THE CHRISTMAS BRIDE

by Grace Livingston Hill

  “It is,” said Margaret wistfully. “It’s wonderful at Christmas, with snowshoes. We used to have an old sleigh, too, when I was a child.”

  “It must have been wonderful! But say, we’ve come a long way since morning, and I believe we’re going to get there before dark,” said Greg, taking a look at the map.

  “We are indeed!” said Margaret excitedly. “We’re coming into Booker’s Corners, and that’s only three miles from Crystal, the foot of the mountain where the station and the post office are.”

  “Booker’s Corners!” said Greg looking around. “Is that a town?”

  Margaret laughed.

  “It’s a township. There’s a schoolhouse on a crossroad, a company store, and a little station, but people live all about on the mountains, and they come together for school entertainments and sometimes protracted meetings in the schoolhouse. They have to go to Crystal to church. Here we are. This is Booker’s Corners, and this is the company store. Take the turn to the right here. There…there’s the schoolhouse. Now it’s only three miles to Crystal.”

  Margaret was watching every tree and familiar turn as they drove through the rough dirt road into a dense thicket of pines and tall forest trees, some of them still hanging on to their brown, dead leaves of summer and rattling them.

  “How still it is!” exclaimed Greg. “The motor sounds almost irreverent!”

  As they drew near to Crystal, Greg was watching the girl by his side. Her eyes were starry with excitement, her cheeks were flushed, her lips were parted with her eagerness.

  “There! Now you can see the post office. That brick building. After it burned down, they built it of brick,” she explained, her voice sweet with interest. “And there! There’s somebody just coming out. Oh, why, that’s Aunt Carrie Pettibone! What would she say if she knew I was in this lovely car! But oh, don’t let her see me! She’d never let us go till she had found out everything about us and why we are here. She has eyes like a ferret and a tongue like perpetual motion. She is quite capable of holding us up to find out who we are.”

  “Aunt Carrie Pettibone!” said Greg with a grin. “How are you, Aunt Carrie!” he called out with a low bow as the car swept on by.

  Aunt Carrie, a little shoulder shawl thrown over her bulky shoulders, paused in her progress down the street to Mrs. Silas Manley’s house and stared after the elegant car and the courteous gentleman who had called out her name. Who was he? She couldn’t place him. Must be a summer visitor, of course, but who? How maddening not to have recognized him in time! Her reputation as a newsmonger was at stake, and what should she do? Well, at least whoever she heard of as being in town she could tell how he called out to her.

  Margaret was convulsed with laughter.

  “Now she won’t sleep all night trying to think out who you are!” she giggled.

  “Well, she looks as if she could stand the loss of one night’s rest,” grinned Greg. “Aunt Carrie Pettibone! She looks like a character!”

  “Oh, she is,” said Margaret. She’s the world’s worst talker. But here, this is our turn. That house up the road there is Elias Horner’s. He’s supposed to be the richest man in Crystal, and the crookedest. He’s cheated everybody he came near all his life. And just beyond in that little white house in the field lives his sister-in-law, Kate Lavette. She used to own the big house he lives in and was left well off when her husband died, but he made her think he could handle her money better than she could, and there she lives in a little shack and he lives in hers. Everybody in town is furious about it, for Kate Lavette is a lovely old lady, but nobody could ever do anything. He got it fixed somehow so he had the law on his side, and he is posing as being very good to her because he lets her live in the shack on her own land that he stole from her.”

  “Elias Horner,” said Greg thoughtfully. “He must be a charming old egg. I’d like to meet him on a dark night and give him a good trimming!”

  “Well, he needs it!” sighed Margaret. “But I expect Providence will have to give it to him. Nobody else has ever beaten him in anything he set out to do.”

  “Well,” said Greg still thoughtfully, “Providence sometimes uses human instruments. Now, is this your mountain? Say, this is a wonderful view. And there’s your lake, isn’t it, snugged away in that valley? Say, this is a great place! My! I’d like to spend a summer here! Ah! And there’s your house! What a view! Why that’s worth coming all the way, just that view! And what it must be in summer!”

