A Merry Christmas (7 page)

Grace and Dolly could only clasp their hands and look in rapturous silence for a minute; then they went down on their knees and reveled in the unexpected richness before them.

“I do believe angels must have heard us, for here is everything we wanted,” said Dolly, holding the carnelian heart in one hand and the plumy one in the other.

“How can we ever explain this, for we didn't mention kittens, but we wanted one, and here are two darlings,” cried Grace, almost purring with delight as the downy bunches unrolled and gaped till their bits of pink tongues were visible.

“Mrs. Smith must have been one angel, I guess, and Miss Kent was another, for that is her apron. I shouldn't wonder if Mr. Chrome gave us the oranges and the money; men always have lots, and his name is on this bit of paper,” said Dolly.

“Oh, I'm so glad! Now we shall have a Christmas like other people, and I'll never say again that rich folks don't remember poor folks. Come and show all our treasures to Mother and the babies; they must have some,” answered Grace, feeling that the world was all right and life not half as hard as she thought it last night.

Shrieks of delight greeted the sisters, and all that morning there was joy and feasting in Mrs. Blake's room; and in the afternoon Dolly and Grace went to the theatre and actually saw
Puss 'n' Boots
, for their mother insisted on their going, having discovered how the hard-earned quarters had been spent. This was such unhoped for bliss they could hardly believe it and kept smiling at one another so brightly that people wondered who the happy girls in the shabby cloaks could be who clapped their new mittens so heartily and laughed till it was better than music to hear them.

This was a remarkable Christmas Day, and they long remembered it; for while they were absorbed in the fortunes of the Marquis of Carabas and the funny cat, who tucked his tail in his belt, washed his face so awkwardly, and didn't know how to purr, strange things were happening at home, and more surprises were in store for Dolly and Grace.

You see, when people once begin to do kindnesses, it is so easy and pleasant, they find it hard to leave off; and sometimes it beautifies them so that they find they love one another very much—as Mr. Chrome and Miss Kent discovered that wondrous day.

They were very jolly at dinner and talked a good deal about the Blakes, who ate in their own rooms. Miss Kent told what the children said, and it touched the soft spot in all their hearts to hear about the red shirts, though they laughed at Grace's lament over the bird with only one feather in its tail.

“I'd give them a better tree if I had any place to put it and knew how to trim it up,” said Mr. Chrome, with a sudden burst of generosity, which so pleased Miss Kent that her eyes shone like Christmas candles.

“Put it in the back parlor. All the Browns are away for a week, and we'll help you trim it—won't we, my dear?” cried Mrs. Smith warmly; for she saw that he was in a sociable mood and thought it a pity the Blakes should not profit by it.

“Yes, indeed, I should like it of all things, and it needn't cost much, for I have some skill in trimming, as you know.” And Miss Kent looked so gay and pretty as she spoke that Mr. Chrome made up his mind that millinery must be a delightful occupation.

“Come on then, ladies, and we'll have a little fun. I'm a lonely old bachelor with nowhere to go today, and I'd like to be in good company and have a good time.”

They had it, I assure you, for they all fell to work as busy as bees, flying and buzzing about with much laughter as they worked their pleasant miracle. Mr. Chrome acted more like a father of a large family than a crusty bachelor. Miss Kent's skillful fingers flew as they never did before, and Mrs. Smith trotted up and down as briskly as if she were sixteen instead of being a stout, elderly woman of seventy.

The children were so full of the play and telling about it that they forgot their tree till after supper, but when they went to look for it, they found it gone and in its place a great paper hand with one finger pointing downstairs, and on it these mysterious words in red: “Look in the Browns' back parlor!”

At the door of that interesting apartment they found their mother with Will and Petkin, for another hand had suddenly appeared to them pointing up. The door flew open quite as if it were a fairy play, and they went in to find a pretty tree planted in a red box on the center table, lighted with candles, hung with gilded nuts, red apples, gay bonbons, and a gift for each child.

Mr. Chrome was hidden behind one folding door, and stout Mrs. Smith squeezed behind the other, and they both thought it a great improvement upon an old-fashioned Santa Claus to have Miss Kent, in her new white dress, with Mrs. Blake's roses in her hair, step forward as the children gazed in silent rapture, and with a few sweet words welcome them to surprises their friends had made.

