Indeed I did not, answers GERTRUDE in a hurt tone; not even the
eentiest teentiest bit of it.
What time will the dinner begin, grandfather? asks WALTER.
About twelve o'clock noon, I expect, GRANDFATHER answers.
And I suppose, says WALTER in a sorrowful voice, that the pudding
will be the last thing of all.
Yes, I suppose so, GRANDFATHER admits.
It will be an awfully long time to wait, says WALTER. And then when
mother begins to help it, Gertrude and I will have to wait and wait
while all the rest of you are helped. It's pretty tiresome waiting
sometimes.
But have you forgotten, Walter? GRANDMOTHER says, reminding him, You
won't have to wait as long as that tomorrow. For tomorrow is
Christmas, and don't you remember, that one of the ways in which
Christmas is different from all the other days in the year, is the way
in which the food is helped out at the Christmas dinner? On other days
the oldest people are helped first, and the youngest ones have to
wait: but at Christmas dinner, the first one to be helped to each
thing is the very youngest one of all, and then comes the next
youngest, and so on all the way round, and the oldest one has to wait
till the very last.
Oh, I remember, exclaims GERTRUDE. That was the way we did last
year. Don't you remember, Walter? Walter nods. And last year,
GERTRUDE goes on, I was the youngest and I was helped first to every
single thing. Grandmother, who is the youngest this year?
Why, you are the youngest, answers GRANDMOTHER, just as you were
last Christmas.
But I'm a whole year older than I was then, says GERTRUDE, looking
puzzled.
And so is everybody else, GRANDMOTHER explains.
Really? says GERTRUDE, not quite convinced. So I'm the youngest
still? Will I be helped first to the goose and the apple sauce?
Yes, answers GRANDMOTHER.
And will she be helped first to the pudding, too? asks WALTER
anxiously.
Yes, answers GRANDMOTHER.
Oh, I'm so glad, cries GERTRUDE. Isn't it nice to be the youngest?
Am I the next youngest? asks WALTER.
Yes, GRANDMOTHER answers, and the second helping of everything will
go to you.
Oh, well, that's all right, says WALTER, a good deal relieved.
There's sure to be plenty left. Gertrude couldn't eat it all.
Now there is the sound of someone outside the door, stamping to shake
the snow from his boots.
There's Father, cries GERTRUDE. She and Walter go to the door and
open it. Their father comes in, carrying several good-sized pieces
fire-wood.
How late you are, James, says GRANDFATHER, and how tired you look.
I am tired, answers FATHER. He lifts the lid of the wood-box, and
throws in the wood with a great clatter. Then, while he takes off his
cap and gloves and muffler, he says: The snow is so deep that it's
hard to walk in it, especially carrying a load as heavy as that wood
was. He sits down.
Children, says GRANDMOTHER, go, tell your mother that father is
here. She'll want to give us supper at once and hurry you both off to
bed.
But when are we to hang up our stockings? asks WALTER.
We'll do that right after supper, answers FATHER. Run along now,
and tell mother that I'm here. The children go, and FATHER
continues speaking. Is everything all ready for tomorrow? he asks.
Yes, answers GRANDMOTHER, Mary finished everything quite a while
ago. Or almost everything. She didn't get the paper caps made for the
children, but she was just too tired to do it after all the other
work.
I don't wonder, says FATHER. When there is so much to be done, some
things simply have to be left. Perhaps there will be time tomorrow
morning. I'm leaving some things for tomorrow myself. For instance, I
promised Mary I'd sweep out the kitchen here, after I'd brought in the
wood; and it needs it, sure enough, for I see I've tracked in a lot of
dirt. But I'm going to beg off for tonight. I'll do it first thing in
the morning. I only hope that Santa Claus won't notice it, and think
we're an untidy household. But we leave such a dim light in the
kitchen at night, that I don't believe he'll be able to tell whether
the room is broom-clean or not. And any way, I guess he must get tired
himself sometimes. So he'll know how it is, and won't lay it up
against us.
And that is the end of the First Scene.