in the middle of the night polly woke up with a start.
“what in the world!” said she, and she bobbed up her head and looked over at her mother, who was still peacefully sleeping, and was just going to lie down again, when a second noise out in the kitchen made her pause and lean on her elbow to listen. at this moment she thought she heard a faint whisper, and springing out of bed she ran to phronsie's crib—it was empty! as quick as a flash she sped out into the kitchen. there, in front of the chimney, were two figures. one was joel, and the other, unmistakably, was phronsie!
“what are you doing?” gasped polly, holding on to a chair.
the two little night-gowns turned around at this.
“why, i thought it was morning,” said joel, “and i wanted my stocking. oh!” as he felt the toe, which was generously stuffed, “give it to me, polly pepper, and i'll run right back to bed again!”
“dear me!” said polly; “and you, too, phronsie! why, it's the middle of the night! did i ever!” and she had to pinch her mouth together tight to keep from bursting out into a loud laugh. “oh, dear, i shall laugh! don't look so scared, phronsie, there won't anything hurt you.” for phronsie who, on hearing joel fumbling around the precious stockings, had been quite willing to hop out of bed and join him, had now, on polly's saying the dire words “in the middle of the night,” scuttled over to her protecting side like a frightened rabbit.
“it never'll be morning,” said joel taking up first one cold toe and then the other; “you might let us have 'em now, polly.”
“no,” said polly sobering down; “you can't have yours till davie wakes up, too. scamper off to bed, joey, dear, and forget all about 'em—and it'll be morning before you know it.”
“oh, i'd rather go to bed,” said phronsie, trying to tuck up her feet in the little flannel night-gown, which was rather short, “but i don't know the way back, polly. take me, polly, do,” and she put up her arms to be carried.
“oh, i ain't a-goin' back alone, either,” whimpered joel, coming up to polly, too.
“why, you came down alone, didn't you?” whispered polly, with a little laugh.
“yes, but i thought 'twas morning,” said joel, his teeth chattering with something beside the cold.
“well, you must think of the morning that's coming,” said polly, cheerily. “i'll tell you—you wait till i put phronsie into the crib, and then i'll come back and go half-way up the stairs with you.”
“i won't never come down till it's mornin' again,” said joel, bouncing along the stairs, when polly was ready to go with him, at a great rate.
“better not,” laughed polly, softly. “be careful and not wake davie nor ben.”
“i'm in,” announced joel, in a loud whisper; and polly could hear him snuggle down among the warm bedclothes. “call us when 'tis mornin', polly.”
“yes,” said polly, “i will; go to sleep.”
phronsie had forgotten stockings and everything else on polly's return, and was fast asleep in the old crib. the result of it was that the children slept over, when morning did really come; and polly had to keep her promise, and go to the foot of the stairs and call—“merry christmas! oh, ben! and joel! and davie!”
“oh!—oh!—oo-h!” and then the sounds that answered her, as with smothered whoops of expectation they one and all flew into their clothes!
quick as a flash joel and davie were down and dancing around the chimney.
“mammy! mammy!” screamed phronsie, hugging her stocking, which ben lifted her up to unhook from the big nail, “santy did come, he did!” and then she spun around in the middle of the floor, not stopping to look in it.
“well, open it, phronsie,” called davie, deep in the exploring of his own; “oh! isn't that a splendid wind-mill, joe?”
“yes,” said that individual, who, having found a big piece of molasses candy, was so engaged in enjoying a huge bite that, regardless alike of his other gifts or of the smearing his face was getting, he gave himself wholly up to its delights.
“oh, joey,” cried polly, laughingly, “molasses candy for breakfast!”
“that's prime!” cried joel, swallowing the last morsel. “now i'm going to see what's this—oh, dave, see here! see here!” he cried in intense excitement, pulling out a nice little parcel which, unrolled, proved to be a bright pair of stout mittens. “see if you've got some—look quick!”
“yes, i have,” said david, picking up a parcel about as big. “no, that's molasses candy.”
“just the same as i had,” said joel; “do look for the mittens. p'r'aps santa claus thought you had some—oh, dear!”
“here they are!” screamed davie. “i have got some, joe, just exactly like yours! see, joe!”
“goody!” said joel, immensely relieved; for now he could quite enjoy his to see a pair on davie's hands, also. “look at phron,” he cried, “she hasn't got only half of her things out!”
to tell the truth, phronsie was so bewildered by her riches that she sat on the floor with the little red stocking in her lap, laughing and cooing to herself amid the few things she had drawn out. when she came to seraphina's bonnet she was quite overcome. she turned it over and over, and smoothed out the little white feather that had once adorned one of grandma bascom's chickens, until the two boys with their stockings, and the others sitting around in a group on the floor watching them, laughed in glee to see her enjoyment.
“oh, dear,” said joel, at last, shaking his stocking; “i've got all there is. i wish there were forty christmases coming!”
“i haven't!” screamed davie; “there's some thing in the toe.”
“it's an apple, i guess,” said joel; “turn it up, dave.”
