CHAPTER XIX
WHEN CHRISTMAS BELLS WERE RINGING
The boys tried to be merry with a big M to it, on Christmas morning. Butsomething was lacking. The stockings hung in a row, and there were pilesof gifts below them. Books and books and books! They were all too oldfor playthings now. Hanny had two white aprons ruffled all round, and apretty pair of winter boots. They were beginning to make them higher inthe ankle and more dainty, and stitching them in colors. These were donewith two rows of white. She had a set of the Lucy books that all littlegirls were delighted with. Oh, I do wonder what they would have said toMiss Alcott and Susan Coolidge and Pansy! But they were very happy inwhat they had. Jim was delighted with two new volumes of Cooper. Ben hada splendid pair of high boots, and three new shirts Margaret and thelittle girl had made for him.
But, oh, dear! what was it all without mother! They missed her bright,cheery voice, her smile and her ample person that had a warm buoyantatmosphere. They would have been glad to hear her scold a little aboutthe litter of gifts around, and their lagging so when breakfast wasready.
To make the little girl laugh her father told her that once a man wasdriving along a country road when he saw seven children sitting on thedoorstep crying, and seven more on the fence. Startled at so much griefhe paused to inquire what had happened, and with one voice theyanswered:
"Our mother's gone away and left us all alone!"
"There's only seven of us with Martha, and I am not crying," said thelittle girl spiritedly.
Joe dropped in just as they were seated at the table, and whisperedsomething to his father and Margaret. He seemed very merry, and Mr.Underhill gave a satisfied nod. He brought Margaret a beautiful cameobrooch, which was considered a fine thing then, and put a pretty garnetring on Hanny's finger.
Hanny guessed what the word had been. Mother was going to bring Steveand Dolly down to dinner. Dolly had changed her mind, for she had saidshe could not come. That was what they were smiling about.
At ten Stephen brought mother down in the sleigh, and they were moremysterious than ever.
Peggy and the little girl must bundle up and go back with him, for hehad such a wonderful Christmas present to show them.
"But why didn't you bring Dolly and stay to dinner? And oh, Mother!Christmas morning wasn't splendid at all without you!" said the littlegirl, clinging to her.
Mrs. Underhill stooped and kissed her and said in a full, tremulous sortof voice:
"Run and get your hood, dear, and don't keep Stephen waiting."
The horses tossed their heads and whinnied as if they too, said, "Don'tkeep us waiting." The sun was shining and all the air seemed infusedwith joy, though it was a sharp winter day. The weather knew itsbusiness fifty years ago and didn't sandwich whiffs of spring betweensnow-banks. And the children were blowing on tin and wooden horns, andwishing everybody Merry Christmas as they ran around with the reddest ofcheeks.
Steve took Hanny on his lap. What did make him so laughing andmysterious? He insisted that Hanny should guess, and then kept saying,"Oh, you're cold, cold, cold as an icehouse! You should have put on yourguessing cap," and the little girl felt quite teased.
They stopped down-stairs to get good and warm and take off their wraps.Then Stephen led them up to the front room. It was a kind of library andsitting-room, but no one was there. In the window stood a beautiful vaseof flowers. Hanny ran over to that. Roses at Christmastide were rareindeed. "Here," said Stephen, catching her arm gently.
She turned to the opposite corner. There was an old-fashioned mahoganycradle, black with age, and polished until it shone like glass. It waslined overhead with soft light-blue silk, and had lying across it asatin coverlet that had grown creamy with age, full of embroideredflowers dull and soft with their many years of bloom.
On the pillow lay her brother's Christmas gift that had come while thebells were still ringing out their message first heard on the plains ofJudea.
"Oh!" with a soft, wondering cry. She knelt beside the cradle that hadcome from Holland a century and a half ago, and held many a Beekmanbaby. A strange little face with a tinge of redness in it, a round broadforehead with a mistiness of golden fuzz, a pretty dimpled chin and amouth almost as round as a cherry. Just at that instant he opened thebluest of eyes, stared at Hanny with a grave aspect, tried to put hisfist into his mouth and with a soft little sound dropped to sleep again.
