 A Real New England Girl by Anna I. Parsons 1. The Shower 2. Oxford County 3. The Stranger and the Girl 4. The Youth and the Girl 5. Pansy and Richard Go Trading 6. The Marvelous Storyteller 7. The Dinner 8. The The Minister Comes for Tea 9. Pansy's Father 10. Pansy and Her Mother 11. Poland Springs 12. The Birthday Cake 13. Ned Patterson Comes for a Visit 14. The Blue Berrying Party 15. The Beginning of Wisdom 16. The Tempted and the Penitent 17. The Concert 18. Stanley's Ride 19. The Bench by the Wayside 20. The Banker and the Widow 21. The Bag of Nuts 22. How They Kept Thanksgiving at Little Farm 23. Hardly a Merry Christimas 24. A Call Down and a Caller 25. The Pride of Mrs. Bradford 26. A Happy New Year 27. Amusement and Winter Sport 28. Kim 29. Richard, the Lion Hearted 30. A Tour of the White Mountains 31. Talking Over the Trip with Henry Bright 32. Thoughts That Lie Too Deep for Words 33. Economics 34. His Toast 35. The Busy Haunts of Man 36. Christmas in New York 37. The Last Night of Their Visit 38. The Language Understood by All 39. Sugaring Off 40. Correspondence 41. Commencement 42. Conclusion Afterward     |
Hardly a Merry Christmas. "On Christmas play and make good cheer, For Christmas comes but once a year." -- Tusser About ten days before Christmas, on a Saturday morning, Stanley Winthrop sat eating breakfast with his family, having come home the night before to spend Saturday and Sunday. A servant had been sent to his rooms at college for his mail, and returned bringing several letters. When Stanley opened the first, a crisp five dollar fell upon the table. "What is the money for?" asked Julia, when he had finished perusing the letter. "Just a little commission from Pansy and Richard Bradford to buy a Christmas present for their mother. I will read you what Pansy writes:" "Ruth gave us each a dollar and Uncle Will gave us each a dollar to spend for Christmas, and we had a dollar between us. We are sending this to you and want you to buy a cameo pin for mother's Christmas present, so she will have something as nice as the other ladies in our church to wear on Sunday." "Of course, you'll go to Tiffany's for it," said Julia with a tinge of sarcasm in her voice. "I don't know where I'll go, but I'll get the pin if it takes from now until the day we leave to find one for the amount remitted." "Send back the money, Stanley," said Mrs. Winthrop with sudden interest, "and I'll give you something from my jewelry. I must have a cameo among my many brooches." "That would only disappoint and hurt two good friends of mine. You don't know your neighbors Down East, mother, as well as I do. Pansy and Richard dote on buying that pin with their own money, and if the commission is a little difficult of performance, that is all the more pleasure for me. Anybody would be willing to do an easy thing for them." When breakfast was over, Mr. Winthrop, who had taken no part in the conversation, turned to Stanley, "Have you time to go down town with me this morning?" he asked. "Why, yes, sir," answered Stanley, pleased at the prospect. "Then be ready when the motor calls." They stopped in the vicinity of Maiden Lane, New York's famous mart for earth's finest treasures, and went into a well-known jewelry store, the proprietor of which was a New England man. He came forward and shook hands with Mr. Winthrop on their entrance. "My son has fine dollars to invest in a cameo pin," he said, after the introduction. "Will you have one of your clerks show him some?" A tray of convex stones exquisitely carved in relief was set before them. Stanley selected one with a head of classic mold, paid the five dollars, and they left the store. "That was so easy, father, I hardly feel as if I had done anything," said Stanley, when they were again seated in the motor-car. "You will come to the bank with me. I want you to meet some of the officers," was all the reply his father made. Two days before Christmas, the Winthrops, with a party of friends, came again to their home on the hilltop to spend the holidays and enjoy the sleighing if such there be. Jerry and Mrs. Pike had the house heated throughout and well stocked with provisions for their reception. The younger members of the party seemed to find in Jerry a real curiosity. They slyly quoted his colloquialisms, and encouraged him to talk that they might increase their vocabulary. Jerry good naturedly took them sliding down the big hill, and won their admiration by the dexterity with which he steered the swift-moving sled. Stanley spent as much time with the Bradfords as his duties of host would permit, and they were all rejoiced to see him again. Pansy and Richard had