“'tisn't an apple,” exclaimed davie, “tisn't round—it's long and thin; here 'tis.” and he pulled out a splendid long whistle on which he blew a blast long and terrible, and joel immediately following, all quiet was broken up, and the wildest hilarity reigned.
“i don't know as you'll want any breakfast,” at last said mrs. pepper, when she had got phronsie a little sobered down.
“i do, i do!” cried joel.
“dear me! after your candy?” said polly.
“that's all gone,” said joel, tooting around the table on his whistle. “what are we going to have for breakfast?”
“same as ever,” said his mother; “it can't be christmas all the time.”
“i wish 'twas,” said little davie; “forever and ever!”
“forever an' ever,” echoed little phronsie, flying up, her cheeks like two pinks, and seraphina in her arms with her bonnet on upside down.
“dear, dear,” said polly, pinching ben to keep still as they tumbled down the little rickety steps to the provision room, after breakfast. the children, content in their treasures, were holding high carnival in the kitchen. “suppose they should find it out now—i declare i should feel most awfully. isn't it elegant?” she asked, in a subdued whisper, going all around and around the tree, magnificent in its dress of bright red and yellow balls, white festoons, and little candle-ends all ready for lighting. “oh, ben, did you lock the door?”
“yes,” he said. “that's a mouse,” he added, as a little rustling noise made polly stop where she stood back of the tree and prick up her ears in great distress of mind. “'tis elegant,” he said, turning around in admiration, and taking in the tree which, as polly said, was quite “gorgeous,” and the evergreen branches twisted up on the beams and rafters, and all the other festive arrangements. “even jappy's isn't better, i don't believe!”
“i wish jappy was here,” said polly with a small sigh.
“well, he isn't,” said ben; “come, we must go back into the kitchen, or all the children will be out here. look your last, polly; 'twon't do to come again till it's time to light up.”
“mammy says she'd rather do the lighting up,” said polly. “had she?” said ben, in surprise; “oh, i suppose she's afraid we'll set somethin' a-fire. well, then, we shan't come in till we have it.”
“i can't bear to go,” said polly, turning reluctantly away; “it's most beautiful—oh, ben,” and she faced him for the five-hundredth time with the question, “is your santa claus dress all safe?”
“yes,” said ben, “i'll warrant they won't find that in one hurry! such a time as we've had to make it!”
“i know it,” laughed polly; “don't that cotton wool look just like bits of fur, ben?”
“yes,” said ben, “and when the flour's shaken over me it'll be santa himself.”
“we've got to put back the hair into mamsie's cushion the first thing to-morrow,” whispered polly anxiously, “and we mustn't forget it, bensie.”
“i want to keep the wig awfully,” said ben. “you did make that just magnificent, polly!”
“if you could see yourself,” giggled polly; “did you put it in the straw bed? and are you sure you pulled the ticking over it smooth?”
“yes, sir,” replied ben, “sure's my name's ben pepper! if you'll only keep them from seeing me when i'm in it till we're ready—that's all i ask.”
“well,” said polly a little relieved, “but i hope joe won't look.”
“come on! they're a-comin'!” whispered ben; “quick!”
“polly!” rang a voice dangerously near; so near that polly, speeding over the stairs to intercept it, nearly fell on her nose.
“where you been?” asked one.
“let's have a concert,” put in ben; polly was so out of breath that she couldn't speak. “come, now, each take a whistle, and we'll march round and round and see which can make the biggest noise.”
in the rattle and laughter which this procession made all mystery was forgotten, and the two conspirators began to breathe freer.
five o'clock! the small ones of the pepper flock, being pretty well tired out with noise and excitement, all gathered around polly and ben, and clamored for a story.
“do, polly, do,” begged joel. “it's christmas, and 'twon't come again for a year.”
“i can't,” said polly, in such a twitter that she could hardly stand still, and for the first time in her life refusing, “i can't think of a thing.”
“i will then,” said ben; “we must do something,” he whispered to polly.
“tell it good,” said joel, settling himself.
so for an hour the small tyrants kept their entertainers well employed.
“isn't it growing awful dark?” said davie, rousing himself at last, as ben paused to take breath.
polly pinched ben.
“mammy's a-goin' to let us know,” he whispered in reply. “we must keep on a little longer.”
“don't stop,” said joel, lifting his head where he sat on the floor. “what you whisperin' for, polly?”
“i'm not,” said polly, glad to think she hadn't spoken.
“well, do go on, ben,” said joel, lying down again.
“polly'll have to finish it,” said ben; “i've got to go upstairs now.”
so polly launched out into such an extravagant story that they all, perforce, had to listen.
all this time mrs. pepper had been pretty busy in her way. and now she came into the kitchen and set down her candle on the table. “children,” she said. everybody turned and looked at her—her tone was so strange; and when they saw her dark eyes shining with such a new light, little davie skipped right out into the middle of the room. “what's the matter, mammy?”
“you may all come into the provision room,” said she.
“what for?” shouted joel, in amazement; while the others jumped to their feet, and stood staring.
polly flew around like a general, arranging her forces. “let's march there,” said she; “phronsie, you take hold of davie's hand, and go first.”