A wordless sense of delight and mystery stole over the little girl. Sheseemed lifted up to Heaven's very gates. She reached out her hand andtouched the little velvet fist, not much larger than her doll's, but oh,it had the exquisite inspiration of life and she felt the wonderfulthrill to her very heart. Something given to them all that could loveback when its time of loving came, when it knew of the fond heartsawaiting the sweetness of affection.
"That's my little boy," said Stephen, with the great pride and joy offatherhood. "Dolly's and all of ours. Isn't it a Christmas worthhaving?"
"Oh!" she said again with a wordless delight in her heart, while hereyes were filled with tears, so deeply had the consciousness moved her.There was a sort of poetical pathos in the little girl, sacred to love.She had never known of any babies in the family save Cousin Retty's, andthat had not appealed with this delicious nearness.
Stephen bent over and kissed her. Margaret came to look at the baby.
"He's a fine fellow!" said the new father. "We wanted to surprise you,"looking at Hanny and smiling. "We made Joe promise not to tell you. Andnow you are all aunts and uncles, and we have a grandmother of our veryown."
"Oh!" This time Hanny laughed softly. There were no words expressiveenough.
"And now you will have to knit him some little boots, and save yourmoney to buy him Christmas gifts. And what's that new work--crochet hima cap. Dear me! how hard you will have to work."
"There were such lovely little boots at Epiphany Fair. If I only hadknown! But I'm quite sure I can learn to make them;" her eyes lightingwith anticipation. "Oh, when will he be big enough to hold?"
"In a month or so. You will have to come up on Saturdays and take careof him."
"Can I? That will be just splendid."
He was silent. He could not tease the little girl in the sacredness ofher new, all-pervading love.
The nurse entered. She had a soft white kerchief pinned about hershoulders, and side puffs of hair done over little combs. She nodded toMargaret and said "the baby was a very fine child, and that Mrs.Underhill was sleeping restfully. They had been so glad to have Mr.Underhill's mother." Then she patted the blanket over the baby, and said"it had been worked for his great, great grandmother, and they put itover every Beekman baby for good luck."
Margaret declared they must return. Mother was tired, and the Archerswere coming up to dinner after church.
"Could I kiss it just once?" asked Hanny timidly.
"Oh, yes." The nurse smiled and turned down the blanket, and the babyopened his eyes.
Hanny felt that in some mysterious manner he knew she loved him. Herlips touched the soft little cheek, the tiny hands.
"He's very good now," said the nurse; "but he can cry tremendously. Hehas strong lungs."
Stephen took them back and then went down to Father Beekman's. There wasso much to do, the little girl and the big girl were both busy enough,helping mother. The boys and her father had gone out, but they had allheard the wonderful tidings.
Hanny ran back and forth waiting on Martha and carrying dishes to thetable, so there would be no flurry at the last.
"Hello, Aunt Hanny!" laughed Jim, bouncing in with the reddest ofcheeks. "You'll have to grow fast now to keep up with your dignity.Well, is he Beekman Dutch or Underhill English?"
"He's just lovely. His eyes are blue as the sky."
"Hurrah for Steve! Well, that was a Christmas!"
Her father was coming with the two cousins, and she ran up-stairs towish them Merry Christmas and tell her father what she thought of thebaby. The baby and the Christmas sermon and the rheumatism a
nd coldweather seemed to get jumbled all together, and for a little whileeverybody talked. Then John and Joe made their appearance, and Martharang the bell, though the savory odors announced that all was ready.
They had a very delightful dinner. Mrs. Underhill had a pretty newconsequence about her, and was not a bit teased by being calledgrandmother. Dolly's advent into the family had been a source ofdelight, for she fraternized so cordially with every member. And of lateshe and Mother Underhill had been tenderly intimate, for Mrs. Beekmanwas kept much at home by her husband's failing health.
When they had lingered over the mince pies which certainly weredelicious, and finished their coffee, they went up-stairs to chat aroundthe fire. After the dishes were dried Hanny ran into the Deans' tointerchange a little Christmas talk and tell the girls about Stephen'sbaby. She was so excited that all other gifts seemed of little moment.
Daisy Jasper had been confined to the house for a week with a severecold.
"I began to think you had forgotten me," she said, as Hanny entered thebeautiful parlor. "And Doctor Joe said you had something special to tellme. Oh, what is it?" for the little girl's face was still in a glow ofexcitement.
