In came a beaming Sarah, carrying a tray laden with parcels.
"Oh, miss! Oh, miss Shelerpat!--Same to you and many on 'em--I'm sure
the picture's lovely--it just might be the dog 'imself--and the scarf
too--I shall wear it on my Sunday out, and I'm sure it's very kind of
you young ladies--thank you, miss--and mistress told me to bring these
round to your rooms--" So Sarah, in a breathless rush of excitement.
"Two for you, miss, and two for you!"
"Well!" ejaculated Nell. "To think that Aunt Kezia--" She stopped
abruptly, with a little catch in her breath. She had caught sight of the
writing on the parcels; one was her mother's and the other her father's.
There was a long letter from each as well as the Christmas present.
Nell smiled as she read her father's plaint: "We wanted to leave
directions with your aunt to put these little presents into the various
stockings she would be sure to find waiting if she were to look. But
you see, mavourneen, she wouldn't look! And I'm rather frightened of
her, so I dared not insist. I tried to coax your mother into bearding
her about presenting these to you at any rate on Christmas morning, but
she (is she a dutiful wife?) pleaded her ill health, and declared she
could not stand the stony disapproval she would see in Aunt Kezia's eye.
So I threw back my shoulders and twirled my moustache, and faced the
enemy myself. I had to listen to a lecture on Irish thriftlessness, but
perhaps I deserved that. Poor Aunt Kezia, she's very dry and hard, and
very opposite to all of you. But she is a good woman, and wants to make
you all comfortable. But she doesn't approve of Christmas presents. A
twinkle comes into your mother's eye (but she sternly represses the
dimple you used to dig your baby fingers into) when I conjecture over
her aspect on Christmas day this year! For we're a very Christmasy lot,
aren't we, asthore? Be just as Christmasy as ever you can this year, my
dear, and when you think of dear old Kilbrannan and us--as I know you
will be doing--(a conceited old father, amn't I?)--well, just remember
too that the months soon skip by, and we'll be back, please God, in a
few months, and that Kilbrannan is still ours, and we have only kindly
and hospitably lent it to the Harrisons for a while! But there, am I
preaching? And to my brave little Nell! Don't I know she'll be making
herself and others see all the bright bits?"
At breakfast Miss Kezia did not allude to her Christmas stocking. She
was very amiable, and had had fish cakes added to the porridge. But in
the middle of the meal Kate Kearney came into the room, looking
seraphic, and carrying jauntily in her mouth a limp white muslin
stocking. It was torn, and nothing remained in it now but a little
wooden whistle, three or four pink and white sweets, and the china head
of a doll. She carried it to Nell, and dropped it at her feet.
Miss Kezia flushed a little, and drew down her upper lip.
"I did not wish to allude to what I considered a foolish and
disrespectful joke, as it is Christmas morning, but you see now what a
disgraceful mess that dog must have made. I expect the stairs are strewn
with sweets and toys--"
"She'd eat the sweets," interposed Sheila Pat.
"Please go and pick up the debris!"
Joyfully they all rushed from the room, and crawled about the stairs,
picking up splinters of wood, wool-stuffing, china legs and arms, but no
sweets. Kate Kearney had eaten them. She brought the stocking, with
its few little sweets rammed into the toe, and begged them to get them
out for her.
"Sweets," said Nell, "are bad for you, but 'tis Christmas morning!"
After breakfast the chief event for which everyone was waiting was the
advent of the postman. Miss Kezia exclaimed surprisedly:--
"Surely there can be nothing else coming by post! The postman has been
laden for you for this week past!"
Before the postman came Ted appeared. He was surrounded in the hall,
and a babel of noise enveloped him. Miss Kezia's eyebrows went up, but
she smiled a grim little smile of uncomprehending amiability. Ted was
wearing his new tie, and valiantly flaunted the pin with which Sheila
Pat had presented him.
"Come up to the Stronghold."
On the stairs he hung back and turned to Nell.
"I say, Nell, I haven't half thanked all of you--need I?"
She laughed out.
"You have--heaps and heaps!"
He shook his head.
She looked at him with a worried little frown.
"You've no _business_ to be so grateful for silly little things!"
He was mute.
She laughed again.
"Ted, I do think you're nice!"
"Er--awfully good of you--" His face was flushed, his eyebrows up.
Nell tucked her hand under his arm.
"Escort me up to the Stronghold, Mr. Lancaster."
At the door of the Stronghold Denis pounced on him.
"Here, what are you up to?"
"I say, old man, it's a gorgeous stocking, but--you might have given me
a pair!"
"Come and look at everything," Molly besought.
"Fripperies and all," laughed Nell.
He took out his watch with a hurried gesture.
"Afraid I can't stay long--"
"Why not?" demanded the Atom.