received a large box of nuts, oranges, and sweetmeats by express, and gave Stanley full credit as consignor. When he firmly disclaimed any knowledge of it, they were very much puzzled indeed, but there could be no doubt it was intended for them, for both their names were on the label and the words "Little Farm" written in one corner. Stanley strongly suspected that his father had been instrumental in having it sent, but kept his own counsel, and stole away from his guests to spend Christmas eve at the Bradford home. Pansy and Richard had obtained permission from their mother to invite in some of the neighbors to share their good things, and he found quite an assemblage of farm folks, both old and young, when her arrived late at the house. John Swift, his son Rube, Henry and Horatio Bright, Mr. Alden and others of the masculine sex were tilted back in their chairs around the walls of the kitchen from whence occasionally issued guffaws of laughter, for John Swift was relating past Christmas eve experiences to an audience that knew him well. The women were mostly seated in the parlor, and the young people in the living room listening to a Christmas story which Rube was reading to them while Pansy and Richard passed the refreshments. Stanley found a chair and seated himself as near to Ruth as possible, for the music of her voice appealed to him, aside from the fact that she was the only person in the room whom he really knew. Before the reading of the story was finished, Pansy came and whispered softly, "Have you seen mother with her new pin on?" and he nodded an answer with a smile as magnetic as her own. Len Frost, sitting opposite, did not fail to notice this exchange of confidence, and presently arose and joined the men in the kitchen. Later Pansy and Richard undertook to entertain the company with a charlatan performance, and Pansy was sent into the pantry while the others arranged the particular thing she was to do on her return. Something seemed to be the matter with her when she came back, for she performed her part of the compact but indifferently, and finally told Richard he would have to be the magician and Ruth the interlocutor. The young people were for the most part standing up or walking about the room. Pansy pulled Stanley by the sleeve and drew him into the dark hall that ran between the living room and parlor on the south side and the sleeping rooms on the north side. "Stanley," she said, "don't go home tonight. Stay with Richard." "What has happened, Pansy?" he asked, noticing how quickly her breath came and went and how tightly she clung to his sleeve. "Something I overheard makes me feel harm will come to you if you go home." "Nonsense! Do you thing a big athlete like me can't protect himself?" "Oh, please, please stay, Stanley," she pleaded, clutching his sleeve with both hands, but he gently drew her back into the living room again. About ten o'clock people began leaving and by eleven the house was in darkness. Stanley had been one of the last to go, and after his departure, Pansy had gone to her room, put out her light, and stood looking out of the window. No names had been mentioned in the conversation she had overheard, but she had a strong surmise as to who was intended and grave fear tugged at her heart. The roof of the barn of velvety whiteness with its covering of snow was so much like pictures of Christmas she had seen, that she would hardly have been surprised had Santa Claus with his sleigh and reindeer come galloping across at that instant. Through the leafless branches, she could see Stanley walking toward his home. He had passed the barn safely and the lane where might lurk any evil-doer or plotter of prank, and the way was clear down to the Winthrop turn-in. At the half-way tree, Stanley halted, she thought, but the many tree limbs gave things a checkered appearance. She threw up the sash and opened the pane in the outer window. Surely there were voices, but at that distance she could not distinguish what was said. There were rapid movements of some kind, unless it was only the swaying of the branches in the night wind. She closed the window and waited, her hands clutched tightly, her eyes straining to pierce the darkness and obstructions. After what seemed a very long time, some one came striding over the highway and passed the house. Sick at heart, she undressed and crept into bed, to toss and turn until morning. It was apparent to her mother the next day that the party had been too much excitement for Pansy. She did promptly everything she was told to do, but when not busy, sat languidly in a chair trying to read, but really doing nothing at all. Stanley had promised