CHRISTMAS IN THE ACADEMY.
Marion, two days before Christmas, was once more left alone in her
room. The Rock Cove cousins had given her the most cordial invitation
to go home with them for the vacation, but she had declined. In doing
so, she had a half-acknowledged feeling that she was to suffer just
penance for her misdeeds at Belden, and a dread of what unknown
trouble she might meet at Rock Cove. This Eastern world was so
different from the whole-hearted, kindly one she had left behind her,
that instead of wonting to it, she grew timid, diffident of herself,
even among the girls, and shy about venturing abroad. So she made her
mind up bravely to stay where she was, and spend her vacation in
study.
Miss Ashton fully approved; for since Marion's sickness with her cold,
she had shown an inclination to cough, and was often hoarse in the
morning. A stay by the seaside in winter would be to run a risk. It
might be dull for her to remain, but she loved her books, and there
was plenty for her to do in order to keep up with her advanced
classes; besides, there were twenty of the pupils whose homes were so
distant they could not go there, and return, without taking more time
than the vacation allowed, so they, also, were to remain, and Marion,
though dull, need not be lonely.
All the teachers but Fraeulein Sausmann were to be absent, and to her
care Miss Ashton had to commit the young ladies during the vacation.
The wheels of the carriage that took her away from the academy had
hardly ceased to be heard by the anxious listeners there, before
Marion's door was opened just far enough to admit the Fraeulein's
good-natured face.
Never had her ample head of light hair looked so large, her blue eyes
so blue, her nose so _retrousse_, or her thin lips so thin, to Marion,
as now. Before she had time to welcome her, the Fraeulein said in her
high-pitched voice,--
"O Marione! Wir happiness time wir have der Christtag. Wir 'ave der
Baum so high," holding up a plump little hand as high as she could
reach. "Twenty, thirty das Licht! Christtag presented buful! You 'ave
one, sieben, zwoelf, four! You come happiness; nicht cry, nicht! nicht!
Lachen! so!" and a merry peal of laughter Marion found no trouble in
echoing.
"You come parlor Christtag night, you see! I, Santa Claus! Merry
Christtag. Catch you! Nicht cry! Lachen! Lachen!"
She shut the door softly, but Marion heard her laugh as she went down
the long corridor, such a merry, contagious laugh, that it carried
away with it the loneliness from Marion's room.
There was to be a gathering in the parlor then,--der Baum. Twenty,
thirty das Licht, and what else? Of one thing Marion felt sure, if she
was to receive, one, sieben, zwoelf, four presents, she must give some
in return, but what, and to whom?
She was not long in doubt. Lilly White was among those who remained,
and the Fraeulein had hardly gone when she made her appearance with
four other girls at her door.
"Oui, Fraeulein Marione! Ab alio expectes, alteri quod feceris.
"That's French, Latin, and German. I picked it out of"--
"Don't tell, Lilly White," broke in one of the girls. "See if Marion
can translate it."
"Come in and let me try," said Marion, laughing. "Oui--yes;
Fraeulein--Miss Marion; Ab alio expectes, alteri quod feceris--If any
one gives you a present, be sure you give one back."
"A literal translation," said the same girl. "Miss Jones always said
you were her best Latin scholar. Practically, however, it
translates,--
"Come with us to Lilly White's room, and we'll show you a thing or
two. But we mustn't all go together. If we do, the Fraeulein will be
popping down on us to be sure no mischief is brewing."
"I'll tell you what I will do; I will write in German 'No Admittance'
on a big placard, and put it outside my door. What is the German,
girls?" "Nicht Zulassung," said one of the girls promptly. "Write it,
Lilly, in a big, bold hand."
They went together to Lilly's room; and she took a large square of
pasteboard, and, without deigning to ask how the words were spelled,
she printed in big letters:--
"NOTTZ ULLARSG."
"There!" she said, turning it triumphantly for the others to read.
Then she hung it on the outside of the door, moved a table to the
door, planted a chair upon it, mounted into the chair, and peeped down
through the transom to watch for the Fraeulein's coming.
The others watched her, and all business for the time was suspended.
Pretty soon they heard the pattering of the Fraeulein's little feet
along the corridor, then the sudden halting before their door.
Lilly, with a beet-red face, and frantic gestures of two big red
hands, motioned them to be still. They heard,--
"N--O--T--T--Z." A significant grunt; then again, "N--O--T--T--Z;" a
pause. Again, "N--O--T--T--Z U--L--L--A--R--S--G."
