Summary

Frances E. Crompton The Christmas Fairy, and Other Stories

At last Bertie Fellowes thrust his mother's letter into his friend's hand. "Read it," he sobbed.
So Shivers made himself master of Mrs. Fellowes' letter and understood the cause of the boy's outburst of grief. "Old fellow," he said at last, "don't fret over it. It might be worse. Why, you might be like me, with your father and mother thousands of miles away. When Aggie is better, you'll be able to go home—and it'll help your mother if she thinks you are almost as happy as if you were at home. It must be worse for her—she has cried ever so over her letter—see, it's all tear-blots."
Source: Gutenberg

Frances E. Crompton The Christmas Fairy, and Other Stories

Oh, I'll tell you what it is, you fellows, if I couldn't go home for the holidays—especially at Christmas—I think I'd just sit down and die."
"Oh! no, you wouldn't," said Shivers; "you'd hate it, and you'd get ever so home-sick and miserable, but you wouldn't die over it. You'd just get through somehow, and hope something would happen before next year, or that some kind fairy or other would——"
"Bosh! there are no fairies nowadays," said Fellowes. "See here, Shivers, I'll write home and ask my mother if she won't invite you to come back with me for the holidays."
Source: Gutenberg

Frances E. Crompton The Christmas Fairy, and Other Stories

This was the day before Christmas Eve, that delightful day of preparation for the greatest festival in all the year—the day when in most households there are many little mysteries afoot, when parcels come and go, and are smothered [12] away so as to be ready when Santa Claus comes his rounds; when some are busy decking the rooms with holly and mistletoe; when the cook is busiest of all, and savoury smells rise from the kitchen, telling of good things to be eaten on the morrow.
Source: Gutenberg

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