Eleanor Hallowell Abbott

“ It takes a great deal of patience," said our Uncle Peter, "to bring up a little boy.—Unless every time he's naughty you can say to yourself 'Well, even so—think what a good man his Father grew to be!'——Or every time he's good you're fair enough to admit that 'Even his naughty Father was once as nice as this!'"——All the twinkle went suddenly out of our Uncle Peter's eyes. It left them looking narrow. He made a quick glance at Carol. ”

“ One is to shout. The other is to whisper. I decided to whisper.
"You don't seem to understand," I whispered. "It's Christmas relationships that are worrying Carol and me so! It worries us dreadfully! Oh, of course we understand all about the Little Baby Christ! And the camels! And the wise men! And the frankincense! That's easy! But who is Santa Claus? Unless—unless—?" It was Carol himself who signaled me to go on. "Unless—he's the Baby Christ's grandfather?" I thought Derry Willard looked a little bit startled. Carol's ears turned bright red. ”

“ And the birds build their nests
In the crotch of the sycamore-tree!
But the Little Son of God had no place for His head
When He cameth to earth for me!
Rosalee's voice was like a lark in the sky. Carol's face looked like two larks in the sky.
The tame crow stayed in the kitchen. He was afraid of so many strangers. The tame coon wasn't afraid of anything. He crawled in and out of all the wrapping-papers, sniffing and sniffing. ”

“ Rosalee giggled!
Carol and I jumped up and down! We clapped our hands!
The Rich Man cocked his head on one side. He looked at our Aunt Esta. At her funny black pointed hat. At her scraggly gray wig. At her great horn-rimmed spectacles. At the hump on her back. "U-m-m," he said. "What do you mean,—'witch-y wiles?'"
"Silence!" said our Aunt Esta. "Read your cards!"
We read our cards.
Carol's card said "Pink Breeze" on it. And "Slimy Frog."
Our Aunt Esta poked Carol twice with her wand. "Pitiful Wretch!" said our Aunt Esta. ”

“ I cried. "She sits too heavy! And squashes 'em perfectly flat!—There was a hen," I cried. "Her name was Lizzie! She was a good hen! But childless! The Grocer gave us some day-old chicks to put under her! But when we went out to the nest the next morning to see 'em—they couldn't have been flatter if they'd been pressed in the Bible!—My Brother Carol cried,—I cried,—my Mother——"
"I don't care at all who cried," said the Lady. It was true. She didn't. All she cared was to look at our Uncle Peter. ”

“ Carol and I went out to play. We thought we'd like to see the Christmas-tree garden too. The snow was almost as deep as our heads. All the evergreen trees were weighed down with snow. Their branches dragged on the ground. It was like walking through white plumes.
We found mother's Christmas-tree garden. We found Rosalee and young Derry Willard standing right in the middle of it. It was all caves and castles! It was like a whole magic [Pg 55] little city all made out of white plumes! The sun came out and shone on it! Blue sky opened overhead! Everything crackled! ”

“ It lives in a nice box of earth. It has water every day like a dog. It never dies. It just disappears. When we come down to breakfast the day after Christmas it simply isn't there. That's all. It's immortal. Always when you remember it, it's absolutely perfect.
We liked very much to see the Christmas tree come. Every Sunday afternoon my mother unlocked the parlor door. We were not allowed to go in. But we could peep all we wanted to. It made your heart crinkle up like a handful of tinsel to watch the tin-foil buds change into presents.
Two of Carol's silver buds had bloomed. ”

“ Rosalee didn't want young Derry Willard to blow up and freeze. Anybody could see that she didn't. I comforted her. I said he would come in a huge fur coat. Carol insisted that tropics didn't have huge fur coats. "All right, then," I said. "He will come in a huge feather coat! Blue-bird feathers it will be made of! With a soft brown breast! When he fluffs himself he will look like the god of all the birds and of next Spring! Hawks and all evil things will scuttle away!"
There certainly was something the matter with the Christmas tree that year. ”

“ Our Aunt Esta stood up very straight. Two red spots flamed in her cheeks.
"You won't be able to keep the children away from her," she said, "after they once begin to play this game!"
"You really think so?" cried the Rich Man.
Out in the kitchen my Father looked at my Mother. My Mother looked at my Father. They both looked at us. My Father made a little chuckle.
"It would seem," said my Father, "as though it was the honor of the whole family that was involved!" He made a whisper in Carol's ear. "Go to it, Son!" he whispered.
Rosalee jumped to her feet. Carol jumped to his feet. ”

