CHAPTER XV
WREATHING HOLLY AND TWINING BAY
Two letters were despatched to Boston that night--one from Jessamy, onefrom Bab--like a duet chanted to Phyllis. The burden of one was, inbrief, that the millennium had come upon earth, for Bab was so happy;and of the other: "Come home, come home!"
Phyllis read them at the breakfast-table, and her face lighted up withsuch joy that Mrs. Dean noticed it in spite of the preoccupation hermorning mail usually involved.
"Dear little Bab is actually engaged to Tom. Oh, I am so thankful!"Phyllis said in reply to Mrs. Dean's inquiry as to the cause of herhappiness. "I am afraid, Mrs. Dean, that this means that I shall haveto go home as soon as you can get ready to let me."
"For the holidays--not longer?" said the old lady, sharply.
"For always," said Phyllis, gently.
"I should like to know why your cousin's engagement involves breakingyours to me," said Mrs. Dean, disappointment and regret shining evenfrom her eye-glasses and gray curls. "I have tried to make this a hometo you, and I hoped to keep you until you should be ready to followyour exasperating 'Bab's' example."
"We had not a positive engagement to each other, dear Mrs. Dean. Pleasedon't think I am breaking an agreement," said Phyllis, distressed. "Youhave been as good to me as you could be, and I love you gratefullyfor it; but they want me very much at home, and you won't blame mefor liking to be there better than anywhere else, however dear theelsewhere may be."
"I suppose I can't blame you, but it is most disappointing andannoying. You sly little minx! I believe you only ran away to leave thefield clear to this Babbie; and, now the danger is past, you are readyto throw me over," said Mrs. Dean, with sudden acumen.
Phyllis laughed, seeing her battle won. She had dreaded the day, andspeculated as to the manner in which she should announce to her kindfriend that her hour to leave her had come.
There were two weeks wanting to the arrival of Christmas day, andPhyllis was not to start homeward until the twenty-third. The timecrawled by, in spite of the young friends who filled every spare momentwith pleasure, trying to crowd into the unexpectedly brief time leftthem in which to enjoy Phyllis all the sight-seeing and visiting of awinter. She felt guilty, fond as she had grown of them all, to tell offeach sunset, and count each moment by the beats of feverish pulses.
At last the twenty-third came, and the hour for starting to the stationstruck.
Rick and his sisters and their friends, Alan Armstrong, and Davidthe Scot, who had become Phyllis's devoted knight, all formed herbody-guard, laden with flowers and candy enough to have done credit toa prima donna's farewell.
Mrs. Dean held Phyllis fast as she kissed her good-by. "I forgive youfor leaving me, my dear, though I hardly know how I am going to get onwithout you. You have been all and more than I expected you to be tome; and though I do admit your family's claim to you, I dislike youraunt very deeply for being forced to admit it; and you may tell her sofrom me, with my best wishes for the coming year. But I won't take nofor an answer to my invitation to Hingham next summer, if I live; sobe prepared," she said, as the carriage drove up to carry Phyllis awayfrom her.
At the station there were the usual repeated good-bys, when everyone strains hard to think of something to say, original and worthremembering, and thus rise equal to the occasion, but succeeds onlyin repeating the promise and request to write often, and in givinginvitations, and assurances of visits and remembrance, reiterated witha fervor that is intended to conceal the conviction that the speakeris falling far below ordinary intelligence. But hearty good will goesfar to make up for lack of conversational brilliancy, and Phyllis wassurprised to find how fond she and her new friends really were of oneanother, and that there were tears on her lashes, glad as she was toturn her face toward Gotham. Alan and David wrung both her hands sore,bidding her not forget them, and assuring her that the very first thingthey both did when they arrived in New York to seek their fortune--aplan to be carried out after the New Year--would be to come and seeher, without which prospect their farewell would have been more dreary.The train moved out at last, past the smiling young faces lined up tonod good-by to Phyllis,--the girls, with tears in their eyes in spiteof the smiles, waving wet handkerchiefs from the platform. Phyllisleaned forward to wave as long as the last of the row was in sight,then settled back in her seat with one long sigh for Boston and what itheld that was dear to her, and a leap of the heart forward, for now shewas really cut adrift from exile, and was homeward bound.
Winter though it was, Phyllis preferred the boat to the train for herjourney, and in a short time was tucking away her belongings in herberth, taking supper in the gay dining-room, listening to the band fora little while, then lying down to slumber, which the thought that shewas to waken in New York, and not the noise of the engines, renderedvery light and fitful.
Far from waking in New York, she was up and dressed, with all herbooks, flowers, and candy strapped up ready to carry off, before theboat had sighted the upper end of Manhattan Island; and she stood,shivering in the gray light of the December dawn, as one by one theislands of the river crept past, looking very picturesque, seen fromthat view-point, and with proper forgetfulness of the misery and sinthey sheltered.