  Margaret’s heart swelled with pride, and her eyes were starry with joy. It seemed just the nicest thing that could have happened that she should be bringing this best of all possible employers up to see her home and her lake and her view.

  And then even while they watched the dear old house grow larger to their approach, till every old-fashioned small-paned window was visible, a light sparkled out in one window.

  “They’re lighting the lamps!” said Margaret excitedly. “No, it’s the lantern! Grandfather must be going out to the barn to milk! See! The door has opened, and he has the lantern in his hand. Can’t you see it swing? And that other bright spot is the lantern light on the milk pail. Oh, they can’t have sold Sukey yet! I wonder…” Her voice trailed off into puzzled silence.

  “And who is Sukey?” asked Greg.

  “Sukey is the cow,” answered Margaret absent-mindedly. “They were selling her for thirty dollars to help pay the interest on the mortgage. But she can’t be gone yet!”

  He could see that she could scarcely wait until they reached the house, was scarcely aware how much of the family troubles she was letting out. How pretty she looked in the twilight, her face flaming out clear against the dark background of the woods, the light in her eyes almost like a lamp. How glad she was to get back! His heart turned a bit lonely at the sight. He wished he belonged somewhere.

  “Grandmother has come out on the step!” she cried. “She had seen the car, and she is watching!”

  Then they rounded the curve in the road, came up to the level on which the house was built, and the car stopped.

  Chapter 17

  Margaret was in her grandmother’s arms. Greg stood behind by the car and waited, his hat lifted, as if he stood before a holy thing. Grandfather came back from the woodshed, his milk pail in one hand, the lantern in the other. His hearing was still good. He had heard the car. He held the lantern high so that it shone in Greg’s face. He had given one glance at the two women locked in each other’s arms, a swift sweep of his eyes over the beautiful shining car, and then his scrutiny went to Greg’s face.

  Greg sensed that the old gentleman wanted to know what kind of man had brought his precious Margaret home. He knew that his whole history would be ferreted out by that look, and he would be held in judgment. Gregory Sterling stood up and took it gravely, like a man, and when it was over, he grinned, just a big boy grin, and reaching out, took the lantern and the milk pail from the old man’s hands.

  “Can’t I help?” he said. “I’m fine at milking!”

  His voice brought Margaret back from her grandmother’s embrace to a sense of her duties as hostess.

  “Oh Grandmother, Grandfather,” she cried, “I’m so excited I’m forgetting my manners. This is Mr. Gregory Sterling, the man I work for now. He was coming up this way on business and offered to bring me for Thanksgiving!”

  Then the old man and his old wife put on their best smiling dignity and welcomed the young man cordially.

  “We are greatly indebted to you!” said the old man.

  “I shall be grateful to you forever for bringing her back to me!” said the old lady, reaching out her two hands and taking Greg’s in a warm clasp.

  “It was a pleasure, I assure you,” said Greg with his nicest smile. “And now, I’ll just unload the baggage, and then I’ll be getting out of your way. It isn’t right to break up a family meeting like this with the presence of an outsider.”

  “We do not count our Margaret’s employer an outsider,” said the old man with old
-time courtliness in his manner that sat graciously upon him even in overalls and a ragged overcoat. “Come in. Come right in the house. Rebecca, my dear, you have no shawl around you. Won’t you hasten inside? You know you have had a bad cold, and the air is crisp tonight!”

  “Yes, please don’t stand out here talking. I’ll bring the things in. Miss McLaren, do induce your grandmother to go in out of the cold,” urged Greg.

  Margaret, thus roused, drew her grandmother inside the house and helped her to light the lamps, stopping every minute or two to exclaim over being at home and how wonderful it was to see them both. Margaret had lost her head just the least little bit. She wanted to laugh and to cry both at once, and she wanted to tell them how wonderful her Mr. Sterling was, but she couldn’t find the words.

