CHAPTER X

CHRISTMAS

With the thought of the warm stable awaiting him at the other end of his journey, little Rocket stepped out so briskly that they were home in good time after all. Bella's thoughts and Tom's were far more perplexing ones, for they had to decide how they were to get their mysterious parcels out of the cart and out of sight without any one seeing them.

"I can get them out of the cart easy enough," said Tom, "but to get them into the house is another matter. Would it do to leave them in the shed all night?"

"It'll have to, it's my belief," said Bella perplexedly. "I think it's the best we can do, and then I'll try to go down for them and hide them upstairs before Margery wakes in the morning."

So she put the precious parcels in one of the round hampers, and covered them over with some of the waste cabbage leaves they had saved and brought back for the fowls.

"Are those for me?" Miss Hender asked, when she saw the leaves.

"Yes," said Tom calmly. "I'll carry them down and put basket and all in the tool-house for the night;" and he was gone before any one could stop him, and Bella, with a deep breath of relief, was able to think of other things with an easy mind.

It was splendid, they both thought, to come back and find their father awaiting them once more, glad to welcome them, and eager to hear all their doings. By the time Rocket had been taken home to his supper and bed, the afternoon had gone and darkness fallen, and then they all had tea by the light of the blazing fire in the kitchen, which was sweet with the mingled scents of the little Christmas tree and one of Bella's pots of Roman hyacinths, which she had given to her father. There was something of a festive air, too, about the little gathering. Father was home, Christmas was at hand, and they had earned enough that day to keep them all in comfort for another week. They had got in a store of coal and wood, the rent was ready in the rent-box, and their minds were free from debt or pressing need.

There was much to tell and much to hear as they lingered over their meal, but Tom and Bella found it far from easy to talk of their day's doings without bringing in any reference to the 'surprises' now lying in the tool-shed, and more than once they were thankful that the light in the room was flickering and uneven, for it helped to hide embarrassed looks and quick blushes, which would certainly have roused suspicion if Charlie's or Margery's quick eyes had seen them.

Charlie was in a state of great delight with the three shillings, which was his share of the holly money. "What shall you do with yours, Tom?" he asked, but fortunately he did not wait for an answer. "Do you know what I am going to do with mine?—But no, I shan't tell you yet; you'll know soon, and then we shall have a fine time."

"I know," said Margery, who was full of curiosity, and wanted to surprise Charlie's secret from him, "Rabbits!"

"Rabbits!" scornfully, "I wouldn't be bothered with them!"

"Canaries?" asked Bella, "or bees, or pigeons?"

"Never you mind," said Charlie, somewhat hastily. "It isn't any good for you to go on guessing. You'll know when you see." And he pointedly turned the conversation, and actually managed to go to bed with his secret still kept.

So did Bella and Tom, but theirs weighed on Bella's mind far more heavily than did Charlie's on his, and she was never more glad to get up than she was on that Christmas morning.

It was still so dark that she could not see Margery in her little bed across the room, but she heard her breathing steadily and deeply, and as she did not speak when Bella moved about the room a little, Bella knew she must be fast asleep. She did not even move when Bella struck a match and lighted a candle, nor when she opened the bedroom door and crept downstairs.

It had become Bella's habit now to go down first and light the kitchen fire, so if they heard her no one would take any notice, and, once downstairs, it was easy enough to open the front door and slip out. It was not so easy to grope one's way to the tool-house and find the hamper and its contents. It was a bitterly cold morning, a keen wind swept along the garden path, and every now and then something soft and cold touched Bella's face, or rested on her hair.

"I believe it is snowing," she said, as she held out her hand to try to catch a flake. In the sky the stars were still twinkling, and suddenly from somewhere in the distance the bells rang out their glad peal.

To Bella out there alone with the stars and the snow and the bells, it all seemed wonderfully beautiful and impressive. Her thoughts flew to her mother, and the past Christmases when she had been with them, and, as she turned her face up to the sky and the stars, it seemed to Bella as though they must be looking straight into each other's eyes.

"We don't forget you, mother," she whispered. "Even when we are talking and laughing, we'll be thinking of you too, and wanting you;" and one little star flashed and gleamed as though it understood and answered her.

In the tool-house she found the hamper and its precious contents quite safe, and gathering all the parcels in her apron, she replaced the cabbage leaves, and scurried back to the house. How she got in and up the stairs she scarcely knew.

Margery stirred as she entered and spoke, "Is that you, Bella?"

"Yes," said Bella, "I'm going down now to light the fire and get father some tea. You go to sleep again; it is too early to wake up yet;" and sleepy Margery turned over in her snug bed and was asleep almost before Bella had ceased speaking.

