_John Clair Minot_
David and Florence Payson live with their parents on a ranch in
Montana. The nearest neighbor is a mile away and the nearest town
nearly twenty miles; but that does not mean that they are so much out
of the world as city children may imagine.
Most city children--and most country children, too, for that
matter--count themselves fortunate to have one Christmas a year; but
last year David and Florence Payson had two Christmases, and, moreover,
they are planning a double Christmas again this year. The double
Christmas came about in a very simple way, and it gave them by far the
happiest holiday season that they had ever known.
The first of their two Christmases--and perhaps some of us would call
it their real Christmas--came on Christmas Eve. There was a tree
before the fireplace in the cheery living room, and it was loaded with
good things that Mr. Payson had brought from town a few days before.
Flashing tinsel and rippling streamers; bright flags and sprigs of
crimson holly; golden fruit and candy of all kinds and colors; toys,
toys, toys; books and pictures; things to wear and things to eat; and
then more toys--all these made the tree very beautiful and wonderful to
David and Florence when at last the living-room doors were opened and
they were free to rush in. What a happy Christmas Eve they had then! In
all the wide land there were perhaps no children who had a merrier time
round their tree that night than David and Florence Payson had in the
big living room of their lonely ranch house.
They took very few of the presents from the tree that evening. It was
enough to admire them, and to dance round and round the tree in search
of the treasures hidden among the branches. When the next morning came
they were shouting “Merry Christmas!” before their parents were awake,
and were at the tree as soon as it was light enough to see.
At breakfast David suddenly asked, “Does everyone have Christmas?”
“Everyone?” repeated Mr. Payson. “Well, I’m afraid some have a good
deal more Christmas than others.”
David looked thoughtful. “Do you suppose that family in the log cabin
over behind the bluff has any Christmas at all?”
“Perhaps not,” admitted Mr. Payson, and Mrs. Payson suddenly had the
air of a person who all at once remembers something very important.
David looked hard at his plate, and then he said:
“Perhaps we ought to take Christmas over to them. We have so much that
we can spare a little, can’t we?”
“Of course we can, David,” said his mother promptly. “I’ll fill a big
basket with good things, and you and your father can carry it right
over.”
But before the basket was filled, a very natural thought came to
Florence.
“How can it be Christmas to them without a tree?” she asked.
“They shall have a tree,” said Mr. Payson. “Come, David, we’ll get one
right now.”
David and his father found an axe and hurried off to a clump of small
pines that grew near the river; there Mr. Payson cut down the most
shapely one he could find. When they returned with it, Mrs. Payson and
Florence had two baskets ready instead of one. Into the first basket
they had put food and clothing. Into the second they had put some of
the ornaments and holly that had decorated their own tree, and also a
generous part of the fruit, candy and toys.
“Now we’ll be Santa Claus & Co.,” said Mr. Payson. “David, you and
Florence can ride old Diamond and drag the tree. I’ve tied a rope to
it. I’ll go ahead on General with the baskets.”
That was the way the strange procession set out. There was a light snow
on the ground, but not enough to make travel hard, and the two miles
were soon crossed. General was faster than Diamond, and a little while
before the children reached the cabin they met their father returning.
“I’ve left the baskets on the brow of the hill,” he said. “You can
easily drag them down to the door. You two are really Santa Claus &
Co., you know.”
So, suddenly and without any warning whatever, Christmas came to the
log cabin. The family there had staked out a claim the summer before,
and they had little more than the land itself. There were no signs of
any holiday celebration anywhere about the shabby little place. It was
indeed an amazed man that opened the door to the children’s knock.
“How do you do?” said David. “We’ve brought Christmas!”
“Brought what?” the man said uncertainly.
“We’ve brought Christmas,” repeated David, and he pointed to the tree
and to the two big baskets that he and Florence had dragged down the
slope to the door.
As he spoke, a woman joined the man at the door; three little children
were clinging to her skirts.
“Christmas!” she exclaimed, holding up her hands. “Is this Christmas
Day? I declare, we’d lost track of the days altogether! Why, you
blessed angels, where did you come from?”
“We’re not blessed angels,” said Florence. “We’re Santa Claus & Co.,
and we live on the Payson ranch over on the river.”
“Well, well!” said the man. He began to understand what it all meant.
“Come right in. I’ll tie the horse.”
David and Florence stamped the snow off and went inside, dragging their
gifts. The cabin was so small that they had to cut off the top of the
tree before they could stand it up in the room. Then they all joined
in hanging up the decorations and the gifts. The three children had
said scarcely a word at first, but they grew noisy with happiness as
the tree slowly began to display its wonderful fruit before their eyes.
Perhaps it was the most beautiful Christmas Day that ever came to three
little folk who had not even known that it _was_ Christmas until nearly
noon. And when the big parcels of clothing were taken from the tree and
opened one by one there were tears of happiness in the grown people’s
eyes.
Late that afternoon David and Florence mounted Diamond, waved good-by
and rode back to the ranch.
“Which Christmas celebration was the better?” asked their mother, when
they had told the story of their visit to the log cabin.
“Both were wonderful,” said David, “but somehow we were even happier
there than here.”
“I suppose it was because the first was a getting Christmas and the
second was a giving Christmas,” said Florence.
And in that sage remark Florence showed where the richest happiness of
the Christmas season lies.
[3] This story was first printed in “Youth’s Companion,” December 12,
1918. Reprinted by permission of the author and “Youth’s Companion.”