to come for a little while in the morning and skate with her and Richard on the space that they kept clear of snow near the pine wood, but he did not appear or send any word. Finally, when she could bear the suspense no longer, she sent Richard down to the Winthrop house. He returned and said Stanley had a headache and was in bed and asleep with a bandage around his head; that Mrs. Winthrop had said Stanley had had a fall and there was a lump on his forehead that looked peculiar to her. At dinner Pansy was quite feverish and ate but little. After dinner, her mother said very decidedly, "Pansy, you go up stairs and undress and get into bed, and I will bring you up some hot catnip tea as soon as I get it brewed. You will be sick again and can't go to school if you are not careful." "Mother, I'm willing to go to bed, but I don't need this herb tea. I shall be all right tomorrow." "Pansy, child, mother knows what is best. Open the conductor so your room will be warm, and put on one of your new flannel nightgowns, they are heavier than the old ones." Late in the afternoon, Mrs. Frost came to call on Mrs. Bradford. She had not been at the party the night before, and came to talk about it and get her share of good things. Len had driven her over in the sleigh, and after some talk outside with Mr. Alden and Richard, came into the house and sat down with his mother and Mrs. Bradford. He seemed in good spirits, and listened attentively to everything that was said. When Mrs. Bradford excused herself to replenish her kitchen fire, Mrs. Frost arose, "I'll just step upstairs and see Pansy for a minute," she said. Len followed his mother. There was no response to the knock on the door, and Mrs. Frost opened it. Pansy lay sound asleep in her big white bed, on her head a red skating cap and over her shoulders, outside the covers, was spread a red sweater coat. In one arm she held a book with a beautiful cover design. Len looked long and earnestly at the slumbering girl, then turned away, more disheartened than had he received the knockout blow in a fist fight. He had been talking with Richard, and was informed of the presents he and Pansy had received for Christmas and of their sources, and knew that Pansy now lay sleeping with the gifts of Stanley Winthrop close about her. She looked a child with her small figure and short chestnut ringlets, but there was much of the woman about her. He knew lots of other girls, but he did not know one that he thought her equal, and so he went away with no feeling of "peace on earth, good will toward men," such as he should have had on Christmas Day. All unconscious of what had taken place, Pansy awoke when it was quite dark in her room. Richard brought her up some sugar, and her mother came and took the things and Richard away, and bade her try to sleep again. She had left a lamp in the long chamber, and only the dim rays of this lighted her room. She lay there long in reverie, thinking over all that had taken place, and wondering if Stanley would become blind from the blow on his forehead, as she had read of people doing. Then she began to toss and turn again. The clock in the living room struck eight, and still sleep did not come to relieve her. Instead, on the clear, frosty air sounded the distant notes of a cornet. At first she thought she was mistaken, and raised herself in bed, but no, it was music such as her ear had been trained to listen to in the past. It was the air of a hymn that they often sang in church and came to her now like the notes of an angel's song. She jumped up, folded a blanket about her, and threw open her window as she had done the night before when her soul had been so sorely tried, and her heart was lifted up as the inspiring words of the song rose to her lips. It came upon the midnight clear, that glorious song of old, From angels bending near the earth, to touch their harps of gold: 'Peace on the earth, good will to men,' from heav'n's all gracious king. The world in solemn stillness lay, to hear the angels sing! Still through the cloven skies they came, with peaceful wings unfurled, And still their heav'nly music floats, o'er all the weary world; Above its sad and lowly plains, they bend on hov'ring wing' And ever o'er its Babel sounds the blessed angels sing! And yea beneath life's crushing load whose forms are bending low, Who toil along the climbing way with painful steps and slow, Look now! for glad and golden hours come swiftly on the wing; Oh, rest beside the weary road, and hear the angels sing! Ah, yes, all was well; all was well. Stanley himself had sent the message of cheer. Pansy lay down and slept again. Click Here for Chapter 24 |