It was not easy to stow away a dozen paper-covered parcels in a small space, and without making a sound. Bella found this the hardest part of the whole task, until it entered her head to lay them flat under her bed. "It's lucky I make my bed myself!" she thought, as she drew the bedclothes straight again. "It is a splendid place, nothing shows a bit!" and she hurried about her usual tasks full of excitement and relief.

There was a Christmasy look about the world out of doors, and a Christmasy feeling throughout the house indoors. The sun shone, and a few flakes of snow fell in a lazy, casual way—enough to convince Margery that Christmas had really come, but not enough to inconvenience anybody else. To Margery snow was a part of Christmas, which was not complete without it, and as soon as she stepped out of bed she ran to the window and looked out anxiously.

"Well," she said doubtfully, "there is snow, but very little. I hope it doesn't mean that it is going to be a very little Christmas."

Long before the day was over she admitted that, in spite of there being only a very little snow, it was one of the nicest Christmases she had ever known in all her life.

Almost as soon as their father was dressed and settled in his arm-chair by the fire, Aunt Maggie arrived with a big and heavy basket on her arm.

"Happy Christmas to you all!" she cried cheerfully. "Isn't it good to be together again? How are you feeling this morning, William?"

"Pretty well, thank you, Maggie, and glad enough to be home again! You are coming to dinner with us, of course?"

"No, I am not, thank you," said Aunt Maggie; "an old friend of mine is coming to dinner with me. She was alone, and I was alone, so I asked her. I've brought you your plum-pudding, if you'll accept it instead of me, and there's a little parcel for each of you."

"Maggie, you've got to come to us! You knew we should expect you! Whatever made you go and ask somebody in?"

"Well, I knew you'd be better alone, as you ain't very strong yet, and Miss Hender has got her hands full, I know. But if you'll let me come up to tea, I will, and be glad to."

"And bring your friend too," said Aunt Emma, quite genially.

"Thank you; I am sure it is very kind of you, and she'll be delighted to come, I know. I must run home now, for I've got my dinner to get ready."

Bella and the children, who had disappeared soon after Aunt Maggie's arrival, came running in again.

"Aunt Maggie," said Bella, almost breathless with haste, "we were coming down with these on our way to church, but—but we can't wait! That's with my love. I've been bringing them on on purpose for you!" and she put down before Aunt Maggie a pot of beautiful lily of the valley almost in full bloom. The fragrance of them filled the room.

"Lilies!" cried Mrs. Langley delightedly, "lilies? Why, however did you get them now, child? I never saw anything lovelier in my life? Old Mrs. Twining'll go crazy over them. I never knew anybody love flowers as she does. Thank you, Bella, dear," and she kissed the little flower-grower warmly.

"I've made you a besom, Aunt Maggie, but it isn't very good, I am afraid," said Tom shyly. "I ain't very clever at it yet."

Aunt Maggie's pleasant face beamed. "Bless the boy!" she cried heartily, "he always knows what I'm in want of. I shall find it ever so useful, Tom."

"And I've got an orange for you," broke in Margery, who could keep quiet no longer.

"And I've got some peppermints," said Charlie.

"Now fancy you two remembering what I like! Thank you, dears, ever so much. Well, I didn't expect to carry my basket back full, I can tell you. I am sorry I've got to hurry away now, but I'll be up again about four o'clock. I hope you'll have a comfortable day, William. If I can do anything to help, I shall be only too pleased. You will tell me, Miss Hender, won't you? Well, good-bye for the time, and a happy Christmas to you all!" and Aunt Maggie ran off as fast as she could go.

Then what excitement there was, as they all eagerly opened their parcels. There was a warm muffler for their father, an apron for Miss Hender, a pair of warm gloves for Bella and a thick pair for Tom for driving; for Charlie there was a book, and for Margery a silver thimble.

"Just the very things we want!" cried Bella delightedly, "I shall wear my gloves to church presently; I wanted some to keep my hands warm."

"I can't wear my fimble to church, I s'pose?" questioned Margery, looking at it longingly.

"Oh no!" said Bella, "and if you could it wouldn't show under your gloves."

"Could I carry it in my pocket?" pleaded Margery; she could not bear to be parted from her new treasure so soon.

"You would most likely drag it out with your handkerchief and lose it. What would you do then? You leave your thimble at home with father, and I will lend you my muff, to keep your hands warm—if you will promise to take great care of it."

"Oh, I'll be ever so careful," promised Margery eagerly, for one of the ambitions of her life was to have a muff to carry. Bella had a little old-fashioned black one that had belonged to her mother, and Margery yearned for the time when she too should have one.

They were all pleased with their presents, even Aunt Emma. "Well, I did want an apron," she said, as she turned it over and examined it. "It might have been a trifle longer, but it looks a nice one." This from Aunt Emma was wonderful praise. "I must go and see about the dinner now, and, Bella, it is time to get ready for church; you'll see that they are all clean and tidy, won't you?"

