PATRICIA'S CHRISTMAS FAMILY
"There!" Patricia stepped back, with a sigh of satisfaction. "It's all
ready for the presents. Custard Kirby," she bent to pat the small curly
black dog, stretched lazily out on the hearth-rug, "on your honor, have
you ever seen a prettier Christmas-tree? Good! There's Daddy!"
Patricia ran to open the front door. "Come and admire, Daddy," she
urged.
Dr. Kirby went with her to the library; in the center of the broad
square room stood the tree, its slender tip just escaping the ceiling.
"And I trimmed it nearly all myself!" Patricia explained, proudly. "Aunt
Julia had to go out. Maybe you don't think I've been busy to-day, Daddy!
I don't know but what it is a good thing that Christmas doesn't come
more than once a year."
"I should be bankrupt if it did," the doctor said, pulling one of
Custard's long ears. "An only daughter is rather an expensive luxury."
"As if I were anything more than a plain every-day necessity! And not
such an incapable after all, am I, Daddy?"
"Not when it comes to Christmas-trees."
"Daddy, see, it's beginning to snow!"
"We're going to have a white Christmas, all right," the doctor said;
then, as the telephone rang sharply, he went to answer it.
Patricia heard him give a sudden exclamation, ask one or two rapid
questions; then he hung up the receiver and came back to the library
door.
"Patricia," he said, "there has been a bad accident down at the
curve--the eastern express--they are bringing the injured up here to the
hotel. 'Phone your aunt for me; and remember, _you_ are not to
leave the house."
"O Daddy!" Patricia followed him into the office; but all he could tell
her was that it seemed to be a pretty bad affair, and that he was likely
to be away from home some hours.
"A sad Christmas eve for a good many, dear," he said, kissing her
good-by.
Patricia watched him, as he drove off a few moments later, through the
fast falling snow. Christmas eve--and down there at the curve! Patricia
choked back a sudden sob, as she went to telephone to her aunt, who was
down at the church, helping with the Christmas decorations.
Miss Kirby decided instantly to go right down to the hotel, where help
would be needed. And _she_ also warned Patricia that she was not to
leave home.
"But oh, I want to go, Custard!" the girl protested; "I know I could
help." She closed the library door; the sight of the Christmas-tree,
its gay ornaments glittering in the firelight, hurt her.
Patricia went to curl herself up on one of the sitting-room
window-seats. Jim had gone with her father; Sarah was down at the gate
talking over the accident with the maid from next door. Presently,
across the street, a familiar figure came into view, through the
gathering twilight. Patricia hurried to the door. "O Nell!" she called.
Nell Hardy came running over. "Patricia, you've heard?"
"Yes; they sent for Daddy. Aunt Julia's gone down to the hotel."
"So's Mama; she wouldn't let me go with her. O Patricia! If it had been
the local!"
"Don't, Nell! Come on in and stay; I'm under orders not to leave the
house."
They went into the sitting-room, where Patricia brightened up the fire
and lit the big lamp, with its crimson shade. Then she came to sit
beside Nell on the broad old lounge. "Nell, aren't you wild to help too?
If only Daddy hadn't--Oh, I know--" The next moment Patricia was out in
the hall at the telephone.
Nell waited wonderingly.
"Come on, Nell!" Patricia stood in the open doorway, her eyes dancing.
"Five of them coming!"
"What are you talking about, Pat?"
"Children." Patricia was leading the way upstairs. "I got Mrs. Brown,
down at the hotel, on the 'phone. I wish you could have heard her!"
"Children! I should say so, Miss Patricia! Five of them crying in my own
sitting-room at this minute. No, not hurt; frightened out of their wits,
and their own people too hurt to look after them. And when I asked if
I might have them up here, Nell, I wish you could have heard her. She's
sending them right up in one of the hotel rigs."
"But, Patricia--"
"There aren't any buts in this affair. We'll take Aunt Julia's room and
mine. It won't do to turn Daddy out of his, and I must have
communicating ones."
"But your aunt--" Nell began again.
"Oh, Aunt Julia'll understand." Patricia was kneeling before the deep
fireplace in her aunt's room, piling it generously with wood from the
box in the corner.
"Miss P'tricia, what yo' up ter?" Sarah demanded, unexpectedly, from the
doorway. "Yo' know Miss Julia don' like a fire in her room nights--an'
de house like summer now, wid de furnuss!"
"Aunt Julia isn't sleeping here tonight," Patricia answered, calmly;
"and I particularly want the room cheerful; you know, there's nothing
like an open fire for making things cheerful."