“ But Old Man Smith didn't give it to her. He just sat and stared at her eyes.
Her eyes never moved from the shining [Pg 182] bit of glass. They looked awful funny. Bigger and bigger they got! And rounder and rounder! And stiller and stiller!
It was like a puppy-dog pointing a little bird in the grass. It made you feel queer. It made you feel all sort of hollow inside. It made your legs wobble.
Carol's mouth was wide open.
So was Old Man Smith's.
Old Man Smith reached out suddenly and put the shining bit of glass right into Annie Halliway's hand. It fell through her fingers. ”

“ Rosalee looked at Carol. Carol looked at me. I looked at the Old Tom.
"Maybe she chose him for—for his historicalness," said my Mother.
"——Maybe," said my Father.
We started for the door. We got as far as the Garden. I remembered something suddenly. I clapped my hands. I laughed right out! "No! She didn't either!" I said. "She chose him for Carol's Ar—Rena—I bet'cher! Carol's going to have him for a Cham—peen! We'll fight him every afternoon! Maybe there'll be tickets!"
"Tickets?" said my Father.
"Oh my dears," said my Mother. "A cat-fight is a dreadful thing!" ”

“ That's why mother named him Carol!"
"We didn't know then, you see"—interrupted my mother very softly—"that Carol [Pg 8] had been given the gift of silence rather than the gift of speech."
"And father was so happy to have a boy," dimpled Rosalee, "that he said to mother, 'Well, now, I guess you've got everything in the world that you want!' And mother said, 'Everything—except a spruce forest!' So father bought her a spruce forest," said Rosalee. "That's the story!"
"Oh, my dear!" laughed my mother. "That isn't a 'story' at all! All you've told is the facts! ”

“ Our Uncle Peter looked funnier and funnier. It wasn't like Christmas that he looked. Nor Fourth of July. Nor even like when we've got the mumps or the measles. It was like Easter Sunday that he looked! There was no twinkle in it. Nor any smoke. Nor even paper dolls. But just SHININGNESS! ”

“ The Rich Man came in a gold-colored car to see it work. When he saw the Dining Room he sickened. He bit his cigar.
"My daughter Posie is ten years old," he said. "What I ordered for her was a Game!—not a Trousseau!"
Our Aunt Esta shivered her hands. She shrugged her shoulders.
"You don't understand," she said. "This is no paltry Toy to be exhausted and sickened of in a single hour! This is a real Game! Eth-ical! Psycho-psycho—logical! Unendingly diverting! Hour after hour! Day after day!—Once begun, you understand, it's never over!" ”

“ It hurries Christmas a lot to have a Christmas tree growing in your parlor for a whole month. Even if the parlor door is locked.
Lots of children have a Christmas tree for a whole month. But it's a going tree. Its going is very sad. Just one little wee day of perfect splendor it has. And then it begins to die. Every day it dies more. It tarnishes. Its presents are all gathered. Its pop-corn gets stale. The cranberries smell. It looks scragglier and scragglier. It gets brittle. Its needles begin to fall. Pretty soon it's nothing but a clutter. ”

“ Toys are what our Aunt Esta likes specially. Our Aunt Esta invents toys. She invents them for a store in New York. Our Aunt Esta is thirty years old with very serious hair. I don't know how old our other relatives are—except Rosalee! And Carol! And myself!
My sister Rosalee is seventeen years old. And a Betrothess. Her Betrother lives in Cuba. He eats bananas. My brother Carol is eleven. He has no voice in his throat. But he eats anything. I myself am only nine. But with very long legs. Our Father and Mother have no age. They are just tall. ”

“ Every day somebody took somebody's pencil and ran away! My Mother couldn't find anything! Not children! Not pencils!
Rosalee took the Dictionary Book besides.
"Anybody'd think," said my Father, "that this was a Graduation Essay you were making instead of just a simple little word-picture for a Blinded Lady!"
"Word-picture?" said Rosalee. "What I'm trying to make is a Peacock Feather Fan!"
"I wish there were three prizes instead of two!" said my Mother.
"Why?" said my Father.
Carol came and kicked his feet on the door. His hands were full of stones. He wanted a drink of water. ”

