Project Gutenberg's On Christmas Day in the Morning, by Grace S. Richmond
This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or
re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
Title: On Christmas Day in the Morning
Author: Grace S. Richmond
Illustrator: Charles M. Relyea
Release Date: December 26, 2006 [EBook #20187]
Language: English
*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ON CHRISTMAS DAY IN THE MORNING ***
Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Sankar Viswanathan, and the
Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
[Illustration: "'I HAVEN'T GIVEN YOU ANY CHRISTMAS PRESENT.
WILL--I--DO?'"]
On
Christmas Day
in the Morning
_By_
GRACE S. RICHMOND
Illustrated by
CHARLES M. RELYEA
GARDEN CITY NEW YORK
DOUBLEDAY, PAGE & COMPANY
MCMXI
COPYRIGHT, 1905, BY
THE RIDGWAY-THAYER COMPANY
COPYRIGHT, 1908, BY
DOUBLEDAY, PAGE & COMPANY
* * * * *
Illustrations
"'I haven't given you any Christmas present. Will--I--do?'" _Frontispiece_
"Stumbling over their own feet and bundles ... the crew poured into the
warm kitchen"
"'The children!' she was saying. 'They--they--John--they must be _here_'"
"'Merry Christmas, mammy and daddy!'"
* * * * *
On Christmas Day in the Morning
And all the angels in heaven do sing,
On Christmas Day, on Christmas Day;
And all the bells on earth do ring,
On Christmas Day in the morning.
--OLD SONG.
That Christmas Day virtually began a whole year beforehand, with a
red-hot letter written by Guy Fernald to his younger sister, Nan, who
had been married to Samuel Burnett just two and one-half years. The
letter was read aloud by Mrs. Burnett to her husband at the breakfast
table, the second day after Christmas. From start to finish it was
upon one subject, and it read as follows:
DEAR NAN:
It's a confounded, full-grown shame that not a soul of us
all got home for Christmas--except yours truly, and he only
for a couple of hours. What have the blessed old folks done
to us that we treat them like this? I was invited to the
Sewalls' for the day, and went, of course--you know why. We
had a ripping time, but along toward evening I began to feel
worried. I really thought Ralph was home--he wrote me that
he might swing round that way by the holidays--but I knew
the rest of you were all wrapped up in your own Christmas
trees and weren't going to get there.
Well, I took the seven-thirty down and walked in on them.
Sitting all alone by the fire, by George, just like the
pictures you see of "The Birds All Flown," and that sort of
thing. I felt gulpish in my throat, on my honour I did, when
I looked at them. Mother just gave one gasp and flew into my
arms, and Dad got up more slowly--he has that darned
rheumatism worse than ever this winter--and came over and I
thought he'd shake my hand off. Well--I sat down between
them by the fire, and pretty soon I got down in the old way
on a cushion by mother, and let her run her fingers through
my hair, the way she used to--and Nan, I'll be indicted for
perjury if her hand wasn't trembly. They were so glad to
see me it made my throat ache.
Ralph had written he couldn't get round, and of course you'd
all written and sent them things--jolly things, and they
appreciated them. But--blame it all--they were just dead
lonesome--and the whole outfit of us within three hundred
miles, most within thirty!
Nan--next Christmas it's going to be different. That's all I
say. I've got it all planned out. The idea popped into my
head when I came away last night. Not that they had a word
of blame--not they. They understood all about the children,
and the cold snap, and Ed's being under the weather, and
Oliver's wife's neuralgia, and Ralph's girl in the West, and
all that. But that didn't make the thing any easier for
them. As I say, next year--But you'll all hear from me then.
Meanwhile--run down and see them once or twice this winter,
will you, Nan? Somehow it struck me they aren't so young
as--they used to be.
Splendid winter weather. Margaret Sewall's a peach, but I
don't seem to make much headway. My best to Sam.
Your affectionate brother,
GUY.
Gay Nan had felt a slight choking in her own throat as she read this
letter. "We really must make an effort to be there Christmas next
year, Sam," she said to her husband, and Sam assented cheerfully. He
only wished there were a father and mother somewhere in the world for
him to go home to.
