THE CHRISTMAS TREE.
THE next day was a busy one. In the morning the gardener brought in
a load of evergreens; and while Aunt Dora and the maids prepared the
long table in the dining-room, and superintended Davis the coachman as
he carried all the drawing-room furniture into the study and the hall,
with the help of the gardener’s boy, so as to leave the room clear to
dance in, the children set to work and transformed the hall into a
perfect bower.
[Illustration: The children set to work and transformed the hall into a
perfect bower.
V. L. PAGE 29.]
They twisted ivy round the balusters and polished oak stair-rails, and
hung it in festoons over the sides of the gallery which ran round three
sides of the house. They framed the pictures with glistening holly and
scarlet berries, and crowned the great marble statue in the hall with a
crown of mistletoe.
It was a very tired and grubby little party who gathered round
the dinner-table, which to-day was set in the servants’ hall; but
Aunt Dora’s pleased appreciation of their efforts made up for all
the trouble; and after a quiet hour spent in the schoolroom over
story-books they were quite fresh again at three o’clock, when Mary
came up to help Claude to dress, and brush Isobel’s hair for her and
tie her sash.
‘I wish we had Etons,’ said Vivian to his brother when they were alone
in their own room, turning over his summer suit of dark-green cloth
with rather a dissatisfied air. ‘I was in Ralph’s room washing my hands
before dinner, and he has a proper suit, with gray trousers and a short
coat with a peak at the back, just like those Charlie Strangeways had
last summer.’
‘That’s because he’s at school,’ said Ronald, who was splashing away
vigorously at the washhand-stand. ‘Probably a lot of the fellows will
have Etons on; I know they wear them in London a lot. But I think these
green suits of ours are rather nice; besides, it doesn’t matter what
boys wear, and mother has promised to get us Etons for next summer. I
say, won’t Isobel look a duck in that stunning white frock, with that
pale-blue sash? I hope Dorothy will grow up as pretty as she is.’
‘Isobel is just perfect,’ said Vivian emphatically. ‘I hope Aunt Dora
will let her come down to us again in spring for the Easter holidays;
she will make the Strangeways look astonished. They were not at home
the last time she came. They always laugh at girls, but they won’t
laugh at her when they see how she plays cricket. She is not like the
Lister girls, who daren’t catch a ball in case it hurts their fingers.
I only wish Ralph were like her,’ he added, going back to the vexed
question of clothes. ‘You should have seen his face when I told him
that we had only our last year’s summer suits to wear. He muttered
something about “country cousins,” and offered to lend me his last
year’s suit. It is too little for him, but he said it would just do for
me.’
‘And I hope you snubbed him well for his impudence. I tell you what,
Vivi, he is our cousin, and we must be civil to him because of Aunt
Dora and Uncle Walter and Claude and Isobel; but he is a cad, an
out-and-out cad, with his airs and his conceit. So don’t let me find
you copying him, or I’ll give you a good licking. Wear his old clothes
indeed! You had better try it.’
Ronald spoke so sharply that Vivian, who had had a sneaking hope in
his heart that his brother would agree to Ralph’s proposal, dropped the
subject hastily, and began to scramble into the despised green suit
in a very great hurry, feeling a little ashamed of himself as he did
so for despising the clothes which his mother had chosen for him, and
of which, until his conversation with Ralph, he had been not a little
proud.
He quite forgot his momentary vexation, however, when Isobel, a slim
little white fairy, with soft blue ribbons, knocked at the door to
see if he were ready to go down and practise the minuet which he had
promised to dance with her.
Mrs Armitage had made a point of having her boys taught to dance, for
she always maintained that it taught them to hold themselves well, and
hindered them from looking as if they did not know what to do with
their arms and legs when they came into a room full of strangers.
Vivian especially danced exceedingly nicely for a boy of his age, and
later on, as Isobel and he went through the stately measures, bowing
and curtsying to each other in the middle of the great drawing-room
with its brilliant lights, they made such a pretty picture that there
was quite a burst of applause from the grown-ups, who had come to look
after the little ones and share the fun.
‘You did that splendidly, old fellow,’ whispered Ronald, with real
brotherly pride, when the performance was over, and Vivian came up to
the corner where he was standing along with some of the bigger boys. ‘I
shall write and tell mother that you have taken all the ladies’ hearts
by storm. I heard that old dame with the eye-glasses, who is standing
next Aunt Dora, ask, “Who that exceedingly nice-looking boy is?”’
‘Fudge!’ said Vivian, laughing; but he was pleased all the same, for he
felt that he had shown Ralph that even a ‘country cousin’ could do some
things better than he could, in spite of the fact that he did not wear
an Eton suit.
The event of the evening was the Christmas tree, and there was a
breathless silence as all the children gathered in the drawing-room,
and were arranged in rows, the little ones in front, before the drawn
curtain which separated the two rooms.
There were mysterious whisperings going on behind the curtain, and
stifled laughter; but at last the bell rang, and the lights were turned
down, and in another moment the curtain flew back, and there stood the
tree, blazing with coloured candles and laden with presents.
An old man, with snow-white hair and a long beard, stood beside it,
wearing a white cloak which sparkled as if it were covered with
hoar-frost. ‘Father Christmas!’ shouted all the children at once.
