Astra

by Grace Livingston Hill

  “Well, who was this lady, Harold?”

  “You oughtta know. She said she came here ta meet you!”

  “To meet me!” exclaimed Cameron, frowning. “Who in the world is she?”

  “Yeh, she said you expected her ta meetcha here!”

  “That’s absurd!” said Cameron, much annoyed. He gave a quick glance at Astra, but she was occupied in mopping up Mary Lou’s tears and meditating on whether he had been in the kitchen during the last two or three minutes while Camilla was there discoursing. Then she spoke.

  “She said she had something very important to tell you, and she had some things to do and must hurry back. She asked that you would call her up at once when you came, but I doubt if she has reached there yet, unless she lives close by.”

  “In a pig’s eye you will, Uncle Charlie, will ya? You wouldn’t call up a thing like that, wouldya?”

  “Well, from your description it doesn’t sound as if she is the kind of person I would care to call up. Did she leave her phone number?”

  “She thought you’d know what it was,” said Brenda, suddenly barging into the conversation.

  Her uncle put out his arms.

  “Come here, little girl,” he said, setting down the great vase of flowers and taking her on his lap. “You look all stirred up. Did they get you into the fight, too?”

  Brenda nodded and snuggled into her uncle’s arms.

  “An’ on Chris’mus Day, too!” said Harold indignantly.

  “Yes, it was a shame!” said Cameron. “I shouldn’t have gone and left you. But since I had to go, I’m glad I had such a good substitute.”

  “Yes,” spoke up Astra. “He was fine. He really told the lady where to get off most effectively, though I’m not so sure his mother will be pleased when the lady gives her account of it. However, it’s over, and he really did his best as far as his frame of mind would let him, to apologize, so I guess we won’t spoil Christmas Day any further. Now, I wonder if we shall finish Bethlehem, or would you rather play something else?”

  “Oh, finish Bethlehem!” begged the children. “Uncle Charlie, you come play Bethlehem, too!”

  “Sure,” said the smiling uncle, divesting himself of his overcoat and sitting down. “How do you play it?”

  “Oh, you just watch and wait till she tells you.”

  “Don’t you think it would be a good thing for you to call this lady Miss Everson?” said Cameron.

  “No,” said Brenda firmly, “it makes her too far-offy, and she said we might call her Astra.”

  “Very well,” said Cameron. “What the lady says goes. But when you call her that, remember her name means a star, and you must be very polite to her, and respectful, just as you would be if one of the silver stars in the sky should come down and play with you a little while.”

  The little girl giggled, but Harold looked at his new divinity solemnly, and after a while he smiled.

  “I see what you mean, Uncle Charlie. She’s like that! That’s why I told the other lady to get out.”

  “It appears to me, Harold, that more and more you are revealing that your language to the other lady must have been rather reprehensible! But let’s forget it now and go to Bethlehem.”

  “That bad lady got the sheeps an’ the shepherds all mixed up,” said Brenda, who had been looking over the work so far done.

  “We’ll soon set that right. While we are doing it, Harold, you can tell your uncle the beginning of the story.”

  Willingly the boy began.

  “Well, Astra told us how we were all sinners c’ndemned to death, and the bad lady didn’t like that, because that meant her, too. But God so loved everybody He had made—Say, Uncle Charlie, ya don’t suppose He loves her, too, do ya? Because I don’t see how He can.”

  “‘For God so loved the world,’” said Astra in a low tone.

  “Oh yeh, we had that in Sunday school. That’s John three sixteen. We learned that in the beginner’s room. But how He could love her? And why did He make her, anyway, horrid-acting like that?”

  “Well, it seems He did,” said Cameron thoughtfully, “although He didn’t make her act that way. She did that herself. But I guess we’ve got to be polite to her at least.”

  “Even if she’s rude to us?”

  “How about that, Astra?” asked Cameron, their eyes meeting in that glance that seemed to bring them so near together.

