CHRISTMAS COMING.
The Demosthenic Club had received two severe setbacks since its
organization. One when Kate Underwood's tableaux fell under Miss
Ashton's displeasure on account of the carelessness it had shown in
injuring, for fun's sake, the feelings of a schoolmate; the other when
members of the club had been guilty of a flagrant breach of the rules,
by the stolen sleigh-ride with the Atherton boys.
"In spite of it all," Kate Underwood said, "we will just change its
name, and go on as if nothing had happened. We are to be now the
'Never Say Die Club.' Vote on it, girls."
The new name was adopted by acclamation, and several other votes were
carried at the same time, all in favor of law and order, showing how
truly these girls had meant to keep the promises they had made in
their extremity to Miss Ashton, to be law-abiding members of the
school.
They held their secret meetings as often and as secretly as their
constitution demanded; they discussed all questions that the interests
of the times suggested. If they had a spread, it was before study
hours, and with unlocked doors. On the whole, Jenny Barton, Kate
Underwood, and Mamie Smythe took the lessons they had received into
good, honest hearts, and grew, by the many resisted temptations which
were born of the secrecy of their club, into better, nobler
characters.
Miss Ashton, watching them with vigilant eyes, marked the improvement,
and showed her value of it by greater confidence in its leading
members.
There was an important meeting to be held a week before the breaking
up for the Christmas vacation. It was to be in Lilly White's room,
where, indeed, most of their meetings were held, for Lilly had a room
by herself, richly furnished, this being the only inducement her
parents could offer her, that made her consent to the fearful ordeal
of a few years at school,--to be dull and to be wealthy! Who would
desire it for any child?
"You understand," said President Jenny Barton, after the meeting was
called to order, "that this is to be no common affair. It's to be,
well! it's to be a sort of atonement for--well, for those other
affairs; and, girls, if we do anything about it, let's do it up
handsome. What do you say?"
"Do it jist illigant, or let it alone," said Mamie Smythe.
"Jist illigant!" repeated one member of the club after another, until
the president said,--
"Motioned, and carried. Now for our plan. Keep it a profound
secret!"
Such a busy place as the academy became now, probably had its
counterpart in every girls' boarding-school all over the length and
breadth of our land.
Where there is good discipline and good scholarship, neither the rules
nor the lessons are allowed to be slighted; but as December days
shorten, and December cold strengthens, even the most indolent pupil
finds herself under a certain stress of occupation which she cannot
resist.
Shirking can find no place in the recitation-room. Moments that have
been idled away now become precious, each one laden with its weight of
some loving remembrance to be made for the dear ones at home.
Such treasures of delicate silks, laces, plushes, velvets, ribbons,
embroideries, card-boards, tassels, cords, gilt in every shape and
capable of every use; such pretty gift-books, booklets, cards,
afghans, sofa-pillows, head-rests; such wonders of ingenuity in
working up places for thermometers, putting them in dust-pans, tying
them onto bread-rollers, slipping them behind wonderful clusters of
sweet painted flowers; such pen-wipers, such blotters, work-baskets,
paper-baskets, bureau coverings, bureau mats! napery of all varieties;
and, after all, this enumeration is but the beginning of what in
Montrose Academy was hidden in drawers, stowed away in most impossible
and impracticable places, yet always ready to the hand for a spare
moment. Two hundred girls,--for by this time most of the diphtheritic
runaways had returned,--and all, without an exception, were Christmas
busy! Christmas crazy! What a changed place it made of the school!
Benedictions on the hallowed holiday! If we put aside its religious
bearing, think of it only as a time when heart goes out to heart, even
the most selfish of us all will remember to show our love in a visible
token of affection.
If, with all this, we can make our offerings hallowed by a tenderer
love and a deeper affection for Him in whose honor the whole world
keeps the festival, then, indeed, the day becomes to us the most
blessed and beautiful of our lives!
Marion Parke saw it as it was kept here in an entirely new way. At her
Western home, her father had made it a day of religious observance.
Marion had always been leader in trimming their church with the pretty
greens which their mild winter spared to them, and on Christmas Sunday
they sang Christmas hymns, and listened to a Christmas sermon. On
Christmas Eve they had a Christmas-tree, and hung it with such useful
gifts as their necessities demanded and a small purse could provide.
It was a happy, precious day, simply and heartily kept; but here she
was lost in wonder, as she was called from room to room to see the
rare and beautiful gifts which, it seemed to her, abounded everywhere.