“i'm goin' first,” announced joel, squeezing up past polly. “no, you mustn't, joe,” said polly decidedly; “phronsie and david are the youngest.”
“they're always the youngest,” said joel, falling back with polly to the rear.
“forward! march!” sang polly. “follow mamsie!”
down the stairs they went with military step, and into the provision room. and then, with one wild look, the little battalion broke ranks, and tumbling one over the other in decidedly unmilitary style, presented a very queer appearance!
and captain polly was the queerest of all; for she just gave one gaze at the tree, and then sat right down on the floor, and said, “oh! oh!”
mrs. pepper was flying around delightedly, and saying, “please to come right in,” and “how do you do?”
and before anybody knew it, there were the laughing faces of mrs. henderson and the parson himself, doctor fisher and old grandma bascom; while the two henderson boys, unwilling to be defrauded of any of the fun, were squeezing themselves in between everybody else, and coming up to polly every third minute, and saying, “there—aren't you surprised?”
“it's fairyland!” cried little davie, out of his wits with joy; “oh! aren't we in fairyland, ma?”
the whole room was in one buzz of chatter and fun; and everybody beamed on everybody else; and nobody knew what they said, till mrs. pepper called, “hush! santa claus is coming!”
a rattle at the little old window made everybody look there, just as a great snow-white head popped up over the sill.
“oh!” screamed joel, “'tis santy!”
“he's a-comin' in!” cried davie in chorus, which sent phronsie flying to polly. in jumped a little old man, quite spry for his years; with a jolly, red face and a pack on his back, and flew into their midst, prepared to do his duty; but what should he do, instead of making his speech, “this jolly old saint—” but first fly up to mrs. pepper, and say—“oh, mammy how did you do it?”
“it's ben!” screamed phronsie; but the little old saint didn't hear, for he and polly took hold of hands, and pranced around that tree while everybody laughed till they cried to see them go!
and then it all came out!
“order!” said parson henderson in his deepest tones; and then he put into santa claus' hands a letter, which he requested him to read. and the jolly old saint, although he was very old, didn't need any spectacles, but piped out in ben's loudest tones:
“dear friends—a merry christmas to you all! and that you'll have a good time, and enjoy it all as much as i've enjoyed my good times at your house, is the wish of your friend,
“jasper elyot king”
“hurrah for jappy!” cried santa claus, pulling his beard; and “hurrah for jasper!” went all around the room; and this ended in three good cheers—phronsie coming in too late with her little crow—which was just as well, however!
“do your duty now, santa claus!” commanded dr. fisher as master of ceremonies; and everything was as still as a mouse!
and the first thing she knew, a lovely brass cage, with a dear little bird with two astonished black eyes dropped down into polly's hands. the card on it said: “for miss polly pepper, to give her music everyday in the year.”
“mammy,” said polly; and then she did the queerest thing of the whole! she just burst into tears! “i never thought i should have a bird for my very own!”
“hulloa!” said santa claus, “i've got something myself!”
“santa claus' clothes are too old,” laughed dr. fisher, holding up a stout, warm suit that a boy about as big as ben would delight in.
and then that wonderful tree just rained down all manner of lovely fruit. gifts came flying thick and fast, till the air seemed full, and each one was greeted with a shout of glee, as it was put into the hands of its owner. a shawl flew down on mrs. pepper's shoulders; and a work-basket tumbled on polly's head; and tops and balls and fishing poles, sent joel and david into a corner with howls of delight!
but the climax was reached when a large wax doll in a very gay pink silk dress, was put into phronsie's hands, and dr. fisher, stooping down, read in loud tones: “for phronsie, from one who enjoyed her gingerbread boy.”
after that, nobody had anything to say! books jumped down unnoticed, and gay boxes of candy. only polly peeped into one of her books, and saw in jappy's plain hand—“i hope we'll both read this next summer.” and turning over to the title-page, she saw “a complete manual of cookery.”
“the best is to come,” said mrs. henderson in her gentle way. when there was a lull in the gale, she took polly's hand, and led her to a little stand of flowers in the corner concealed by a sheet—pinks and geraniums, heliotropes and roses, blooming away, and nodding their pretty heads at the happy sight—polly had her flowers.
“why didn't we know?” cried the children at last, when everybody was tying on their hoods, and getting their hats to leave the festive scene, “how could you keep it secret, mammy?”
“they all went to mrs. henderson's,” said mrs. pepper; “jasper wrote me, and asked where to send 'em, and mrs. henderson was so kind as to say that they might come there. and we brought 'em over last evening, when you were all abed. i couldn't have done it,” she said, bowing to the parson and his wife, “if 'twasn't for their kindness—never, in all this world!”
“and i'm sure,” said the minister, looking around on the bright group, “if we can help along a bit of happiness like this, it is a blessed thing!”
and here joel had the last word. “you said 'twan't goin' to be christmas always, mammy. i say,” looking around on the overflow of treasures and the happy faces—“it'll be just forever!”
