Part 8

The charcoal-burner came to church on Christmas eve, the first time in many years. It makes a difference about these things when you have a son to take part in them. The church and the tree were alight with candles; to the boy it seemed like what he supposed the place of dreams might be. One large candle burned on the top of the tree and threw out pointed rays like a star; it made the charcoal-burner’s son think of Bethlehem. Then he heard the minister talking, and it was all of a cross and a star; but Mathew could only look at the tree, for he saw that it trembled, and he felt that he had betrayed it. Then the choir began to sing, and the candle on the top of the tree burned down quite low, and Mathew saw the slender cross of the topmost bough stand up dark before it. Suddenly he remembered his old puzzle about it, how the smallest twigs were divided off in each in the shape of a cross, how the boughs repeated the star form every year, and what was true of his fir was true of them all. Then it must have been that there were tears in his eyes, for he could not see plainly: the pillars of the church spread upward like the shafts of the trees, and the organ playing was like the sound of the wind in their branches, and the stately star-built firs rose up like spires, taller than the church tower, each with a cross on top. The sapling which was still before him trembled more, moving its boughs as if it spoke; and the boy heard it in his heart and believed, for it spoke to him of God. Then all the fear went out of his heart and he had no more dread of going back to the mountain to spend his days, for now he knew that he need never be away from the green reminder of hope and sacrifice in the star and the cross of the silver fir; and the thought broadened in his mind that he might find more in the forest than he had ever thought to find, now that he knew what to look for, since everything speaks of God in its own way and it is only a matter of understanding how.

It was very gay in the little church that Christmas night, with laughter and bonbons flying about, and every child had a package of candy and an armful of gifts. The charcoal-burner had his pockets bulging full of toys, and Mathew’s eyes glowed like the banked fires of the charcoal-pits as they walked home in the keen, windless night.

“Well, my boy,” said the charcoal-burner, “I am afraid you will not be wanting to go back to the mountain with me after this.”

“Oh, yes, I will,” said Mathew happily, “for I think the mountains know quite as much of the important things as they know here in the town.”

“Right you are,” said the charcoal-burner, as he clapped his boy’s hand between both his own, “and I am pleased to think you have turned out such a sensible little fellow.” But he really did not know all that was in his son’s heart.

[10] Reprinted from “The Basket Woman” by permission of and by arrangement with Houghton Mifflin Co., publishers.

CHRISTMAS LUCK[11]

_Albert Bigelow Paine_

“Oh, Eb, it runs! It really does!”

Nell, who was twelve--a slender, sunny-haired little creature--first clasped her hands, then clapped them, then danced up and down the old woodshed pausing at last in front of a big kitchen table, where a toy engine and train of cars were making a circuit around and around and around a tiny track. The hired boy, Eb--a few years older, rough-handed and poorly dressed--smiled at the child’s pleasure.

“That’s nothing,” he said. “I didn’t have to do much to it.”

“But you did, Eb. It was all broken to pieces. Papa would be awfully disappointed to find it that way when he comes, and Tommy would never have gotten over it. Never! He’s set his heart on a train for Christmas, and it’s been promised to him, and now to have it all smashed in the express! Oh, Eb, nobody could have fixed it but you. You’re a real genius, mamma says, and ought to go to a mechanical school. Isn’t it lucky you’re living with Uncle Bob when we come to visit him!”

The dainty, dancing fairy stopped suddenly and held up a warning finger.

“Sh, Eb! There’s Tommy now! He’s coming back! Oh, stop it! stop it! and cover it so he can’t see! He’ll be coming straight in here, I know!”

Outside there were the wild whoop of a small boy with large lungs, a clatter of a sled, a stamping of feet, then a plunging into the kitchen, just as Eb had slipped a stick through the train wheels to stop it, and covered it with an old homespun saddle blanket, gathered hastily from the corner. A moment later Tommy burst in, red, snowy, and full of the curiosity which most healthy boys are likely to have, especially about Christmas-time.

“What are you doing here, Nell, you and Eb? What have you been making with all that wire, and those tools? What’s that blanket on the table? Pooh, Bess! What are you shivering for with that great cape on? I’m not cold, and I’ve been coasting for over an hour, down the back-barn hill! Oh, say, come in the kitchen, Nell! I want to show you a funny icicle I found. Come quick, before it’s all melted away!”

Like a whirlwind he had stormed in and out, followed closely by Nell, who threw a merry glance of relief over her shoulder. Eb, leaning against the work-bench, smiled back; then, with a sigh, saw them disappear.