Guy wrote the same sort of thing, with more or less detail, to Edson
and Oliver, his married elder brothers; to Ralph, his unmarried
brother; and to Carolyn--Mrs. Charles Wetmore, his other--and
elder--married sister. He received varied and more or less sympathetic
responses, to the effect that with so many little children, and such
snowdrifts as always blocked the roads leading toward North Estabrook,
it really was not strange--and of course somebody would go next year.
But they had all sent the nicest gifts they could find. Didn't Guy
think mother liked those beautiful Russian sables Ralph sent her? And
wasn't father pleased with his gold-headed cane from Oliver? Surely
with such presents pouring in from all the children, Father and Mother
Fernald couldn't feel so awfully neglected.
"Gold-headed cane be hanged!" Guy exploded when he read this last
sentence from the letter of Marian, Oliver's wife. "I'll bet she put
him up to it. If anybody dares give me a gold-headed cane before I'm
ninety-five I'll thrash him with it on the spot. He wasn't using it,
either--bless him. He had his old hickory stick, and he wouldn't have
had that if that abominable rheumatism hadn't gripped him so hard. He
isn't old enough to use a cane, by jolly, and Ol ought to know it, if
Marian doesn't. I'm glad I sent him that typewriter. He liked that, I
know he did, and it'll amuse him, too--not make him think he's ready
to die!"
Guy was not the fellow to forget anything which had taken hold of him
as that pathetic Christmas home-coming had done. When the year had
nearly rolled around, the first of December saw him at work getting
his plans in train. He began with his eldest brother, Oliver, because
he considered Mrs. Oliver the hardest proposition he had to tackle in
the carrying out of his idea.
"You see," he expounded patiently, as they sat and stared at him, "it
isn't that they aren't always awfully glad to see the whole outfit,
children and all, but it just struck me it would do 'em a lot of good
to revive old times. I thought if we could make it just as much as
possible like one of the old Christmases before anybody got
married--hang up the stockings and all, you know--it would give them a
mighty jolly surprise. I plan to have us all creep in in the night and
go to bed in our old rooms. And then in the morning--See?"
Mrs. Oliver looked at him. An eager flush lit his still boyish
face--Guy was twenty-eight--and his blue eyes were very bright. His
lithe, muscular figure bent toward her pleadingly; all his arguments
were aimed at her. Oliver sat back in his impassive way and watched
them both. It could not be denied that it was Marian's decisions which
usually ruled in matters of this sort.
"It seems to me a very strange plan," was Mrs. Oliver's comment, when
Guy had laid the whole thing before her in the most tactful manner he
could command. She spoke rather coldly. "It is not usual to think that
families should be broken up like this on Christmas Day, of all days
in the year. Four families, with somebody gone--a mother or a
father--just to please two elderly people who expect nothing of the
sort, and who understand just why we can't all get home at once. Don't
you think you are really asking a good deal?"
Guy kept his temper, though it was hard work. "It doesn't seem to me I
am," he answered quite gently. "It's only for once. I really don't
think father and mother would care much what sort of presents we
brought them, if we only came ourselves. Of course, I know I'm asking
a sacrifice of each family, and it may seem almost an insult not to
invite the children and all, yet--perhaps next year we'll try a
gathering of all the clans. But just for this year--honestly--I do
awfully wish you'd give me my way. If you'd seen those two last
Christmas--"
He broke off, glancing appealingly at Oliver himself. To his surprise,
that gentleman shifted his pipe to the corner of his mouth and put a
few pertinent questions to his younger brother. Had he thought it all
out? What time should they arrive there? How early on the day after
Christmas could they get away? Was he positive they could all crowd
into the house without rousing and alarming the pair?
"Sure thing," Guy declared, quickly. "Marietta--well, you know I've
had the soft side of her old heart ever since I was born, somehow. I
talked it all over with her last year, and I'm solid with her, all
right. She'll work the game. You see, father's quite a bit deaf now--"
"Father deaf?"
"Sure. Didn't you know it?"
"Forgotten. But mother'd hear us."
"No, she wouldn't. Don't you know how she trusts everything about the
house to Marietta since she got that fall--"
"Mother get a fall?"
"Why, _yes_!" Guy stared at his brother with some impatience. "Don't
you remember she fell down the back stairs a year ago last October,
and hurt her knee?"
"Certainly, Oliver," his wife interposed. "I wrote for you to tell her
how sorry we were. But I supposed she had entirely recovered."