"Er--I've got to get back--"
"I hoped you had come early so that you could stay a little while," said
Nell.
"Oh, I say, did I come round too early?"
"Ted, don't be a goose!"
"Friend, do not put such a horribly inhospitable construction--" began
Denis.
"How much?" interrupted Ted.
"Come on!" cried Denis, doubling his fists. "You have insulted me! _A
outrance_!"
"When you're quite finished, Mr. Lancaster," called out Nell, "perhaps
you'll condescend to look at this box!"
He gave a final thrust and turned to her.
"It is made of bog oak, and carved by a friend of ours--"
"Was that the postman?" exclaimed the Atom, and scuttled out of the
room.
No one heard her save Ted.
"Isn't it a glorious design? Do you see how--"
"I--I must go! Awfully sorry! Good-bye!"
They stared after him in astonishment, then started in pursuit. In the
hall they caught him. He was standing looking rather red and foolish,
talking to the Atom.
Denis seized him by his collar.
"Search him! Search him!"
"Don't ass, O.B.!"
"Why did you run away like that?" queried Molly eagerly.
"If it weren't Christmas morning, I should be deciding to be offended,"
Nell declared.
"I'm awfully sorry. I've to go to my aunt's, you know."
"Aren't you in rather a sudden complexity of hurry?" Denis inquired.
"That's a favourite remark of an old Irishwoman I know!"
"I am rather, old chap! Er--so sorry--"
"Here comes the postman!" squealed Molly, flinging open the door. Ted
hurled himself through it, leapt down the steps, and with a vague
flourish of his hat turned to the left and disappeared. The postman
laughed as he handed package after package, letter after letter, into
various eager hands outstretched for them. "You'll lighten my load a
good deal, sir!"
"Happy Christmas, postman!"
"Same to you, miss."
"To the Stronghold!" went forth the cry, and up they swarmed, all
heavily laden, K.K. gravely bringing up the rear with a parcel someone
had dropped. Everything was tilted on to the table, and then each one
pounced on various parcels--tearing of paper, cutting of string, noise,
delight, exclamations!
Nell opened Ted's parcel last of all. It was an old ivory paper knife,
with a little hunting scene beautifully carved on its handle.
"_Denis!_"
He turned at her tone.
"Isn't it lovely, Denis?"
He nodded.
"He knows what's what! It's ripping, Nell."
She was examining it delightedly.
"It's such a beautiful old thing--just look at the carving--that leg,
Denis, isn't it wonderful? And the manes and tails--"
"_Do_ look what he's sent me, Nell," cried Molly.
"And me--"
"Are you ready for church?" Up the stairs floated Miss Kezia's voice.
"A minute, Aunt Kezia!"
There was a wild scattering and scramble.
Church was a good deal of a trial: but once Nell smiled suddenly,
irresistibly. A thought had struck her. She whispered to Molly, "_I_
know why he rushed off!"
"Why?"
Nell shook her head virtuously; and Molly went back to her own thoughts,
which made her eyes water and smart uncomfortably. Once back at No. 35
Henley Road, Nell observed:--
"Oh, you dullards, don't you see why Ted rushed off? It was because he
was afraid of the postman--his _presents_!"
"By Jove, so it was!"
"He wasn't wantin' to be thanked," said the Atom.
"O dear, won't we make him blush next time we see him!" cried Nell.
"I'll thank him and thank him and thank him!"
"Nice way of showing your gratitude," observed Denis. "You know, it _is_
trying to a chap to have a pack of girls hanging around thanking you! I
know I felt it this morning," he added bashfully.
There was a perfect storm of laughter, and the pack of girls made for
him with one accord.
They had an early dinner of turkey and plum pudding; and after it Sarah
went off home, wearing the new scarf, and a smile from ear to ear. They
roasted chestnuts, and actually prevailed upon Miss Kezia to eat two.
They played games, sang carols, and to please her, a Scotch one,
whereupon she remarked there was nothing like them, and a fine argument
ensued between her and Sheila Pat. They all set the supper table and
all cleared away. They allowed the Atom--a sleepy Atom, who desperately
tried to appear a very wide awake one--to sit up till eleven o'clock,
and then with big hugs they all went off to bed.
*CHAPTER XXI*
One morning, about a fortnight after Christmas, Miss Kezia was called
away suddenly to the bedside of an old friend in Tunbridge Wells, who
was ill. She packed and got ready in a perfect hail of her own counsel
which she poured into Nell's ear. Molly, in valiant endeavours to help
her aunt, hid everything she specially wanted, and poked things she
didn't want into her box, till she was banished from the room. When
Miss Kezia had at last taken her departure, Nell made her way to the
kitchen, smiling over Denis's last words, "I say, Nell, make us some
cakes for tea to celebrate the hap--mournful occasion!"