"Miss P'tricia, what yo' be'n doin'?"
And Patricia explained.
Sarah rolled her black eyes ceiling-wards. "Who ever heerd tell o' sich
doin's! I'd jus' like ter know who done gib yo' commission ter do this,
Miss P'tricia! An' whatever is yo' goin' do wid five strange young uns?"
"Make them happy and comfortable, I hope," Patricia laughed. "There they
are now. Start a fire in my room, please, Sarah, and make up a bed on my
lounge. Come on, Nell," and Patricia was out of the room and downstairs
in a flash.
Before the steps stood the carriage from the hotel, and from within it
five white, frightened little faces looked anxiously out.
Patricia made straight for the youngest one, a two-year-old girl. "You
poor baby!" she cried, softly.
Heedless, impulsive, Patricia had at least the gift of winning her way
right to a child's heart; and without a moment's hesitation the child
put a pair of clinging little arms about her neck.
She and Nell took the five into the warm, bright sitting-room, where
they took off hats and coats and gently rubbed the cold little hands.
"Why, you're not much more than babies, any of you!" Patricia glanced
pityingly from one to another of her protégés.
"I'm seven," the oldest answered. "I'm Norma Howard; she's my little
sister Totty." She pointed to the baby on Patricia's lap. "She keeps
crying for Mama--Mama was hurt," Norma hid her face against Patricia.
Patricia slipped an arm about her. "I shouldn't wonder if my Daddy were
looking after her right now. He's the best doctor in the whole world!"
She turned to the two little boys, staring up at her from the depths of
the doctor's big chair: "And are you brothers?"
"No'm," the larger one responded; "we've only just 'come 'quainted. He's
only five; I'm five 'an half. I'm Archibald Sears; his name's Tommy--I
want my mother!"
Tommy's blue eyes filled. "So do I," he cried.
Totty took up the wail; and the little four-year-old girl on Nell's lap
promptly followed suit.
"What shall we do?" Nell asked, imploringly.
But at that moment Sarah appeared. She took Tommy up in her strong,
motherly arms, soothing him in practised fashion. "There, there, honey!
Yo's goin' have yo' mother pretty soon. What yo' wants now's yo' supper,
ain't it, honey? I reckon ain't no one had de sense ter gib yo' chillens
a mite ter eat."
Tommy tucked his head down on Sarah's broad shoulder with a pathetic
little sigh of comfort. In the home which at this moment seemed very far
away to Tommy was an old colored mammy. He refused to let Sarah put him
down, so she took him with her while she got ready the five bowls of
warm bread and milk, which she declared the best possible supper for all
the children under the circumstances.
"But whatever put such a notion in yo' head, Miss P'tricia, is more'n
I kin figger out," she declared a few moments later, guiding the sleepy
Tommy's spoon in its journey from bowl to mouth. "What yo' reckon yo'
pa's goin' say?"
"I think," Patricia glanced about the table, "that just at present Daddy
would say--bed."
"H'm," Sarah grunted, "yo' knows what I means. Well, it's sure got ter
be a bath for them all 'fore it kin be bed; so we'd best get started."
She headed the little procession upstairs, Tommy in her arms, Patricia
bringing up the rear with Totty.
"If it hadn't come about in such a dreadful way, wouldn't it be
perfectly lovely?" Patricia said. "Think of it, Nell--_five_
children to spend Christmas with one!"
Nell laughed. "Your Christmas isn't over yet, Pat; it won't be all
smooth running."
"You can't scare me. Nell, we'll hang up their stockings for them. They
must have their Christmas."
"What yo' goin' do fo' night things fo' dem, Miss P'tricia?" Sarah
asked, suddenly; "'pears like ain't none o' 'em come much laden down wid
luggage."
"N-no," Patricia answered; "probably their things weren't very
get-atable. We'll have to take some of my gowns, Sarah."
Whereupon Archibald lifted up his voice in swift protestation; he didn't
want to wear a girl's things; he wanted to go home; he wanted to sleep
in his own bed; he wanted his mother!
At that all-compelling word four other voices rose in instantaneous
lamentation, even Norma catching the general infection.
"Sarah, can't you do something?" Patricia implored. "Nell, what does
your mother do when your brothers cry like this?"
"They--don't cry like this," Nell answered, trying desperately to quiet
Lydia.
"Mebbe next time, Miss P'tricia," Sarah's tone was strictly of the
"I-told-you-so" order, "yo' won't go 'vitin' a whole tribe o' young uns,
widout resultin' any one."
