Astra

by Grace Livingston Hill

  She went to her store of things she had bought that afternoon. The green paper! That would make the hills and valleys where the sheep were pastured. Hadn’t she some cotton? She could run out to the drugstore that was in the same block with the Association and get a roll. That would make the stuffing for mountains.

  Slowly she gathered the things together, put them in one of the shopping bags, threw her coat about her, and ran out to the drugstore after the cotton and a pot of paste. The snowflakes stung her face and powdered her hair, reminding her of the night she started her journey.

  Back in the room again, she took out some of the little white cards and began fashioning small flat-roofed dwellings, with outside staircases, and a general air of orientalism about them. She stuck them together with paste and packed them all in a tiny box for safekeeping.

  When she had the makings of Bethlehem packed, she went to her store of gifts again and selected several things to take along. There surely could be no harm in giving gifts to little children, even if you didn’t know their mother, and she selected two of the prettiest little dollies, which any little girl could not help but love. For the boy she selected the little pony. It wasn’t but five inches tall, but so perfect in every detail, covered with real hide, a silky brown coat of hair, tail, and mane, “all saddled and bridled and ready for the fight.” Surely any boy would enjoy having that. His mother might take it from him sometime and use it for a bridge prize, but it surely would delight him for the time being.

  So she packed her gifts, slipping in the lovely Testament and a few of the little ones. Perhaps there would be an opening for them somewhere.

  A festive little moss-green jersey dress with buttons like red berries seemed the proper dress for the occasion, and a scarlet ribbon for her hair. Or was that too coquettish? But no, not for Christmas Day, and for children. Especially since the young man was not to be a part of the picture permanently.

  She laid everything out, deciding she would wear three at least of her wonderful roses, tucked in her dress.

  So she packed a little overnight bag with everything it seemed she could possibly need for the day, including a clean apron. She didn’t know much about the care of children, but an apron didn’t seem an unreasonable requirement, even on Christmas. Supposing the cook got drunk and she had to finish the dinner?

  And when everything was ready, even to the hat and coat laid out to be put on quickly, she got to bed, the radio by her side and one lovely rosebud where her cheek could touch it on her pillow beside her.

  She laughed to think as she lay down, how nicely her program had been arranged for her. Now if Duke should come to hunt her up, he could not spoil Christmas Day for her anyway, for she was going away for the day. And she would not leave word where to find her, either.

  By and by she grew weary of listening to singers and radio announcers. Even Christmas speakers seemed tiresome, and presently she turned the radio off. She didn’t want to have it going all night while she slept, and she wouldn’t want to wake herself up to turn it off when she was just dropping off.

  She opened the window just a little, for a cold wind was blowing, and she could hear the snowflakes splashing on the windowpane. The spicy breath of falling snow, the cold air touching her cheeks and forehead; sleepy comfort stole about her. Cameron had called her up, had called her “Astra!” Had asked her to help him! It didn’t mean anything special, but it was nice.

  Softly up to her window floated the sound of carolers singing, “Silent night! Holy night!”

  But the thick carpet of snow muffled any sound of footsteps on the street below, and Astra would not have recognized, had she heard them, the steps of a certain man who walked away from the building to his hard-earned rest, well content with what he had discovered.

  Chapter 15

  Astra awoke early Christmas morning and swung the radio dial around until she had a clear response from it. She had taken a minute or two the night before as she came through the hall to pick up a newspaper and look at the list of stations and what they were offering, and she knew that there was a devotional program on at seven. So while she was hurrying her preparations for the day, she had the pleasure of hearing some sweet and most unusual Christmas singing, a tender prayer, a real message that seemed to strike a keynote for living through the day and make it more than just a holiday, a holy day! And her prayer that morning was for grace to live that day through as unto the Lord.

  At eight she went to the restaurant and got a hot breakfast, though she didn’t waste much time over it. At the newsstand she bought a newspaper to leave in her room so that she might more intelligently hunt for stations on her radio when she returned.

