On Christmas Eve, Grannie went out and stayed away for about an hour.
She looked mysterious when she came back. She wore her zebra-pattern
shawl, which was quite bulged out with parcels. These she conveyed
quickly into her bedroom, notwithstanding the devouring eyes which the
children cast upon them.
"Out of that," she said, pushing them all aside; "none of your
curiosity, or you'll get nothing. What right have you to suppose as
I'm agoin' to waste my money a-giving presents to little brats like
you? Now, out of the way, out of the way. For goodness' sake Polly,
set down and finish stoning 'em raisins. Annie, is that a currant I
see in yer mouth, you bad, greedy girl? I'll whack you, as sure as my
name's Grannie."
Then Grannie disappeared into her room and locked the door amid the
screams of excitement and laughter of the happy children. "I am an old
fool to do it," she said to herself, trembling a good deal, for somehow
she had been feeling very weak the last few days; the constant pain and
anxiety had told upon her. "I am an old fool to spend seven and
sixpence on nothing at all but gimcracks to put into the Christmas
stockings; but there, I must see 'em happy once again--I must--I will.
Afterwards there'll be a dark time, I know; but on Christmas Day it
shall be all light--all light, and cheerfulness, and trust, for the
sake of the dear Lord wot was born a babe in Bethlehem."
Grannie very carefully deposited her parcels in the old-fashioned
bureau which stood in the corner of the tiny bedroom. She locked it up
and put the key in her pocket, and returned to the little sitting room.
Alison was busy trimming her party dress. She had a party dress, and
quite a stylish one. It was made of pink nun's-veiling, which she had
got very cheap as a bargain at Shaw's when the summer sale was over.
The dress was made simply, quite high to the throat, with long sleeves,
but the plain skirt and rather severe-looking bodice, with its frill of
lace round the throat and wrists, gave Alison that curiously refined,
ladylike appearance which was so rare in her station of life. She had
a sort of natural instinct which kept her from overdressing, and she
always looked the picture of neatness. She was furbishing up the lace
on the dress now, and Polly was seated by the little table stoning the
raisins for the Christmas pudding, and gazing with admiration at her
sister all the while. The Christmas bustle and sense of festivity
which Grannie had insisted on bringing into the air, infected everyone.
Even Alison felt rather cheerful; as she trimmed up the old dress she
kept singing a merry tune. If it was her bounden duty to marry Jim--to
return the great love he bore her--to be his faithful and true
wife--then all the calamity of the last few days would be past. Good
luck would once more shine upon her. Once again she would be the
happiest of the happy.
"Oh, yes, I love him!" she murmured to herself. "I love him better
every day, every hour, every minute; he is all the world to me. I
think of him all day long, and dream of him all through the night. I
could be good for him. If he is strong enough and great enough to get
over the fact of my being accused of theft, why, I'll take him; yes,
I'll take him. It will make Grannie happy too. Poor old Grannie! she
don't look too well the last day or two. It is wonderful, but I think
she is fretting sore about that feather-stitching. Poor dear! she
thinks more of that feather-stitching than of most anything else in the
world; but, Lor' bless her, they'll soon be putting something else in
its place in the West End shops. The feather-stitching will be
old-fashioned beside the embroidery. Poor old Grannie, it is hard on
her!"
By this time the tea hour had arrived. Alison took her dress into her
little bedroom, laid it on the bed, and came back to help to get ready
the family meal. David and Harry both came noisily upstairs to partake
of it. They were going out immediately afterward to the boys' club,
and told Grannie that they would not be back to supper.
"There are going to be real high jinks at the club to-night," said
Harry; "a magic lantern and a conjurer, and afterward we are to play
leapfrog and billiards, and end up with a boxing match. That swell,
Mr. Rolfe, is the right sort. Anyone would think that he had known
boys from this part of the world all his days."
"Boys is boys all the world over," said Grannie; "be they rich or poor,
high or low, they are just the same--mischeevous, restless young
wagabones. Now then, Harry, for goodness gracious, don't spill your
tea on the cloth. My word! wot a worry you all are."
"You know you don't think so, Grannie," said the audacious boy. His
black eyes laughed into her blue ones; she gave him a smile into which
she threw her whole brave heart. He remembered that smile in the dark
days which were to follow.
Tea was over, and presently Alison went into her room to dress. She
did not intend putting in an appearance at the Clays' before nine
o'clock, and she told Grannie not to sit up for her. Of course Jim
would see her home. It occurred to her, and her heart beat faster at
the thought, that she might be able to give Jim his final answer on her
way home; if so, what a glorious Christmas present would be hers.
