Medoline Selwyn's Work Part 32

"Then this was your thought?" he questioned.

"Surely you must be angry with me for wis.h.i.+ng to do it. I did not mention it to Mrs. Flaxman, or any one."

"Why, not, indeed. If cook is willing to share her good things with the Mill Road people, and Mrs. Flaxman will accompany you to preserve the proprieties, I do not see anything to hinder. I will provide all the apples and confectionery your hungry crowd can consume for dessert."

I stood in amazement, scarce knowing how to express my grat.i.tude. A sudden desire seized me to put my arms around his neck and give him a genuine filial caress.

"I wish you were my father, Mr. Winthrop," I exclaimed, impulsively.

"Why so?"

"I might be able then to thank you in some comfortable fas.h.i.+on."

"I understand what you mean, little one. I told you once that I was not anxious to have you regard me in a filial way." Then turning the subject abruptly he said:

"You can make all your arrangements regardless of any reasonable expense.

One may permit themselves to be a trifle generous and childish once a year. If you see any more remarkable bargains, you can secure them and have a Christmas tree. Have the goods charged to me."

I did not attempt a reply. My heart just then was too near bubbling over to permit speech to be safe or convenient. I slipped quietly from the room. I had a comfortable feeling that my guardian could actually read my thoughts, and knew how I regarded his act and himself.

I went directly to Mrs. Flaxman. She entered cordially into my plans, but looked a good deal surprised when I told her it was Mr. Winthrop's suggestion.

"I believe, dear, in your unselfish, impulsive way, you have taken the very wisest possible course with him. I never hoped to see this day."

"I believe it amuses him. I have the impression that he is working me up into a book, only making me out more ridiculous than he ought. You cannot imagine how I long, and yet dread to see the book."

"But he does not write stories; so you need not be troubled about that."

"He can write them if he chooses, and very clever ones too, I am certain.

He may be encouraging me to go on just to find out how it will all end, but I am only one in a universe full of souls; and if others, many others, get benefited, there will be far greater gain than loss."

"That is the true, brave spirit to have, and the only kind that will bring genuine happiness."

"Now to return to our festival. Do you think cook will be willing to share her abundance with us?"

"Go and ask her, I do not think she will disappoint you."

I went directly to the large, cheery kitchen, a favorite haunt of mine of late. It was always so clean and homely, and cook was usually in a gracious mood and permitted me to a.s.sist in any of her culinary undertakings when I was so minded.

Among my other enterprises I had an ambition to become a practical housekeeper in case I might some day be married to a poor man, and have a family to bake and brew for with my own hands.

When I entered the kitchen I found her more than usually busy, with both Reynolds and Esmerelda pressed into the service.

"Shall we ever get all your dainties eaten? Won't they spoil on your hands?"

"I dare say some of them will; but Christmas time we expect a little to go to waste."

"Don't you give away some?" I asked.

"All that's asked for."

"I am so glad to hear it. I want some ever so much."

"What's up now?" she asked, scarcely with her accustomed deference.

"I want so much to have a little treat for my friends, if you will only help. It all depends on you."

"Why certainly; it's my place to cook for all the parties you choose to make. It's not my place to dictate how the victuals is to be used."

"You do not understand me. It is not here that I wish to entertain my friends. Mr. Winthrop has given his permission, on condition you are willing." She was greatly mollified at this and responded heartily. "Of course I'm willing; and, bless me, there's plenty to give a good share to them that needs it; and I guess it's them you're wanting to give it to."

"Thank you very, very much. Now you must come to my Christmas tree, and see how much pleasure you have been able to confer. Without your consent nothing would have been done."

"Yes, I'll come and help you too, and you'll need me," she said, with much good humor. I did not wait long in the kitchen, so much now must be done. Alas, Christmas day was so near I could not celebrate my festival on that day; but another day might find us just as happy; and after all it would be "curdling" too much joy into one of the shortest of our days.

I put on my wraps and went immediately to confer with Mrs. Blake. I found her, like every one else, in the midst of busy preparations for Christmas.

"Dan'el got me a twelve-pound turkey and lots of other things; and he wants a regular old-fas.h.i.+oned Christmas, with all the Lark.u.ms here; and then I have one or two little folks I'm going to have in to please myself. Poor little creatures, with a drunken father and no mother worth speaking about."

"Have you very much trade now?"

"Well, consid'able; but if you're wanting me for anything I can set up later to-night."

"Oh, no, indeed. I just wanted to consult you about something, and I will help you stone these raisins while I sit with you."

"Dear heart, you needn't do that; I'll get the pudding made in plenty of time, but what kindness have you in your plans now?"

"A Christmas tree. I want you to tell me what to do, and where to have it."

"Why, the Temperance Hall, of course, just past the mills. I guess you've never seen it."

"That will be excellent. I did not know you had one here. Now, when shall we have it? To-morrow will be too soon, I am afraid."

"Yes, and it seems a pity to have so many good things all to onct. Most everybody has a Christmas of some sort. How would Friday do."

"Very nicely. That will be two days after Christmas. Little folks will have recovered from the effects of their feasting by that time."

"Well, Dan'el 'll get a tree and fix up the Hall; and tell, then, who you'll want to invite."

"All the children on the Mill Road may come. We will have something for each of them."

"I'm very glad; for there's a few children around here that hardly knows what it is to have anything good to eat; and it'll be something for 'em to think and talk about. They'll not forget it, or you, for a good many years, I can tell you. If rich folks only knew how much good they might do, I think they'd not be so neglectful."

I soon left Mrs. Blake to continue her Christmas preparations alone, feeling much relieved that Daniel was going to a.s.sume the responsibility of securing the Hall, providing the tree, and notifying my guests. I got my presents for Thomas and Samuel, and then set about the purchase of gifts for the Christmas tree. Picture-books, jack-knives, dolls, and other toys comprised my selection. These, I concluded, would give the children more pleasure than the more necessary articles which an older and wiser person would naturally have selected. I had got so absorbed in my work that I quite forgot our expected guest until I went into the dining-room, unfortunately a little late, and found them already engaged at dinner, and Mr. Bovyer with them. Mr. Winthrop explained my tardiness in such a way that I was left a little cross and uncomfortable, and took my dinner something after the fas.h.i.+on of a naughty child suffering from reproof. Before the evening was over, however, I had forgotten my pa.s.sing dissatisfaction; for Mr. Bovyer was in one of his inspired moods when he sat at the piano.

I noticed afterward that Mrs. Flaxman's eyes were very red; but while he was playing my attention was taken up in part with the music, and partly in furtively watching Mr. Winthrop. He seemed ill at ease, and restless; while Mr. Bovyer's utmost efforts were powerless to move him to tears.

When we had all drawn cosily around the fire, after the music was ended, I remarked with some regret, "I do not think Mr. Winthrop has any tears to shed. His eyes were as dry as a bone."