"She's a little bit lame, and always will be," said Guy, a touch of
reproach in his tone. "Her knee stiffens up in the night, and she
doesn't get up and go prowling about at the least noise, the way she
used to. Marietta won't let her. So if we make a whisper of noise
Marietta'll tell her it's the cat or something. Good Lord! yes--it can
be worked all right. The only thing that worries me is the fear that I
can't get you all to take hold of the scheme. On my word, Ol,"--he
turned quite away from his sister-in-law's critical gaze and faced his
brother with something like indignation in his frank young
eyes--"don't we owe the old home anything but a present tied up in
tissue paper once a year?"
Marian began to speak. She thought Guy was exceeding his rights in
talking as if they had been at fault. It was not often that elderly
people had so many children within call--loyal children who would do
anything within reason. But certainly a man owed something to his own
family. And at Christmas! Why not carry out this plan at some other--
Her husband abruptly interrupted her. He took his pipe quite out of
his mouth and spoke decidedly.
"Guy, I believe you're right. I'll be sorry to desert my own kids, of
course, but I rather think they can stand it for once. If the others
fall into line, you may count on me."
Guy got away, feeling that the worst of his troubles was over. In his
younger sister, Nan, he hoped to find an ardent ally and he was not
disappointed. Carolyn--Mrs. Charles Wetmore--also fell in heartily
with the plan. Ralph, from somewhere in the far West, wrote that he
would get home or break a leg. Edson thought the idea rather a foolish
one, but was persuaded by Jessica, his wife--whom Guy privately
declared a trump--that he must go by all means. And so they all fell
into line, and there remained for Guy only the working out of the
details.
* * * * *
"Mis' Fernald"--Marietta Cooley strove with all the decision of which
she was capable to keep her high-pitched, middle-aged voice in
order--"'fore you get to bed I'm most forgettin' what I was to ask
you. I s'pose you'll laugh, but Guy--he wrote me partic'lar he wanted
you and his father to"--Marietta's rather stern, thin face took on a
curious expression--"to hang up your stockin's."
Mrs. Fernald paused in the door-way of the bedroom opening from the
sitting-room downstairs. She looked back at Marietta with her gentle
smile.
"Guy wrote that?" she asked. "Then--it almost looks as if he might be
coming himself, doesn't it, Marietta?"
"Well, I don't know's I'd really expect him," Marietta replied,
turning her face away and busying herself about the hearth. "I guess
what he meant was more in the way of a surprise for a Christmas
present--something that'll go into a stockin', maybe."
"It's rather odd he should have written you to ask me," mused Mrs.
Fernald, as she looked out the stockings.
Marietta considered rapidly. "Well, I s'pose he intended for me to get
'em on the sly without mentionin' it to you, an' put in what he sent,
but I sort of guessed you might like to fall in with his idee by
hangin' 'em up yourself, here by the chimbley, where the children all
used to do it. Here's the nails, same as they always was."
Mrs. Fernald found the stockings, and touched her husband on the
shoulder, as he sat unlacing his shoes. "Father, Guy wrote he wanted
us to hang up our stockings," she said, raising her voice a little and
speaking very distinctly. The elderly man beside her looked up,
smiling.
"Well, well," he said, "anything to please the boy. It doesn't seem
more than a year since he was a little fellow hanging up his own
stocking, does it, mother?"
The stockings were hung in silence. They looked thin and lonely as
they dangled beside the dying fire. Marietta hastened to make them
less lonely. "Well," she said, in a shame-faced way, "the silly boy
said I was to hang mine, too. Goodness knows what he'll find to put
into it that'll fit, 'less it's a poker."
They smiled kindly at her, wished her good night, and went back into
their own room. The little episode had aroused no suspicions. It was
very like Guy's affectionate boyishness.
"I presume he'll be down," said Mrs. Fernald, as she limped quietly
about the room, making ready for bed. "Don't you remember how he
surprised us last year? I'm sorry the others can't come. Of course, I
sent them all the invitation, just as usual--I shall always do
that--but it _is_ pretty snowy weather, and I suppose they don't quite
like to risk it."
Presently, as she was putting out the light, she heard Marietta at the
door.
"Mis' Fernald, Peter Piper's got back in this part o' the house,
somehow, and I can't lay hands on him. Beats all how cute that cat is.
Seem's if he knows when I'm goin' to put him out in the wood-shed. I
don't think likely he'll do no harm, but I thought I'd tell you, so 'f
you heard any queer noises in the night you'd know it was Peter."