Patricia, walking the room with the screaming Totty, came to a sudden
halt before Archibald, lying face down on the floor. "If you'll stop
crying I'll let Custard come up," she said.
"Who's Custard?" Archibald rolled over on his back to consider the
matter.
"My dog."
"Where is he?"
"Downstairs--in the kitchen."
"Does he like boys?"
"Not when they cry."
Archibald rubbed his eyes. "I'm not crying now."
But at that moment, Custard, who considered that he had been kept in the
background quite long enough, came upstairs on his own account. As Sarah
said, he seemed "ter sense the situation," for he trotted about making
friends, lapping the tears from Tommy's face, and standing up on his
hind legs to let Totty pat his head.
Sarah promptly took advantage of the lull to whisk the boys off to the
bath-room; half an hour later, all five children, well wrapped in shawls
and blankets, were gathered about the fire in Patricia's room for the
hanging of the Christmas stockings.
That ceremony over, Sarah pounced on Tommy and Archibald, carrying them
off to bed in Miss Kirby's room. "An' mercy knows what Miss Julia done
say when she find yo' here," she muttered, tucking them in snugly.
Archibald sat up in bed. "I want--Custard!"
"Yo' go 'long ter sleep, young sir," Sarah expostulated. "What yo' think
Marse Santa Clause goin' say ter such goin's-on?"
"I want Custard!"
"Let him have him, Sarah!" Patricia exclaimed.
"Miss P'tricia! 'Low that onery dog on yo' aunt's bed!"
Patricia let the insult to her pet pass.
"_On_ it, _in_ it, _under_ it, if it'll keep him quiet!"
Sarah lifted Custard in far from respectful fashion, dropping him, an
astonished, but entirely acquiescent heap, between Archibald and Tommy.
Lydia, already asleep, was disposed of in Patricia's bed, and Norma and
Totty settled comfortably on the wide lounge.
"An' now, honey," Sarah said, "I's goin' get you and Miss Nell yo'
supper."
They went downstairs, where Sarah made Patricia and Nell comfortable at
a small table drawn up before the sitting-room fire.
"But what are you going to fill those stockings with, Pat?" Nell asked,
after Sarah had left them alone.
"I can manage all right for the girls; I've loads of toys stowed away up
garret. I've always had heaps of things given me, but if I could get
out-of-doors, and had something alive to play with, I'd let the other
things go every time. I am a bit puzzled about Archibald's and Tommy's."
"I'll run home and get some of the little boys' toys," Nell offered.
When supper was over, while Patricia went, as she called it, "shopping
up garret," Nell made a hurried trip home and back.
"There," she exclaimed, coming in breathless, her head and shoulders
white with snow, "will these do?" She laid a toy engine, a trumpet, a
tin sword, and a small box of lead soldiers on the table.
"Beautifully!" Patricia was placing a small jointed doll in the top of
Norma's stocking. "This is going to be about the realest Christmas I've
ever had."
"It's going to be a mighty sad one for a lot of people."
All the fun and laughter vanished from Patricia's gray eyes. She looked
about the pleasant, homelike room, with its trimmings of evergreen and
holly, and a swift, sharp, realizing sense of what was going on down at
the hotel came to her. For a moment the girl's lips quivered and the
hand that held Tommy's empty stocking trembled. "But, Nell," she said
slowly, "I am sure--oh, I know they would want their children to have
their Christmas. It would be too dreadful, afterwards--if they could
remember nothing but--sadness and--sorrow. O Nell, I wonder if there
were any children hurt?"
"I don't know," Nell answered. "Let's--not talk about it, Patricia.
Shall I put the trumpet in Archibald's stocking?"
"I suppose so, he's larger than Tommy. I don't know what Aunt Julia will
do if he wakes up early and starts to blowing it. Poor Aunt Julia! She's
got a lot of surprises coming her way." Patricia stuffed out the toe of
Lydia's stocking with the regulation nuts and raisins. "There," she
said, a moment later, "I reckon these are ready to hang up again."
They tiptoed upstairs softly; the children were all sleeping quietly,
and even Custard barely opened the corner of one eye at Patricia's
coming.
Custard was having the time of his life. Hitherto, beds had been
strictly forbidden ground with Custard; and just what could have brought
about this most delightful state of affairs was quite beyond his powers
of imagination, but he was wisely wasting no time in idle speculation.
Patricia stroked him a bit dubiously. "I am afraid Aunt Julia will rebel
at this, old fellow; but Archibald's got fast hold of you, and I simply
can't risk waking him up."
"I must go now, Pat," Nell said, as they went downstairs again; "I told
Papa I'd be back soon."