There were many Christmas trees in the city that night, but none that gave such hearty pleasures as the one which so magically took the place of the broken branch and its few poor toys. They were all there, however, and Dolly and Grace were immensely pleased to see that, of all their gifts, Petkin chose the forlorn bird to carry to bed with her, the one yellow feather being just to her taste.

Mrs. Blake put on her neat bonnet and was so gratified that Miss Kent thought it the most successful one she ever trimmed. She was well paid for it by the thanks of one neighbor and the admiration of another; for when she went to her party, Mr. Chrome went with her and said something on the way which made her heart dance more lightly than her feet that night.

Good Mrs. Smith felt that her house had covered itself with glory by this event, and Dolly and Grace declared that it was the most perfect and delightful surprise party ever seen.

It was all over by nine o'clock and with good night kisses for everyone, the little girls climbed up to bed laden with treasures and too happy for many words. But as they tied their round caps Dolly said, thoughtfully: “On the whole, I think it's rather nice to be poor when people are kind to you.”

“Well, I'd rather be rich, but if I can't be, it is very good fun to have Christmas trees like this one,” answered Grace truthfully, never guessing that they had planted the seed from which the little pine tree grew so quickly and beautifully.

When the moon came to look in at the window on her nightly round, two smiling faces lay on the pillow, which was no longer wet with tears, but rather knobby with the mine of riches hidden underneath—firstfruits of the neighborly friendship which flourished in that house until another and a merrier Christmas came.

“N
OW, I BELIEVE EVERYONE HAS HAD A Christmas present and a good time. Nobody has been forgotten, not even the cat,” said Mrs. Ward to her daughter, as she looked at Pobbylinda, purring on the rug, with a new ribbon round her neck and the remains of a chicken bone between her paws.

It was very late, for the Christmas tree was decorated, the little folks in bed, the baskets and bundles left at poor neighbors' doors, and everything ready for the happy day which would begin as the clock struck twelve. They were resting after their mother's words reminded Belinda of one good friend who had received no gift that night.

“We've forgotten Rosa! Her mistress is away, but she shall have a present nevertheless. As late as it is, I know she would like some apples and cake and a Merry Christmas from the family.”

Belinda jumped up as she spoke, and having collected such remnants of the feast as a horse would relish, she put on her hood, lighted a lantern, and trotted off to the barn to deliver her Christmas cheer.

As she opened the door of the loose box in which Rosa was kept, Belinda saw Rosa's eyes shining in the dark as she lifted her head with a startled air. Then, recognizing a friend, the horse rose and came rustling through the straw to greet her late visitor. She was evidently much pleased with the attention and gratefully rubbed her nose against Miss Belinda. At the same time, she poked her nose suspiciously into the contents of the basket.

Miss Belinda well knew that Rosa was an unusually social beast and would enjoy the little feast more if she had company, so she hung up the lantern, and sitting down on an inverted bucket, watched her as she munched contentedly.

“Now really,” said Miss Belinda, when telling her story afterwards, “I am not sure whether I took a nap and dreamed what follows, or whether it actually happened; for strange things do occur at Christmastime, as everyone knows.

“As I sat there, the town clock struck twelve, and the sound reminded me of the legend, which affirms that all dumb animals are endowed with speech for one hour after midnight on Christmas Eve, in memory of the animals who lingered near the manger when the blessed Christ Child was born.

“I wish this pretty legend were true and our Rosa could speak, if only for an hour. I'm sure she has an interesting history, and I long to know all about it.

“I said this aloud, and to my utter amazement the bay mare stopped eating, fixed her intelligent eyes upon my face, and answered in a language I understood perfectly well—‘You shall indeed know my history, for whether the legend you mention is true or not, I do feel that I can confide in you and tell you all that I feel,' sweet Rosa told me.

“‘I was lying awake listening to the fun in the house, thinking of my dear mistress so far away across the ocean and feeling very sad, for I heard you say that I was to be sold. That nearly broke my heart, for no one has ever been so kind to me as Miss Merry; and nowhere shall I be taken care of, nursed, and loved as I have been since she bought me. I know I'm getting old and stiff in the knees. My forefoot is lame, and sometimes I'm cross when my shoulder aches; but I do try to be a patient, grateful beast. I've gotten fat with good living, my work is not hard, and I dearly love to carry those who have done so much for me. I'll carry them about until I die in the harness if they will only keep me.'