‘Three cheers for Father Christmas!’ while Claude, who, in his
eagerness, had crawled very near the green tub in which the Christmas
tree was planted, cried out in a tone of surprise, ‘Oh, it’s father; I
know his boots.’
A roar of laughter greeted this discovery.
‘Hush, Claude,’ said his mother, catching the little fellow by his belt
and swinging him back to his place beside the others. ‘Take care, or
Santa Claus will have no present for you. He only brings them for the
children who sit still in their places.’
Then Father Christmas held up his hand for silence, and made a little
speech, telling them how glad he was to see them all, and how he hoped
that they were enjoying themselves, and that they would all be good
children in the year that was coming; then he took up a long white
wand, with a hook at the end of it, and began to take down the presents
from the tree and call out the names which were printed on them.
It seemed as if Aunt Dora must be a witch, for she had thought of just
the right thing for every one. For the tiny tots there were woolly
bears, and rabbits, and long-haired dolls; while for older children
there were clever mechanical toys, useful glove-boxes and hand-bags,
and prettily bound books. Ralph had his microscope, and Claude his
man-of-war, while Ronald, who was fond of all country pursuits, hugged
two beautifully bound volumes of _British Birds_ in silent delight.
‘I see two Brownie kodaks; I do wish one of them would come to me,’
said Robin Earlison, a boy of about Vivian’s age, who was sitting next
him. ‘I don’t want to be greedy; but I do want one badly, if only I
could have the luck to get it. What do you want?’ he went on, trying
to look as if he did not care when one of the coveted kodaks went to
Pierce Dumot, a delicate-looking boy with a slight limp, who was
sitting at the other end of the row. ‘But I expect you know what you
are to get, for you are staying in the house, aren’t you?’
Vivian scarcely heard him. His eye had fallen on a toy pistol which
was hanging on one of the lower branches. It was not quite so large as
those which the Strangeways boys had got, but what joy it would be if
it fell to his lot! He held his breath and sat very still as one after
another of the children went up to get their presents. Seven, six,
five—there were only four things left on the tree now—the other kodak,
the pistol, a bright blue book, and a box of soldiers.
He felt hot all over with the suspense. The soldiers could not be for
him, he was too big for them, so that left only three things. Now
Santa Claus was unfastening the kodak. Ah, it was Robin’s name that
was called, so Robin had got his heart’s desire; and now there only
remained the blue book and the pistol.
He was so intent listening for the next name he forgot to rise and let
Robin pass to his seat, and Robin, noting the strained look on his
eager face, hoped that he was not disappointed because he had not got
the kodak.
Now Father Christmas had the pistol in his hand, and was turning it
over seeking for the name. Would he never find it? Vivian felt angry at
the noise that the other boys, who had already received their presents,
were making. But his suspense did not last long. In another moment his
name was called out, and the wished-for toy was in his hand.
He turned it over and over in delight, examining every part of it,
while some of the other boys stretched over the seats to admire it.
Evidently a toy pistol was a coveted possession.
‘It’s not a very big one,’ said one lad, with rather a mean desire to
depreciate a present which he had wished for, but which had not fallen
to his lot.
‘All the better,’ said Ronald, who had left his seat and come round to
see what his brother had got. ‘Father would not have let him use it if
it had been bigger.’
‘It will shoot very well, all the same,’ broke in the good-natured
Robin, relieved to find that it was not the kodak that his companion
had been longing for. ‘My cousin had one like that, and he could shoot
sparrows with it. He found it very useful in the spring, when they
tried to eat up all the seeds that he had sown in the garden.’
‘Vivian Armitage. No, it is not for him. It is for Vivian Gray, who
isn’t here. This book is for Vivi.’
It was Aunt Dora’s voice, and she looked over the boys’ clustering
heads as she spoke. ‘No, Vivi dear, that is not for you,’ she said,
stretching out her hand. ‘You are rather a little chap for that. I am
afraid that mother would not thank me if I sent you home with such a
dangerous toy. This book is for you; I think you will like it. It is
one of Henty’s. Claude got it for a birthday present a year ago, and he
was quite delighted with it.’
Poor Vivian! he handed back the pistol and took the book instead with
the best grace he could; but it was a bitter disappointment, and Aunt
Dora’s kind heart was troubled as she saw how his face fell, and with
what difficulty he winked back the tears which were perilously near
filling his eyes.
‘It serves me right,’ she thought, ‘for having such a thing on the
tree, only I knew that Mr Gray had no objection to Vivian having it,
and it took my fancy when I was buying the presents. I must try to
remember to ask Jack if he would mind if I give Vivi one on his next
birthday; he will be a year older then, and more careful.’
Thinking that a change of occupation would be the best thing to
divert the little boy’s thoughts, she wrapped up the pistol with its
accompanying box of caps, and calling Basil Gray, Vivian’s younger
brother, she gave it to him, asking him to take it home, and give it
to Vivian, who was in bed with a chill; then she proposed a game of
charades, choosing Vivi for one of the actors; and as she saw his face
brighten as he ran upstairs with the others to dress, she hoped that
the disappointment was only temporary, and that by the next morning he
would have forgotten all about it.