"Very well, Marietta"--the soft voice came back to the schemer on the
other side of the door. "Peter will be all right, wherever he is. I
shan't be alarmed if I hear him."
"All right, Mis' Fernald; I just thought I'd let you know," and the
guileful one went grinning away.
* * * * *
_There was a long silence in the quiet sleeping-room. Then, out of the
darkness, came this little colloquy:_
_"Emeline, you aren't getting to sleep."_
_"I--know I'm not, John. I--Christmas Eve keeps one awake, somehow. It
always did."_
_"Yes.... I don't suppose the children realise at all, do they?"_
_"Oh, no--oh, no! They don't realise--they never will, till--they're
here themselves. It's all right. I think--I think at least Guy will be
down to-morrow, don't you?"_
_"I guess maybe he will." Then, after a short silence. "Mother--you've
got me, you know. You know--you've always got me, dear."_
_"Yes." She would not let him hear the sob in her voice. She crept
close, and spoke cheerfully in his best ear. "And you've got me,
Johnny Boy!"_
_"Thank the Lord, I have!"_
_So, counting their blessings, they fell asleep at last. But, even in
sleep, one set of lashes was strangely wet._
* * * * *
"Christopher Jinks, what a drift!"
"Lucky we weren't two hours later."
"_Sh-h_--they might hear us."
"Nan, stop laughing, or I'll drop a snowball down your neck!"
"Here, Carol, give me your hand. I'll plough you through. Large bodies
move slowly, of course, but go elbows first and you'll get there."
"Gee _whiz_! Can't you get that door open? I'll bet it's frozen fast."
A light showed inside the kitchen. The storm-door swung open,
propelled by force from inside. A cautious voice said low: "That the
Fernald family?"
A chorus of whispers came back at Miss Marietta Cooley:
"Yes, yes--let us in, we're freezing."
"You bet we're the Fernald family--every man-Jack of us--not one
missing."
"Oh, Marietta--you dear old thing!"
"Hurry up--this is their side of the house."
"_Sh-h-h_--"
"Carol, your _sh-h-ishes_ would wake the dead!"
[Illustration: "STUMBLING OVER THEIR OWN FEET AND BUNDLES ... THE CREW
POURED INTO THE WARM KITCHEN"]
Stumbling over their own feet and bundles in the endeavour to be
preternaturally quiet, the crew poured into the warm kitchen. Bearded
Oliver, oldest of the clan; stout Edson, big Ralph, tall and slender
Guy--and the two daughters of the house, Carolyn, growing plump and
rosy at thirty; Nan, slim and girlish at twenty-four--they were all
there. Marietta heaved a sigh of content as she looked them over.
"Well, I didn't really think you'd get here--all of you. Thank the
Lord, you have. I s'pose you're tearin' hungry, bein' past 'leven. If
you think you can eat quiet as cats, I'll feed you up, but if you're
goin' to make as much rumpus as you did comin' round the corner o' the
wood-shed I'll have to pack you straight off to bed up the back
stairs."
They pleaded for mercy and hot food. They got it--everything that
could be had that would diffuse no odour of cookery through the
house. Smoking clam-broth, a great pot of baked beans, cold meats, and
jellies--they had no reason to complain of their reception. They ate
hungrily with the appetites of winter travel.
"Say, but this is great," exulted Ralph, the stalwart, consuming a
huge wedge of mince pie with a fine disregard for any consequences
that might overtake him. "This alone is worth it. I haven't eaten such
pie in a century. What a jolly place this old kitchen is! Let's have a
candy-pull to-morrow. I haven't been home Christmas in--let me see--by
Jove, I believe it's six--seven--yes, seven years. Look here: there's
been some excuse for me, but what about you people that live near?"
He looked accusingly about. Carolyn got up and came around to him.
"Don't talk about it to-night," she whispered. "We haven't any of us
realised how long it's been."
"We'll get off to bed now," Guy declared, rising. "I can't get over
the feeling that they may catch us down here. If either of them should
want some hot water or anything--"
"The dining-room door's bolted," Marietta assured him, "but it might
need explainin' if I had to bring 'em hot water by way of the parlour.