  It was Greg, however, who took the initiative. The rest of them were dazed with happiness. He went out to the car and brought in Margaret’s suitcase and then the big hamper and set them down in a corner of the kitchen. For it was to the kitchen door they had driven, and it happened that the kitchen was the only place in the great, wide house that was warm. The two old people were economizing on fuel. Grandfather couldn’t chop wood as well as he used to do, and Sam Fletcher wasn’t always available.

  “Now,” said Greg when he had brought in the baggage, “where’s this Sukey cow? My hands are just itching to do some milking again. Please show me the way!”

  “Oh, but Father, he mustn’t milk in clothes like that! You mustn’t let Margaret’s employer do the milking!”

  “It was not my proposition, Rebecca,” said the old man, smiling. “It’s just being taken out of my hands.”

  “But I want to milk,” said Greg earnestly. “And you needn’t be afraid I don’t know how. I’ve milked many a cow. I won’t make Sukey cross. She’n I’ll be friends in no time. You’ll see! Just lead me to her. In fact, I believe I can find her without being led!”

  “But not in those clothes!” protested the grandmother. “Margaret, he mustn’t. He mustn’t! Get your grandfather’s clean overalls! They’re in the bottom drawer. You know!”

  Margaret flew to do her bidding and returned as Greg was going out the door with the lantern in one hand and the pail in the other, divested only of his hat and coat. She presented him with the overalls, and he accepted them with a grin.

  “All right,” he said, “I’ll put them on when I arrive at Sukey,” and he threw them over his arm.

  Grandfather had taken over the lantern and was leading the way happily. Somehow it seemed like old times, Margaret home and this nice, genial, young fellow who was her employer! Just fitting into the home life. Odd, he seemed too young to be employing anybody, but if Margaret said it was so, it was so, of course. However, it was just as well he should look him over before he brought him back to the house. Mother would want to know what he thought of him.

  The mountain night drew close and shut down around the old farmhouse, with Margaret and her grandmother scurrying around getting supper in the kitchen and Greg and the grandfather doing the milking and telling funny stories to each other in the barn, much to old Sukey’s annoyance, who couldn’t understand what all this excitement was about.

  “Who is he? What’s his business?” asked Grandmother as soon as the two men were gone. “Rutland? Then he’ll have to stay all night, of course. When do you have to go back? Not Friday! Oh, coax him to make it Saturday. He seems very nice. Are you sure he’s all right? Not like that last man you were sort of afraid of! Yes, I know you were, Margaret child! You can’t deceive your old grandmother!”

  “Grandmother, I think Mr. Sterling would like us to ask him to dinner on Thanksgiving. Would you mind? He’s very lonesome. He hasn’t any relatives living, and he’s crazy about farms and the country.”

  “No,” said Grandmother considering. “I wouldn’t mind at all if I only had a turkey. It’s too bad we haven’t any turkeys this winter. And there are only two tough old hens. Your grandfather has been wanting me to kill them, but I had a sneaking desire to have them left till after Thanksgiving. Of course I hadn’t any idea you would come home. But I just thought we might need them. They don’t lay anymore, but Sam Fletcher brought us up a dozen eggs, and we’ve been eating those instead of meat. It doesn’t seem like a company dinner on Thanksgiving without a turkey.”

  “Well, he’s brought a turkey, Grandmother. He went out and got some things last night. No, I didn’t put him up to it. He did it himself. I didn’t know he was going to do it till we were on the way. I didn’t have any time to go out and get anything or I’d have brought one myself. I knew you weren’t raising turkeys this year. You see, I didn’t know till last night that I was coming. He just came in the office where I was writing on the typewriter and told me he had to come to Vermont on business for a couple of days, and where did my folks live? Didn’t I want to come along and spend Thanksgiving with them? It was just like that, as if he had asked if I wanted some ice cream.”

  “I’ve got a can of mincemeat left,” said Grandmother thoughtfully. “Oh, I’m so glad you’ve come! What a wonderful time it’s going to be! And there’s dried corn and beans! We can have succotash! And some of our lovely rutabaga turnips are left, and a Hubbard squash, and plenty of our potatoes, of course, but we haven’t got a cranberry!”