For Nellie’s words and her mother’s had set his heart to beating with something like hope. What if there really could be a way by which he could go to such a place as she had mentioned, and learn to be a--a-- And then, as he saw them go out, and the door close behind them, it seemed as if hope went out with them. They would all be gone in a few days and never remember him again. He hurried off to pitch down the evening hay for the cattle, and see if he couldn’t forget, too.

From earliest childhood Eben Lessing had worked with tools--a one-bladed knife at first, then such other clumsy things as he could get hold of. With these he had made curious toys that would run by water, or wind, or heat, or steam, some of them quite useful. When he came to Robert Whittaker’s to live he built, besides other things, a churn of a new pattern, and a fan over the dining-room table, both to run by water-power brought from the brook. And when Mrs. William Whittaker, who was from the city, had seen these things, she had said the boy deserved a mechanical education, and then forgot all about it again, being very busy with all the Christmas preparations, while Eb, pitching down great wads of sweet hay from the barn loft, was still dreaming in spite of himself, of a day when he should leave the district school for a mechanical college, and become a great inventor, and marry Nellie Whittaker, and so live happy ever after. Then it came milking-time, and swishing the broad white streams into the foaming pail, he dreamed again, and kept on dreaming even after he was in bed and asleep. Then he forgot, and when he remembered again it was morning--the morning of the day before Christmas.

What a busy day that was! Of course, quite early, Eb had to drive in for papa, who was coming on the first train, and Nellie and Tom had to go along in the surrey. Then, when papa came, there was so much to tell, only, of course, Nell couldn’t tell how Tommy’s train had been broken and fixed, because Tommy wasn’t to know anything about the train until he saw it travelling around and around on the little track that was to go clear around under the Christmas tree. Then, at home, there were all the places to see--all the places that papa had seen as a little boy: the hill where he used to slide, the same back-barn hill where Tommy had been coasting, the brook where he used to fish, the hay-mow, and the horses and cows, and the hens’ nests where Nell and Tommy had found eggs, and where Tommy had been whipped by an old hen that wanted to sit; though why she should want to sit there all day in the cold on two nubbins of corn and a lump of frozen dirt that somebody had thrown at her, Tommy said he, for one, couldn’t see.

Papa laughed, and said that maybe if she sat there until spring on the nubbins and frozen dirt she’d hatch out a corn-field. Then they went into the kitchen, where mamma and Aunt Maria--a big motherly woman who had never had any children of her own, except one little boy named Willie, and that died--were baking and stirring, and opening and closing oven doors, so that people had better keep out of the way. Only you couldn’t, because it smelt so nice in there of mince-meat, and of baking-cakes that came out all brown, with buttered paper sticking to them when they were turned out of the pans. Then, all at once, they found that Aunt Maria had turned out a little brown cake, from a little pan, and she cut it hot, and Tommy had a piece, and Nellie and papa, just as he used to have the day before Christmas, when he was a little boy. And after this they went into the dining-room and saw Eb’s patent fan, and into the pantry to look at Eb’s churn, and papa said, “Well, well!” and that somebody ought to give a boy like that a chance.

But they forgot all about it when they got to the parlor and looked at the funny album that had pictures of papa and Uncle Bob, taken together, when papa was a very little boy and Uncle Bob was his big brother. And when Uncle Bob came in they talked about the day they had it taken, more than thirty years ago, and how papa had rolled up his eyes and didn’t keep still, and all that happened afterwards--the things that people always talk about when they forget for a little while that they are grown up, and only remember that they were once boys and girls, like the rest of us.

And in the afternoon they had to go and cut and bring in the Christmas tree. Tom and Mollie had already picked out a bushy little spruce up on the mountain-side, and Eb went along, because Eb had been with them and knew the way. Besides, Eb could cut better with a hatchet than anybody, so Tommy said.

Then Tommy walked down the hill with his papa, talking all the time, while Eb and Nellie, side by side, dragged the little spruce over the snow, and Nellie talked and Eb listened, and was never so happy before in all his life, and never so sad, either, because next week it would all be over, and he would be there alone, with no school except the district school, where he had learned about all he could, and with no chance of becoming a great inventor, and doing all the things that he had dreamed.