"I can never have any nieces or nephews because there is only one ofme," said Daisy, with a sad little smile. "I _almost_ envy you. If Icould have one of your brothers out of them all I should choose Dr.Joe. He is so tender and sweet and patient. He used to take me in hisarms and let me cry when crying wasn't good for me either. I was somiserable and full of pain, and he always understood."
Hanny was so moved by pity for Daisy that she felt almost as if shecould give him away--she had so much. Not quite, however, for he wasvery dear to her. And when she looked into Daisy's lovely face andremembered her beautiful name and glanced at the elegant surroundings,it seemed strange there should be anything to wish for. But healthoutweighed all.
Daisy was delighted with the Christmas Eve anniversary, the singing of"bonnie Prince Charlie," the fair, and was wonderfully interested in thelittle Chinese girls. She meant to send some money toward theireducation.
Mr. Bradbury was to give a concert in February with the best childsingers of the different schools. Charles was to take part, his fatherhad promised him that indulgence.
"I hope I shall get strong enough to go," began Daisy wistfully. "It isthe sitting up straight that tires my back, but last year it was so muchworse. Doctor Joe says I shall get well and be almost like other girls.See how much I have gone to school. It is so splendid to learn for yourown very self. You don't feel so helpless."
Daisy's Christmas had been a beautiful Geneva watch. We had not gone towatchmaking then and had to depend on our neighbors over the water formany choice articles. And a watch was a rare thing for a little girl topossess.
When she went home Hanny had to get out her pretty new work and show thevisitors. She had nearly four yards of lovely blue edging she was makingfor Margaret, but she had not hinted at its destination.
"Why," exclaimed Aunt Nancy, "I've seen mittens knit with a hooksomething like that. Not open work and fancy, but all tight and out ofgood stout yarn. They're very lasting."
"I do believe they're like what Uncle David makes," said John. "Don'tyou remember, he used to give us a pair now and then?"
"Well, I declare, there's nothing new under the sun!" laughed AuntPatience.
Hanny was quite sure there could not be any connection between herdelicate lace and stout yarn mittens, and she meant to ask Uncle Davidthe next time they made a visit. Both ladies praised her a good deal,especially when they heard of the shirts she had been making withMargaret.
"It used to be a great thing," said Aunt Patience. "When I was six yearsold I had knit a pair of stockings by myself, and when I was eight Ihad made my father a shirt. All the gussets were stitched, just as youdo a bosom. My, what a sight of fine work there was then!"
"I'll tell you something I read the other day in a queer old book Ipicked up down at the office," began Ben. "When little Prince Edward wastwo years old, the Princess Elizabeth who was afterward queen made him ashirt or smock, as it was called, with drawn work and embroidery. Andshe was only six."
"Children have more lessons to study now," said Mrs. Underhill, half inapology. "And Hanny has done some drawn work for me, and embroideredsome aprons."
"And Queen Elizabeth spent enough time later on with gay gallants,"remarked Aunt Nancy. "So I do not know as her early industry held out."
"I'd rather have had her splendid reign than to have made shirts for anarmy," declared Ben.
"Well, we all have our duties in this world," sighed Aunt Patience. "Ilearned to make shirts, but I never had a husband or boys to make themfor."
They all laughed at that. But what would a little girl say now if shehad to stitch down the middle of a shirt bosom, following a drawnthread, and taking up only two threads at every stitch?
There certainly was great need of Elias Howe.
The visitors declared they must get home by dark. There was the poorcat, and the fires must need looking after. Mrs. Underhill was fain tokeep them to tea, but instead packed them up a basket of cold turkey andsome delicious boiled ham, a dozen or two crullers, and a nice mincepie. John was to see the old ladies home.
When they were gone Hanny went up to the "spare" room, for in one drawerof the best bureau she had kept her beautiful doll, which had never beenpermanently named. She opened it and kneeling down raised the napkinthat covered her, as one tucks in a little child.
Yes, she was lovely, really prettier than Stephen's baby, she felt,though she would not say it. But when you came to kiss on the coldwax--ah, that was the test. And Stephen's baby would grow and walk andtalk, and have cunning little teeth and curly hair, maybe. She did solove curly hair.
