Choice Readings for the Home Circle Part 49

Neither did the past ever seem so beautiful and glowing as when she cast a retrospective glance in that direction at this memorable season. But in the kitchen all was animation and excitement; as different an atmosphere as if there were ever so many degrees of lat.i.tude between them; Mrs. Mulford occupying the frigid, and Bridget the torrid zone. Every afternoon and early in the morning, Minnie and Maud were down in a corner of the kitchen very busy over some mystery, in which Bridget was as much interested as they were themselves.

Arthur bustled about from one room to another, always the active, cheery, hopeful boy, who kept everybody informed of what was going on in the outside world; and he, too, evidently had some weighty secret pressing against the b.u.t.tons of his jacket. Christmas eve came, and the children began to think it never would be dark enough for them to get ready for Santa Claus.

"What are you going to do, Minnie?" inquired Mrs. Mulford, as Minnie brought in the stockings to hang by the fire.

"Get ready for Santa Claus, mamma," was the reply. "You know that to-morrow is Christmas!"

"But Santa Claus don't come to poor people, my child," and the tears filled her eyes at the recollection of the generous gifts of former years.

"Oh, yes he does, mamma," said Minnie, who was eleven years old, and two years the senior of her sister; "yes he does! He knows where we live." And she continued pinning the stockings upon the line she had stretched across the mantel.

"I wish I could have afforded a tree!" sighed the mother, watching her daughter's movements with considerable curiosity.

"We don't want a tree, do we, Maud? A stocking is ever so much nicer.

It looks so funny all stuffed out, and then you don't know what's in it, and you have to shake it out, and hunt way in the toe! Then you can put such tiny things in, to make everybody laugh."

Then she pinned on the names which Arthur had printed very nicely on slips of paper, and stood off a little distance to admire her handiwork.

Bridget was called in from the kitchen to see if it was all right, and Arthur was induced to leave his work just for a minute to note the effect of the display.

"Here now!" he exclaimed, "I told you to hang up the clothes bag for me. You don't suppose that little thing will hold all my treasures, do you? Is the chimney clear?" And he pretended to search anxiously for anything that might prevent the descent of good old Santa Claus, whose coming had never before been antic.i.p.ated with such unqualified delight.

Mrs. Mulford was in the midst of a troubled dream, when shouts of "Merry Christmas! Merry Christmas!" rang through the house, and awakened her to the reality of the day she so long had dreaded.

She knew how dreadfully disappointed the children would be, it is so hard for them to understand the exigencies of life, and wished she might keep her room all day and have Bridget bring up her meals.

"If ye please, ma'am," said the worthy maid-of-all-work, not stopping to knock at the door, "if ye please, ma'am, ye'd better come down-stairs; the children are nigh about crazy waiting for ye;" and the sunshine of her face illuminated the long room after she had retreated down the stairway.

"They can't feel very bad," said Mrs. Mulford, as she slowly turned from her room. "It seems to me I never heard them laugh so heartily.

Oh, to be a child again!" And she sighed heavily.

As she entered the sitting-room, what a sight met her eyes! There were wreaths of green over her portrait and papa's; a narrow border running round the mantel; and festoons falling in every direction.

"Come, mother," said Arthur, "you first; Bridget can hardly wait, and our breakfast won't be worth eating."

"Oh, no," said the mother, "Maud should have the first chance; and the impatient child eagerly availed herself of the privilege."

It was astonishing what an amount of goodies rolled out of that stocking, and after they were laid aside there were one or two parcels to be opened. There was a nice pair of warm gloves, just what she wanted to use in drawing the sled, or making snow-b.a.l.l.s; a new doll, and a book full of pictures. Minnie's stocking was quite as bountifully stocked, and every new surprise seemed to enkindle their mirth and enthusiasm.

Arthur had filled his own stockings with all sorts of odds and ends, on purpose to increase the fun and hilarity, and pretended to be surprised that Santa Claus patronized second-hand shops. Bridget sat down with the children to unload her collection of treasures, and even Mrs. Mulford was forced to laugh heartily at her comical remarks, especially when she drew out a potato, which was labeled, "The last of the Murphys!" "May they always be first in the field!" said Bridget.