Phyllis grew so excited she could not stand still as the boat creptdown past the lower east side of the city, under the Brooklyn Bridge,swung around the Battery, and drew near her pier on the North River.How beautiful the spire of Trinity looked, and the new, high officebuildings which dwarfed it! How beautiful were even the tall brickchimneys of the factories, for they were part of home! Phyllis couldhave put both arms around the square tower of the Produce Exchangeand kissed the face of its clock, or hugged the Barge Office withenthusiasm, unattractive as it might be, ordinarily. She wonderedif the immigrants crowded around it would have been as glad to seetheir distant homes again as she was to see hers. How painfully slowthe boat's crew was in making her fast and getting out the gangway!How exasperating were the passengers--so many, too, though it wasDecember--who were in advance of Phyllis, and moved like snails towardthe pier! Phyllis was nearly suffocated with the flutterings of herheart, and she could hardly hold her packages, numerous enough to havewarranted her dropping some overboard purposely.
At last, at last, she had surrendered her ticket, and was moving offthe boat! And there, just at the gangway's end, concealed from hertill this moment by the crowd--there was Jessamy, more lovely thanever, with her cheeks glowing, her eyes dancing; pretty Bab, allscintillating with joy; Tom, proud as a whole flock of peacocks inhis new dignity, with Nixie--yes, actually Nixie--on a leash, sittingup and behaving like a man and a brother. And her aunt! Phyllis couldhardly believe her eyes that Mrs. Wyndham had braved the chill of thewinter morning and reached the pier before seven o'clock to prove tothe "Unit," who prayed to stray no more, how glad she was to get herback.
Just what happened when Phyllis's foot touched the pier no one couldsay. She recognized her aunt's veil, Jessamy's fur collar, Bab's nose,and even Tom's rough coat, in the indiscriminate, rapturous embracingshe was getting; but everybody was hugging her and talking to her atonce, and Phyllis only knew that it was rather like a blissful Tower ofBabel.
The party walked up Warren Street, talking still, all at the sametime, Bab walking backward and spinning around like Barney in "MartinChuzzlewit" after the accident. It took all of Tom's ability to keepher and Nixie from under people's feet. Mrs. Wyndham and Jessamy triedto behave with dignity, but it was not a successful attempt; and thosewho met the party probably set them down as harmless lunatics underthe convoy of one young keeper; though there was one ruddy-faced oldgentleman who, seizing the spirit of the occasion and the season,wished Babbie "A merry Christmas, my dear," in return for her havingrun into his portly form, and trodden on his most sensitive corn.
Even Nixie's manners did not admit him to the elevated road, so theytook the surface car, Tom remaining on the platform with the small dogand a conductor blinded in the most efficacious ma
nner to his presence;and by the time they had made the long journey to Harlem much of theexcitement had cooled down.
It broke out afresh, however, as Phyllis ran from room to room throughthe little apartment, which looked more beautiful to her than Mrs.Dean's big house on Commonwealth Avenue could ever look, exclaimingover every change, and still more surprised over those things which hadnot altered. Truce was not one of these. The snowy kitten was a whitecat now; but, as Phyllis said, "did not seem to know it," for he ran upher skirt to her shoulder, and sat there as he had done when he was notmuch bigger than a thistle-ball, proving that he recognized her, forthis was a mark of affection he had always reserved for his mistressalone.
"Do you remember last Christmas eve?" asked Phyllis, after breakfast,as they all pushed back their coffee-cups with the involuntary movementof those who have satisfied hunger.
"Are we likely to forget it?" said Jessamy, with a shudder. "It did notmean anything to you, though; oh, Phyllis, this ought to be much morethan merely a '_merry_ Christmas' to us!"
"We are going to keep it in baronial style," said Tom. "There are tons,to speak comprehensively, of green stuff coming here to-day, and weare going to trim the Land of Canaan till Birnam Wood won't be a twigbeside it. And to-morrow we're going to have a Christmas-tree, andinvite our friends, preceded by a dinner to which we shall not inviteany one, because the dining-room is too small, and the turkey fills allthe spaces we do not require. He is to be offered up to you, Phyllis,in honor of your repentant return from your wild wanderings."
"Isn't that a delightful program!" cried Phyllis, the joy in her eyesarising more from noting how thoroughly Tom had assumed his place asthe son of the little family, than from the prospect of Christmasfestivities, however blithe.
All day long the girls climbed step-ladders and wound ropes ofevergreen till their hands were stiff, but their hearts so light thatthey hardly knew the discomfort. By night the little place was a bowerof green, with red holly-berries shining in every available corner likecheery little lanterns signaling coming gladness.