Money to purchase such things for herself to give away she had not,
but she watched her room-mates, as they deftly prepared their gifts
for their Rock Cove homes, with delight.
How busy and happy they were! Sometimes Marion's longing to send
something, if only a little remembrance, home brought the tears into
her eyes.
Gladys was the first to see this and to guess its cause. At once she
began to purchase new silks, trimmings of all kinds, booklets, cards,
increasing her store, until even her cousins, accustomed as they were
to her fitful extravagances, wondered at her.
When her drawers, never too orderly, began to assume a chaotic
appearance, she said fretfully one morning to Marion Parke, who was
looking and laughing at the chaos,--
"I should think, instead of laughing at me, it would be a great deal
better natured in you to help me put them into some kind of order.
Your drawer isn't half full. Look here! open it, and let me tuck some
of these duds in."
Marion opened hers, pushed the few things it contained carefully into
a corner, and said,--
"You are very welcome to all the room you want. Remember, I am only
here on sufferance; it is really all yours."
"Nonsense! help me, can't you? I shall pitch them in any way, and you
are so tidy!"
Help her Marion did, and when the jumbled but valuable contents of the
drawer were all transferred, Gladys shut it up with a gleeful laugh.
"Oh, how splendid it is," she said, "to have the drawer clean and
clear again! Never one of those duds is going back, and you can use
them or throw them away; put them in a rag-bag if you want to; I've
nothing more to do with them."
Then Sue and Dorothy understood what the extravagance meant, but
Marion did not; she only stood still, staring at Gladys, wondering
what she could have said or done to vex her kind-hearted room-mate.
And it was not until hours afterward, when she was alone with Dorothy,
and Dorothy told her they were gifts to her, that she knew how rich in
Christmas treasures she had suddenly become.
And here it is pleasant to tell, that this was only one of Gladys's
thoughtful kindnesses. Little bundles of similar gifts were constantly
going from her to the doors of the girls whose small means made
Christmas presents luxuries in which they could not indulge. Even
Gladys's liberal father wondered often over the amount of money which
she wished for these holidays; but he trusted her, and in truth felt
proud and glad that this only child had a noble, generous nature,
which could, and did, think of others more than of herself; for in the
account which she always sent him of the expenditure of these moneys,
while there were many "give aways," there were few dollars spent on
herself.
One day, in the regular mail-bag, there came this note to Miss
Ashton:--
We, the undersigned, grateful for the undeserved kindnesses with
which you have made our repentant days so happy, request the
pleasure of your company in the parlor, Tuesday evening,
December 22.
JENNY BARTON, SOPHY KANE,
KATE UNDERWOOD, MAMIE SMYTHE,
LUCY SNOW, LILLY WHITE,
MARTHA DODD,
_and all the members of the "Never Say Die Club."_
"What are those girls up to now?" Miss Ashton said with a pleasant
laugh, as she read the invitation, but she accepted it without any
delay, and when she was told by Miss Newton, the confidential helper
of the whole school in any of their wants, that the parlor had been
lent to the secret society for the evening, and no teacher was to be
allowed entrance until eight o'clock, she smilingly acquiesced.
The club were excused from their recitations that afternoon, and it
was amusing to see how much spying there was among the rest of the
school to find out what was going on. All that could be seen, however,
was the coming in of a big boxed article, unfortunately for the
curious, so boxed that no one could even guess what it contained.
A general invitation had been given to the whole school, and before
the appointed hour for opening the door, groups of girls in full
evening dress began to fill the corridor and press close to the door.
When, punctual to the appointed moment, it was flung open, a burst of
laughter followed.
Ranged around a covered object in the middle of the room stood twenty
girls, dressed in gray flannel blankets made in the fashion of the
penitential robes worn by nuns. They all wore stiff white hoods, with
the long capes coming down over their shoulders, and each one carried
in her hand a small tin pan filled to the brim with ashes.
They stood immovable until Miss Ashton entered the room, when the
whole club sank upon their knees, bending their heads until they
nearly touched the floor, dexterously placing the tin of ashes upon
their backs.
No sooner had they assumed this position than a little flag was
unfurled from the top of the covered object in the middle of the room,
upon which was printed in large letters:--
"FORGIVE, AND ACCEPT."
Then the covering was slowly removed by some one hidden beneath it,
and there stood an elegant writing-desk, on the front of which were
the words:--
"A MERRY CHRISTMAS TO MISS ASHTON THE MERCIFUL
FROM HER GRATEFUL
NEVER SAY DIE CLUB."