Mary's Rainbow Part 2

Among the many gifts which the Doctor had brought home during the week were the following: For Mr. Selwyn, a large, framed photograph of Mary, an enlarged copy of a kodak picture which he had taken of her after her parents had gone away; for his sister, a beautiful black lace mantilla which, as he explained to the little girl, her mother would wear on her head when she had an audience with the Pope; for the babies, tiny gold chains and miraculous medals. Nor had he forgotten Aunt Mandy and Tom.

The table in the playroom was scarcely large enough to hold all the gay-looking packages; and they were just about to carry them down stairs to pack them in the strong, wooden box in the lower hall when who should appear in the doorway but the two servants--Liza with a big plum pudding decked with sprays of holly, and old Susie with an immense fruit cake.

"We 'lowed dey wouldn't see nuffin lak dis yeah obah yondah in dat savage land whah dey's done gone to, nohow, Ma.s.sa Frank," chuckled the old cook. "What yo' spects dem Eyetalians knows 'bout fruit cake an'

plum puddin', huh?"

"They certainly know nothing about the kind you make, Susie, or we would have them all inviting themselves to our Christmas dinner."

"I'se got a few t'ings what I made ma own self, Ma.s.sa Frank, ef'n yo'

reckons dey'll be room fo' dem in dat box."

"We shall find room for them, Liza, or get a larger box. Bring them along."

At last the box was packed; and as the Doctor reached for the hammer to nail down the cover, Mary caught his hand in both of hers and held it to her cheek while she murmured wistfully, "Wouldn't it be lovely if we could pack ourselves in the box and go, too, Uncle?"

"I, for one, strongly object to traveling in a packing box, little one; and I think you would be begging to be taken out after the express man had b.u.mped you down the front steps. Never mind. A box will arrive from Italy one of these fine days, and we shall have a great time opening it. If it should come while I am not here, no fair peeping!"

"As if I would, Uncle!"

The next morning, Mary began a calendar for her uncle.

"I don't have to hurry with anything now, Gene, even with Aunt Mary's gift. We always take her presents to her Christmas afternoon."

But the little girl was puzzled about a gift for Gene herself. The Doctor would not allow her to use her eyes at night, because they had been weakened by her long illness; and she could think of no excuse for locking herself in her room while she made the present she had in mind.

At last one evening at dinner, her uncle solved the question for her by asking: "Gene, will you kindly look over Mary's wardrobe and see what she will need in the way of new frocks, shoes, and so on? I fear that I shall have to ask you to do some shopping for her before she will be ready for the trip South. I have never tried to buy so much as a pair of shoes for a young lady."

"Indeed, Doctor, I shall be only too glad to select anything she needs." For Gene, like all girls, loved to shop, especially when every penny did not have to be counted twice before it was spent.

Mary clapped her hands and laughed so gleefully that the Doctor looked at her in surprise. "Hm! There is mischief in your eye, young lady.

We may look out for something, Gene, on the day you go shopping."

A little later when alone with Mary, he drew a letter from his pocket.

"I had a few lines from Aunt Mary to-day, and this little note for you came in the same envelope. Shall I read it to you?"

"Please, Uncle. Writing is so hard for me to read. Big people write such a funny way. They make points instead of curves at the top and bottom of m's, n's, and u's, so that I can hardly tell which is which."

"Yes, we grown-ups should be more careful when writing to little folks.

Now, let us see what Aunt Mary has to say: 'My dear Mary, Mother Johanna is so very busy these days that she has asked me to write this little note for her and invite you to spend Christmas with us at Maryvale. Your little friends are all around me telling me what to say to you. They wish you to come out Friday morning, for they have many, many things to do to aid Santa Claus, and they know what a great help you will be to them. Eight of them will spend the holidays here, so you will have plenty of company. Do not disappoint us. Your loving Aunt Mary.' Well, what do you think of that?"

"It is just lovely for Mother Johanna to invite me, Uncle; but, of course, I won't go."

