mimi ran her fingers up and down the crinkles of the blue and white striped bed cover. she made dents with her fists for lakes then smoothed them all out and began again. this time she made a deep curving gulley which was green river flowing around camp. the flat space over her stomach was the open space around the flag pole where the campers had gathered as soon after reveille as they could slide into their bathing suits. the small point she had pinched up with her fingers was the lodge and the great bump her doubled up knees made was the hotel far up on the hill above camp.
chimes rang out in the distance, suddenly her knees collapsed and she burrowed her flushed face in the pillow. a miniature earthquake had leveled her make-believe land. now it was raining on her pillow. what a great god she was to build country and shake it down and wash away the debris with rain.
after the deluge she was as alone as in the beginning. all of her best friends were gone. they had not been permitted in the ward to say goodbye. when nurse relayed their farewells from the corridor to the patient some of the sadness melted away, but not all, not by any means.
she had begun all the make-believe nonsense to keep from remembering it was christmas and that she was sick-a-bed without her family, without her chums. but it was no use. stubbornly she put her mind back to her “child’s garden of verse.” she said “the friendly cow,” “singing in the rain,” “sea cups,” and in spite of herself between each one she would revert to “when i was sick and lay abed——”
the siege of flu had begun to look like an epidemic. there were six single beds in a row in the infirmary and this christmas morning each bed cradled a sick girl. mimi, however, was the only one awake.
ding, dong—ding, dong.
mimi listened to the bells ring out. perhaps they could do what trying-very-hard and poetry had failed to do. but she gave up. there was no use trying to forget it was christmas for all day there would be reminders. she must hope that somewhere in leipzig junior was dumping the contents of a bulging stocking on his bed instead of racing with her and winning by sliding down the bannisters to their usual tree at home. she hoped the gifts she had sent arrived in time. if it took as long for things to go to leipzig as it did for them to come from there to america, the gifts would be late. mimi knew that mother dear had sent her something in plenty of time but so far no package had reached her. as soon as nurse would let her get up she would go to the post office and ask them to send a tracer. she was that sure mother and daddy had not failed her.
gray morning was peeping around the cracks of the window shades. mimi leaned over and eased her shade up the tiniest bit; at least that is what she intended to do but the shade slipped from her cold fingers and went whr-r-r—zip—all the way to the top. mimi shut her eyes against the sound, and when she opened them and looked out, wonder of wonders a fairy world bade her good-morning. so softly the snow had fallen that no sleeper had heard.
nose against the pane, breath making fantastic wreaths on the glass, hands clutched as if praying, mimi gasped in awe. then because she could never be unhappy long and because it was christmas inside her, a white christmas, she sang out:
“merry christmas! oh wake up, wake up, there is snow!”
weak hands rubbing swollen eyes. tousled heads rearing from pillows. necks craned toward nearest windows.
“merry christmas yourself.” “snow.” “oh, snow!”
“merry christmas!” nurse’s clear, crisp voice rose above the others. “what chance does an amateur santa claus have with all you girls already wide awake? i was outside in the hall hanging the last bangles on your tree when ‘there arose such a clatter, i sprang to the door to see what was the matter’!”
“our tree?” came the chorus.
“yes, your tree. you don’t think i’m mean enough to make you stay in bed and feast on orange juice instead of plum pudding without doing something for you?”
“may i come in?” it was mrs. cole in a fresh blouse and newly pressed skirt. she looked sweeter than mimi had ever seen her. “merry christmas, girls. if you’ll help me, nurse, we’ll roll the tree in.”
it was not a large tree; a living evergreen growing in a wooden tub and riding into the sick room on a rolling white hospital cart-table. mimi had passed it by the steps many times scarcely noticing but today, decked so gayly and glittering so magnificently, it was as new as the snow. as they pushed the tree along the ornaments made an elfin jingle.
yesterday mimi had wished her bed were at one end of the ward or the other so that she could lie on one side with her back to illness and forget it. now she was glad that she was in the center of the room because the tree, placed in the middle of the room, was at the foot of her bed. if nurse had not made up the bed with tight square corners she could wriggle her toes free and touch it.