“I was so astonished by Rosa's speech that I tumbled off the pail on which I was sitting and landed in the straw staring up at Rosa, as dumb as if I had lost the power she had gained. She seemed to enjoy my surprise, and added to it by letting me hear a genuine horse laugh—hearty, shrill, and clear—as she shook her pretty head and went on talking rapidly in the language which I now perceived to be a mixture of English and the peculiar dialect of the horse country.

“‘Thank you for remembering me tonight, and in return for the goodies you bring I'll tell my story as quickly as I can, for I have often longed to recount the trials and triumphs of my life. Miss Merry came last Christmas Eve to bring me sugar, and I wanted to speak, but it was too early and I could not say a word, though my heart was full.'

“Rosa paused an instant, and her fine eyes dimmed as if with tender tears at the recollection of the happy year, which followed the day she was bought from the drudgery of a livery stable to be a lady's special pet. I stroked her neck as she stooped to sniff affectionately at my hood, and eagerly said—

“‘Tell away, dear. I'm full of interest, and understand every word you say.'

“Thus encouraged, Rosa threw up her head, and began once again to speak with an air of pride, which plainly proved what we had always suspected, that she belonged to a good family.

“‘My father was a famous racer, and I am very like him; the same color, spirit, and grace, and but for the cruelty of man, I might have been as renowned as he. I was a happy colt, petted by my master, tamed by love, and never struck a blow while he lived. I won one race for him, and my future seemed so promising that when he died, I brought a great price.

“‘I mourned the death of my master, but I was glad to be sent to my new owner's racing stable, where I was made over by everyone. I heard many predictions that I would be another Goldsmith Maid or Flora Temple. Ah, how ambitious and proud I was in those days! I was truly vain in regard to my good blood, my speed, and my beauty; for indeed, I was handsome then, though you may find it difficult to believe now.' Rosa sighed regretfully as she stole a look at me, and turned her head in a way that accentuated the fine lines about her head and neck.

“‘I do not find it hard to believe at all,' I answered. ‘Miss Merry saw them, though you seemed to be nothing more than a skeleton when she bought you. The Cornish blacksmith who shod you noted the same. It is easy to see that you belong to a good family by the way you hold your head without a checkrein and carry your tail like a plume,' I said, with a look of admiration.

“‘I must hurry over this part of my story because, though brilliant, it was very brief, and ended in a way that made it the bitterest portion of my life,' continued Rosa. ‘I won several races, and everyone predicted that I would earn great fame. You may guess how high my reputation was when I tell you that before my last, fatal trial, thousands were bet on me, and my rival trembled at the thought of racing against me.

“‘I was full of spirit, eager to show my speed, and sure of success. Alas, how little I knew of the wickedness of human nature then, how dearly I bought the knowledge, and how completely it has changed my whole life! You do not know much about such matters, of course, and I won't digress to tell you all the tricks of the trade; only beware of jockeys and never bet.

“‘I was kept carefully out of everyone's way for weeks and only taken out for exercise by my trainer. Poor Bill! I was fond of him, and he was so good to me that I never have forgotten him, though he broke his neck years ago. A few nights before the great race, as I was enjoying a good sleep carefully tucked away in my stall, someone stole in and gave me a dish of warm mash. It was dark, and I was but half awake. I ate it like a fool, even though I knew by instinct that it was not Bill who left it for me.

“‘I was a trusting creature then, and used to all sorts of strange things being done to prepare me to race. For that reason, I never suspected that something could be wrong. Something was very wrong, however, and the deceit of it has caused me to be suspicious of any food ever since. You see, the mash was dosed in some way; it made me very ill and nearly allowed my enemies to triumph. What a shameful, cowardly trick.

“‘Bill worked with me day and night, trying desperately to prepare me to run. I did my best to seem well, but there was not time for me to regain my lost strength and spirit. My pride was the only thing that kept me going. “I'll win for my master, even if I die in doing it,” I said to myself. When the hour came, I pranced to my place trying to look as well as ever, though my heart was heavy and I trembled with excitement. “Courage, my lass, and we'll beat them in spite of their dark tricks,” Bill whispered, as he sprang into place.