"Yes," promised Bella; and when presently they all started on their walk no one could have found fault with their appearance, not even Aunt Emma.

The snowflakes had ceased falling now, the sun was shining brilliantly, but a keen little breeze was rustling the dead leaves still clinging to the bushes, and nipping the noses and fingers of those who faced it. Across the fields sounded the peals of the church bells, and along the roads and lanes came little groups of people stepping out briskly in the frosty air. Every one had a greeting for every one, and almost every face bore a brighter, more friendly look than usual.

The service, with its hymns so heartily sung, was cheerful too, particularly the part that the children loved so much, when carols were sung in place of a sermon. This was a treat they would not have missed for a good deal. They all waited eagerly for their own especial favourites, and when the choir broke out with—

"Once in royal David's city
Stood a lowly cattle shed."

Margery looked up at Bella triumphantly. She had her favourite, at any rate, so her anxiety was over.

Charlie's favourite was, 'God rest you, merry gentlemen,' but he was doomed to disappointment that day; and Tom did not get his—

"The holly and the ivy
Now both were full well grown."

Bella had so many favourite carols, she was almost sure of hearing one or the other, and to-day her face lighted up with pleasure when the choir began—

"It came upon the midnight clear,
That glorious song of old,
From angels bending near the earth,
With news of joy foretold.
Peace on the earth, goodwill to men,
From heaven's all-gracious King,
The world in solemn silence lay
To hear the angels sing."

As they walked home the air and the words still rang in her head:—

"And ye, beneath life's crushing load,
Whose forms are bending low,
Who toil along the arduous way,
With painful steps and slow;
Look now! for glad and joyous hours,
God's messengers will bring.
Oh, rest beside the weary road,
And hear the angels sing."

As she sang them her thoughts flew first to her father, and then they travelled back over the past twelve months, and all the trials and changes it had brought to them, and all the good things too. God had been very, very good to them. He had given them their father back, they had wanted for nothing, and He had enabled them to keep a home for their father to come back to.

It rested with them still to keep a roof to shelter him, to find food and clothing, and everything that was needed, but Bella did not let herself feel afraid.

"I am not going to worry, God will help us," she thought, with childlike faith in Him. "He has taken care of us so far, and I am sure He will go on taking care of us."

"How quiet you are! What are you thinking of?" cried Margery, tugging at Bella's hand.

"Oh, rest beside the weary road,
And hear the angels sing,"

Sang Bella, softly, as they turned into May Lane, and Tom took up the refrain.

"Look! look! look! There's father, standing at the gate! Oh, do look!" cried Margery excitedly, and, taking to her heels, she dashed to meet him, followed by the others.

Father had to hear all about the service, and the carols, of course, but before he had heard a half, and admired the new gloves, and shown off his own new muffler, Aunt Emma was out, to say he ought not to stand about in the cold, and that dinner would soon be ready, and the children had better come in and get their hats and coats off.

Such a dinner it was, too, and such appetites they all had. There were two roasted fowls, a piece of bacon, a suet pudding, and potatoes and Brussels sprouts of their own growing; and after that there was Aunt Maggie's Christmas pudding.

"I think it has been a lovely dinner!" said Margery, with a deep sigh of content; "and I s'pect presently I shan't feel as though I had eaten such a 'normous lot. I think I'll be comfor'abler when I don't," and she was surprised that the others all laughed.

They sat a long time over their dinner, talking and enjoying themselves, and the short December daylight was actually beginning to wane before they made a move.

"Now," said Aunt Emma, with a sigh, as she rose, "who is going to help me with the dishes?"

Bella looked at Tom, and Tom at Bella. "Well," said the latter, at last, "I want to help you, but—but Tom and I have a big secret that we want to—to arrange, and we want to be here by ourselves,—except father, of course,—for a bit."

"Is it a nice secret? a real one?" asked Charlie, "a s'prise?"

"Yes, a very nice one."

"We'll help Aunt Emma; come along, Margy."

"I wish I knew what it was," said Margery, still lingering and looking anxiously at Bella. "Shall I know by an' by?"

"Yes, yes," said Bella impatiently; "if you run away you will. If you don't, you see, we shan't be able to attend to it——"

"Oh!" gasped Margery, and the next moment she had disappeared, and was in the scullery.

Then, for nearly an hour Tom and Bella found so much to do, they scarcely knew what to do first. Their father had to be told all about the secrets, all the treasures had to be brought down from upstairs, the candles fixed in the candlesticks, and the presents arranged on the tree or around it. They never could have been ready in time, had not their father helped them; and, as it was, darkness had fallen before they had done, and they had to light the lamp. At last everything was really fixed and ready, all but the lighting of the Christmas candles.