“there!”
nurse and mrs. cole stood one to either side admiring their handiwork.
“but no presents or mail until baths, temperatures taken all around, and breakfast.”
mimi knew nurse meant exactly what she said and that no amount of begging would change her orders. now if it were mrs. cole in charge.... but she wasn’t. nurse’s word was law and obeyed to the letter. so was dr. ansley’s. mimi tried not to show how impatient she was but eagerness danced in her merry blue eyes.
the hour finally came and for once, mimi had more surprises than she could stand. the last one was the biggest and it brought tears.
first the mail was distributed. nurse did not call out the names. she had it all sorted and handed each girl a neat stack. otherwise, she would have read “mimi hammond” every other name for mimi had as much mail as all the others put together.
now for the packages.
the first one handed to mimi made her heart leap. from leipzig.—careful not the tear the stamps, she ripped it open and lifted out three separate packages. she opened the lumpy one from junior first. not a guess what it was. it didn’t rattle or move about. what could it be? a peasant doll! braided hair, crisp white cap, full skirts held in place by a tight bodice. precious! the doll would sit on top of mimi’s trunk in the living room so that all who opened the door of two hundred and seven could see and admire. and what could this one from daddy be? shake it. feel it. no; guess again. wrong both times. a bohemian necklace with a crystal pendant to wear to christmas parties. daddy liked every one well and gay. he must realize, too, that she was growing up. this thin, flat package from mother. not as thick as a book but about that shape. careful! don’t tear. a picture and what a sweet one! mimi did not fully appreciate what she had until the letter came telling about the trip to the dresden gallery to see coregio’s, “the holy night,” and the “sistine madonna.” the print they sent mimi was a hanfstaengel called “the cherubim,” artistically copying the little angels who hover around the virgin in the full picture of the madonna. beaming faces. mimi loved them. what wonderful gifts from leipzig!
then the small packages. stationery from chloe with tumble inn hand blocked in the upper left corner. oh, these art students. mimi’s fingers felt thick and clumsy as she untied betsy’s package. it did not look neat but mimi never judged inside by outside. an enviable black and white sport belt to wear with her riding habit. two plain sport handkerchiefs from madge with this verse printed on the card:
“some hankies for show,
some hankies for blow;
you know which to do
when you have flu.”
she hadn’t realized how clever madge was. olivia had left sealing wax and a sheridan signet. dit’s card was almost as good as a present. under the greeting she had written, “to my prep.” at first glance mimi had interpreted the back handed phrase as “to my pup.” she laughed aloud. she was reading the cards a second time. surely that was all the packages but she was wrong. the too big surprise was coming up the steps now. such a big box mrs. cole was having the janitor bring it up. plop! he put it down beside mimi’s bed.
“that’s right.” mrs. cole was directing behind him. “that’s the girl.”
“miss mimi hammond,” the janitor read slowly.
the only reason mimi didn’t guess was because, christmas or any other time she wore an air of expecting-something-nice-to-happen. so often it did.
“thank you.”
this looked like a crate of oranges. she could make out from the express label that whatever it was, it came from bowling green. grand! then a wave of suspicion swept over her. this might be a prank. not too many years ago when sue played in her first recital, mimi herself had thought up the joke of sending sue a box of weeds. sue, unsuspecting, had opened them before her friends and cried with embarrassment. come to think of it, sue had left no present. maybe——
“i’ll pry the lid off, miss,” the janitor was saying as he reached in his hip pocket for a hammer.
the squeak of the first nail drawn commanded silence. every one in the room who could be up out of bed hovered near. the others sat up and craned their necks. mimi with one hand held her robe together at the throat and with the other was squeezing the end of the pillow behind her back into a tight ball. hurry, janitor, hurry but don’t get a splinter in your finger.
when he pulled the top off, the first thing mimi saw was oranges, a whole half crate of them. it was a joke after all. anyone with any sense would know that after four days of flu she never wanted to see an orange again. but what was under the red tissue covering the other half? one hand to her head to guard against dizzying weakness, mimi peeked under the red paper. presents, a whole array of them daintily tied up in green cellophane with silver ribbons and stars; almost the green and white of sheridan. mimi’s hands shook as she opened the note which lay unsealed atop the presents:
“a gift a day
keeps the blues away.”