Now, go awful careful up them stairs. They're pretty near over your
ma's head, but I don't dare have you tramp through the settin'-room to
the front ones. Now, remember that seventh stair creaks like
Ned--you've got to step right on the outside edge of it to keep it
quiet. I don't know but what you boys better step right up over that
seventh stair without touchin' foot to it."
"All right--we'll step!"
"Who's going to fix the bundles?" Carolyn paused to ask as she started
up the stairs.
"Marietta," Guy answered. "I've labeled every one, so it'll be easy.
If they hear paper rattle, they'll think it's the usual presents we've
sent on, and if they come out they'll see Marietta, so it's all right.
Quiet, now. Remember the seventh stair!"
They crept up, one by one, each to his or her old room. There needed
to be no "doubling up," for the house was large, and each room had
been left precisely as its owner had left it. It was rather ghostly,
this stealing silently about with candles, and in the necessity for
the suppression of speech the animation of the party rather suffered
eclipse. It was late, and they were beginning to be sleepy, so they
were soon in bed. But, somehow, once composed for slumber, more than
one grew wakeful again.
Guy, lying staring at a patch of wintry moonlight on the odd striped
paper of his wall--it had stopped snowing since they had come into the
house, and the clouds had broken away, leaving a brilliant
sky--discovered his door to be softly opening. The glimmer of a candle
filtered through the crack, a voice whispered his name.
"Who is it?" he answered under his breath.
"It's Nan. May I come in?"
"Of course. What's up?"
"Nothing. I wanted to talk a minute." She came noiselessly in, wrapped
in a woolly scarlet kimono, scarlet slippers on her feet, her brown
braids hanging down her back. The frost-bloom lately on her cheeks had
melted into a ruddy glow, her eyes were stars. She set her candle on
the little stand, and sat down on the edge of Guy's bed. He raised
himself on his elbow and lay looking appreciatively at her.
"This is like old times," he said. "But won't you be cold?"
"Not a bit. I'm only going to stay a minute. Anyhow, this thing is
warm as toast.... Yes, isn't it like old times?"
"Got your lessons for to-morrow?"
She laughed. "All but my Cæsar. You'll help me with that, in the
morning, won't you?"
"Sure--if you'll make some cushions for my bobs."
"I will. Guy--how's Lucy Harper?"
"She's all right. How's Bob Fields?"
"Oh, I don't care for him, now!" She tossed her head.
He kept up the play. "Like Dave Strong better, huh? He's a softy."
"He isn't. Oh, Guy--I heard you had a new girl."
"New girl nothing. Don't care for girls."
"Yes, you do. At least I think you do. Her name's--Margaret."
The play ceased abruptly. Guy's face changed. "Perhaps I do," he
murmured, while his sister watched him in the candle-light.
"She won't answer yet?" she asked very gently.
"Not a word."
"You've cared a good while, haven't you, dear?"
"Seems like ages. Suppose it isn't."
"No--only two years, really caring hard. Plenty of time left."
He moved his head impatiently. "Yes, if I didn't mind seeing her smile
on Tommy Gower--de'il take him--just as sweetly as she smiles on me.
If she ever held out the tip of her finger to me, I'd seize it and
hold on to it for fair. But she doesn't. She won't. And she's going
South next week for the rest of the winter, and there's a fellow down
there in South Carolina where she goes--oh, he--he's red-headed after
her, like the rest of us. And, well--I'm up against it good and hard,
Nan, and that's the truth."
"Poor boy. And you gave up going to see her on Christmas Day, and came
down here into the country just to--"
"Just to get even with myself for the way I've neglected 'em these two
years while my head's been so full of--her. It isn't fair. After last
year I'd have come home to-day if it had meant I had to
lose--well--Margaret knows I'm here. I don't know what she thinks."
"I don't believe, Guy, boy, she thinks the less of you. Yes--I must
go. It will all come right in the end, dear--I'm sure of it. No, I
don't know how Margaret feels--Good night--good night!"
* * * * *
Christmas morning, breaking upon a wintry world--the Star in the East
long set. Outside the house a great silence of drift-wrapped hill and
plain;--inside, a crackling fire upon a wide hearth, and a pair of
elderly people waking to a lonely holiday.
[Illustration: "'THE CHILDREN!' SHE WAS SAYING.
'THEY--THEY--JOHN--THEY MUST BE HERE!'"]