"Somehow," she added, as she and Patricia stood a moment on the front
steps, "I can't make it seem like Christmas eve--not even with your five
stockings, Pat."
Patricia looked out at the white whirl of snow; the street seemed
deserted, but here and there, where a blind had been left undrawn,
a light shone out.
Then, from the house next door, came the sound of a Christmas carol:
"Hark! the herald angels sing
Glory to the new-born King."
Clearly, joyously, through the still, snow-laden air, sounded the
words--
"Risen with healing in His wings,
Light and life to all He brings.
Hail, the Sun of Righteousness!
Hail, the heaven-born Prince of Peace!"
Patricia drew a long breath. "But it _is_ Christmas eve, Nell. And,
O Nell, at least _we_ didn't have any one there--on the express."
"N-no," Nell said gravely, "still--"
"Maybe it won't be exactly a 'merry Christmas'," Patricia began--"Nell,
listen!"
From upstairs came a prolonged wail.
"Totty!" Patricia cried.
* * * * *
It was more than an hour later when the doctor and Miss Kirby drove
slowly up the snow-covered drive. "I am afraid Patricia has had rather
a lonely Christmas eve," Miss Kirby said.
"It looks as if she had gone to bed," her brother answered; "the door
would have been open by this time, if she were on hand."
Miss Kirby went directly upstairs to take off her things; in the upper
hall she caught the flicker of firelight through her own and Patricia's
half-opened doors; and although ordinarily she did not care for a fire
in her room at night, the knowledge that there was one awaiting her now
brought a sense of comfort. Probably Patricia had thought she would be
cold and tired--Patricia was really very considerate at times.
Three minutes later Miss Kirby was standing in the middle of her room,
staring with wide, amazed eyes at her very much occupied bed.
Two children and a _dog_!
Involuntary, she lowered the light, so as not to awaken the sleepers.
Two children and a _dog_! Could it be the effect of over-wrought
nerves? Then she recognized Custard.
Custard was blinking sleepily up at her, but he did not move. He may
have realized the desirability of not disturbing his companions, or he
may have concluded that possession was nine-tenths of the law; with a
little audacious sigh of comfort, he tucked his head down and dropped
off to sleep again.
Miss Kirby turned towards Patricia's room. A moment after, the doctor
heard her calling to him softly from the landing.
"Anything wrong?" he asked.
"Come and see!" Miss Kirby was almost hysterical.
"Patricia isn't--?"
"Come and see!" Miss Kirby led the way to her room, pointing
dramatically to the bed.
The doctor surveyed the trio within it. "Upon my--" his lips twitched.
"No one from around here! Evidently, Patricia has--"
"Suppose you look in Patricia's room," Miss Kirby suggested.
Going to the door, the doctor gave one brief, comprehensive glance; then
he turned: "And how many in my room?"
Miss Kirby gasped. "I'll go see."
"None," she reported, "and none in the spare-room. Patrick, these must
be children from--the hotel. Oh dear, was there ever such a girl!"
The doctor looked about him, more slowly this time, seeing Lydia in the
bed, Norma on the lounge; seeing the little, flushed contented faces;
seeing the stockings hanging ready for the morning from the mantelpiece;
seeing, and here his glance rested longest, Patricia in a low chair
before the fire, Totty in her arms, both fast asleep; noting the tired
droop of the dark head against the baby's yellow one.
He might have known Patricia would never be content to sit idle, when
just at hand was so much of pain and suffering to be relieved.
"Isn't it exactly like Patricia?" Miss Kirby sighed, wearily.
"Yes," the doctor's voice was very gentle, "I think it is--exactly like
Patricia." Crossing the room, he carefully loosened Patricia's grasp,
taking Totty from her.
Patricia stirred and opened her eyes. "Daddy! Oh, I am glad you're back!
But, please, please, be very careful not to wake Totty; I'm so afraid
she'll get to crying again."
The doctor laid Totty beside Norma. "Suppose you come downstairs, Pat,
and explain this invasion of the premises to your aunt and me," he said,
holding out his hand to her.
Sitting on the arm of her father's chair, Patricia told her story.
"Have--you been in your room, Aunt Julia?" she asked.
"I have, Patricia."
"I am sorry about Custard, Aunt Julia; but Archibald wouldn't be
comforted without him; he wanted his--mother."
Miss Kirby thought of the long dining-room down at the hotel, turned
into a hospital ward; where on this Christmas eve more than one mother
was lying very near the borders of the undiscovered country.
"And I had to take your room, Aunt Julia," Patricia went on, "so as to
have two communicating ones. I hope you don't mind much?"