  “‘Who, when He was reviled, reviled not again,’” said Astra smiling.

  “Well, that sort of sounds as if that was what people should do, if we want to do the right thing. It seems as if Astra knows nearly all the Bible, doesn’t it? You and I will have to do a lot of memorizing if we want to keep up with this lady, Harold.”

  The child gave Astra a slow, sweet smile that showed he adored her, even on such short notice.

  “Now come on,” she said, “and let’s finish our story. Will it bore you to listen, Uncle Charlie?” She gave Cameron a charming smile.

  “I should say not,” said Cameron, his eyes resting on the girl’s lovely face. “Go on. I’m all eagerness!” So the little audience gathered around the table while Astra straightened out the sheep and began.

  And then the old story lived there before them. The walls of the quite modern living room faded away, and blue heavens, star-pricked, came in their place. A great light grew, and angels came winging their way down. It was as real to those children, and to the young man, as if they had been looking through a window and actually seen it all. They saw the great angel step forward with his message and thrilled with the wonder of it as it came home to each that the story was meant for them, too, as well as the shepherds. They watched with reluctance as the other angels went back up into heaven and the night grew quiet again. Then they went to Bethlehem to “see the thing which had come to pass,” and saw in a word picture the baby who was born for them that Christmas Day.

  “Well,” said Harold at the end, “I’m glad you told us about that. I always wondered how Christmas Day happened, and it’s a lot nicer than I thought it was.”

  “But I’m awful hongery!” suddenly wailed little Mary Lou. “Don’t we have any Chrissum dinnee?”

  “Well, I should say!” exclaimed Cameron, glancing at his watch. “It’s after half past two! Rosamond said she had ordered dinner for us at exactly one. I wonder where that snoring cook is!”

  He went into the kitchen and found disorder, and a great, black, empty bottle on the floor beside the chair where the cook had been when he entered the apartment, but no cook, and not even a smell of dinner anywhere. Further investigation showed the turkey in the refrigerator with its hands helplessly folded, not even a smell of fire on its cold, dead skin, and the cook on her bed in the maid’s room, sound asleep.

  There was another black bottle on the floor beside the bed, and it was plain to be seen that there would be no Christmas dinner in that house that day if it depended on Becky to cook it.

  Cameron frowned, stood watching old Becky for a minute or two, then stepped out of the room, removed the key from the inside of the door, and put it in the lock on the outside, locking the door with decision. This was no creature to be allowed to waken in the night and go madly about the house among the children. She was dead drunk, and there was no mistake about that. By and by, when he had time to think it out, he would decide what to do with Becky, send her to a hospital, or to the lock-up, or get a doctor and try to get her sober. But for the present she was safe, and so were they.

  He came back to the kitchen, locking the door that led from kitchen to the maid’s quarters, and studied the possibilities of an immediate dinner from the standpoint of the refrigerator and pantry. There was a large fruit cake in the cake box, several mince pies ranged on the pantry shelf, another tin box of fancy cake. They wouldn’t starve, of course, but that was no dinner for three healthy, hungry little children—cake and pie was not a Christmas dinner. So he stalked into the front hallway and took up the telephone.

  “Oh Uncle
Charlie, you’re not going to telephone that old egg, are ya? I’m off yer fer life if you do.” This in a wail from Harold.

  “Uncle Charlie, we’re hongery!” sobbed Brenda.

  “When we gonta have dinnee, Unca Sharlie?” wailed Mary Lou.

  “Right away, kitten. Hush a minute! I’m telephoning.”

  “Not to that nassy voman, Unca Sharlie! Her not gonta come here ’gin, is her?”

  “No, no, Mary Lou! Hush! Is this the restaurant? Send a boy up with your Christmas dinner menu right away to Apartment C. How soon can you serve a dinner for five? All right. Send the menu at once.”

  Then he hung up and, catching the little girl, pranced into the living room.