Mrs. Fernald crept to the door of her room--the injured knee always
made walking difficult after a night's quiet. She meant to sit down by
the fire which she had lately heard Marietta stirring and feeding into
activity, and warm herself at its flame. She remembered with a sad
little smile that she and John had hung their stockings there, and
looked to see what miracle had been wrought in the night.
"_Father_!"--Her voice caught in her throat.... What was all this?...
By some mysterious influence her husband learned that she was calling
him, though he had not really heard. He came to the door and looked at
her, then at the chimneypiece where the stockings hung--a long row of
them, as they had not hung since the children grew up--stockings of
quality: one of brown silk, Nan's; a fine gray sock with scarlet
clocks, Ralph's,--all stuffed to the top, with bundles overflowing
upon the chimneypiece and even to the floor below.
"What's this--what's this?" John Fernald's voice was puzzled. "Whose
are these?" He limped closer. He put on his spectacles and stared hard
at a parcel protruding from the sock with the scarlet clocks.
"'_Merry Christmas to Ralph from Nan_,'" he read. "'To Ralph from
Nan,'" he repeated vaguely. His gaze turned to his wife. His eyes were
wide like a child's. But she was getting to her feet, from the chair
into which she had dropped.
"The children!" she was saying. "They--they--John--they must be
_here_!"
He followed her through the chilly hall to the front staircase, seldom
used now, and up--as rapidly as those slow, stiff joints would allow.
Trembling, Mrs. Fernald pushed open the first door at the top.
A rumpled brown head raised itself from among the pillows, a pair of
sleepy but affectionate brown eyes smiled back at the two faces
peering in, and a voice brimful of mirth cried softly: "Merry
Christmas, mammy and daddy!" They stared at her, their eyes growing
misty. _It was their little daughter Nan, not yet grown up!_
They could not believe it. Even when they had been to every room;--had
seen their big son Ralph, still sleeping, his yet youthful face, full
of healthy colour, pillowed on his brawny arm, and his mother had
gently kissed him awake to be half-strangled in his hug;--when they
had met Edson's hearty laugh as he fired a pillow at them--carefully,
so that his father could catch it;--when they had seen plump pretty
Carol pulling on her stockings as she sat on the floor smiling up at
them;--Oliver, advancing to meet them in his bath-robe and
slippers;--Guy, holding out both arms from above his blankets, and
shouting "Merry Christmas!--and how do you like your children?"--even
then it was difficult to realise that not one was missing--and that no
one else was there. Unconsciously Mrs. Fernald found herself looking
about for the sons' wives and daughters' husbands and children. She
loved them all;--yet--to have her own, and no others, just for this
one day--it was happiness indeed.
When they were all downstairs, about the fire, there was great
rejoicing. They had Marietta in; indeed, she had been hovering
continuously in the background, to the apparently frightful jeopardy
of the breakfast in preparation, upon which, nevertheless, she had
managed to keep a practised eye.
"And you were in it, Marietta?" Mr. Fernald said to her in
astonishment, when he first saw her. "How in the world did you get all
these people into the house and to bed without waking us?"
"It was pretty consid'able of a resk," Marietta replied, with modest
pride, "'seein' as how they was inclined to be middlin' lively. But I
kep' a-hushin' 'em up, and I filled 'em up so full of victuals they
couldn't talk. I didn't know's there'd be any eatables left for
to-day," she added--which last remark, since she had been slyly baking
for a week, Guy thought might be considered pure bluff.
At the breakfast table, while the eight heads were bent, this
thanksgiving arose, as the master of the house, in a voice not quite
steady, offered it to One Unseen:
_Thou who camest to us on that first Christmas Day, we bless Thee for
this good and perfect gift Thou sendest us to-day, that Thou
forgettest us not in these later years, but givest us the greatest joy
of our lives in these our loyal children._
Nan's hand clutched Guy's under the table. "Doesn't that make it worth
it?" his grasp said to her, and hers replied with a frantic pressure,
"Indeed it does, but we don't deserve it."
... It was late in the afternoon, a tremendous Christmas dinner well
over, and the group scattered, when Guy and his mother sat alone by
the fire. The "boys" had gone out to the great stock barn with their
father to talk over with him every detail of the prosperous business
he, with the help of an invaluable assistant, was yet able to manage.