Of course Eb had to help to trim the tree. He had never trimmed one before, but he was the handiest of them all, and could go up a step-ladder and fasten tapers to the high limbs, and string popcorn and tinsel just in the very places where it ought to be. Then, when that part of it was all done, and it was getting towards evening--that wonderful evening of hush and mystery and joy--Christmas eve--it was Nellie who said that Eb must be Santa Claus, and put the presents on the tree.

“If we put them on, ourselves, then everybody will see just what they are to have, and who gives it,” she said. “If Eb puts them on, nobody will know until Christmas morning. We’ll darken the sitting-room, and each one can go in and put down his things, and come right out again. Then, after supper, Eb can go in and unwrap them, and put them on the tree. Of course, Tommy, the real Santa Claus, will come afterwards, and put on his things, too.”

Nellie did not mention that she had a bright new tie for Eb. She knew there would be a chance to put that on, herself, in the morning.

Everybody said Nellie’s plan was a good one; so by-and-by Eb found himself in the sitting-room alone, with a great many whispered instructions, and the beautiful tree, and packages and packages of things to be unwrapped and arranged in and about it. Tommy and Nell were tiptoeing and whispering about the hall, and Nellie called to Eb to lock the door or Tommy would just _have_ to come inside. So Eb locked it, laughing, and wished in his soul that Nellie at least might come in to help him. Then he noticed that somebody had put a lot of loose cotton around the foot of the tree to represent snow, and he looked from this to the little candles on the slender limbs, and shook his head, and said something about fire and tow being pretty close together. By-and-by he went out to the kitchen to wash his hands. When he came in he stopped a moment to arrange something in the corner, before going on with his work. The house was quite still now, but it was after midnight before Eb was ready to go to his bed.

It had been a wonderful evening for him. He had unwrapped and seen at close range all the pretty things that well-to-do people give one another at Christmas-time; books, games, pictures, ornaments, articles of dress, confections, and even gems. He had arranged and rearranged, and with a natural eye for the beautiful had placed the things as showily as most people could have done, and with great thought of their safety. When he was through at last he stood back to admire his work. Then all at once he remembered that Tommy’s train was still hidden in the wood-shed. He had forgotten it entirely.

He brought in the engine and cars, and then the track, in sections, and soon had it all arranged under the tree, so that it would travel around and around, though he had to move some books and other things to do it. Then he tried the train a little, to see that it would run as well as ever. He hated to leave it all; but he blew out the lamp at last and went to bed, wondering if by any chance he would oversleep next morning, and so fail to light up, and have everything in order when Tom and Nellie and the others were ready to come down.

“Whoop! Merry Christmas!”

Eb sat straight up in bed. He had overslept, then, after all. No; for it was still dark. He did not believe it could be five o’clock.

“Merry Christmas, Eb! Say, get up and light the tree! I want to see my things.”

It was Tommy, of course, and the whole house would be roused and ready to come down presently. Eb leaped into his clothes, made a hasty toilet, and slipped down the back stairs, leaving Tommy still shouting Merry Christmas through the halls to arouse older people from their slumbers.

Within a few minutes everybody had concluded that it was no use to hold out against Tommy, and in five minutes more everybody had dragged on something that resembled clothes and a pleasant smile, and came straggling down the stairs, calling greetings to one another. Tommy, at the head, was already pounding at the sitting-room door, while Eb, inside, was lighting the last tapers, and putting on a few finishing-touches, such as starting and setting a new clock for Aunt Maria, and winding up Tommy’s train. Then, when he heard them all outside, he unlocked the door, and, stepping back, pulled it wide, so that all might get a sudden and full view of the beautiful Christmas tree.

For a moment they stood quite still, blinking from the brightness of it. Then there came a chorus of “Oh! oh!” “Well! well!” and, “How beautiful!” with another wild whoop from Tommy, ending up with, “Oh, gee! see my train!”

A second later he had bounded forward toward the precious train, and was ducking down under the tree for a closer view.

“Tommy!” “Oh, Tom!” “Thomas! Look out. The candles!”

There was a regular chorus of warnings,--but all too late. A second later a taper that had been fixed to a branch, struck by Tommy’s head, had fallen, and the loose cotton about the tree was afire, the blaze darting up into the branches.

Tommy rolled out from under the tree like an armadillo. Nellie clasped her hands and shut her eyes to keep out the terrible sight and began to moan and wail. Uncle Robert and Aunt Maria both started somewhere for pails of water, while papa and mamma began tugging at a piece of carpet to smother the blaze.

