always leave word that the present must not on any account be seen
until Christmas morning. He left Billy’s and Mrs. Hanlon’s presents
until the last because he took the most interest in them and wanted to
make a call on them, besides.
Sam found them both in the cosey parlor, Mrs. Hanlon sewing and at the
same time telling stories to the little blind boy. Billy had improved
very much in appearance in this new home. He was never left alone, as
he had to be so much of the time at the engine-house, and his face lost
much of the sad expression it had before he came here. Both Mrs. Hanlon
and Billy were delighted to see their little visitor, who came in with
his arms piled high with packages and his face beaming with happiness.
“You mustn’t either of you look into the packages or try to find out
what is in them,” he said, as he laid them down on the sofa.
“No, indeed, we shouldn’t think of such a thing,” Mrs. Hanlon assured
him. “There wouldn’t be any surprise for us if we knew what we were
going to have.”
Sam made quite a little call, and told Billy about his visit to the
big market and what he saw there; and then he told him about the three
children he saw trying to look in at the window where Santa Claus was.
He told him all about that wonderful Santa Claus, too, how exactly like
a real live man he looked, about the four beautiful little reindeer
harnessed to his sleigh, and how natural the snow and the trees looked.
Billy listened to all this with great interest, and seemed to enjoy it
as much as if he had seen it as Sam had. When Sam told him about the
three children, and said that the little one who wanted a doll so much
was called “Maysie,” Billy said,—
“Why, that was the name of one of the children who were so good to me
that time they took my mother away.”
“Perhaps it was the same one,” said Sam. Billy, however, could not tell
how the little girl looked, so they could not be sure.
“If I see them again,” said Sam, “I will ask them if they are the same
ones.”
When Sam thought it was time for him to go, he repeated his
instructions in regard to the presents, and extracted a promise from
both not to exercise any undue curiosity to find out what their
presents were. When Mrs. Hanlon followed him to the door, he confided
to her that his present to Billy was a little fire-engine that would
throw a real stream of water, and he thought it would be of great use,
as they could water the plants with it. “We can make believe there is a
fire and can turn the hose on just as real engines do,” he added.
“It must be beautiful,” said Mrs. Hanlon, “but I wish the poor child
could _see_ it;” and she gave a deep sigh.
“But he _will_,” replied Sam, brightly. “You haven’t forgotten what I
told you about my Christmas present, have you?”
“No, indeed, I remember; I only hope you won’t be disappointed!”
“Of course it will come. It is sure to,” replied Sam, confidently.
“Didn’t my little pony come all right?” And with a happy good-bye Sam
ran down the steps and jumped into the sleigh.
“Dear little soul!” said Mrs. Hanlon, looking after him as he waved his
hand gayly at her. “How disappointed he will be!” and the tears stood
in her kind eyes as she closed the door and joined the little blind
boy.