Carolyn and Nan had ostensibly gone with them, but in reality the
former was calling upon an old friend of her childhood, and the latter
had begged a horse and sleigh and driven merrily away alone upon an
errand she would tell no one but her mother.
[Illustration: "'MERRY CHRISTMAS, MAMMY AND DADDY!'"]
Mrs. Fernald sat in her low chair at the side of the hearth, her son
upon a cushion at her feet, his head resting against her knee. Her
slender fingers were gently threading the thick locks of his hair, as
she listened while he talked to her of everything in his life, and, at
last, of the one thing he cared most about.
"Sometimes I get desperate and think I may as well give her up for
good and all," he was saying. "She's so--so--_elusive_--I don't know
any other word for it. I never can tell how I stand with her. She's
going South next week. I've asked her to answer me before she goes.
Somehow I've clung to the hope that I'd get my answer to-day. You'll
laugh, but I left word with my office-boy to wire me if a note or
anything from her came. It's four o'clock, and I haven't heard.
She--you see, I can't help thinking it's because she's going to--turn
me down--and--hates to do it--Christmas Day!"
He turned suddenly and buried his face in his mother's lap; his
shoulders heaved a little in spite of himself. His mother's hand
caressed his head more tenderly than ever, but, if he could have seen,
her eyes were very bright.
They were silent for a long time. Then suddenly a jingle of sleigh
bells approached through the falling winter twilight, drew near, and
stopped at the door. Guy's mother laid her hands upon his shoulders.
"Son," she said, "there's some one stopping now. Perhaps it's the boy
with a message from the station."
He was on his feet in an instant. Her eyes followed him as he rushed
away through the hall. Then she rose and quietly closed the
sitting-room door behind him.
As Guy flung open the front door, a tall and slender figure in gray
furs and a wide gray hat was coming up the walk. Eyes whose glance had
long been his dearest torture met Guy Fernald's and fell. Lips like
which there were no others in the world smiled tremulously in response
to his eager exclamation. And over the piquant young face rose an
exquisite colour which was not altogether born of the wintry air. The
girl who for two years had been only "elusive" had taken the
significant step of coming to North Estabrook in response to an
eloquent telephone message sent that morning by Nan.
Holding both her hands fast, Guy led her up into the house--and found
himself alone with her in the shadowy hall. With one gay shout Nan had
driven away toward the barn. The inner doors were all closed. Blessing
the wondrous sagacity of his womankind, Guy took advantage of his
moment.
"Nan brought you--I see that. I know you're very fond of her, but--you
didn't come wholly to please her, did you--Margaret?"
"Not wholly."
"I've been looking all day for my answer. I--oh--I wonder if--" he was
gathering courage from her aspect, which for the first time in his
experience failed to keep him at a distance--"_dare_ I think
you--_bring it_?"
She slowly lifted her face. "I thought it was so--so dear of you," she
murmured, "to come home to your people instead of--staying with me. I
thought you deserved--what you say--you want--"
"_Margaret_--you--"
"I haven't given you any Christmas present. Will--I--do?"
"Will _you_ do!... _Oh_!"--It was a great explosive sigh of relief
and joy, and as he gave vent to it he caught her close.
"Will--_you_--do!... Good Lord!... I rather _think you will_!"
* * * * *
_"Emeline--"_
_"Yes, John dear?"_
_"You're not--crying?"_
_"Oh, no--no, no, John!" What a blessing deafness is sometimes! The
ear cannot detect the delicate tremolo which might tell the story too
plainly. And in the darkness of night, the eye cannot see._
_"It's been a pretty nice day, hasn't it?"_
_"A beautiful day!"_
_"I guess there's no doubt but the children care a good deal for the
old folks yet."_
_"No doubt at all, dear."_
_"It's good to think they're all asleep under the roof once more,
isn't it?--And one extra one. We like her, don't we?"_
_"Oh, very, very much!"_
_"Yes, Guy's done well. I always thought he'd get her, if he hung on.