"And why not, pray tell me?"

"Go to Maryvale and leave you alone for Christmas!"

"But I do not intend to be left alone. I, too, am invited. Aunt Mary tells me that Father Hartley, the chaplain, will be happy to have me spend a few nights at his cottage, and I am looking forward to a very good time indeed."

"But----but, Uncle,----oh, it will be bad enough not to have Father and Mother and the babies home for Christmas, but if I have to be away from you, too----"

"You do not understand, dear. I shall be with you during the day--at meals and all--and in the evening until bedtime. Indeed, you will see far more of me than if we remain at home."

"But----but we won't be in the same house at night. Father Hartley's cottage is as far from the convent as----as----"

"Why, pet, it is right on the convent grounds, not more than two hundred yards away."

"But you can't come when I am asleep and kiss me good-night."

"Whatever put such an idea into your head? So you think I go prowling about the house at night at the risk of waking you and having you think I am a burglar?"

"If you don't come, Uncle, I must dream that you do; but it seems very strange that I should have the same dream every night at the same time."

"If you are asleep, how do you know the time?"

"W----ell, I must wake up a little, for I hear the big clock at the foot of the stairs strike ten just after you have gone."

"Just after I have gone! So you take it for granted that I do go into your room every night, eh? then why not prove it? At Maryvale, I can not possibly go to you at ten o'clock at night." The Doctor was more than anxious that the little girl should accept the invitation, for he well knew how very lonely this Christmas would be for her at home. "I was so sure that you would like to go, that I have made plans for a jolly time. One of them is that we shall send that big, old-fashioned sleigh, which has stood in the barn for years, out to Maryvale, and I shall take you and your little friends for a sleigh ride every day.

Perhaps Aunt Mary and some of the Sisters could go with you. And then we could help Santa Claus in regard to the tree and some gifts for those little girls who do not go home for Christmas. If we do go, Gene will be able to spend Christmas at her own home. Don't you think you had better sleep over it, Goldilocks, before sending your regrets to Mother Johanna? You might change your mind when it is too late."

But the thought of making the holidays happier for the little girls who could not go home and, more than all, for Gene, was quite enough to win Mary over to her uncle's view of the matter.

"I have already changed my mind, Uncle. We won't send our regrets."

CHAPTER III.

MARY'S SECRET.

The following day, just after luncheon, Gene handed the Doctor a list of the things she thought Mary would need, and told him that she had decided to go down town that afternoon. "Mary will not have so much time to get into mischief after her nap as she would have if I were to go in the morning," she explained, her eyes twinkling.

"A very good idea indeed, Gene; but if you had given me a little hint, I could have put a sleeping powder into her gla.s.s of milk, and that would have kept her in bed until dinner time. Well, I think we can trust her not to eat matches or burn the house down. I shall tell Liza to keep an eye on her."

"But Liza is going to help me."

"Oho! a plot, is it? Well, do your worst, for you may never have the house to yourselves again," laughed the Doctor, putting on his overcoat.

"Gene, please excuse me, but I must whisper something to Uncle." And Mary drew him into the library. "The reason I am so glad, Uncle, is because I want to make Gene's Christmas present while she is out; and don't you think I could do without a nap for just this once? I can take two to-morrow, one in the morning and one in the afternoon, to make up, you know."

"Better go to bed an hour earlier to-night. By all means use every moment while Gene is out to make her gift."

"And will you help me tie it up to-night, Uncle? I make such funny bows."

"I shall do my best, but I am no hand at tying ribbons. Shoe strings are more in my line, you know."

"That's so, Uncle. I don't see how we would have managed to tie up the things for the box without Gene. But I can't ask her to tie the ribbon on her own present. Oh, maybe Liza can help me."

"I am sure she can. And now you must excuse _me_ while I speak to Gene a moment. Ask Liza to tell Jim to have the carriage ready to take her down town. It is a very cold day."