Accordingly, as she dressed her hair she sang a cheerful little song
under her breath. Grannie heard her in the kitchen, paused with her
finger on her lip, and enjoined silence for a moment, and then smiled
in a very heart-whole manner.
"To be sure," she murmured to herself "the will of the Lord seems full
o' mercy to-night. Wot do it matter about an old body like me, ef
things go right for the children? Oh, good Lord, I commit these
children to thy care; do for 'em wot is right, and don't trouble about
an old body. I don't count; I know my place is safe enough for me in
the Kingdom. I need not fret about wot is left for this world."
When Alison came out of her room, looking beautiful, and fifty times
too good for the company she was to be with, Grannie gave her a kiss,
which was so full of gladness and meaning as to be almost solemn.
"And Jim will see you home," said the old lady. "Oh, yes, yes!"
"To be sure; but don't sit up, Grannie," said Alison.
"I won't ef you don't wish it, love. You'll find the key under the
mat; now go off, and a Christmas blessin' with you."
Alison departed, and soon afterward the younger children were hustled
off to bed. They were very much excited, and did not at all wish to
retire at this comparatively early hour, but Grannie was peremptory.
She had plenty of work to do after the rogues were asleep, she
murmured. So off to bed they went, with a couple of raisins each by
way of comfort; and when she thought they were snoring she slipped
softly into her room to fetch the brown paper parcels, and the long
woolen stockings which year after year had done duty for the Santa
Claus gifts. If she suspected it, she took good care not to look;
nevertheless, the fact remains that the three little snorers did open
their eyes for a brief moment, and did see the parcels going out, and
the stockings following them, and then turned round to hug each other
in an ecstacy of bliss. On this occasion Alison's companion slept with
her two sisters, and they kept up a little chatter, like birds in a
nest, for quite five minutes after Grannie had left them. She heard
them, of course,--for every sound could be heard in the little
flat,--but she took no notice.
"Bless 'em, how happy they are!" she said to herself. "Bless the Lord,
oh, my soul. I do declare there's a sight o' good to be got out of
life, writers' cramp or not. Now, then, to open these parcels."
The parcels when opened produced a wonderful array of cheap workboxes,
needle-cases, pin-trays, ornamental pens, boxes full of bon-bons, penny
whistles, twopenny flutes, a Jew's-harp or two; in short, a medley of
every kind of heterogeneous presents which could be produced with the
modest sum of from a penny to twopence halfpenny. Grannie fully
believed in numbers. She knew from past experience that the children
would rather have half a dozen small things than one big thing. The
worsted stockings, too, which had been knit in a bygone age, by the
celebrated Mrs. Simpson, the inventor of the sprig, were deep and long.
They took a great deal of filling, and Grannie knew what keen
disappointment would be the result if each stocking was not chock-full.
She collected her wares, sorted them into six parcels, laid the six
stockings on the table by the side of the gifts, and then began to
select the most appropriate gifts for each. Yes; Alison should have
the little basket which contained the pretty thimble, the little plush
pin-cushion glued on at one corner, and two reels of cotton kept in
their place by a neat little band, and the needle-book at the opposite
side.
"This is the werry nattiest thing I have seen for many a day," murmured
Grannie, "and only tuppence three farthings. I'll take the price off,
of course. Now, suppose Ally comes back an engaged girl, could she
have anything prettier than this little basket? It shall go in the top
of the stocking, jest where it can peep out and look at her the first
thing in the morning."
The stockings were filled at last; the toes and heels dexterously
stuffed out with apples and oranges; the gifts following next--each
separate gift wrapped in paper, and tied neatly with string.
"Quite half the fun is in the untying of the string," thought Mrs.
Reed. "Oh, how the little 'earts will go pitter-patter! Don't I know
it myself? Why, when I were nothing more than a five-year-old Phipps,
I remember as well as possible taking my presents out of this werry
stocking, and trembling all over when I couldn't untie the knot of the
parcel which held that cock made of sugar, wot I kept on the
chimney-piece for many and many a day afterward; for though mother give
it to me, she wouldn't let me eat it."
The six stockings were filled, and each stocking hung at the foot of
its future owner's bed. The children were sound asleep now, and the
boys at the club, and the girl at her party forgot all about such a
trivial thing as poor old Santa Claus and his stocking, but Grannie was
very thankful that the stockings should hang at the foot of the beds
for the last time. When all was done and the kitchen made as neat as a
new pin she fell on her knees and uttered a short prayer--a prayer
which was more praise than prayer. She then got into bed, and quickly
fell asleep; for she was very tired, and, wonderful to say, her hand
and arm did not ache as much as usual.
Not far away was Tragedy coming to meet her with quick strides, but the
little woman was under the shadow of God's wing to-night, and had
neither fear nor trouble.