At the Little Brown House

by Edward Stratemeyer

  CHAPTER VIII

  A MYSTERIOUS SANTA CLAUS

  "Merry Christmas, Gail, Faith, Hope, Charity, Allee! Merry Christmas,everyone! My stocking has _something_ in it, I can see from here. Wakeup! Wake up! I want to look at my presents!"

  A drop of something hot struck the tip of Gail's nose, and she openedher sleepy eyes to find a white-robed, shivering figure shaking hervigorously with one hand, while in the other was a tiny, flickeringcandle, which dribbled hot wax prodigally as it was tipped about withreckless abandon by the excited pleader.

  "What are you doing with that lighted candle?" demanded Gail, diggingthe wax off her nose and dodging another drop. "Put it out before youset the house on fire. It isn't morning yet. It can't be! I have hardlyslept at all."

  "The clock struck a long time ago," insisted Peace with chatteringteeth, "and I counted much as five."

  "Five o'clock!" protested Gail. "Oh, surely not! Well, if it is thattime, I suppose you can get up. Seems awfully quiet for that hour,though." The older sister began the process of dressing, and in a fewmoments all six girls were gathered around the roaring fire in thekitchen, excitedly examining the contents of their stockings, which Gailhad painstakingly filled with homemade gifts and a little cheap candyfrom the village store,--her one Christmas extravagance.

  "Mittens!" cried Peace, investigating the first package her excited handdrew forth. "You knit them, didn't you, Gail? I saw Mrs. Grinnellteaching you how. Mine are red. Have you got some, Cherry?"

  "Yes, blue; and Allee's are pink. Aren't they pretty?"

  "Just see my lovely knit slippers," cried Hope, throwing her arms aboutGail's neck and hugging her with a vim. "Where did you get all the yarn,sister?"

  "I found a lot in the attic," replied the oldest girl, smiling happilyat the children's appreciation of her labor; but she did not explainthat a gorgeous, moth-eaten, old afghan had been raveled to provide allthose pretty things.

  "What is in your stocking, Faith?"

  The girl held up a dainty white waist, but said never a word, for sherecognized that Gail's patient fingers had re-fashioned for her one ofthe dear mother's hoarded treasures, and her heart was too full forutterance.

  "I've got some handkerchiefs," called Peace again, "and a ribbon--if Ionly had some hair to tie with it! It's too wide for a band, and that'sall I can wear--here's an apple, a penwiper and some candy. You've gotpretty nearly the same c'lection, haven't you, Cherry, and so have Hopeand Allee. I wonder how Mrs. Grinnell happened to give me a hair-ribbonwhen she knows that my hair ain't long enough to tie back."

  "How do you know Mrs. Grinnell gave it to you?" demanded Gail, tooastonished to reprove her.

  "I was in there one day when she had been to Martindale, and the ribbonshappened to be on the table all unwrapped. This was one of them. Now,Gail, see what Santa Claus has brought you. There's at least one thing,'cause--"

  Cherry clapped her hand over her younger sister's mouth, and began togiggle. So did Gail, when she drew forth from her stocking a bulkypotato pig with toothpicks for legs, match-heads for eyes and a drywoodbine tendril for a tail.

  "Who in the world made that?" she laughed, tears close to the surface,for she had expected nothing this Christmas day.

  "Mr. Strong," gulped Peace, dancing with delight at her sister's evidentsurprise. "Look at his back! We put a saddle on the old porker. Isn'tthat cute? It's a spandy new dollar with this year's date on it. See?"

  Gail turned the curious animal over, and sure enough, there was abright, shining Goddess of Liberty, skilfully sunk in the pig's potatoback.

  Swallowing back the lump in her throat, which threatened to choke her,Gail whispered, "Where did you get it, dear? The money, I mean."

  "We took up a c'lection," was the startling answer.

  "A collection!" echoed Gail.

  "Yes. You know last Sunday was Home Mission day, and the money was to besent to poor ministers' families on the pioneer--"

  "You mean frontier," corrected Hope.

