CHAPTER IX THE CANDLE IN THE WINDOW
"What's all this about singing carols?" asked Migwan. "Everywhere I gothe talk is all of carols, carols, carols. And the air is full of 'GodRest You, Merry Gentlemen,' and similar melodies."
"It's the Music Club League," explained Gladys. "They have revived theold custom of going through the streets on Christmas Eve with lanternsand singing carols, and are training the boys and girls all over the cityto sing them. People who are interested in the work of the Music ClubLeague and wish to give a gift of money for its support will put a candlein their windows and we will stop outside and sing carols for them. Isn'tit a pretty idea?"
"Beautiful," said Migwan. "I wish I might have attended the rehearsals soI could go around with you."
"We'll teach you the carols," said Gladys eagerly, "and I'll explain toMiss Jones and I know she'll let you be in our group. We've been givenone of the best districts in the city--Garfield Avenue, from theCathedral to the Park, where all the rich people live--and we expect tobring in more money than any other group. There was great rivalry amongthe groups for that district, and Miss Jones tested and tested us to seewhich sang the best. I nearly passed away from surprise when she decidedin favor of our group. Oh, won't it be glorious, though, stopping beforeall those fine houses?" and Gladys and Hinpoha, unable to keep still anylonger, got up and began to dance.
"That isn't the best part of it, though," said Sahwah. "All the carolersare invited to the Music League's clubhouse after the singing is over foran oyster supper and a frolic. And the troupe of midgets that are playingin the Mansfield Theater this week are coming and will give a real Punchand Judy show. Hurrah for the Music Club League! Hurrah for carols!Hurrah for Christmas!"
"I smell something burning," said Gladys, sniffing the air suspiciously.
"It's probably something that has been spilled on the stove," saidKatherine serenely. They were all up at Katherine's house.
"Here are the carols we are going to sing," said Gladys, pulling Migwantoward the piano. "We might as well begin at once."
"Do you really think Miss Jones will let me do it?" asked Migwan ratherdoubtfully.
"I'm sure she will," said Gladys, "if we all----Katherine, there _is_something burning; it smells like cloth." And she rushed offunceremoniously to investigate. The kitchen was full of smoke when shereached it, proceeding from the ironing board, where Katherine had leftthe electric iron standing without being turned off.
"You ought to have a leather medal, Katherine," scolded Hinpoha,switching off the current and setting the smoking board outside the backdoor, while Katherine stood idly by with such a look of pained surpriseon her face that the others went into gales of laughter.
"I can't get used to these self-starting, big city flat-irons, nohow,"she drawled mildly in self-defense. "Back where I come from the ironscool off when you leave them by themselves; here they start heatin' up."Katherine always left off her g's when she spoke earnestly.
"Katherine, you're hopeless," said Hinpoha with a sigh, and then sheadded affectionately, "that's why we love you so."
"There's Slim outside with his big bob-sled," said Sahwah, looking out ofthe window. "He promised to take us all coasting down College Hill thisafternoon. Come on." And they trooped out.
Nyoda took a few round trips on the bob with the girls, and then, havingother things to do, walked home by herself through the early wintertwilight. A few blocks from her home she saw Veronica walking along justahead of her. By her side walked a young man whom Nyoda recognized asAlex Tobin, one of the violins in the Temple Theater Orchestra. He wastalking animatedly and earnestly to her, his white teeth showing often ina smile beneath his small black moustache. Veronica was listening eagerlywith flushed cheeks and sparkling eyes. As Nyoda drew near she heardVeronica say: "Oh, a chance to study with him would be the greatesthappiness of my life, but uncle would never allow it. Never!"
And Alex Tobin answered: "Does it have to depend upon your uncle'spermission? You have money in your own right, have you not?"
And then Veronica noticed that Nyoda was behind her and turned and spokeand Alex Tobin took his departure down the cross street. Nyoda lookedafter him thoughtfully. She was not fond of Alex Tobin, although she knewhim only very slightly. He was a young Pole, and quite handsome, butthere was something about his eyes that made a keen observer dislike him.
"I was at the rehearsal of the Symphony Orchestra this afternoon," saidVeronica, with more animation than Nyoda had ever seen her display. "Youknow uncle plays this year and he lets me go along and listen, that I maybenefit from the director's criticisms."
"Does Mr. Tobin play in the Symphony Orchestra, too?" asked Nyoda idly.