Not one day had passed during the six months of Phyllis's absencewithout a letter from her crossing another going to her from home;and yet, though the three tongues had rattled as fast as they couldmove all day, Jessamy, Phyllis, and Bab talked till midnight, and fellasleep exhausted, wishing each other "Merry Christmas," not having toldhalf the history of those eventful days of absence.
Christmas day was bright and sunny--not that it mattered with so muchsunshine within doors. Violet, who slept at home, "because," said Bab,"the bath-tub was not long enough for a bed, and there was no roomfor her anywhere else"--Violet arrived earlier than usual, her facebeaming with anticipation of pleasure, for she was that rare servant towhom "company" was a delight.
Mrs. Wyndham peered at Tom at the foot of the table, from her placeat the head, over a barricade of turkey, and each heart throbbed withgratitude that it was their own turkey, served on their own table, andthat the year that had passed had proved that a home and happinessmight be theirs, although loss of money had made the maintenance ofthat home not without its difficulties.
Barbara sat at Tom's right hand, and Tom's youngest sister at Mrs.Wyndham's right. Phyllis, watching jealously for proofs of Tom's lovefor Bab, was more than satisfied. Tom and Babbie were not a sentimentalpair, but there was a quiet certainty of affection and a perfectcomradeship between them that guaranteed a love founded on the bestand most enduring basis. And Alice Leighton was a girl after their ownhearts. Bab was surely fortunate, and Phyllis rejoiced unselfishly.
Although the little parlor had seemed filled in every corner, one hadbeen cleared for the tree, and a curtain hung across it that theremight be something in the celebration that Phyllis had not seen, sincethe festivities had taken on this special form in honor of her return.
At a little after eight the bell tingled, and many feet echoed up thestairs.
"Open the door, Phyl," cried Bab from her room. Neither she nor Jessamywould allow Phyllis a glimpse of them dressing.
Phyllis did as she was bidden, and started back in amazement from amotley assemblage of characters from the four quarters of the globe,and all the realms of fairyland, as bewildered Phyllis at first thought.
Santa Claus led the way--a small man, but only when measuredperpendicularly; in diameter he was immense. After him came Cinderellaand her godmother; then Aunt Henrietta, who disdained masking andcostuming, and came in her own proper--most proper--person. Nextfollowed Red Riding Hood, a Viking's Daughter, Old Mother Hubbard,Pocahontas, Little Nell with her grandfather, Bo-peep with a woollylamb under one arm, and many other old friends, those known in thenursery predominating, since it was a Christmas-tree party, andchildhood, human and divine, the ruling spirit of the feast.
For a moment Phyllis did not know how to act. She felt out of place,with her own face undisguised confronting the queer figures bowingand saluting her cordially by name, not one of whom she knew. But sherallied quickly, welcomed them politely, wishing that Jessamy and Babwould hasten to help her out. But Jessamy and Bab were not forthcoming.After a few moments Phyllis realized it was because they too werecostumed and masked, mixing with the other mummers.
Old King Cole stepped out of the crowd as Phyllis was wondering whatcould be done with so many in such small space, and calling for hisfiddlers three, demanded an old English dance. There is nothing likeignoring a difficulty when there is no way of doing away with it.The idea of dancing when she was fearful there would not be room forall the guests merely to stand rather took Phyllis's breath away; buteverybody seemed to fold himself or herself up to make room, and thecouples for the old country dance were on the floor in a twinkling.
"It's because they are used to living in books, so can become quiteflat," Bobby Shafto explained to her as he rose to lead out theSleeping Beauty, who indicated her previous condition by poppies allover her costume and in her hair, but showed no sign of relapsing fromdecided wakefulness.
"Aren't there people outside of books who are flatter than those inthem?" asked Phyllis; but she was not thinking of plays on words, butthat the dancers of to-night were probably the actors in the theatricalsof last May, who had then learned the old dance, and that if shewatched she should discover which were Jessamy and Bab, and whichJessamy's friend, Mr. Lane, in regard to whom she felt considerablecuriosity. It was not hard to distinguish Jessamy, who had a certainmanner of using her hands all her own. She was the Sleeping Beauty, andPhyllis guessed that Bobby Shafto was Mr. Lane--or should it be theother way?
It was not long before she discovered Bab in the guise of Little MissMuffet, and a tall Little Boy Blue, with a huge Japanese spider on asort of small fishing-pole which he dangled before the nervous littleperson who lunched out of doors on curds and whey, was Tom.
"And who am I?" asked Cinderella's godmother, stopping before Phyllis,smiling behind her muslin mask at the girl's preoccupied face.
"I know who the fairy godmother ought to be," said Phyllis. "If youaren't Mrs. Van Alyn, then it's your own character which is thedisguise."
"Bravo! You have been getting clever over there in the land of AthenaJunior," laughed the godmother, and her voice proved Phyllis right.
"And me?" cried Cinderella, impatiently. "Who am I?"