  "Well, whatever ear it was," continued Peace, serenely; "and that mademe wonder why folks never took up c'lections for poor ministers'families right here among them. I asked Mr. Strong about it, and he saidwe would take up another c'lection straight away, and buy a Christmaspresent for a 'hero minister's hero mother-daughter.' He made me learnthose words; and we got a dollar in ten cent pieces without half trying.I 'spect we could have raised a fortune if we'd had more time, but thiswas on our way home from school yesterday. We couldn't find anythingpretty enough to buy here at the village, and it was too late to go toMartindale for it, so we changed the dimes into a dollar and put it inthe potato pig. He said it ought to be a shining white angel, but I toldhim right away that we had angels enough in this family already, and hebetter make a horse. That is what he tried to do, but it looked so muchlike a pig when he got done that I pulled off the string tail and maneand put on a pig's tail, and he said it did look better. You are to usethe money for your very own self and--"

  The clock began to strike. One--two--That was all.

  "Mercy me!" ejaculated Peace, staring at the accusing faces of hersisters. "I truly did hear that clock strike as much as five a long timeago."

  "No doubt you did," laughed sunny Hope. "It struck midnight and you wokeup in the middle of the count."

  "Let's go back to bed," suggested Gail, anxious to be alone with hertumultuous thoughts; and to her surprise no dissenting voice was raised,although as she crept once more beneath the covers of her cot, she heardPeace say decidedly, "I sha'n't take off _my_ clothes again. Once a dayis enough for any _huming_ being to dress. Do you s'pose Santa will comeagain while we sleep?"

  It was daylight before they woke from their second nap, and as Peaceflew out of bed once more, she cried in delight, "Oh, it's snowingagain! Now it will seem like Christmas sure! Let's clean off the walksbefore breakfast. Gail won't let us eat our candy yet."

  She made short work of her toilette, threw on her wraps and was out ofdoors almost before Cherry had opened her eyes; but the next moment shecame stumbling back into the house with the wild yell "Girls, girls,Santa Claus did come again, and left a tre-men-jus big mince pie on theporch--I picked a teenty hole in the top to see for sure if 'twasmincemeat--and a bundle of something else. Hurry up, I can't wait toopen it! Oh, the paper fell off, and it's shoes--tennis slippers in thewinter! Think of it! That is worse than Mrs. Grinnell's hair-ribbon,ain't it?"

  "Peace!" cried Gail in shocked tones, entering the kitchen with the restof the family at her heels. "You should be _grateful_ for the presentspeople give you and not poke fun at them."

  "I am grateful, Gail, truly. I ain't poking fun at them, honest, thoughthey _are_ funny presents for this time of the year. I s'pose, maybe, myhair will get long enough for a ribbon sometime, though Mrs. Strong saysit is too curly to grow fast. And when summer comes, we can wear theseslippers, if they aren't too small. They look awful little already.These are marked for Allee, and here are mine, and those are Cherry's.There aren't any for the rest of you. I s'pose the pie is for you.You're lucky. I would rather have the pie than the shoes."

  "Oh, Peace!"

  "Well, wouldn't you? There is someone at the front door."

  Gail disappeared through the hall to answer the knock, and Peace, withher new shoes in her hand, slipped out of the kitchen door. "Just as Ithought," she muttered to herself. "Mr. Hardman brought them over. Hethinks they will make up for that money he never paid us last summer,but they won't. He can just have his old shoes right back again!"

  Out to the barn she marched, hunted up a scrap of paper and a pencilleft there for just such emergencies, laboriously scribbled a note,which she tied to the slippers, and deposited the bundle on the Hartmansteps, where he found it when he came out to sweep paths. "Well, Iswan," he exclaimed, half in anger, half amused, as he picked tip therejected shoes, "if she hasn't trotted them slippers back! Peace, ofcourse. Let's see what she says." Carefully he untied the little slipand read:

  "Here
are your shoes. Im greatful but this is the rong seesun for them. By summer they will be to small as they aint very big now. Ive got over wanting tenis shoes anyhow. The muny you owe us would have come in handier. Peace Greenfield."

  He tucked the note in his pocket, dropped the shoes on the kitchenmantle, and went chuckling about his morning work. Hardly had hefinished his numerous tasks, when he was surprised to see Peace comingslowly up the path, with eyes down-cast and face an uncomfortable red.She knocked lightly, as if hoping no one would hear, and lookeddisappointed when he opened the door.