  At half past eight she summoned her taxi, called up Cameron to announce her soon arrival, and started on her way, carrying her bag of ammunition with her. The roses pinned to her coat gave her a festive appearance, and she felt as if she were going to have a wonderful day.

  Cameron himself opened the door of the pleasant apartment where Rosamond Cameron Harrison lived and welcomed her eagerly.

  “You’ve come!” he said in a low, eager tone as he gripped her hand in greeting. “I was afraid that something would prevent you, but I might have known you’d carry through any amount of handicaps.”

  “As a matter of fact,” said Astra cheerfully, “I didn’t have a single handicap! I’ve just been anticipating coming all night! Although you did crowd my life so full of luxuries that I found it difficult to concentrate on getting ready.”

  Then a small girl approached with dark eyes upon her.

  “Aw you a supwise?” she asked, looking up at Astra.

  “Why, yes, I guess I must be,” said Astra, giving a quick look at Cameron.

  “This is Mary Lou,” announced Cameron in a tone of a gentleman announcing a lady’s entrance. “She’s the baby of the family and has been mourning my imminent absence, till I told her I had a surprise for her while I was gone.”

  “Thanks for giving me a hint,” said Astra smiling. “I’ll do my best.”

  “I fink you’ll do pwetty well,” said Mary Lou. “You have a coat made out of a gray kitty! And you have pwetty hair all sunshine!”

  “Well thank you, little lady. I appreciate the compliment.”

  “But I didn’t think that you’d go off and leave us with a new stranger when our mother is away!” put in a new voice, as Brenda, the next little girl, stepped forward, giving her uncle a withering glance. Her eyes were still darker and her black curls longer than Mary Lou’s.

  “This is Brenda,” said Uncle Charles. “She’s inclined to consider herself somewhat of a queen and exercises a mild female dictatorship in the home.”

  Brenda solemnly considered the newcomer.

  “I may like you,” she said with a haughty chin raised, “but what can you do?”

  Astra laughed.

  “Suppose you answer that question after I’ve been here a while,” she said.

  “Well, I like her,” said the boy, stepping up and helping Astra off with her coat. “That was a pretty good answer to give you, Miss Smarty.”

  “This is Harold,” said the uncle.

  “I’m glad to know you, Harold,” said Astra, putting out her hand with a warm clasp. “I think we shall get on pretty well together, don’t you?”

  “Swell!” said Harold.

  “Well, I like her, too,” said Brenda in a relenting tone. “She got pretty clothes, and Mother says that’s half! Mother might like her, too, perhaps.”

  “Well, I like her first because Uncle Charles likes her,” said Harold.

  “How do you know Uncle Charles likes her?” demanded Brenda.

  “Because he brought her here for a pleasant surprise,” answered the boy gravely, “and I think you’re pretty sappy to treat her this way when she’s come to help us have a good time.”

  “Has she?” asked Brenda. “How?” The child stared at Astra, scowling.

  “Well, when you get this matter of whether we like
each other settled,” laughed Astra, “perhaps you’ll find out. Anyhow, I’m staying while your uncle is away, and I guess you’ll have to put up with me. But you know, I never can really do my best for people who don’t like me.”

  Brenda looked a little troubled.

  “What is your best?”

  “Well, that’s another thing I’ll let you answer after we’ve been together awhile.”

  Cameron was standing just outside the door of the guest room where he had taken Astra to lay off her wraps, and his face was a study in a mingled disgust and amusement.

  “Well, I must say, if I had known how rude you were going to be, I wouldn’t have brought you a nice surprise at all,” he said. “I’d have brought you a disappointing surprise. I declare, Brenda, I’ve a notion to take you into the bathroom and give you a good sound spanking!”

  “Me?” screamed Brenda. “I’d have you to know my mother never allows me to be spanked! Not by anybody!”

  “Well, this is one time you’ll find your mother hasn’t anything to do with it,” said her uncle. “I’m left in charge, and I’m going to spank if you don’t behave yourself and act like a civilized child.”