the instructions followed. there was one package to be opened each day beginning now, christmas, and every day thereafter until the holidays were over. the presents were labeled by days. she would find no cards as they had been bought by them all. the signatures which followed, mimi kept and a year later they were the first page of the autograph book she prized so highly. sue had planned the box, of course. she had rushed home breathless with the news that mimi was quarantined. dottie had taken charge (mimi could picture her ordering the others around) and under miss jane’s supervision the gifts had been assembled. racing down the list of names mimi’s eyes clouded. a round tear splashed down and blurred the second name. she read, miss jane and dick, dottie, jean, margie, sue, miss millie, and the last two surprised her most of all—honky and mammy cissy. bless their hearts! she had had none of tiny tim’s spirit when she awakened, but now she was so touched by the thoughtfulness of her friends that she wanted to say aloud. “god bless you everyone. bless mother and daddy and sonny,” she tagged on at the end as if it were her bedtime prayer. dottie had rounded them up to make the days come out correctly. one-two-three-four-five-six-seven-eight—eight days and sue would be back knowing a thousand things mimi was eager to find out.
how the days ever would have gone by without a daily surprise mimi did not know. that certainly helped. she had been like old king cole calling for his pipe and calling for his bowl. the difference was mimi called for a “’sprise” and nurse brought one. now that she was better, writing letters of thanks filled much of her time. she used tumble inn stationery and sealed the envelopes with green wax imprinted with an old english “s.” something else happened that helped more than that. miss millie paid her a “pop call”! that capped the climax.
mimi had been sitting in a big chair all wrapped up in her bathrobe studying. yes, studying. but alas that source book. every time she settled down to outside reading something happened.
“pahdon mah southe’n accent but is you all studyin’?”
head around the door one second asking, the next entering and hugging mimi, flu and all. that was miss millie, next-to-miss-jane-the-best-counsellor-in-the-world.
blam!
source book to the floor—
“millie—oh—millie! am i seeing things?”
“no, ’tis i, millie, former skipper of the cuckoo’s nest on green river and now the most dignified member of the faculty ’way down yonder where i teach.”
it wouldn’t be miss millie if she wasn’t clowning.
“i hardly recognize you without your silly sailor hat but oh, millie! tell me the news. where have you been? where are you going? and that rudest question of all, how long can you stay?”
“large order but i’ll try. i have been in bowling green for christmas, am en route to the high school where i earn my daily bread, can stay here fifteen minutes. there is a taxi waiting at your door now. he promised to get me to the train in plenty of time. if i stay a second past my allotted fifteen minutes he is to begin blowing and not stop until i appear. one way for a homely girl to cause a panic.”
“millie, you’re not homely. you look wonderful to me. i never was so glad to see any one! don’t waste a minute. tell me everything. how is miss jane?”
“you should see her apartment. the mcintosh’s moved out of mrs. herold’s house so jane has her own apartment but she still lives at home. she has everything early american. maple beds pegged together instead of screwed or nailed. an elegant chintz chaise longue with soft pillows. you just sink down to heaven in it. i had tea with jane and sat on it. she says that after supper she and dick scramble for it but usually end up by both of them sitting on it. she looks prettier than she ever did in her life—rested, fresh and has more pep! she’s been making curtains, made a tufted candlewick bed spread, and now is hooking a rug—whatta’ gal!”
“isn’t she though?”
one by one mimi went down the list. how was each? who gave parties? what was served? what was worn?
when millie sprang up and jerked her hat forward at the first honk of the taxi, there were still things left unsaid.
“muchas gracias—er-r-r—for the presents,” mimi added in english—“and adios.”
she was grateful for the presents and she hated to say goodbye. but it had been an interesting visit. next to the excitement of opening all the presents, millie’s “pop call” was the high light of the holidays. one can weary even of holidays but they would soon be over now. nurse had promised mimi she could meet the trains and she could hardly wait.
“imagine me, me of all people, anxious for holidays to end, but i am, nursie, i sincerely am.”