  "Merry Christmas, Peace. Come in, come right in," he said cordially,his eyes gleaming with, amusement. "What can I do for you this morning?"

  "Give me back the shoes I left on your porch," she answered, in tones solow he could hardly hear. "Gail said I must come over and get them andipologize for being so rude. She says it is very rude to returnChristmas presents like that. If you meant them for a present, why,that's different; but I thought likely it was our pay for pickingstrawberries last summer. Now, which was it, a present or our pay?" Theold, independent, confident spirit asserted itself once more in thelittle breast, and Peace raised her eyes to his with disconcertingfrankness.

  "Well, well," stammered the man, hardly knowing what to say. "Supposethey are a Christmas present, will you accept and wear 'em?"

  "When it comes summer time, if I haven't outgrown them. My feet aregetting big fast."

  "But if they are in pay for the strawberry picking, you won't take them?Is that it?"

  "I s'pose I will have to take them after Gail's lecture," Peace sigheddismally, "but I'll never put 'em on--never!"

  Delighted with her candor and rebel spirit, he said, after a briefpause, "Well, now, I mean them for a Christmas present, Peace, and I'dlike mighty well for you to wear them. If they are too small, come nextsummer, I will get them changed for you. Will you take them?"

  "Y--e--s."

  "And be friends?"

  Peace hesitated. "Friends are square with each other, ain't they?"

  "I reckon they are."

  "Then I don't see how we can be friends," she said firmly.

  "Why not?" His face was blank with surprise; and his wife, who had beena silent spectator of the scene, laughed outright.

  "'Cause you owe us a dollar and a half for picking strawberries lastsummer, and if you don't pay it, you ain't square with us, are you?"

  "Well, I swan!" he mumbled. Then he, too, laughed, and thrusting hishand into his pocket, drew out a handful of silver. "Here are six silverquarters, a dollar and fifty cents. That settles our account, doesn'tit?"

  "Yes."

  "And I've treated you on the square?"

  "Yes."

  "And you will come sit on my lap?"

  "I don't s'pose it will do any hurt," she answered grudgingly, for shehad not yet adjusted herself to this new friendship with her one-timeenemy, but she went to him slowly and permitted to lift her to his knee.

  "There, now," he said, settling her comfortably. "That's more like it!Now that I have settled my account with you, tell me what you are goingto do about the money you owe me?"

  "Dave!" interposed little Mrs. Hartman, but he laughingly waved heraside.

  "What money that I owe you?" gasped poor Peace, the rosy color dyingfrom her face.

  "Didn't you dump twenty boxes of my strawberries into the chicken yardlast summer?"

  "Y--e--s."

  "Those berries sold for twenty cents a box. Twenty times twenty is fourdollars. You spoiled four dollars' worth of berries, Peace Greenfield.Are you being square with me?"

  The child sat dumb with despair, and seeing the tragedy in the great,brown eyes, Mrs. Hartman again said, remonstratingly, "Dave!"

  "Hush, Myra Ann," he commanded. "This is between Peace and me. If we areto be friends, we must be square with each other, you know."

  There was a desperate struggle, and then Peace laid the shining quartersback in his hand, saying bravely, "Here's my first payment. I haven'tthe rest now, but if you will wait until I earn it, I'll pay it allback. I will have Hope figure up just how much I owe you, so's I willknow for sure. Can you wait? Maybe you will let me pick strawberriesnext summer until I get it paid up. Will you? 'Cause what money I getthis winter I'd like to give to Gail for a coat. She has to wearFaith's jacket now whenever she goes anywhere, and, of course, twopeople can't wear one coat at the same time."

  "No, they can't," he answered soberly, with a suspicion of a tremble inhis voice. "Is that what you meant to do with this money?"

  "Yes. Gail got a dollar for Christmas, and I thought this would 'mostmake enough to buy a good coat for her. She needs one dreadfully."

  Mr. Hartman slipped the money into the grimy fist again, cleared histhroat and then said, "Now, I've got a plan. You keep this dollar andfifty cents for your work last summer, and when the strawberries areripe again, we'll see about your picking some more to pay for thespoiled ones. Is that all right?"

