The Adopting of Rosa Marie

by Carroll Watson Rankin

  CHAPTER XXV

  Comparing Notes

  IT was eight o'clock, the morning of the twenty-fourth day of December,which is twice as exciting a day as the twenty-fifth and at least tentimes as interesting as the twenty-sixth.

  Bettie, and as many of the little Tuckers as had been able to findenough clothes for decency, were eating pancakes a great deal fasterthan Mrs. Tucker could bake them over the Rectory stove. Marjory, heryoung countenance somewhat puckered because of the tartness of hergrapefruit, was sitting sedately opposite her Aunty Jane. Jean hadfinished her breakfast and was tying mysterious tissue paper parcelswith narrow scarlet ribbon; and Mabel, having suddenly rememberedthat this was the day that the postman brought interesting mail, washurrying with might and main to get into her sailor blouse in orderto capture the letters. Of course she didn't expect to open any of herChristmas mail; but she did like to squeeze the packages. Henrietta wasreading a long, delightful letter from her father. Mrs. Slater, too,had Christmas letters.

  Five blocks away Mr. Black and Mrs. Crane were finishing theirbreakfast. Their dining-room was at the back of the house, where itsthree broad windows commanded a fine view of the lake. Just at the topof the bluff and well inside the Black-Crane yard stood a wonderfullyhandsome fir tree, a truly splendid tree, for in all Lakeville therewas no other evergreen to compare with it in size, shape or color.

  Every now and again, Mr. Black would turn in his chair to gazeearnestly out the window at the tree. For a long time, Mrs. Crane, hernice dark eyes dancing with fun, watched her brother in silence. Butwhen he began to consume the last quarter of his second piece of toastshe felt that it was time to speak.

  "Peter," said she, "you can't do it."

  "Do what?" asked Mr. Black, with a guilty start.

  "Cut down that tree. I know, just as well as I know anything, thatyou're just aching to make that splendid big evergreen into aChristmas-tree for Rosa Marie and those four girls."

  "_How_ do you know it?" queried Mr. Black, eying his sister with quicksuspicion.

  "Because I had the same thought myself. It _would_ be fine forChristmas--it looks like a Christmas-tree every day of the year. And ifyou've been a sort of bottled-up Santa Claus all your life you're aptto be pretty foolish when you're finally unbottled. And that tree----"

  "But," queried Mr. Black, "what would it be the day after?"

  "That," confessed Mrs. Crane, "is what bothers _me_."

  "It does seem a shame," said Mr. Black, rising and walking to thewindow, "to cut down such a perfect specimen as that; and yet, inall my life I never met a tree so evidently designed for the expresspurpose of serving as a Christmas-tree. It's a real temptation."

  "I know it," sighed Mrs. Crane. "It's been tempting _me_; but I said:'Get thee behind me, Santa Claus, and send me to the proper place forChristmas-trees.'"

  "And did you go to that place?"

  "It came to me. I engaged a twelve-foot tree from a man that was takingorders at the door."

  "So did I," confessed Mr. Black. "I'm not sure that I didn't order two."

  "Peter Black! You're spoiling those children."

  "I'm having plenty of help," twinkled Mr. Black, shrewdly.

  With so many trees to choose from, it certainly seemed probable thatthe Black-Crane household would have at least one respectable specimento decorate; but half an hour later, when the three ordered balsamsarrived, both Mr. Black and Mrs. Crane were greatly disappointed. Thetrees had shrunk from twelve to six feet, and the uneven branches werethin and sparsely covered.

  "Why!" exclaimed Mr. Black, "all three of those trees together wouldn'tmake a whole tree."

  "They look," said Mrs. Crane, "as if they were shedding their feathers."

  "Most of them," agreed Mr. Black, "have already been shed. I said, Mr.Man, that I wanted _good_ trees."

  "My wagon broke down," explained the tree-man, "so I couldn't bringanything that I couldn't haul on a big sled. They weigh a lot, thosebig fellows."

  "Can't you make a special trip," suggested Mrs. Crane, "and bring us afirst-class tree--just one?"

  "It's too late. I have to go too far before I'm allowed to cut any."

  "Well," said Mr. Black, "I'll pay you for these, and I'll give youfifty cents extra to haul them off the premises. We don't want any suchsorrowful specimens round here to cast a gloom over our Christmas, dowe, Sarah?"

  "Peter," announced Mrs. Crane, when the man had departed with hisscraggly trees, "I have an idea. The weather's likely to stay mild foranother twenty-four hours, isn't it?"

  "I think so."

