Blue Bonnet in Boston Part 10

"Why, it's from Uncle Cliff!"

Blue Bonnet tore the end off of the envelope hastily and began reading aloud:

"'I fear I cannot reach Woodford the day before Christmas as I had antic.i.p.ated, Honey, because of a matter here which is delaying me, but I will arrive sometime on Christmas Day. Go right on with any plans you may have for that day, as trains are uncertain and I might get in very late. If I am not there in time to say "Merry Christmas," remember that I am saying it in my heart and wishing every happiness to the best little girl in the world. I shall answer your letter in person; we will discuss the room-mate at that time, and also the other matter which seems to lie so close to your heart.'"

"He means Carita Judson," Blue Bonnet explained. "I told him how much I wanted her to go with me to Miss North's school."

"'Remember me to your Grandmother and Miss Clyde, and tell them that I am antic.i.p.ating my coming visit with pleasure. Enclosed you will find a little check for the Christmas shopping which I had hoped to enjoy with you, but since I cannot you must enjoy it for us both.'"

"That's all. Isn't he a dear! Well, if he gets here on Christmas Day I sha'n't complain."

Blue Bonnet handed the little pink slip of paper which had been enclosed in the letter, to her grandmother.

"Take care of it for me, Grandmother. I don't need it any more than I do a sore thumb, as Uncle Joe used to say."

Christmas week dawned bright and clear. Real Christmas weather, Blue Bonnet thought one morning as she opened her window and looked out at the trees in the apple orchard with their burden of glistening snow.

Christmas was to be celebrated rather differently from last year. Since Uncle Cliff was not to arrive until Christmas morning, Blue Bonnet had been permitted to spend the preceding days much as she pleased, shopping, and enjoying the We Are Sevens' holidays with them.

Two days before Christmas she bounded in to her grandmother's presence in a great state of excitement.

"Grandmother!" she exclaimed, "I've got the loveliest idea! I was just over to Kitty Clark's, and the doctor is getting a Christmas tree ready for the people out at the Poor Farm. They are going to have it at four o'clock to-morrow afternoon, and he says that Kitty and I may go along and help if we want to. I asked him what he was going to give them, and he said not much, unfortunately, but a good time. He said he had hoped to be able to collect enough money this year to buy those old ladies a phonograph--you know--a Victrola--but everybody seems to feel so poor. I thought of the check Uncle Cliff sent me and I told the doctor about it.

He didn't want to take it, but I said he just had to, and I ran home to get it. Where is it, Grandmother?"

"But--Blue Bonnet, you couldn't get a phonograph here in Woodford. Not the kind you would want--"

"No, of course not; but Doctor Clark said if you thought best for me to give the money he could telephone to Boston this noon, and they could get it here on the four-twenty train, without any doubt. Oh, Grandmother, please don't say no. Seems to me I can't stand it if you do. Don't you remember how old Mrs. Prior loved Alec's songs that day she was here to see us? Why, she just seemed starved--"

Mrs. Clyde rose and went to the foot of the stairs.

"Lucinda," she called, "come down a minute, will you?"

Blue Bonnet did not give her grandmother time to explain, but laid her plan before her aunt in a torrent of words.

At first, Miss Clyde seemed bewildered. Then a very tender, sympathetic look pa.s.sed between mother and daughter.

"I hardly think, Blue Bonnet, that your check would pay for the Victrola," Miss Clyde said. "We should not want to get anything but the best--something that would last; and records are very expensive."

Blue Bonnet looked woefully disappointed. Then she smiled delightedly.

"But, Aunt Lucinda, there's money left from what Uncle sent to buy my clothes, you said so. Let's take that. Oh, please, Aunt Lucinda."

"I think it would be a beautiful thing to do, Lucinda," Mrs. Clyde said, and Blue Bonnet flew to her grandmother and gave her a hug that nearly took her off her feet.

"You know how little those poor people have to amuse them, and, as Blue Bonnet says, Mrs. Prior seemed quite starved for music."

Miss Clyde never acted upon impulse. She thought for a few moments, then turning, went up-stairs slowly. When she came down she handed Blue Bonnet a check.