  "Yes," cried Peace, giving a delighted little jump. "You aren't nearbad, are you?"

  "I hope not," he replied with a queer laugh. "Can you give me a kiss, doyou suppose?"

  "If you will skin me a rabbit," she answered promptly.

  "If I'll what?" he yelled in amazement, almost dropping her from hislap.

  "Skin me a rabbit. Winkum and Blinkum are starving to death--Faith saysso--and they really don't seem as fat as when Bryan gave them to me; soif we can save them by eating them up, we better do it. Don't you thinkso?"

  "Well, now, that might be a good idea," he answered slowly, for heregarded rabbits as a nuisance, and was not anxious to see any suchpests in his neighborhood. "Stewed rabbit makes a pretty good dish,too."

  "That's what I had heard. Will you skin them for me?"

  "Yep, any time you say so."

  "All right, I'll get them now and we will have them for dinner."

  She was off like a flash before he could say another word, returningalmost immediately with the squirming rabbits in her apron, and hedressed them carefully. By the time the long process was finished herface was very sober, and she offered no objections when he claimed twokisses instead of one as his reward, but gathering up the haplessbunnies, she departed for home.

  "Here's our Christmas dinner, Gail," she announced, dumping her burdenonto the cluttered kitchen table. "I wish it had been chicken, but Mr.Hartman says stewed rabbit is real good."

  "Where did you get these?" demanded Gail, surmising the truth.

  "They are Winkum and Blinkum. Mr. Hartman undressed them for me. I gotmy shoes back, and here's the strawberry money for your new coat, Gail."As clearly as possible she made her explanations, and went away to putup the tennis slippers, leaving dismayed Gail to face the uniquesituation.

  "What can I do?" she cried, almost in tears.

  "Get yourself a new coat, if you can find one for the price," answeredFaith, listlessly scrubbing a panful of turnips for dinner.

  "I don't mean the coat. I had scarcely thought of the money. I mean therabbits."

  "Cook them! People eat rabbits."

  "But these were pets."

  "They are dead now. You might as well use them as to throw them away. Wehave no turkey or chicken for dinner."

  Gail shivered, but obediently cut up the rabbits and put them on thestove to cook, mentally resolving not to eat a bite of them herself.

  The morning hours flew rapidly by, the dinner was done at last, and thehungry girls were scrambling into their chairs when Faith cried sharply,"Hope, you have set seven plates!"

  Instinctively each heart thought of the absent member, gone from themsince the last Christmas Day, and Gail reached over to remove the extradishes, when Hope stopped her by saying, "Teacher read us a beautifulpoem of how some people always set a place for the Christ Child on Hisbirthday, hoping that He would come in person to celebrate the day withthem, and I thought it was such a pretty idea that--I--I--"

  "Yes, dear," said Gail gently. "We will leave the
extra plate there."

  "It does seem queer, doesn't it, that we have big dinners on ChristmasDay 'cause it is Christ's birthday, and then we never give Him a dish,"observed Peace, passing her plate for a helping.

  "Did the Christ Child come?" asked Allee eagerly. "In the story, Imean."

  "Not in the way they looked for Him," answered Hope. "But a littlebeggar child came. Some of the family were going to send it out into thekitchen to eat with the servants, but one little boy insisted that itshould have the empty chair they had set for the Christ Child. So theragged beggar was pushed up to the table and fed all he wanted. When thedinner was over, a great shining light filled the room and Christappeared to tell them that in feeding the little beggar they hadentertained Him. It was all written out in rhyme and was _so_ pretty.What is the matter, Gail? You aren't eating anything."

  The other sisters paused to look at the older girl's plate, and Gail'ssensitive face flushed crimson, but before she could offer anyexplanation, Peace abruptly dropped her knife and fork, pushed herdishes from her, and burst into tears.

  "Why, what ails you, child?" cried Faith, who herself had scarcelytouched the dinner before her.

  "I can't be a _carnival_ and eat my bunnies," sobbed Peace. "I'd as soonhave a slab of kitten."