  "And this is an honest town?"

  "As honest as they make 'em."

  "And all those girls are accustomed to being outdoors----"

  "I _see_!" cried Mr. Black, giving Mrs. Crane's plump shoulders asudden, friendly whack. "I _almost_ thought of that myself. We'llcertainly surprise 'em _this_ time."

  Although it was getting late, Mr. Black still hung about the house asif he had not yet freed his mind of Christmas matters.

  "I suppose," said Mr. Black, breaking a long silence, "that you'vethought of a few things to put on the tree for those girls?"

  "Yes," admitted Mrs. Crane, guardedly, "I've gathered up some littlefixings that I thought they'd fancy."

  "It might be a good idea," said Mr. Black, rising to ring for Martin,"for us to compare notes. Two heads are better than one, you know;and after what they did for us, we owe those little folks a splendidChristmas."

  "We certainly do," agreed Mrs. Crane, wiping away the sudden moisturethat sprung to her eyes at thought of the memorable dinner party inDandelion Cottage--the dinner that had brought her estranged brother tothe rescue. "I don't know where I'd have been now if it hadn't been forthose blessed children. In the poorhouse, probably."

  "Martin," said Mr. Black, huskily, "you go to the storeroom in thebasement. Take a hatchet with you and knock the top off that wooden boxthat is marked with a big blue cross and bring it up here to me."

  Presently Martin, who always blundered if there was the very faintestexcuse for blundering, returned, proudly bearing the cover of the largebox.

  "Thank you," replied Mr. Black, turning twinkling eyes upon Mrs. Crane,who twinkled back. "Now bring up the box with all the things in it."

  "I'll get my things, too," offered Mrs. Crane. "They're right here inthe library closet, in a clothes hamper."

  Then when Martin had brought the box, the two middle-aged people beganto sort their presents. They went about it rather awkwardly becauseneither had had much experience; but they were certainly enjoying theirnovel occupation.

  "This," said Mr. Black, clearing a space on the big library table, "isBettie's pile, and Heaven knows that I tried not to get it bigger thanthe other three; but everything I saw in the shops shouted 'Buy me forBettie'--and I usually obeyed."

  "This is Jean's pile," said Mrs. Crane, baring another space, "and Iguess I feel about Jean the way you do about Bettie; but I love Bettietoo--and all of them. Rosa Marie's things will have to go on thefloor--they're mostly bumpy and breakable."

  Mr. Black rummaged in his box, Mrs. Crane fished in her basket.Presently there was a rapidly growing, untidy heap of large, lumpybundles on the floor for Rosa Marie, and four very neat stacks ofsquare, compact parcels for the Cottagers.

  "Let's open them all," suggested Mr. Black, eagerly. "We can tie themup again."

  So the elderly couple, as interested as two children, opened theirpackages. At first, both were too busy renewing acquaintanceship withtheir own purchases to notice what the other was doing; but presentlyMrs. Crane gave a start as her eye traveled over the table.

  "Why, Peter Black," she exclaimed. "Here are two watches in Bettie'spile!"

  "I didn't buy but one of them," declared Mr. Black, placing his fingeron one of the dainty timepieces. "That's mine."

  "The other's mine," confessed Mrs. Crane. "And, Peter, did you go andbuy dolls all around, too?"

  "I did," owned Mr. Black, opening a long narr
ow box. "One _always_ buysdolls for Christmas."

  "Well," sighed Mrs. Crane, "I guess they can stand two apiece, becauseours are not a bit alike. You see, you got carried away by fine clothesand I paid more attention to the dolls themselves. The bodies arefirst-class and the faces are lovely. I bought mine undressed and I'vehad four weeks' pleasure dressing them--I sort of hate to give themup. The clothes are plain and substantial; I couldn't make 'em fancy."

  "But the watches, Sarah?"

  "Well, I guess we'll have to send half of those watches back. Yours arethe nicest--we'll keep yours."

  "I suspect," said Mr. Black, reflectively pinching two large parcels inRosa Marie's heap, "that we've both bought Teddy bears for Rosa Marie.And we've both supplied the girls with perfume, purses and writingpaper, but I don't see any books."

  "We'll use the extra-watch money for books," decided Mrs. Crane,promptly. "Suppose you attend to that--if we both do it we'll haveanother double supply. I see we've both bought candy, too; but I need abox for the milk-boy and I'd like to send some little thing to Martin'ssmall sister."

  "On the whole," said Mr. Black, complacently, "we've managed prettywell considering our inexperience; but next time we'll do better."