And Miss Kirby had not the heart to admit how much, in her present
weariness of mind and body, she did care.
The doctor patted Patricia's cheek. "I thought Mrs. Brown was keeping
those children wonderfully out of the way. I wish their poor mothers
could have known how well they were being cared for."
Patricia drew a quick breath of pleasure. "And we'll keep them over
Christmas, Daddy?"
"That depends--upon various things. By the way, where do you sleep
to-night, Pat?"
"Oh, I'll go into the spare-room, with Aunt Julia," Patricia responded,
cheerfully.
Miss Kirby stifled a sigh; and hoped that Patricia's activities would
not recommence too early the next morning.
It was not Patricia who woke Miss Kirby the next morning.
Custard, waking early, and finding himself in such unaccustomed
surroundings, decided to look for his young mistress. Having been
permitted on one bed seemed to Custard sufficient warrant for getting on
another. Miss Kirby woke with a start to find a little wriggling object
standing between herself and Patricia, while a small moist tongue did
active and alternate service on both their faces.
Her shriek of dismay awoke Patricia.
"Aunt Julia!" Patricia was shaking with laughter, "I'll tell Daddy--how
you woke me up, playing with Custard!"
"He's the most--" Miss Kirby dived beneath the bed-clothes. "Take him
away, Patricia!"
From across the hall came the shrill blast of a trumpet. Custard,
his forefeet firmly planted on Miss Kirby's chest, his head cocked
enquiringly, promptly barked a defiant response.
The next moment the spare-room seemed full of children, all, like
Custard, in search of Patricia, and making, at sight of her, as swift an
onslaught in her direction as the extreme length of their nightgowns
would permit.
So, after all, Christmas morning began merrily for them, at least.
The doctor, coming home later from an early visit to the hotel, stopped
outside Patricia's open door. "Merry Christmas, Pat! Got your hands
full?"
Patricia was kneeling on the floor, buttoning Tommy's shoes. "Merry
Christmas, Daddy," she answered, gaily; "I certainly have."
Norma came slowly up to the doctor; she remembered him from last night;
for in all the hurry and confusion of the moment he had found time for a
few comforting words to the frightened, bewildered children. "Have--have
you made Mama better?" she asked, wistfully.
The doctor sat down, taking her on his knee. "What is your mother's
name, dear?"
"Mrs. Howard."
The doctor brushed the child's soft curls; and Patricia, seeing the
gravity of his eyes, caught her breath. "Your mother was resting very
quietly when I left her just now, dear," he said, gently; then he turned
to Archibald. "Did you find that trumpet in your stocking, young man?"
Archibald nodded. "I want my--"
"I found this!" Lydia held up one of Patricia's many dolls. They all
crowded about him, claiming his attention, Totty demanding to be taken
up.
"Got your hands full, Daddy?" Patricia laughed.
* * * * *
About the candle-lighted tree Patricia's small guests circled
admiringly. It _had_ been a merry Christmas for the little
travel-wrecked strangers; and now, with the tree, had come the
culminating point of this long happy day.
"Isn't it pretty?" Norma came to lean against Patricia. "I wish Mama
could see it."
"You must remember to tell her all about it," Patricia answered.
"Will I see her to-morrow?" Norma asked longingly.
"Perhaps," Patricia said; and when presently her father had to leave
them, to go down to the hotel, she went with him to the door. "Daddy,
you'll be back soon?"
"As soon as possible, dear."
"And--you think--with good news for them--all?"
"I hope so, dear."
Patricia went back to the library with sober face. "But at least," she
thought, taking Totty on her lap, "they'll have had their Christmas."
It was far from soon before the doctor returned. Patricia's charges were
in bed and asleep. Custard, who had been looking forward to bedtime all
day, had retired to his basket--a disillusioned dog. To-night Archibald
was finding all the solace needed in a gaily painted Noah's Ark. Miss
Kirby was lying down in the sitting-room,--she had not found it a day
of unbroken calm,--so that Patricia was alone in the library when her
father returned.
He drew her down beside him on the lounge. "It _is_ good news for
them all, Patricia, I think Norma and Totty may see their mother
to-morrow. I have brought you a great deal of love, Patricia, from more
than one mother; love and gratitude."
"Oh, I am glad they're all better!" Patricia said. "Daddy, I've been
thinking; I don't see how we're ever going to get along after this
without a Christmas family."
The doctor bent to kiss her. "What I've been thinking is what your
'family' would have done for their Christmas without you. I'm proud
of you, Pat."
"O Daddy!" Patricia's eyes were shining.