"I think this will buy the Victrola--and some records, too," she said.

"I would suggest that Doctor Clark get old-fashioned music--they would like that best."

Mrs. Clyde and her daughter watched Blue Bonnet as she flew up the street. When they turned from the window, there were tears in the eyes of the elder woman.

"It was a generous impulse," she said; "like one of her mother's loving deeds. I think perhaps--she knows--approves, Lucinda."

When the We Are Sevens heard of what Blue Bonnet had done, they insisted upon adding their mite to the occasion; so Doctor Clark suggested that it be turned into a We Are Sevens' party--the girls helping to give the occupants of the Farm a real Christmas. The rest of the day, therefore, was spent in the making of cakes and cookies, fudge and pinoche--enough, Doctor Clark said when he saw it, to keep him employed at the farm for weeks to come.

The Victrola came in on schedule time. Blue Bonnet and the doctor were at the train to meet it. It would have been hard to say which was the happier. The doctor's kindly face beamed as the box was loaded on to an express wagon and Blue Bonnet's joy found vent in laughter.

It was a merry procession that wended its way toward the Poor Farm a little later. Doctor Clark and Kitty leading the way in the phaeton with heavily laden baskets, old Denham and the rest of the We Are Sevens following in the Clyde carriage.

It must be confessed that the Christmas tree celebration was a bit disappointing to Blue Bonnet. The old ladies--and the men, who were permitted to attend also--seemed awed into silence. Perhaps the sparkling tree, bright with candles and tarlatan bags of sweets, brought memories cruel in their poignancy; and the old-fashioned songs had rather a depressing effect than otherwise.

Doctor Clark saw the shade of disappointment cross Blue Bonnet's face, and hastened to rea.s.sure her.

"It will be a great source of happiness to them, later, when the keen edge of memory has been dulled by frequent contact with the wonderful invention," he said. "Come out sometime and see for yourself."

Blue Bonnet was rather silent as she rode home that afternoon, in spite of the We Are Sevens' chatter.

"The world seems an awfully unequal sort of place, doesn't it?" she said to Sarah Blake. "Some people don't have enough money to make them comfortable, and others have so much they don't know how to spend it.

What do you suppose is the reason?"

The question was beyond even thoughtful Sarah's ken.

"I don't know," she said, with all the hopelessness of a poor minister's daughter; "but I have heard Father say that if everybody could be started out equal--begin all over again--the same ones would be on top in no time, treading on those less fortunate. It seems to be the law of things, Blue Bonnet."

"But it's not fair!" Blue Bonnet insisted vehemently. "It makes me feel wicked to have so much more than others."

"But look at the good you can do--the people you can make happy. Maybe that is why you have it."

The thought comforted Blue Bonnet.

"I _will_ do good," she said, and there was conviction in her tone. "I _will_, Sarah Blake. Just you wait till I come of age. Maybe I'll have an orphan asylum all my own. You'll see!"

As Blue Bonnet entered the house on her return from the Farm, she was conscious of some sort of scurrying just inside the sitting-room. She looked about wonderingly as she hung her hat and coat on the hall rack, but could see nothing unusual. The hat, hung insecurely, fell off its peg, and she turned from the sitting-room to pick it up. The next moment a pair of strong arms enveloped her and a deep pleasant voice was saying, "Merry Christmas, Blue Bonnet."

"Uncle Cliff--Uncle Cliff!" was all she could say. "How ever did you get here? Why, it isn't Christmas yet!"

"Shall I go back and wait, Honey? It is only another day."

This time her arms were about him in a grip that left no doubt as to his welcome.

"Well, I should say not! Only--you know you said--you thought it wouldn't be possible to get here to-day. If I had known I wouldn't have been away for anything. Come in to the fire this minute and tell me all about the ranch and Uncle Joe and Benita and Alec--and everything."

By the fire they had their visit out, and then Uncle Cliff turned to Grandmother.

"Do you think, Mrs. Clyde, that I might give Blue Bonnet the Christmas present I brought for her? On the ranch we scarcely ever waited beyond Christmas Eve for our gifts, did we, Honey?"