“ And run away just for fun! And run and run and run down clattery streets and through black woods and across green pastures snorting fire—till you met more Soldiers and more Bands and more Gold and Silver Music! ”

“ Oh, no—no—no," protested the Lady, "whatever my faults, a bargain is a bargain and——"
"Whatever your faults, my dear Madam," said our Uncle Peter, "they are essentially feminine and therefore enchanting! It is only when ladies ape the faults of men that men resent the same!—Your extravagant indulgency—" he bowed towards the toys—"your [Pg 279] absolute innocence of all business guile—" he bowed towards Tiger Lily—"nerves strung so exquisitely that the slightest—the slightest—"
The Lady shivered her clothes like a black frost. ”

“ All young Derry Willard was trying to do was to make us look more Christmassy!"
"Well, we can't accept it!" said my father.
"Of course we can't accept it!" said my mother. "It was a mistake. But at least it was a very kind mistake."
"Kind?" said my father.
"Very kind," said my mother. "No matter how dark a young man may be or how much cane-sirup and bananas he has consumed, he can't be absolutely depraved as long as he [Pg 38] goes about the world trying to make things look more Christmassy!" ”

“ Father seemed to be sneezing. He looked at Rosalee. They laughed together. His whole [Pg 21] face suddenly was very laughing. "And what becomes," he asked, "of all the Christmas-tree buds that don't bloom?" It was a funny question. It didn't have a thing in the world to do with Santa Claus being a grandfather.
"Oh, mother never throws away any of the buds," laughed Rosalee. "She just keeps them year after year and wires them on all over again."
"All unfulfilled wishes," said my mother. "Still waiting—still wishing! Maybe they'll bloom some time! Even Carol's—camel," she laughed out suddenly. ”

“ My father laughed.
"Great Heavens, woman!" he said. "Can't anything dull your courage?"
"Not my—Christmas courage!" said my mother.
My father reached out suddenly and patted her hand. [Pg 39]
"Oh, all right," he said. "I suppose we'll manage somehow."
"Of course we'll manage somehow," said my mother.
I ran back as fast as I could to Carol and Rosalee.
We thought a good deal about young Derry Willard coming. We talked about it among ourselves. We never talked about it to my father or my mother. I don't know why. I went and got my best story-book and showed the Fairy Prince to Carol. ”

“ When I got back to the dining-room everybody was looking at the little spruce-tree—except young Derry Willard and Rosalee. Young Derry Willard was still looking at Rosalee. Rosalee was looking at the toes of her slippers. The fringe of her eyelashes seemed to be an inch long. Her cheeks were so pink I thought she had a fever. No one else came to bud the Christmas tree except Carol's tame coon and the tame crow. Carol is very unselfish. He always buds one wish for the [Pg 14] coon. And one for the crow. The tame coon looked rather jolly and gold-powdered in the firelight. ”

“ My Mother says that everybody in the world has got some special Gift. Some people have one kind and some have another.
I got my skates and dictionary-book last Spring when I was nine. I've always had my freckles.
My brother Carol's Gift is Being Dumb. No matter what anybody says to him he doesn't have to answer 'em.
There was an old man in our town named Old Man Smith.
Old Man Smith had a wonderful Gift.
It wasn't a Christmas Gift like toys and games. ”

“ There was no room anywhere for anything. We had to eat in the kitchen. My Mother made griddle cakes. The Rich Man stirred the batter. He seemed to think it was funny. Carol had to sit on a soap-box. Our Aunt Esta sat on the edge of a barrel with her stockings swinging. It made her look not so strict. "All the same," worried the Rich Man, "I don't see just why you fixed the price at two hundred dollars and forty-three cents?—Why not two hundred dollars and forty-five cents? Or even the round sum two hundred and one dollars?" ”

“ He shook his head just the way Carol does sometimes when he's planning to be pleasant as soon as it's convenient. "Well, I can't help it! Exceptions, of course, are exceptions! But Cuba? A climate all mushy with warmth and sunshine! What possible stamina can a young man have who's grown up on sugar-cane sirup and—and bananas?" ”