A Merry Christmas (4 page)

Patty kept up bravely until they were gone, then she sat down like Cinderella, and cried and cried until she could cry no more. It certainly did seem as if she were never to have any fun, and no fairy godmother came to help her. The shower of tears did her good, and she went about her work with a meek, patient face that would have touched a heart of stone.

All the morning she worked to finish the odd jobs left for her to do, and in the afternoon, as the only approach to the holiday she dared venture, Patty sat at the parlor window and watched other people go to and fro, intent on merrymaking in which she had no part.

Her only pleasant little task was that of arranging gifts for the small boys. Miss Jane had given her a bit of money now and then, and out of her meager store, the loving child had made presents for the lads—poor ones certainly, but full of goodwill and the desire to win some affection in return.

The family did not return as early as she had expected, which made the evening seem very long. Patty got out her treasure box and, sitting on the warm kitchen hearth, tried to amuse herself while the wind howled outside and the snow fell fast.

When Aunt Jane welcomed the family, her first word, as she emerged from a chaos of small boys' arms and legs, was “Why, where is Patty?”

“At home, of course; where else would she be?” answered Mrs. Murray.

“Here with you. I said ‘all come' in my letter; didn't you understand it?”

“Goodness, Jane, you didn't mean to bring her, too, I hope.”

“Yes, I did, and I'm quite disappointed. I'd go and get her myself if I had the time.”

Miss Jane knit her brows and looked vexed, and Ella laughed at the idea of a servant girl going on holiday with the family.

“It can't be helped now, so we'll say no more and make it up to Patty tomorrow if we can.” Aunt Jane smiled her own pleasant smile and kissed the little lads all 'round as if to sweeten her temper as soon as possible.

They had a capital time, and no one observed that Aunty, now and then, directed the conversation to Patty by asking a question about her or picking up on every little hint dropped by the boys concerning her patience and kindness.

At last, Mrs. Murray said, as she sat resting with a cushion at her back, a stool at her feet, and a cup of tea steaming deliciously under her nose, “Afraid to leave her there in charge? Oh, dear, no. I've entire confidence in her, and she is equal to taking care of the house for a week if need be. On the whole, Jane, I consider her a pretty promising girl. She isn't very quick, but she is faithful, steady, and honest as daylight.”

“High praise from you, Maria; I hope she knows your good opinion of her.”

“No, indeed! It wouldn't do to pamper a girl's pride by praising her. I say, ‘Very well, Patty' when I'm satisfied, and that's quite enough.”

“Ah, but you wouldn't be satisfied if George only said, ‘Very well, Maria' when you had done your very best to please him in some way.”

“That's a different thing,” began Mrs. Murray, but Miss Jane shook her head, and Ella said, laughing—

“It's no use to try to convince Aunty on that point; she has taken a fancy to Pat and won't see any fault in her. She's a good enough child, but I can't get anything out of her; she is so odd and shy.”

“I can! She's first rate and takes care of me better than anyone else,” said Harry, the lame boy, with sudden warmth. Patty had quite won his selfish little heart by many services.

“She'll make Mother a nice helper as she grows up, and I consider it a good speculation. In four years, she'll be eighteen, and if she goes on doing so well, I won't begrudge her wages,” added Mr. Murray, who sat nearby with a small son on each knee.

“She'd be quite pretty if she were straight and plump and jolly. But she is as sober as a deacon, and when her work is done, she sits in a corner watching us with big eyes as shy and mute as a mouse,” said Ned, the big brother, lounging on the sofa.

“A dull, steady-going girl, suited for a servant and no more,” concluded Mrs. Murray, setting down her cup as if the subject were closed.

“You are quite mistaken, and I'll prove it!” Aunt Jane announced, jumping up so energetically that the boys laughed and the elders looked annoyed. Pulling out a portfolio, Aunt Jane untied a little bundle of letters, saying impressively—

“Now listen, all of you, and see what has been going on with Patty this year.”

Then Miss Jane read the little letters one by one, and it was curious to see how the faces of the listeners first grew attentive, then touched, then self-reproachful, and finally filled with interest and respect and something very like affection for little Patty.