And then, all at once, there was somebody else at work, and there came a hissing sound, as if water was being put on the flames, and right among them stood Eb, with something over his shoulder and under his arm, and in his hand there was a sort of a tube that sent a stream of water just where it was needed, and that put out the burning cotton in just about the time it has taken me to tell about it. When Aunt Maria and Uncle Robert came hurrying back with pails of water, there was no use for them. Papa and mamma and Nellie and Tom were gathered about Eb, more interested in what he had under his arm and over his shoulder than in the Christmas tree, which was scarcely damaged at all, for the flames had not reached the presents, and there was only a little water on Tommy’s train, which hadn’t even stopped running, being the kind of train, Tommy said, that didn’t mind a little thing like lightning and rain.

“Why, it’s Eb’s fire-extinguisher!” said Uncle Robert. “I forgot all about that!”

“But Eb didn’t!” said Tommy. “He put it in here last night, because he knew there’d be a fire with all that cotton of yours, sis.”

“He knew you’d knock over a candle, I guess,” retorted Nell.

Then the wet cotton was taken away, and the presents rearranged about the tree, and Tommy’s train wound up again, and everything was as fine as if nothing had happened, though they didn’t any of them forget what might have happened if it hadn’t been for Eb with his fire-extinguisher.

And that was one of the finest Christmases that ever was! And at dinner-time Eb was there, with his bright new tie on, and sat right by Nellie, and was almost like the hero of the day. And after the turkey was carved, Mr. William Whittaker said, all at once, to Eben Lessing, as if he’d just happened to think of it:

“By-the-way, Eb, how would you like to take a course in a mechanical school? We’ve a good deal of room in our house, and now and then I need somebody to help me. You can come home with us and go to school, if you like.”

And would you believe it, Eb couldn’t say a word! He was like the others when he had flung open the door of the sitting-room and blinded them with the wonderful tree--he just sat there and blinked.

Nellie answered: “Of course, papa, Eb would like it. Wouldn’t you, Eb?”

And then, somehow, Eb nodded, and somehow said something that was taken for yes, and then everybody began talking at once about the things Eb had made, and what he would do by-and-by, while Tommy, who, just at that moment, found out what it all meant, broke out with a great rejoicing, “Whoop! Eb’s going home with us! Eb’s going home with us to live!”

And Nellie whispered, “Oh, Eb, didn’t I tell you it was lucky you were living with Uncle Bob when we came to visit him?”

[11] By permission of the author and Harper and Brothers.

A NIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS[12]

_Temple Bailey_

It was the night before Christmas--and stormy.

“Sqush--sqush,” went the wheels of the carriage in the mud.

“Whew--ew--ew,” whistled the wind, and it blew Peter’s hat into the middle of the road.

“Whoa,” said Peter, and climbed down from his high seat.

The “Princess” poked her head out of the window. “What’s the matter?” she asked.

“My hat blew off,” Peter told her, “and the wheel is stuck in the mud, Miss.”

“Oh, Peter, Peter,” the Princess chided, “you must get that wheel out of the mud at once.”

“Which is easier said than done,” Peter grumbled; “it’s that dark that I can’t see my hand before me.”

“There’s a light back there among the trees,” the Princess informed him; “perhaps you could get some one to help you.”

“I’ll go and see, Miss, if you ain’t afraid to stay alone,” and Peter, after some effort, succeeded in quieting the plunging horses.

“I am dreadfully afraid,” came shiveringly, “but I suppose you will have to go.”

Now in the middle of the pine grove was set a little cottage. Peter knocked at the door.

“Who’s there?” asked a childish voice, and a little girl poked her head out of the square window.

“Our wheel is stuck in the mud,” Peter answered, from the dark, “and I want to get a man to help me.”

“There isn’t any man here,” Jenny informed him. “There is only me and Jinny; and our mother has gone to nurse a sick neighbor, and she won’t be home until morning.”

So Peter went back to the carriage and reported to the Princess.

“I shall freeze out here,” said the Princess. “I will go up to the house and sit by the fire while you look for some one to help you with the carriage.”

She climbed out of the carriage, and with Peter in the lead, she plodded through the woods, and the wind blew her long coat this way and that, and at last, wet and panting, she came to the little house.

And once more Peter knocked, and once more Jenny came to the window. Then she flung the door wide open, and so tall was the Princess that she had to stoop to enter it. It was a dingy little room, and there was a dumpy black stove in the corner, with a bubbling iron pot that gave forth a most appetizing odor.

“Oh, oh, how nice and warm it is,” said the Princess, as she held out her hands to the fire.