  “Don’t worry about the dinner, precious,” said the girl, stopping to hug the old lady. “He doesn’t mind what he eats. He’s quite old-fashioned. He’s just delighted to get up here! He’s been alone out in the West on a cattle ranch or something, and he knows how to rough it. He won’t mind anything. He’s a good sport.”

  “But how long have you know him, Margaret?” asked the old lady anxiously. “Where did you meet him? How did you happen to get such a good job?”

  “Well, I didn’t meet him,” evaded the girl. “He came after me. At least I guess God sent me the job. It’s a long story, and I’ll tell you when we have more time.”

  “You won’t go and get ideas about him in your head, will you, child?” said the old lady in a sharply anxious tone.

  “Oh no, dearest! How absurd! Why should I? And if I did, he wouldn’t think of such a thing. Now don’t go and spoil this nice time thinking up things to worry about!”

  “No, I won’t, you precious!” said the old lady with a contented smile. “Here, you fry that mush. Make plenty. I’m going to whip up an omelet and have it ready to flip in the pan by the time they come in. He’ll have to sleep in the south bedroom. Your grandfather put up the little sheet-iron stove there this fall, thinking we would sleep there. But we didn’t bother making another fire. There’s plenty of heat coming up from the cookstove, so we use the kitchen chamber. It’s nice and cozy, and the fire keeps up all night. There’s a fire already laid in the south bedroom. All it needs is to touch it off, and after supper you and I will run up and make up that bed with clean sheets and plenty of blankets. I’m glad you brought him. It’ll be good for our grandfather to get in touch with the world for a few hours. He’s always cheerful, but there have been so many anxieties this winter!”

  “Oh, Grandmother, what about the mortgage?” asked Margaret eagerly. “I suppose you don’t know yet. Has Grandfather sent in the interest?”

  “Well no,” said the old lady evasively, breaking eggs with a snap, “the fact is he hasn’t got it all in yet. That twenty-five you sent was wonderful! Even Grandfather was almost discouraged till that came. The man that bought the cow hasn’t paid for it yet. He hasn’t even come to take her away. We don’t know whether he’s trying to back out or not. We heard he lost a lot of money in a bank up in the next county. And the woman that said she wanted my walnut set hasn’t answered the letter at all, though I’ve written twice and told her the offer was only for a short time. I don’t know what we’re going to do, Margaret. Sometimes—well—it almost seems as if God has forgotten us! But I know He hasn’t, of course! Only I can’t see ahead!”

  Margaret’s arms were around her again in a minute.

 
; “No, dearest, He hasn’t forgotten us! I thought that, too, last week, but just look at this wonderful job I’ve got! And to work for a Christian man! And in Christian work!”

  “Oh, is he a Christian? Well, that makes all the difference in the world. That is if he’s real“

  “He’s real!” said Margaret with conviction. “But here they come! Just hear Grandfather laugh! Shall I make the tea?”

  Greg came in bearing the milk pail with an air of ease that made Margaret stare. Strange he seemed to be at home anywhere! She looked at him with admiring eyes, glad that the lamplight would not give away her admiration of him.

  “Now,” said Greg, setting down the pail, “do I get a drink of this milk before I go on my way to Rutland? Where’s the strainer? I want to finish the job up thoroughly.”

  “You’re not going to Rutland tonight!” said Grandmother firmly. “You’re staying right here with us! You’d lose your way going down the mountain in the dark. In the morning, it’ll be nothing to go.”

  “Well, you can’t make me feel bad asking me to stay all night,” said Greg, with his disarming grin. “I was hoping you’d do just that, but I didn’t like to say so. Not that it would matter about going to Rutland in the dark. You can’t lose me. I’ve knocked around ten years in the wilderness, and I guess I can find my way to Rutland. But I’d like to stay here if I may. It’s the first place I’ve found that looked like home since Mother died!”

  “Bless his heart!” said Grandmother, thoroughly won over. “Of course you’ll stay. John, is there plenty of wood up in the south chamber?”

  “Well, I wouldn’t say plenty, but there’s some. I’ll just run up and start the fire, and then it’ll be warm by the time he wants to turn in. I’ll take up a couple more sticks!”