These letters were pathetic, as Aunty read them to listeners who could supply much that the writer generously left unsaid, and the involuntary comments of the hearers proved the truth of Patty's words.

“Does she envy me because I'm pretty and gay and have a good time? I never thought how hard it must be for her to see me have all the fun and she all the work. She's a girl like me, and I might have done more for her than give her my old clothes and let her help me get dressed for parties,” said Ella hastily as Aunt Jane laid aside one letter in which poor Patty told of many “good times and she not in 'em.”

“Sakes alive! If I'd known the child wanted me to kiss her now and then as I do the rest, I'd have done it in a minute!” said Mrs. Murray, with sudden softness in her sharp eyes as Aunt Jane read this little bit—

“I am grateful, but, oh! I'm so lonely, and it's so hard not to have any mother like the other children. If Mrs. Murray would only kiss me good night sometimes, it would do me more good than pretty clothes or nice food.”

“I've been thinking I'd let her go to school ever since I heard her showing Bob how to do his lessons. But Mother didn't think she could spare her,” broke in Mr. Murray apologetically.

“If Ella would help a little, I guess I could allow it. Anyway, we might try for awhile, since she is so eager to learn,” added his wife, anxious not to seem unjust in Jane's eyes.

“Well, Joe laughed at her as much as I did when the boys hunched up their shoulders the way she does,” cried conscious-stricken Bob, who had just heard a sad little paragraph about her crooked figure and learned that it came from lugging heavy babies at the orphanage.

“I cuffed 'em both for it, and I have always liked Patty,” said Harry, in a moral tone, which moved Ned to say—

“You'd be a selfish little rascal if you didn't, when she slaves so for you and gets no thanks for it. Now that I know how it tires her poor little back to carry wood and water, I shall do it myself, of course. If she'd only told me, I'd have done it all the time.”

And so it went until the letters were done and they knew Patty as she was. Each felt sorry that he or she had not found her out before. Aunt Jane freed her mind on the subject, but the others continued to discuss it until quite an enthusiastic state of feeling set in, and Patty was in danger of being killed with kindness.

It is astonishing how generous and clever people are when once awakened to duty, a charity, or a wrong. Now everyone was eager to repair past neglect, and if Aunt Jane had not wisely restrained them, the young folks would have done something absurd.

They laid many nice little plans to surprise Patty, and each privately resolved not only to give her a Christmas gift but also to do the better thing by turning over a new leaf for the new year.

All the way home, they talked over their various projects, and the boys kept bouncing into the seat with Aunt Jane to ask advice about their funny ideas.

“It must have been rather lonesome for the poor little soul all day. I declare, I wish we'd taken her along!” said Mrs. Murray, as they approached the house through the softly falling snow.

“She's got a jolly good fire all ready for us, and that's a mercy, for I'm half frozen,” said Harry, hopping up the step.

“Don't you think if I touch up my blue merino, it would fit Patty and make a nice dress along with one of my white aprons?” whispered Ella, as she helped Aunt Jane out of the sleigh.

“I hope the child isn't sick or scared. It's two hours later than I expected to be home,” added Mr. Murray, stepping up to peep in at the kitchen window, for no one came to open the door and no light but the blaze of the fire shone out.

“Come softly and look in,” he whispered, beckoning to the rest. “It's a pretty little sight even if it is in a kitchen.”

Quietly creeping to the two low windows, they all looked in, and no one said a word, for the lonely little figure was both pretty and pathetic when they remembered the letters lately read. Patty lay flat on the old rug, fast asleep with one arm pillowed under her head. In the other arm lay Puss in a cozy bunch, as if she had crept there to be sociable since there was no one else to share Patty's long vigil. A row of slippers, large and small, stood warming on the hearth, two little nightgowns hung over a chair, the teapot stood in a warm nook, and through the open door, they could see the lamp burning brightly in the sitting room, the table ready, and all things in order.

“Faithful little creature! She's thought of every blessed thing, and I'll go right in and wake her with a good kiss!” cried Mrs. Murray, darting for the door.