The Fernalds always hang on, but Guy's got a mite of a temper--I
didn't know but he might let go a little too soon. Well--it's great to
think they all plan to spend every Christmas Day with us, isn't it,
Emeline?"_
_"Yes, dear--it's--great."_
_"Well--I must let you go to sleep. It's been a big day, and I guess
you're tired. Emeline, we've not only got each other--we've got the
children too. That's a pretty happy thing at our age, isn't it, now?"_
_"Yes--yes."_
_"Good night--Christmas Night, Emeline."_
_"Good night, dear."_
* * * * *
By the Same Author
The Second Violin
The Indifference of Juliet
With Juliet in England
Round the Corner in Gay Street
Also many short stories for children
* * * * *
End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of On Christmas Day in the Morning, by
Grace S. Richmond
*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ON CHRISTMAS DAY IN THE MORNING ***
***** This file should be named 20187-8.txt or 20187-8.zip *****
This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:
http://www.gutenberg.org/2/0/1/8/20187/
Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Sankar Viswanathan, and the
Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions
will be renamed.
Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no
one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation
(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without
permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules,
set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to
copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to
protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project
Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you
charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you
do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the
rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose
such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and
research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do
practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is
subject to the trademark license, especially commercial
redistribution.
*** START: FULL LICENSE ***
THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE
PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK
To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free
distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work
(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project
Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project
Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at
http://gutenberg.org/license).
Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm
electronic works
1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm
electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to
and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property
(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all
the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy
all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession.
If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project
Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the
terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or
entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8.
1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be
used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who
agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few
things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works
even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See
paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project
Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement
and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
works. See paragraph 1.E below.
1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation"
or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project
Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the
collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an
individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are
located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from
copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative
works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg
are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project
Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by
freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of
this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with
the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by
keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project
Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others.
1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern
what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in
a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check
the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement
before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or
creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project
Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning
the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United
States.
1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg:
1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate
access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently
whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the
phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project
Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed,
copied or distributed:
This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or
re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived
from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is
posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied
and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees
or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work
with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the
work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1
through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the
Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or
1.E.9.
1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted
with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution
must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional
terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked
to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the
permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work.
1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm
License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this
work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm.
1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this
electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without
prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with
active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project
Gutenberg-tm License.
1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary,
compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any
word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or
distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than
"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version
posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org),
you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a
copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon
request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other
form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm
License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1.
1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying,
performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works
unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.
1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing
access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided
that
- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from
the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method
you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is
owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he
has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the
Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments
must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you
prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax
returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and
sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the
address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to
the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation."
- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies
you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he
does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm
License. You must require such a user to return or
destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium
and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of
Project Gutenberg-tm works.
- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any
money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the
electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days
of receipt of the work.
- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free
distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works.
1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm
electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set
forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from
both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael
Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the
Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below.
1.F.
1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable
effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread
public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm
collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain
"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or
corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual
property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a
computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by
your equipment.
1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right
of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project
Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project
Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project
Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all
liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal
fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT
LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE
PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE
TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE
LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR
INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH
DAMAGE.
1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a
defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can
receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a
written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you
received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with
your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with
the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a
refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity
providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to
receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy
is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further
opportunities to fix the problem.
1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth
in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER
WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO
WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE.
1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied
warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages.
If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the
law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be
interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by
the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any
provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions.
1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the
trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone
providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance
with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production,
promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works,
harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees,
that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do
or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm
work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any
Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause.
Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm
Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of
electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers
including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists
because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from
people in all walks of life.
Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the
assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's
goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will
remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project
Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure
and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations.
To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation
and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4
and the Foundation web page at http://www.pglaf.org.
Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive
Foundation
The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit
501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the
state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal
Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification
number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at
http://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg
Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent
permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws.
The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S.
Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered
throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at
809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email
[email protected]. Email contact links and up to date contact
information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official
page at http://pglaf.org
For additional contact information:
Dr. Gregory B. Newby
Chief Executive and Director
[email protected]
Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg
Literary Archive Foundation
Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide
spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of
increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be
freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest
array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations
($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt
status with the IRS.
The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating
charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United
States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a
considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up
with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations
where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To
SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any
particular state visit http://pglaf.org
While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we
have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition
against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who
approach us with offers to donate.
International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make
any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from
outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff.
Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation
methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other
ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations.
To donate, please visit: http://pglaf.org/donate
Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
works.
Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm
concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared
with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project
Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support.
Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed
editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S.
unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily
keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition.
Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility:
http://www.gutenberg.org
This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm,
including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary
Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to
subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks.