  Suddenly two great tears gathered in Brenda’s big eyes as she surveyed her uncle.

  “I—don’t think—I like you—anymore—Uncle Charlie!” burst forth the child with quivering lip, and then she broke down with a big sob.

  “Well now, this is no way to begin a Merry Christmas, do you think it is?” said Astra diplomatically. “Suppose we just put all this nonsense away and pretend it didn’t happen. Shall we? Suppose we start out intending to like each other, whether we do or not. Won’t that be nicest?”

  Brenda sidled over to Astra and slipped a skinny little hand into hers, looking up at her with a watery smile.

  “I guess I do like you,” said Brenda.

  “Why of course, and I’m going to like you a lot! Now, suppose you bring me a nice drink of water, and then we’ll call ourselves friends.”

  Brenda bloomed out in another smile and hurried away to get the water.

  “I call that rare cleverness,” said Cameron in a low tone. “I guess you’ll win out. Now, come out here and sit down a minute while I give you a little idea of the layout, and then I’ll have to be getting on.”

  The children stood across the room and watched them as they talked, finally sidling nearer and slipping down at Astra’s feet.

  “I do hope this isn’t going to be an awful bore to you,” said Cameron. “I meant to get some kind of games outlined, but somehow there were so many buttons to fasten and faces to wash that I didn’t get around to it.”

  “Oh, that’s all right,” said Astra. “That’s more in my province, don’t you think? I’ve been sort of planning out a program for us in my head. I think we’ll get along. I wonder if they have ever built Bethlehem? Do you know?”

  “Built Bethlehem?” questioned the astonished Cameron.

  “Do you mean the big steelworks?” asked Harold, suddenly interested. “Do you have to have one of those sets of steel blocks and things to build it? Because I don’t have any.”

  “Oh no,” said Astra. “I don’t mean that Bethlehem. I mean the Bethlehem where Jesus was born.”

  “Why I didn’t know there was any other Bethlehem,” said Harold.

  “All right then, we’ll build Bethlehem pretty soon, and I’ll tell you all about it,” said Astra, smiling reassuringly.

  “Do girls build Bethlehem?” asked Brenda wistfully.

  “Oh yes, we’ll all build Bethlehem. But first we have to sing some Christmas songs, so we can sing as we work. Don’t you think that would be nice? Do you know any Christmas songs?”

  “Oh yes,” said Mary Lou, “vee can sing!”

  “Good-bye,” whispered Cameron from the shelter of the doorway. “I’ll get back as soon as I can. You’re all right!” He eased out into the hall and silently into his overcoat and hat that were waiting for him. He hurried out the door, shutting it noiselessly behind him.

  Cameron hadn’t introduced the servants to Astra, because when he went in search of them the nurse was nowhere to be found, and the cook said she had gone to church.

  “She said you said she could go to church.”

  “Well yes, I said I would see about it, but I didn’t think she would go so early.”

  “Yes, her church meets early,” said the cook sulkily. “Oh, she’ll be back sometime when she gets good and ready.”

  “Well, you had better come in and meet Miss Everson,” said Cameron.

  “An’ why shud I hev ta ga in an’ meet her? Ef she want’s ta see me she c’n cum oot here!”

  Cameron felt that the better part of valor was to retreat and leave the grouchy cook to her own domain. There would be time enough to fight when he got back from meeting his man.

  So Astra started out on the new consignment with one disgruntled servant in the kitchen and three uncertain little belligerents in the living room. But nothing daunted, she took life as it came and started in on Bethlehem.

  “Where shall we build Bethlehem?” she asked, looking around on the possibilities.

  “How about our kindergarten table?” suggest Harold.

  So he and Brenda brought the kindergarten table from the nursery and arranged several small stools and benches.

  “Is Bethlehem in Philadelphia?” asked Harold.

  “Oh no, it is away over the sea in Palestine, and it was built many, many years ago, before any of you were born.”

  “Is it a city?”