“‘I lost the first heat but won the second, and the sound of the cheering gave me strength to walk away without staggering, though my legs shook under me. What a splendid minute that was when, encouraged and refreshed by my faithful Bill, I came on the track again! I knew my enemies began to fear. I carried myself so bravely that they fancied I was quite well, and now, excited by that first success, I was mad with impatience to be off and cover myself with glory.'

“Rosa looked as if her ‘splendid moment' had come again, for she arched her neck, opened wide her red nostrils, and pawed the straw with one little foot. At the same time, her eyes shone with sudden fire, and her ears were pricked up as if to catch again the shouts of the spectators on that long ago day.

“‘I wish I had been there to see you!' I exclaimed, quite carried away by her ardor.

“‘I wish you had indeed,' she answered, ‘for I won. I won! The big, black horse did his best, but I had vowed to win or die, and I kept my word. For I beat him by a head, and as quickly as I had done so, I fell to the ground as if dead. I might as well have died then and there. I heard those around me whispering that the poison, the exercise, and the fall had ruined me as a racer.

“‘My master no longer cared for me and would have had me shot if kind Bill had not saved my life. I was pronounced good for nothing, and Bill was able to buy me cheaply. For quite a long time, I was lame and useless, but his patient care did wonders. And just as I was able to be of use to him, he was killed.

“‘A gentleman in search of a saddle horse purchased me because my easy gait and quiet temper suited him; for I was meek enough now, and my size allowed me to carry his delicate daughter.

“‘For more than a year, I served little Miss Alice, rejoicing to see how rosy her pale cheeks became, how upright her feeble figure grew, thanks to the hours she spent with me. My canter rocked her as gently as if she were in a cradle, and fresh air was the medicine she needed. She often said she owed her life to me, and I liked to think so; for she made my life a very easy one.

“‘But somehow my good times never lasted long, and when Miss Alice went west, I was sold. I had been so well treated that I looked as handsome and happy as ever. To be honest though, my shoulder never was strong again, and I often had despondent moods, longing for the excitement of the race track with the instinct of my kind; so I was glad when, attracted by my spirit and beauty, a young army officer bought me, and I went to the war.

“‘Ah! You never guessed that, did you? Yes, I did my part gallantly and saved my master's life more than once. You have observed how martial music delights me, but you don't know that it is because it reminds me of the proudest hour of my life. I've told you about the saddest—now listen as I tell you about the bravest and give me a pat for the courageous act that won my master his promotion though I got no praise for my part of the achievement.

“‘In one of the hottest battles, my captain was ordered to lead his men on a most perilous mission. They hesitated; so did he, for it was certain to cost many lives, and, brave as they were, they paused an instant. But, I settled the point. Wild with the sound of drums, the smell of powder, and the excitement of the hour, I rebelled. Though I was sharply reined in, I took the bit between my teeth and dashed straight ahead into the midst of the fight. Though he tried, my rider could do nothing to stop me. The men, thinking their captain was leading them on, followed cheering loudly and carrying all that was before them.

“‘What happened just after that I never could remember, except that I got a wound here in my neck and a cut on my flank. The scar is there still, and I'm proud of it, though buyers always consider it a blemish. When the battle was won, my master was promoted on the field, and I carried him up to the general as he sat among his officers under the torn flags.

“‘Both of us were weary and wounded. Both of us were full of pride at what we had done, but he received all the praise and honor. I received only a careless word and a better supper than usual.

“‘It seemed so wrong that no one knew or appreciated my courageous action. Not a one seemed to care that it was the horse, not the man, who led that fearless charge. I did think I deserved at least a rosette—others received much more for far less dangerous deeds. My master alone knew the truth of the matter. He thanked me for my help by keeping me always with him until the sad day when he was killed in a skirmish and lay for hours with no one to watch and mourn over him but his faithful horse.

“‘Then I knew how much he loved and thanked me. His hand stroked me while it had the strength, his eye turned to me until it grew too dim to see, and when help came at last, I heard him whisper to a comrade, “Be kind to Rosa and send her safely home. She has earned her rest.”