"Now," said Bella, "we will put out the lamp, and stir up the fire to make it blaze, for there mustn't be any other light but that and the candles. Tom, you go out, and see if Aunt Emma and the others are ready. If they are, they must wait till we call, and then we will light the candles at once."

"They are ready," said Tom, returning in a moment; "and you had better hurry, for they won't wait much longer."

One after another the yellow flames gleamed out against the green branches. "You can call them now, Tom," Bella gasped, breathless with excitement and haste.

Tom, only too ready, put his head round the door. "Ahoy there!" he began, at the top of his voice, and almost as if in answer came a knocking at the door.

"That's Aunt Maggie and Mrs. Twining," whispered Bella; "that's nice, now they'll be able to see the tree too!"

Tom ran out and opened the front door quickly, for it was not the weather in which to keep people waiting, and so it happened that the little group from the door and the little group from the scullery met in the passage, and entered the room together.

"Oh-h-h!" squealed Margery.

"I say!" cried Charlie.

"Well, I never! And to think that at my age I should see a Christmas-tree for the first time!" exclaimed old Mrs. Twining. "It makes me sad to think of what I've missed!"

"However did you manage it? and where did you get all the things?" cried Aunt Emma, amazed, for she had no suspicion of what was going on.

For a while all was chatter and admiration and excitement, the elder ones content to gaze and admire only, the younger ones eyeing the parcels with eager, inquisitive eyes.

"Whatever can be inside them all?" gasped Margery. "Oh, I don't know how to wait until I know!" and Margery was not the only one who felt like that. Indeed, to keep them waiting long was more than Bella or Tom could do, and very soon the parcels were being handed round.

That was a glorious moment for them all, but especially for Bella; she alone knew all the secrets the tree held, and to whom each parcel belonged, and she was pleased and proud, excited and nervous, but supremely happy, all at the same time. There was something for every one, even for old Mrs. Twining, for, when Bella realised that she would be there, and heard how much she loved flowers, she had brought in one of her precious pots of Roman hyacinths for her, and placed it under the boughs of the tree in readiness for the old lady.

"I s'pose I ought to keep it for market," she had sighed, as she picked out the nicest she could see. But no price that could have been paid for it could have been half as precious as the overwhelming delight of the poor lonely old woman, and her joyful thanks.

For Aunt Maggie there was a little vase that they had bought in Norton for her; for their father the slippers, and for Aunt Emma the shawl, and they all seemed quite overcome to think there were such nice presents lurking in those branches for them.

Then came what were surprises even to Bella,—Joan Adamson's presents, which she had not even felt through the wrappings. The little lady must have thought the matter out very carefully, for she had sent to each exactly what they wanted. For Margery there was a doll, fully dressed, even to the little laced boots that could be taken off and laced on again. For Tom there was a fine big book with pictures of shipwrecks and fights and wonderful adventures. For Charlie there was a strong clasp-knife, which made him, for the first time, cease to envy his father. While for Bella there was the prettiest little brooch she had ever seen. It was only a little frosted silver daisy with a yellow eye, but to Bella, who had never possessed but one brooch, and that an old one of her mother's, which she was afraid to wear, it was perfect, and filled her with rapture. For Aunt Emma there was a nice jet hat-pin, and for their father two white handkerchiefs.

No little Christmas-tree that ever existed could have given more pleasure than that one did, and even after it was relieved of its burden of presents, the children could not tear themselves away from gazing at it, until the candles had burnt right down in their sockets, and there was no light left to gaze by.

With a sigh of regret that the joy of it was over, they all turned away, but only to gather round the fire, as happy a little party as one could find that Christmas Day. The mingled scent of the flowers and the fir-tree made the kitchen sweet, the pretty glass toys on the little tree caught the light of the fire and flashed back its glow. Father put on his warm slippers, and Aunt Emma her apron and little shawl, Charlie dropped on the rug before the fire to examine his knife again by its light, and Margery sat at her father's feet hugging her doll in an ecstasy of delight.

"Let us have some carols, children, shall we?" said their father presently. "Aunt Emma and I haven't heard any yet, and Christmas doesn't seem perfect without a few carols."

So on they sat in the firelight and sang all they could remember, one after the other, until at last the fire died down, and the room grew dark.

"I think it is time now to light the lamp and see about having some tea," said Aunt Emma, rising from her chair. "What does every one say to that?"

"I don't know that I want any tea, but I should like the lamp to be lighted," said Margery, with a deep sigh of pleasure; "for, though I know what my doll feels like, I can't say I have seen her properly yet. But I've been busy all the time, I've been thinking about a name for her, and I've made up my mind that I'm going to call her 'Christmas.'"