When Mrs. Mulford was finally induced to examine the contents of her own stocking, the children, with Bridget, who was only an older child, gathered around, and watched anxiously the proceedings.

There were a pair of nice brackets hanging outside, which Arthur had cut with a penknife; and as she took up each article that had been wrought by loving little fingers, the worsted pulse-warmers, the pretty mats and tidies, she felt that it was indeed possible for love to build upon the old ruins a beautiful palace for the heart to dwell in.

"Forgive me, my dear children!" she exclaimed, embracing them each in turn. "Bridget, my good girl, we will begin the world anew. I have been a weak woman."

"Sorry a bit of it!" said Bridget, wiping away her tears with the corner of her ap.r.o.n. "It's a heavy cross ye had, but we're all going to help carry it."

"And, mother," broke in Arthur, "I've got a situation in a grocery store."

"Arthur!"

"Yes. It isn't much, but I'll learn the business; and then, you know, I can take care of you."

What a Christmas breakfast they had! It wasn't so much what was on the table, although Bridget had made delicious waffles, and everything was super-excellent, but it was the guest that sat at the board with them that made it a feast to be remembered. While they were at the table, talking over plans in which the mother manifested undoubted interest, there was a sudden, sharp knock at the door that startled all the inmates of the house.

"A new calamity!" sighed Mrs. Mulford, falling back into the old att.i.tude.

"It must be Santa Claus himself!" exclaimed Bridget, putting her head through the kitchen door. Arthur admitted the gentleman, so swathed in an immense scarf about the neck and chin as to leave one in doubt as to whether he were friend or foe.

"Well, well!" said the stranger, divesting himself of his wraps, and stamping the snow from his boots in the little hall; "Such a tramp as I have had! Where's Carrie?"

"Carrie?" inquired Arthur, fearing he had admitted a lunatic.

"Yes, Carrie. My niece, Carrie Wharton. Are you her boy?"

"I don't know, sir."

"No more do I. She was Carrie Wharton, married Ned Mulford, and a long tramp I've had to find her."

"Have you any bad news?" inquired Arthur, laying a detaining hand on the stranger's arm; "because, if you have, I'd rather you wouldn't mention it to-day. My name is Arthur Mulford, and we've had such a happy Christmas."

"No fear, my boy, bless your tender heart! Why, I've come from Santa Claus myself, and am chock full of sunshine that turns into gold."

Saying which, he entered the room where Mrs. Mulford and her children were sitting, and Bridget hurrying to clear off the breakfast things.

"Carrie!" said the stranger in eager tones, advancing toward Mrs.

Mulford, who seemed to have heard a voice from the far-away past. She was in her own home again, a careless child; father and mother were living, death had never crossed her threshold, and all was joy and happiness. A bewildered moment, and then a flash of recognition.

"Uncle Nathan!"

"Yes, dear child! Would I could have got to you sooner;" and he held the weary head close to his generous heart, and smoothed the worn brow.

"I felt I was growing old, and had a hankering after a home to die in, and always the face of my little niece, Carrie, seemed to give me the heartiest welcome."

"Then you didn't die," said Arthur, looking on the scene as if it were a part of a fairy story.

"Of course I didn't. Came near it, a dozen times, but always escaped.

Couldn't see why I was spared and better folks taken, but it's all clear now. Why, I had as hard work finding out anything about Ned Mulford, or Ned Mulford's widow, as if I'd been trying to find Captain Kidd."

"It's because of our poverty," sighed the widow.

"Yes, I suppose so. It's the way of the world! But who cares? We'll begin the world anew."

Mrs. Mulford stared at hearing her own words repeated, and Bridget, who kept an ear on the proceedings, stood for a moment in open-mouthed amazement, much as if she feared that there was to be another great convulsion of nature.

"Yes," continued Uncle Nathan, "yes, that's what brought me back.

Money don't make a home, I know that well enough, for I've seen it tried. Arthur, what are your plans?"