But Aunt Jane drew her back, begging her not to frighten the child by any sudden, unexpected demonstrations of affection. So they all went softly in—so softly that tired Patty did not wake, even though Puss pricked up her ears and opened her moony eyes with a lazy purr.

“Look here!” whispered Bob, pointing to the poor little gifts half tumbling out of Patty's apron. She had been pinning names on them when she fell asleep, and now her secret was known too soon.

No one laughed at the presents, and with a look of tender pity, Ella covered the few humble treasures in Patty's box. As she laid back, she remembered what she had once called “rubbish,” how full her own boxes were with the pretty things girls love, and how easy it would have been to add to Patty's pitiful store.

No one exactly knew how to awaken the sleeper, for she was something more than a servant in their eyes now. Aunt Jane settled the matter by stooping down and taking Patty in her arms. The big eyes opened at once and stared up at the face above. Then a smile so bright, so glad, shone all over the child's face as she clung to Aunt Jane, crying joyously—

“Is it really you? I was so afraid you wouldn't come that I cried myself to sleep.”

Never before had any of them seen such love and happiness in Patty's face, heard such a glad, tender sound in her voice, or guessed what an ardent soul dwelt in her quiet body.

She was herself again in a minute, and jumping up, slipped away to see that everything was ready should anyone want supper after the cold drive.

Soon the family went off to bed, and there was no time to let out the secret. Patty was surprised by the kind good nights everyone sent her way, but she thought no more of it than to feel that Miss Jane brought a warmer atmosphere to the home.

Patty's surprise began early the next day, for the first thing she saw upon opening her eyes was a pair of new stockings crammed full of gifts hanging at the foot of her bed and several parcels lying on the table.

What a good time she had opening the delightful bundles. She laughed and cried at the droll things the boys gave and the comfortable and pretty things the elders sent. Such a happy child was she that when she tried to say her prayers, she couldn't find words beautiful enough to express her gratitude for so much kindness!

A new Patty went downstairs that morning—a bright-faced girl with smiles on the mouth that used to be so sad and silent, confidence in the timid eyes, and the magic of the heartiest goodwill to make her step light, her hand skillful, her labor a joy, and service no burden.

They do care for me, after all, and I never will complain again,
she thought with a glad flutter at her heart and sudden color in her cheeks as everyone welcomed her with a friendly, “Merry Christmas, Patty!”

It was the merriest Christmas ever, and when the bountiful dinner was spread and Patty stood ready to wait, you can imagine her feelings as Mr. Murray pointed to a seat near Miss Jane and said in a fatherly tone that made his gruff voice sweet—

“Sit down and enjoy it with us, my girl; nobody has more right to it, and we are all one family today.”

Patty could not eat much, her heart was so full, but it was a splendid feast to her, and when toasts were drunk she was overwhelmed by the honor Harry did her, for he bounced up and exclaimed: “Now we must drink to ‘Our Patty'—long life and good luck to her!”

That really was too much, and she fairly ran away to hide her blushes in the kitchen and work off her excitement washing dishes.

More surprises came that evening. When she went to put on her clean calico smock, she found the pretty blue dress and white apron laid ready on her bed along with a note that read, “With Ella's love.”

“It's like a fairy story that keeps getting nicer and nicer since the godmother came,” whispered Patty, as she glanced shyly at Aunt Jane.

“Christmas is the time for all sorts of pleasant miracles,” answered Aunt Jane, smiling back at her little maiden, who looked so neat and blithe in her new dress and happy face.

Patty thought nothing further in the way of bliss could happen to her that night, but it did when Ned, anxious to atone for his past neglect, pranced up to her as a final dance was forming and said heartily—

“Come, Patty, everyone is to dance this one, even Harry and the cat!” And before she could collect her wits enough to say “No,” she was leading off and flying down the middle with the young master, in great style.

That was the crowning honor, for she was a girl with all a girl's innocent hopes, fears, desires, and delights, and it had been rather hard to stand by while all the young neighbors were frolicking together.