  “No, it’s a little town. I wonder if you can’t sing that song about it that the world has been singing for a good many Christmases. ‘Oh, Little Town of Bethlehem.’ Do you know it?”

  “Wes. Vee have ’at in our kinnegarten Hunday Toole!” asserted Mary Lou eagerly.

  “So do we all,” said Harold.

  “Yes,” said Brenda. And suddenly they were all singing, mostly in different keys at first. But finally Astra got them started off together, and the young voices really sounded very pretty. The grouchy cook stole through the pantry and peeked angrily through the swinging door, and then retreated with a cunning look in her eye. That golden-haired girl with red ribbon couldn’t do much. She wouldn’t be bossed by her! So she stole up to her room and brought down the big bottle which she hid in the pantry.

  But Astra was engaged in making Bethlehem real to her young audience, and she wasn’t caring about any cooks.

  “Now,” she said eagerly, “Bethlehem is among little hills, and we have to make the hills first. We’ll make those with green paper.”

  She took out a pair of scissors she had brought, cut off several generous pieces of the green tissue, and began crumpling them in her hands. Then she unrolled her package of cotton and tore off good-sized pieces.

  “We’ll stuff the cotton under the hills to make them stand up nicely,” she explained cheerfully, as her deft fingers twisted and patted and stuffed the hills quickly into shape across the back of the low table, slipping a pile of magazines under one hill, with the green paper smoothly over the top.

  “This will be where we shall build the little town of Bethlehem,” she explained to the watching children. “We have to have a smooth, firm base to put the houses on so they won’t fall over.”

  “What are we going to build the houses of?” asked the boy. “We’ve got a lot of stone blocks.”

  “Oh, have you? That will be lovely. Can you get them?”

  “Oh yes,” said the boy, springing up eagerly. “They’re right in the nursery on the shelf.”

  He came bringing the box, but the cook, already cross from the “wee drap” she had taken from her bottle, stuck her head out of the kitchen door, saw him coming along the hall, and began to object.

  “Hey, you boy, you! Take them toys back where they b’long! Don’t ya know the nurse got them all picked up and put away nice? And didna she tell ya ta let ’em alone? Yer mommie’ll smack ya good fer gettin’ them toys ou
t an’ clutterin’ up the livin’room fer Christmas. Don’t ya know ef yer a bad boy, Santie Claus won’t give ya nothin’ when he comes?”

  “Aw! Santa Claus!” sneered the child. “He ain’t coming here. My father and mother are gone away. Thur won’t be any Santa Claus here!”

  “Well, shut you up an’ tak them toys back where they b’long!”

  “No!” said Harold, “We need ’em. She wants ’em fer something she’s makin’ fer us,” and he vanished into the living room excitedly.

  “The cook’s mad,” he remarked calmly, as if it were a common occurrence. “But I told her you wanted ’em.”

  “Well,” said Astra soothingly, “after a while we’ll invite her in to see Bethlehem, and then she’ll understand.”

  A gleam of relief and triumph came into the boy’s eyes.

  “Okay,” he said with a sigh of pleasure.

  By this time the region round about Bethlehem was taking form and shape, and the children were fascinated, watching it grow.

  Astra went to her box of things she had found in the ten-cent store and brought out some trees, lovely fuzzy green things, and a few palm trees with stiff metal backs that stood up beautifully. Then she began to build tiny white houses out of the stone blocks, three or four blocks to a house; now and then an arched doorway, or a tiny crack of a window between two larger blocks, with a wee one below; one or two larger houses with flat roofs, and one with a tiny outside staircase. It all looked very real. And then some of the little cardboard houses she stuck here and there between the others. Astra was as much interested in her work as were the children. Presently, the cook swung the pantry door open halfway and peered in scowling, but stayed to watch also, gradually edging in and standing behind Astra, emitting a strong odor of whatever was in her black bottle. But Astra went steadily on with her work.

  “Bethlehem had a hotel,” she said. “They called it an inn.”