"Yes," answered Veronica. "He's a wonderful player; and so kind to me. Hetakes such an interest in my playing. He says I will play at concerts intime."
"I don't doubt it in the least," said Nyoda heartily. "But you mustn'tstudy music to the exclusion of everything else. You are growing quitethin. You must stay out of doors more and romp with the girls. You aremissing all the coasting and skating. 'Hold on to Health,' you know."
"Yes, of course," murmured Veronica absently, and fell silent, as if shewere day-dreaming.
"The Midgets are going to give Punch and Judy dolls to the carol singersas souvenirs of the occasion," announced Sahwah, as the Winnebagosassembled before starting out for the singing on Christmas Eve. "Won'tthey be jolly to put up in our rooms?"
"And did you know that Jeffry, the famous bird imitator, was going to bethere and give some of his wonderful bird calls?" asked Gladys. "Migwan,you're in luck, being home this week to take in all the good things."
"The frolic afterwards is going to be as much fun as the carol singing,"said Hinpoha. "I wouldn't miss it for anything. And the group that bringsin the most money is going to get a prize," she added, "and have itspicture in the Sunday paper. Oh, I do hope we'll get the most! We mustsing our very best."
"Oh, what a glorious night!" they all cried, as they passed out into thesparkling snow.
"Oh, but I'm glad I'm a carol singer," said Katherine, and slipped andsat down on her lantern in her enthusiasm.
"Have you time to walk over to Division Street with me before we go toMrs. Salisbury's?" asked Gladys, as they went down the street. Mrs.Salisbury was the lady who had gathered together the band of carolers towhich the Winnebagos belonged, and they were all to meet at her house.
"It's early yet," said Hinpoha, "we ought to have time. Come on."
So they all went with Gladys to deliver a Christmas parcel to a poorfamily whom Gladys' mother had taken under her wing. Along the bigavenues through which they walked candles were already glimmering inwindows in friendly invitation to the coming singers. But there were nocandles in the windows on Division Street. The houses were all poorlittle one-story ones, with never a wreath or a bit of decorationanywhere to show that it was Christmas. The very lamp-posts burned dimlywith a discouraged air. The girls delivered their bundle and hastenedback up the dark street.
"Let's stop a minute and sing the songs through once more so Migwan willbe sure of them," suggested Hinpoha. "We wanted to before we left thehouse, you know, and then we forgot it."
So they stood still before a bleak, empty looking house, and sang throughall the songs they were to sing with the group that night on GarfieldAvenue.
* * * * * *
In a bare little room in the shabbiest house on Division Street a younggirl lay in bed day after day, staring wistfully through the flawedwindow pane at the dingy row of houses opposite. She suffered from hipdisease and could not walk, and a frail little mother cleaned offices tosupport them both. Living was cruelly high and there was no thought ofspending anything for Christmas. Martha dreaded its coming, for she couldremember other days when Christmas had been very different. Besides,Martha was very lonely. She and her mother were strangers in town, havingcome only six months before,
and in all that time not a soul had come tosee them. And because Martha felt so lonely and so left out of the busy,happy world, the treatment for which she had come to the city was doingher no good, and she was not improving at all. And her mother saw thetrouble and sorrowed, but did not know how to mend the matter. Martharead in books about the good times girls had together and longed with allher soul to be part of such frolics, until it seemed that she could notbear her loneliness any longer.
Her mother often brought home newspapers from the offices and in themMartha read about the groups of boys and girls who were going through thestreets on Christmas Eve singing carols before the houses where thecandles shone in the windows.
"How I wish I could hear those carols sung!" she sighed enviously. "Howwonderful it must be to be rich and live in a fine house and put a candlein the window to make the singers stop outside! And I must always stay inthe darkness, and miss all the fun! Oh, Mother, it isn't fair!"
The sad-eyed little mother cast about in her mind for some way to amuseher lonely daughter this dreary Christmas Eve. "Let us pretend that weare rich and great," she said soothingly, "and play that we are putting alighted candle in our window and listening to the fine songs of thesingers below and giving them large sums of money for their good cause."
"What good would it do to play it?" asked Martha. "We would have toimagine it all. We haven't even a candle!"
"Let's play it, anyway," coaxed her mother. "What color candle shall weuse tonight?"
"A red one, with gold designs on it, and a cut glass candlestick," saidMartha, playing the game to please her mother.
So they pretended to set a shining glass candlestick holding a red andgold candle on the window sill. "Now we must wait awhile in our elegantparlor for the singers to come," said her mother, playing the game withspirit.