  “How about you ladies and gentlemen setting the table in the dining room? The cook seems to be sick. She’s been drinking too much medicine out of a black bottle, and she’s in her room asleep now, so we’re not waiting on her. The boy is coming up with the menu from the downstairs restaurant, and you are each to pick out just what you want, so be ready to decide right away and not keep him waiting.”

  “I want turkey,” said Brenda, “with stuffings, an’ cramb’ry sauce, an’ smashed potato, and green peas! No, ’pinnage, an’ no carrots t’day! It’s Christmas! Then I want punkum—no, mince pie, ’n’ ice cream!”

  “Okay, that goes for me, too!” said Harold.

  “Me, too,” said Mary Lou. “An’ I want my dwink o’ milk!”

  “Well, I shouldn’t wonder if you could have that right now,” said Uncle Charlie, making a quick raid on the refrigerator and producing a glass of milk.

  Then the boy came up with the menu and took the order while Astra was helping the children get the dining room table ready for the dinner.

  “Aren’t we having fun?” said Brenda, with a radiant little face lifted to Astra. “I wish my mother would ever do this wif us.”

  “Oh, you’re crazy, you silly!” scorned the little boy. “Our mother would never have time. She has too many old bridge parties.”

  “Well, there might be sometime, somewhere,” said Brenda wistfully.

  They had a wonderful Christmas dinner. It was quite new and delightful to have strange, different things sent up from the restaurant, and the children enjoyed it immensely.

  But at last their keen appetites were satisfied, and they lagged with the final spoonfuls of ice cream.

  “What’er we goin’ ta do now, Astra?” asked Brenda. “When Daddy an’ Mothah are home, they always have presents and we can play with ’em, but we didn’t have any presents yet.”

  “No, but your father and mother are going to give you their presents when they get back, so you’ll have another Christmas tomorrow,” said Uncle Charlie hopefully, and wondered, as he looked at the slow, lazy flakes that were going idly past the window, whether they really would get back when they had promised.

  “Okay!” said Harold with a deep young sigh.

  “Oh,” said Astra, “I brought some little presents. Perhaps they will do for today! There is one for each of you.”

  “Yes,” said Cameron, “and I think I have some packages, too. I had forgotten them, but since you’ve mentioned it, I guess I can contribute to the gift-bringing performance, too.”

  “Oh! Oh! Oh! Aren’t we having a lovely time!” squealed Mary Lou.

  Then the boy from the restaurant came to get the dishes, and Astra gathered up the crumbs from the tablecloth, folded it nicely, and put it away, and they all adjourned to the living room.

  They put the presents in a pile in the center of the room, and Uncle Charlie distributed them. The first one was for Mary Lou! A lovely dolly, looking like a real baby, with a soft, pliable body; big blue eyes; and a sweet cap of gold curls. Mary Lou was wild about it. Her other dolls had been freak rag dolls that were unbreakable, and she slung them around and was always trying to get Brenda’s dolls, which were more sophisticated. But she recognized this as a doll of the upper classes and truly appreciated it.

  “You know what a wittle girl wikes!” she said with a sweet, grateful glance at Astra. Then as second thought, with the new dolly in a careful arm, she came and climbed into Astra’s lap, kissed her, and then made the doll kiss her.

  The next was Brenda’s turn. And she had a delightful little croquet set that could be played on the carpet. This was from Uncle Charlie. Brenda promptly took the whole box in her arms and tried to climb into her uncle’s lap to kiss him.

  Then came Harold’s turn, and he opened a big box that looked like a hat box and said “From Uncle Charlie” on its top, and there was a pair of boxing gloves for him. He shouted with joy and all but broke up the gathering by his demand to have a boxing match then and there.

  “Not till all the presents have been given out,” said Uncle Charlie.

  Then Brenda had a lovely doll, not very large, but with a beautiful face and eyes that moved sideways, and turned, and made her look very real and human. She wore a lovely blue dress the color of her eyes, a little knitted coat and cap, and real little mittens. Brenda took her in her arms and cooed and kissed her, and then frantically rushed to Astra and kissed her. It was a very loving time indeed, and Cameron, watching Astra, noted how lovely she was and how delightful with the children!