"I have no idea," Phyllis was slowly beginning, when Cinderellainterrupted her.
"How can you be so dull?" she cried. "Who is always sitting in theashes, and likes them?"
"Why, Ruth!" cried Phyllis, and hugged her friend until some of therealistic black spots on her gown were transferred to her own.
It was not a very conventional party. The room was "so crowded therewas no space for stiffness," said Bab, truly; but everybody seemed tobe having the nicest time--even Aunt Henrietta. To be sure, Phyllisheard her suggesting to Mrs. Wyndham that parties were a greatextravagance for people in straitened circumstances, but that was saidrather as an oblation to her custom of fault-finding, and not heartily;and a moment later she added graciously
that "the girls are improvingdaily. Even Phyllis is becoming more and more a Wyndham; they are allclear Wyndhams."
"Phyllis is just as much a Wyndham, certainly, as her cousins," laughedMrs. Wyndham.
"Ah, but she is not poor Henry's daughter," said Aunt Henrietta sodecidedly that the remark became at once illuminative in effect, if notin matter.
"Ladies in the center, as for the quadrille figure," called Old KingCole, who acted as master of ceremonies. "Men join hands around them;ladies form line, hands raised, men dance through, come down outside,take places, a man beside each lady."
A quaint and merry air was played by a pretty young girl whom Phyllishad never seen, and King Cole's directions were carried out, almostwithout a mistake.
"Left hand to partner, right hand on mask," called that jovial person."Ready!"
The little creature at the piano struck three chords, while themasqueraders took position. It really was very pretty, small as thespace was.
Suddenly, obeying another chord, every voice poured out in the carol:
"Christ was born on Christmas Day, Wreathe the holly, twine the bay,"
and sang it through to the end. Then a single chord was struck, andinstantly every mask was swept off by the raised right hands, and thecompany made a deep bow, crying in unison: "Merry Christmas!"
It was charming; and while Phyllis and the few who were not a partof the figure applauded wildly, Santa Claus, who proved to be, of allunexpected persons, Lawyer Hurd, began to strip the tree.
There were presents for every one. Phyllis had saved her own packages,tucked into her trunk by Mrs. Dean, to open now; and all the littletrinkets she had made or got together for her family they had made herkeep for the tree. Violet, shining and smiling in the background, wasmade happy; and Truce received a chicken wish-bone, with plenty of meaton it, and Nixie a French chop, that being the kind of comfit suitedto their palates, each placed in a candy-box ornamented with a pictureof a cat and a dog respectively. Bab opened a small case Santa Claushanded her, and flushed with pleasure. A little miniature of Tom smiledup at her, and on the back was engraved: "Years pass away; Love lastsalway." Since that morning a diamond, set as lightly as possible, shoneon Barbara's little left hand like a drop of dew.
But Phyllis's surprise was so complete and delightful that no one washappier than she. She had written since she had been away and sentto Jessamy two or three short stories for her illustrating, and hadwondered what had become of them, knowing that Jessamy had done thework and sent them to magazines. No one told her their fate, so shedid not ask, being more sensitive about these little attempts than anyone suspected. Now the explanation lay before her in the delightfulshape of a crisp fifty-dollar bill.
The first story, written before she had left home, Jessamy had sent toseveral of the larger magazines, and received it back each time witha personal note of praise and encouragement. At last it had found itsway to a magazine with a larger circulation and smaller subscriptionprice than any of the others, and the editor had not only accepted thestory, but told Jessamy he would take all she could give him of equalmerit; and especially requested her to illustrate for him other workbesides her cousin's. The second story Phyllis sent had been refused,but the third was accepted with praise; and now the money for both layin her hand to complete the happiness of her home-coming. It was nota great sum--the magazine would have paid more to some one whose namewas known; but Phyllis considered it tremendous, and felt as though herfive right-hand fingers had suddenly been endowed with the Midas touch.
Jessamy and she had a rapture after all their friends had gone. It hadbeen a beautiful Christmas Day, and the very nicest evening the girlsremembered to have spent; but it was best of all to bid the peoplegood-night, dear as many of them were to them, and sit down alone, a"square" once more, at their "ain fireside," represented, as Babbiepointed out, by a gilded steam radiator.
Jessamy was paid ten to twenty dollars each for her illustrations. Sheand Phyllis hugged each other in speechless anticipation of the wealththat they were to pile up. Yet a vision of Bobby Shafto, and a lookin his eyes that night as they rested on the Sleeping Beauty, as ifhe would dearly have liked the privilege of waking her in the mannerof the prince in the story, filled Phyllis with foreboding that theircollaboration might be short. But she was at home again, and everythingsmiled on their hopes. "A merry Christmas and a happy New Year!" Ah,yes, very, very happy. And with that thought in her grateful heart,Phyllis fell asleep, with Truce purring on her arm.
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