Then a wonderful thing happened. There was a sound of footsteps in thecreaking snow outside, footsteps that came to a halt beneath the window,and then the air was filled with joyous, ringing melody:
"God rest you, merry gentlemen, Let nothing you may dismay, For Jesus Christ our Savior Was born this happy day!"
Martha and her mother looked at each other with faces suddenly grownpale, and listened with unbelieving ears. The song changed as the singersswung into the measures of a new carol. Surely these were human voicesand not a band of fairies! The mother crept silently to the window andlooked out.
* * * * * *
When the last note of the songs had died away the door of the dark houseopened and a woman came out on the steps. "Thank you a thousand times forthe singing," she said. "Won't you come in where my daughter can see you?She won't believe you are real. She is so sick and lonesome. Please do."
The Winnebagos started in surprise and looked at each other somewhatdoubtfully. They had not been aware that they were singing to anaudience. It was getting near the time when they should be meeting therest of the group. But this was Christmas Eve and here was a girl sickand lonesome----
"Let's go in for a minute," said Gladys and Hinpoha together. They wentin, singing as they went, and swinging their little lighted lanterns.
Martha's mother lit the one pale little gas flame, for they had beensitting in the dark before, and by its light the girls saw the shabbyroom and the wan girl lying on the bed. So amazed was Martha at thesudden appearance of the carolers out of the night that she forgot to beshy, and before she knew it she had told them all about the Christmas Evegame she and her mother had been playing and how they had set theimaginary candle in the window. And all of the six months' loneliness wasin that little tale, and the girls as they listened became afflicted witha queer weakness of the eyes that made them turn their faces away fromthe light. Over on the lighted avenue the twinkling candles beckoned inthe gleaming windows of the most beautiful homes in the city; stillfarther on the revellers at the singers' party stretched out gay hands tothem; but over it all each one seemed to see the words of the Fire Lawwritten in letters made of Christmas stars:
----"Whose house is bare and dark and cold----"
Mysterious communications and hand signs flew back and forth between theWinnebagos. Like magic Gladys and Hinpoha slid out of the door and likemagic they returned a few minutes later, loaded down with bundles. As theenchanted forests rise in the fairy tales, so the room was swiftlytransformed and began to blossom in green and red. Garlands and wreathshung from the head and the foot of the bed, and from the gas-jet. Riotouslittle bells swung from the doorways; sprigs of holly and gorgeouspoinsettias framed the cheap pictures; bright candles in cheerful redshades burned on the table.
Other bundles when opened revealed the "makings" of the grandest spreadthe Winnebagos had ever had. The Lonesome House was turned into the Homeof Joyous Spirits. Gladys poked up the fire and made her most temptingShrimp Wiggle; Sahwah made the best pan of fudge she had ever made;Katherine made cocoa, and the rest spread sandwiches with delicious"Wohelo Special" chicken salad, and cut up cake and dished ice cream.Then there followed such a joyous feast as Martha had never conceived inher rosiest dreams. Healths were drunk in cocoa, side-splitting toastsproposed by the witty toastmistress, Migwan, and songs sung that made theroof ring. Gladys did her prettiest dances; Sahwah and Hinpoha did theirfamous stunt of the goat that ate the two red shirts right off the line,and Katherine gave her very funniest speech--the one about Wimmen'sRights--three times; once voluntarily and twice more by special request.Martha laughed until she could laugh no more, and applauded every numberenthusiastically, her usually pale cheeks glowing red with excitement andher eyes shining like stars. It was late when they left her, promising tocome again soon, and slipping into her hands various packages containinggifts of things every girl loves, which Gladys had hastily bought whenshe had slipped out to get the supplies. Among them was a beautifullyintricate puzzle which would keep her interested for months to come.
Thus it was that the candle which was never lit guided the feet of theSong Friends to the Dark House, and gave into their tending yet anotherfire. Reports of the gay party at the Music League Club House came to theWinnebagos from all sides, and loud expressions of regret that they hadmissed it. And the group they were to have sung with brought in by farthe most money, carrying off the prize and getting its picture in theSunday paper--and the Winnebagos were not in it.
But over on Division Street a wonderful new look had come into the faceof a sad-eyed girl--a look of happiness and ambition, and the Winnebagos,having seen that look, were content.
The Camp Fire Girls' Larks and Pranks; Or, The House of the Open Door Page 9
