Kristy's Rainy Day Picnic Part 18

"And you, Lottie--like a dear, old darling as you are," said May, giving her a spasmodic hug, "were all the time working away with all your might that I might have the most splendid Christmas tree! I don't believe Aunt Laura's is half so pretty!"

"It must be fun to dress up a tree yourself," said Kristy, when the story was ended.

"And still more," said her mother, "to get it up, as Lottie did, out of almost nothing. It's easy enough to go out and buy enough to cover a tree, but it's a very different affair to make the presents one's self.

"Another unusual Christmas celebration that I have heard about was even more strange than Lottie's, though several people took part in getting it up. It took place in a baggage-car," went on Mrs. Crawford.

"In a baggage-car?" said Kristy.

"Yes; attached to a train that was snowed up in Minnesota one winter.

It was the time that Ethel Jervis was ill,--you remember,--and her mother took her to Minnesota for her health."

"She took Harry, too, didn't she?" asked Kristy.

"Yes; she couldn't leave him very well, so he was with them."

"Tell me about it!" said Kristy.

CHAPTER XIII

CHRISTMAS IN A BAGGAGE-CAR

Mrs. Jervis and her two children, Ethel and Harry, were on their way to spend Christmas with the grandmother, who lived in a small town in Minnesota, three or four hours' journey from Minneapolis, where they were spending the winter. There had been a good deal of snow, but they did not think much about it, for they were not used to Minnesota snowstorms.

It was getting late in the afternoon, and they were tired and anxious to reach B----before night, when the train--after a good deal of puffing, and backing, and jerking forward and back--stopped short.

Several of the men went out to see what was the matter. Soon they began to come back, and one, whose seat was next to Mrs. Jervis, said, as he took his seat, "It doesn't look much like getting to B---- to-night."

"What is the trouble?" asked Mrs. Jervis.

"Tremendous drifts in the cut," answered Mr. Camp. "Snow falling faster than ever, and wind piling it up faster than a thousand men could shovel it out. This cut is a regular snow-trap."

"Can't the engine plow through?" asked Mrs. Jervis anxiously.

"That's what has been tried," said the man; "but the snow is higher than the smokestack, and packed so tight it's almost solid. We may be here a week, for all I see, unless the storm holds up and we get help."

"Oh, mother!" wailed Ethel, "shan't we get to grandmother's for Christmas?"

"I hope so, Ethel!" said Mrs. Jervis soothingly. "It's three days to Christmas, you know, and a good deal may happen in three days.

Couldn't we go back?" she asked her neighbor. "If we could get back to Minneapolis it would be better than staying here," and she glanced anxiously at her daughter, whose wide, staring eyes were fixed on Mr.

Camp, as if he held her fate in his hands.

"They tried a while ago, you remember," he said; "but the cut we pa.s.sed through a mile back is now as bad as this. The fact is, we are between two cuts, and for all I see are prisoners here till we get help from outside."

Mrs. Jervis heard this with dismay, and Ethel with despair. She buried her face in her mother's lap, and shook all over with the violence of her sobs.

Mrs. Jervis was distressed, for her daughter was just recovering from a serious illness, and she feared the consequences of such violent emotion. Her mind worked quickly; if she could only get Ethel interested in something,--but what could she do shut up in a car? She spoke again to her neighbor.

"Didn't you say there were some travelers in the next car not so comfortable as we are?"

"Yes, ma'am," he answered; "a mother and three children, one a baby, going to Dalton, where the father has just got work. They look poor, and are not very warmly clad. The conductor says he can't keep two cars warm; fuel is getting scarce; and he's going to bring them in here."

"Do you hear that, Ethel?" said her mother anxiously; "there's a baby coming into our car."

Ethel was usually very fond of babies, but now she could think of nothing but her disappointment, and only an impatient jerk of her shoulders showed that she heard.

At this moment the door opened, and the conductor appeared, followed by the few pa.s.sengers from the other car, among them the shivering family with the baby. The mother looked pale and tired, and sank into the first seat.

Mrs. Jervis rose, obliging Ethel to sit up, and went toward the weary woman.

"Let me take the baby a while," she said pleasantly; "you look tired out."

Tears came into the eyes of the poor mother.

"Oh, thank you," she said; "the baby is fretting for her milk; she won't eat anything I can get for her."

"Of course she won't," said Mrs. Jervis, as she lifted the baby, who, though poorly dressed, was clean and sweet; "sensible baby! we must try to get milk for her!" She turned to the conductor.

"Isn't there a farmhouse somewhere about here where some benevolent gentleman might get milk for a suffering baby?" and she looked with a smile at the pa.s.senger who had been giving the unwelcome news.

"No," said the conductor, "I think not any near enough to be reached in this storm; but I have an idea that there's a case of condensed milk in the baggage-car; I'll see," and he hurried out.

"That's a providential baggage-car," said Mrs. Jervis. "How much we might have suffered but for its fortunate stores!"

"Yes," replied her neighbor gravely; "a fast of a week wouldn't be very comfortable."

"And jack rabbits are tiptop!" burst in Harry Jervis. His mother smiled.

"I'm glad you like them, Harry; I should like them better bounding away over the prairies on their own long legs than served up half cooked, on a newspaper for plates,--to be eaten with fingers, too,"

she added.

"Fingers were made before forks!" said Harry triumphantly, repeating an old saying which had been quoted quite often in that car of late.

"Your fingers were not, Harry!" said Mrs. Jervis, laughing. "However, we have cause to be thankful, even for jack rabbits eaten with our fingers."

At this moment entered a brakeman with a can of condensed milk. "The conductor sent this to you, ma'am," he said.

"But it isn't open!" said Mrs. Jervis in dismay; "and I didn't think to bring a can-opener. If I had only known of this picnic-party, I might have provided myself."

"I'll open it," said her neighbor, taking out a pocket knife; "I've opened many a can in my travels on the plains."

"Don't take off the top," said Mrs. Jervis. "Make two holes in the cover." He looked up in surprise. She went on: "One to let out the milk, and the other to let in the air so that it can get out."