"Dolly," she began gravely, "I am going to put you away. I shall beeleven next May, and though I shall always be father's little girl, Ishall be growing up and too old to play with dolls. Then I shall have somuch to do. And I should love the real live baby best. That would hurtyour feelings. Sometime there may be another little girl who will be asglad to have you come on Christmas Day as I was. I shall love you justthe same, but you have a different kind of love for something that ishuman and can put truly arms around your neck and kiss you. When girlsare little they don't mind the difference so much. You won't feel reallonesome, for dolls don't. We only make believe they do. And now I shallnot make believe any more, because I am getting to know all about realthings. There are so many real and strange things in the world that arelovely to think about, and I seem to have learned so much to-day. Ican't feel quite as I did yesterday."
She put on the wadded satin cloak and the dainty hood and laid it backin the box. There was room for the muff and the travelling shawl. Sheput the cover on softly. She folded the pretty garments and packed themin the corner, and spread the towel over them all.
There was no morbid feeling of sacrifice or sense of loss. A greatchange had come over her, a new human affection had entered her soul.She had a consciousness that could not be put into words. She hadoutgrown her doll.
Margaret was going to an oratorio with Dr. Hoffman. The boys were toattend the Christmas celebration at Allen Street church with the Deans.Hanny had not cared to go. Her mother kept watching her with a curiousfeeling as if she saw or suspected some change in her.
The room settled to quiet. The fire burned drowsily. Mrs. Underhill tookthe big rocking-chair at one side, and Hanny came and settled herself ona footstool, leaning her arms on her mother's knee.
"I shall not hang up my stocking next Christmas," she said, in a soft,slow tone. "It is very nice when you believe in it, and real funafterward when you don't believe in it but like it; when you seem littleto yourself."
"You do grow out of it," replied her mother; but at heart she washalf-sorry. "You get just the same things. At least you get suitablethings."
Was she glad to have them all growing up?
"Dear me, there's no little children," she continued, with a
sigh."You'll be eleven next May, Hanny."
"But there's Stephen's lovely little baby. Doesn't it seem just as ifGod had sent him at the right time, when we were all growing big?"
She took the little girl's hands in hers and said dreamily, "You weresent that way, at the right time. I was so glad to have you. I canrecall it so plainly. Old Mother Tappan was there. I was so afraid you'dbe a boy, and we had boys enough. And she said, 'Oh, what a nice littlegirl. You'll be glad enough, Mrs. Underhill.' And so I was."
"As glad as Stephen?" said Hanny, with shining eyes.
"Yes, dear. Even if it wasn't Christmas. You were a welcome little Mayflower."
In Bethlehem of Judea the other child had been born with the mightysignificance of a great gift to the world, a gift that had madeChristmas possible for all time to come. Just how the world was redeemedno little girl of ten or so could understand. But it was redeemedbecause the little child of Bethlehem bore the sins of the whole worldin His manhood. Ah, no wonder they wrote under the picture of Hismother, when He was gone, "_Mater Dolorosa_." But the years of Hischildhood must have been sweet to remember. "The young child and Hismother." The wise men coming with their gifts. The sweet song goingaround the world, the great love.
Her mother's hands relaxed from their clasp. She was very tired and hadfallen asleep. Her father folded his paper and looked over at herwistfully. Hanny came and dropped softly on his knee and his strong,tender arms enclosed her.
Was there any child quite like the little girl? They had been so proudand happy over Stephen, so delighted with Margaret. He had loved themall, and they were a nice household of children. But they were growingup and going their ways. They would be making new homes. Ah, it wouldbe many a long year before the little girl would think of such a thing.They would keep her snug and safe, "to have and to hold," and he smiledto himself at the literal rendering.
The chime of the clock roused Mrs. Underhill. It was Hanny's bedtime,and she had been so busy all day, so full of excitement, too, that herchecks had bloomed with roses. She glanced across. The fair flaxen headwas on the shoulder half hidden by the protecting arm. The other head,showing many silver threads now, drooped over a little. The picturebrought a mist to her eyes, and there was a half sob in her throat. Thesame thought came into her mind. She would be their "little girl" whenthe other one had gone to her new home.
She could not disturb them. It was "good will and peace" everywhere.
A Little Girl in Old New York Page 19