  There was a little swing for Mary Lou from her uncle, which he promptly set up in the corner, and Mary Lou retired to it to swing her new dolly and presently to fall asleep quite happily, while the rest of the program went on without her.

  Then came the darling little pony for Harold, and he was wild with delight.

  “I shall keep this on the mantelpiece in my own room,” he announced. “Mother needn’t think she can have it in the parlor. It’s my own horse. And someday when I get grown up, I shall have a live one just like it!”

  He went over and took Astra’s hand and kissed it with the low bow that he learned in his dancing class, and then he retired to get acquainted with his horse.

  But there were two more packages on the floor. One of goodly size for Astra, and a small, neat package for Cameron.

  He made her open her package first. A large, fine box of candy, in all sorts of shapes and sizes. So after she had thanked him, she made him take the first piece out and then passed it around, to the great delight of the children, and they sat there enjoying everything, till Harold discovered that his uncle hadn’t opened the little package yet.

  Cameron opened his package slowly, with many comical remarks about what it could possibly be and who would send it to him.

  He untied the ribbon slowly, turned back the paper very deliberately, stopping for a word between each turn, and then just as he got to the last soft tissue paper cover, he fixed Harold with a stern eye and said, “Boy, I’ll bet you know who gave this present to me.”

  “Uh huh!” said Harold with a grin.

  “Well boy, I’ll just bet it is from that person that you described a little while ago as a bad lady! If it is, you can just take it out and put it in the trash can!”

  “Oh no, Uncle Charlie. It isn’t from her! She didn’t bring any presents for anybody. And she didn’t send anything!”

  “Then who can have given it to me?” asked Cameron, with great curiosity written on his face.

  “Whyn’tcha open it and find out?” asked the boy.

  “Well, that’s an idea! Do you suppose it will tell inside?”

  “I bet it will,” said the boy.

  So at last Cameron opened the paper, uncovering a neat little box, and inside, the beautiful Testament. Suddenly his eyes went to Astra’s shy watching eyes, and a great light came into his own. She needed no other thanks than that look he gave.

  But the children gathered around as he turned to the flyleaf and read, “Charles from Astra,” and below, “To help with the next assignment.”

  The day went quickly after that. Harold had to try out his boxing gloves, and Brenda insisted they should all play croquet—excepting the sleeping Mary Lou. And then it suddenly grew dark in the room, and they turned
the lights on and found it was quite a bit after the children’s usual bedtime.

  They fed the sleepy Mary Lou a glass of milk, and Astra got her into her nightclothes and tucked her in bed with a kiss and a bit of a prayer she was too sleepy to say herself. Then Astra made some nice hot cereal and fed the others and got them to bed.

  “We’ve had a wonderful Christmas,” said Harold, as he sank down carefully into his pillow. “We’ll have another one tomorrow, perhaps, but it won’t be half as nice. The Bethlehem was great! Can we keep it here a few days?”

  “Oh yes,” said Astra, smiling. “That is your Bethlehem. And when the holidays are over, you’ll find a nice box in the guest room under the bed in which you can pack Bethlehem away for another year. I’ll leave that to your care, Harold.”

  “But won’t you be here, Astra?”

  “Well, I couldn’t be sure of that, Harold. But you won’t forget, will you, little boy?”

  “No, I won’t forget. But Uncle Charlie, won’t she be here again?”

  “Well, if you ask me, boy, I think she will! Now, good night!”

  So they kissed the children good night and went out into the living room.

  “And now,” said Astra, “it’s time for me to go home. I’ve had a lovely party, mister, and I thank you for inviting me. I hope you have a pleasant evening, and your children all behave well. But I’m sure they’re all just about asleep, so I’m safe in leaving you. Good night!”