"Hindoostanee? No; Indianee: Marione Parkee!" Then a little laugh,
followed by,--
"Marione! Marione! Ope die Thur! What you mean, Nottz Ullarsg?"
"No admittance," said Lilly White through the transom. "Why, Fraeulein,
don't you know your own German?"
"Know my own German?" repeated the Fraeulein slowly. "Know--my--own--German?
Nein! Nein! German, Lilly White! Nein Vater Land.
"Lilly White, open die Thur, quickest! My own German! Nein! Nein!
Nein!
"Marione Parke's Indianee!"
It was some moments before Lilly, the chair and the table, could be
removed from the door, the Fraeulein keeping up a series of impatient
knockings while she waited.
Then Marion, as the one in whom she would feel the greatest
confidence, was pushed to the small opening allowed, and told to
say,--
"It's Christmas, almost, dear Fraeulein. It's secrets here now. We
can't let you in."
"Indianee?" asked the Fraeulein, pointing to the placard. "What you
mean, Marione?"
"It was meant to mean 'No Admittance' in German, Fraeulein."
Such funny little shrieks as the Fraeulein uttered, no one could
understand, not even Marion, who was looking in her face. There were
anger and fun and amazement, chasing each other in quick succession,
her hands beating time to each feeling, as an instrument utters its
music to the touch.
To the amazement of all, it ended in the Fraeulein shrieking out,--
"Lilly White! You be a--what you call um der thor, narr, dummkopf,
fool, idiotte; you know German, nicht! nicht, you idiotte!"
In these hard words the little German teacher's anger wholly vanished;
pulling down the placard, she tore it in bits, gathered them up in her
small white apron, made a sweeping courtesy, and trotted away.
As soon as she was fairly out of hearing, the girls began to busy
themselves about their Christmas work. Lilly White's room was full of
things to be made into pretty gifts for the tree, of which the
Fraeulein's share was by far the largest.
There is a wonderful degree of thoughtfulness among a company of
girls. Not one there but knew of Marion's circumstances, and how
impossible it would be for her, out of her slender purse, to meet the
demands of the occasion. If Gladys Philbrick had generously helped her
to prepare the pretty gifts which were on their way to her far-away
home, so these girls as generously planned that in the Fraeulein's
festival she should not find herself in the embarrassing position of
being the one who should receive, without making a return.
It was beautiful to see the delicacy with which they managed the
whole, so that Marion hardly felt how much they gave, and how
pleasantly she received.
On Christmas morning the whole house was early astir. All up and down
the corridors, long before the dim light penetrated into them,
white-robed figures flitted noiselessly from door to door. "Merry
Christmas! Merry Christmas!" was whispered inside, until a ghost-like
procession of some twenty girls headed for the Fraeulein's room.
This was at the end of the second corridor, and as they approached it
not a sound was to be heard from within but the satisfactory one of
long and loud snores.
It had been agreed on the previous night that not a door should be
locked on the inside, and Helen Stratton, "the cute girl," who could
do anything she tried to do, was chosen to open this door. This she
did so noiselessly, that the whole twenty girls entered the room and
surrounded the Fraeulein's bed without so much as interrupting a single
snore. Then all at once a merry chorus broke out with,--
"Merry Christmas! Merry Christmas, Fraeulein!"
The Fraeulein stirred in her bed. Then another shout, louder than the
first, and she sat bolt upright.
The gas in the hall had been lighted, and stole in through the transom
sufficiently to give the ghost-like look the girls sought; but even
with this, she was slow in comprehending what was happening.
One more shout, and she sprang out of bed, catching the one nearest to
her, and giving her a good, hard shaking. "Der Christtag! Der
Christtag! Froehlich Weinacht! Froehlich; I wishes you 'arpy Christtag!
What _you_ call it?"
"Merry Christmas!" shouted the girls.
"Ah, Ja! Ja! Merrie Christmas! one Merrie Christmas, a t'ousand Merrie
Christmas. Now you go dress! Miss Ashton say, 'Fraeulein, the young
ladies tak cough.' You catched me, I catched you to-nacht. You see!
gute nacht! gute nacht!"
And like a very small queen, in her pretty nightdress, she waved the
girls away, then locked her door; if they had come back only a few
minutes later, they would have heard the same musical sounds coming
from her bed.
But when the day had fairly dawned, it would have been difficult to
find a more wide-awake, alert teacher than the Fraeulein, or one that
could have given a truer and pleasanter Christmas day and night.