  "That's just the way I feel," said Cherry, and no one laughed at Peace'srendering of _cannibal_.

  In the midst of this scene there was a knock at the kitchen door, butbefore anyone could answer, Mrs. Grinnell rustled in, bearing in herarms a huge platter of roast turkey, which she set down upon the tablewith the remark, "It was that lonesome at home I just couldn't eat mydinner all by myself, so I brought it over to see if you didn't want mefor company."

  "You aren't a ragged beggar," Peace spoke up through her tears, beforethe others had recovered from their surprise; "but I guess you'll do.You can have the chair we set for Jesus."

  Gail explained, while the platter of stewed rabbit was being removed,and once more dinner was begun. The turkey was done to a turn, thedressing was flavored just right and filled with walnuts and oysters,the vegetables had never tasted better, the biscuits were as light as afeather, Mrs. Strong's cranberry sauce had jelled perfectly, and theHartman mince-pie was a miracle of pastry. The seven diners did the mealfull justice, and when at last the appetites were satisfied, the tablelooked as if a foraging party had descended upon it.

  "That was quite a dinner," remarked Peace, as she pushed her chair backfrom the table. "If I had just known it was going to happen, Mr. Hartmanneedn't have skinned the rabbits. There is a whole platter full ofWinkum and Blinkum left, and it's all wasted. Mercy me, what a shame!"

  She went out into the kitchen and surveyed the rejected delicacy withmournful eyes. Then a new idea occurred to her, and, with no thought ofirreverence, she murmured to herself, "I don't believe the Christ Childwould have cared whether He had turkey or rabbit for dinner. I'm goingover and get that _passle_ of half-starved German kids to eat this up."

  Throwing Gail's faded shawl over her head, she ran across the snowyfields to the old tumble-down house on the next road, where the newfamily lived. The children were at play in the yard--seven in all, andnone of them larger than Hope--but at sight of her they came forwardhand in hand, jabbering such queer gibberish that Peace could notunderstand a word.

  "Come over to my house and have some dinner," she invited them, but notone of them moved a step. "We've got a whole platter of stewed rabbit,"she urged, but they only stared uncomprehendingly. "Perhaps you have hadyour dinner. Are you hungry?"

  "Hungry," suddenly said the oldest boy, putting one hand to his mouthand the other on his stomach. "Ja, sehr hungrig."

  Peace was delighted with the pantomime method of making herselfunderstood, and imitating his motions, she pointed to the little brownhouse and beckoned.

  "Ja, ja," cried the chorus of seven, their faces beaming with pleasure,"wir kommen." And they quickly followed her across the snow to thekitchen door.

  "Gail, I have brought the Christ Child," she announced, as she usheredthe ragged, hungry brood into the house. "I thought it was a pity towaste all that salt and pepper you used in fixing up Winkum and Blinkum,so I invited these ragged beggars over to eat it up."

  Mrs. Grinnell gasped her surprise and consternation. Faith exclaimedangrily, "Peace Greenfield!" But Gail, with never a chiding word, sprangto the table and began clearing away the soiled dishes, while Hope ranfor clean plates; and in short order the seven little towheads werehovering around the platter of stewed rabbit and creamed potatoes,revelling in a feast such as they had never known before; nor did theystop eating until every scrap of food had vanished. Then they rose,bowing and smiling, and trying in their own tongue to thank theirhostesses for the grand dinner.

  Peace was captivated with their quaint manners and reverent attitude,and when they had backed out of the door, she went with them to thegate, kissing her hand to them as they disappeared down the road, stillcalling over their shoulders, "Du bist das Christkind!"

  "I don't know what they are saying," she murmured, "but it makes me feellike flapping my wings and crowing." She leaped to her tall gatepost togive vent to her jubilant feelings, but tumbled quickly to the groundagain without stopping to crow. "Abigail Greenfield!" she shouted,racing for the house. "See what was on the gatepost,--a nenvelope withmoney in it, and on the outside it says, 'Christmas greetings to the SixSisters.' Now will you believe someone lost it? It ain't Mr. Strong'swriting, though. Maybe the Christ Child brought it. Oh, Gail, do yous'pose He did?"