Back at School with the Tucker Twins

by Nell Speed

  CHAPTER XVIII.

  CHRISTMAS FOR SALLY WINN.

  There were other cabins to visit and we had to tear ourselves away fromAunt Keziah's. Mr. Kent took many photographs of Santa Claus with thelittle darkeys crowding around him.

  "This will be a gold mine to me," he averred. "I can see myself fillingpages of advertising matter with illustrations from this morning."

  Everywhere we went, Santa Claus was hailed with delight. We left manypackages at many cabins and finally ended up at Sally Winn's. This wasat Dee's instigation. Indeed it was a kindly thought that took us there.Poor Sally had been exercising unwonted self-control in not sending forFather at midnight on Christmas Eve. Jo said she had felt all kinds offlutterations but had submitted to a dose of the "pink medicine," andthat, with the comfort she had derived from a hot water bottle, hadtided her through the night. Then she had felt it incumbent upon her toget up and make waffles for breakfast because of the guest from NewYork.

  We had some gifts for Sally tied up in the Tucker's best style, withsheets on sheets of tissue paper, yards and yards of red and greenribbon, and dozens and dozens of Christmas seals. Mammy Susan had beengrowing a citronella slip for her and it had reached quite a pretentioussize and begun to branch out like the parent plant.

  Sally's delight was really pathetic to see. She, poor woman, had verylittle of interest in her life, so little that she had to make a realpleasure and excitement over her "spells." A visit from Santa Claus wasalmost as much fun to her as a visit from the Angel Gabriel would havebeen, and the sleigh bells were only next in cheer to the last trump.Sally, you will remember, was our neighbour at Milton who spent her lifetrying to die.

  Our coming was a great surprise to her. Any pleasure that happened tocome her way always took her unawares. She was certainly one of theMrs. Gummidges of this world and was "a poor lone lorn critter" if Iever saw one. She was a grateful soul and was profuse in her thanks forthe gifts. I had never seen her more enthusiastic although Father and Ihad never missed a Christmas in giving her some nice present. I verilybelieve it was the festive wrappings that appealed to her.

  Of course Mr. Tucker took her by storm. He acted Santa Claus just as hehad at Aunt Keziah's and Sally, I know, regretted that her educationkept her from joining ranks with the believers.

  "Did you ever see anybody look so like himself? I have never seen aSanta Claus before that did not have on an ugly false face--hideouspainted things that wouldn't fool a chicken," Sally began with heraccustomed volubility. "I can't quite make up my mind that you are notSanty--"

  "Well, don't make up your mind to any such treason. I am Santy!"

  "Well, Santy or not, I am mighty glad to see all of you. Now you musttry some of my eggnog and fruit cake. Dr. Allison says my fruit cake isthe best he ever tasted and that it is so well mixed that it is asdigestible as sponge cake. My eggnog, too, can't be beat,--made of purecream and eggs that are so fresh they were warm when I broke them. Iwaited for those finest Dominickers to get off their nests before I madeit. 'Tain't strong of liquor and won't hurt a baby. Jo, bring my bestBohemian glasses. You'll find them on the tray in the dining room allset out on the sideboard. Here's my cake and I am proud to cut it forsuch company.

  "Dr. Allison says he likes the looks of my cake. He says it looks likechewing tobacco, it is so nice and black and fruity, and that it tastesbetter than it looks. You can't trust all cooks with their fruit cakebecause it is so dark-like that dirt don't show in it and sometimesthings that don't belong there get in it. I remember one time over atMrs. Purdy's (of course I don't mean to be gossiping about her now thatshe is dead and gone)--but she cut a cake with all the airs and gracesof a good cake-maker, which she never was, and what should I find in mypiece--just one piece, mind you--but a shoe button and a bent pin. Ijust thought to myself: 'Well, if that's what I found, God in Heavenknows what I didn't find.' Now there ain't a thing in my cake but thebest ingredients, and I'll wager nobody will ever find anything in mycooking foreign to the human digestion."

  We were certain of it, but Sally did not give us time to express ourconfidence. She plunged into a stream of eloquence concerning herDominickers and their superior brand of eggs, as she ladled out theeggnog as smooth as a baby's cheek and as fluffy as a summer cloud.

  "There are some that hold that a white Leghorn's eggs are more delicatethan any other kind, but I say there is a richness about anold-fashioned Dominicker's eggs that nothing can come up to. What do youwant with an egg being too delicate, anyhow? Of course, for Angel's Foodthey might be best, but I have never seen anything that an egg laid bya Leghorn will do that a Dominicker's won't do just as well. Of coursenobody wants a duck egg or a goose egg for anything short of gingerbread,--they are coarse! Now a hard boiled guinea egg is my favourite ofall eggs. I think a nice hot guinea egg, boiled until it is mealy--ittakes a good half hour--and then mashed up with good batter bread madeof the fresh meal, ground over at Macy's mill, provided the batter breadis made the right way,--none of your batter bread raised with bakingpowders, but my kind, raised with eggs and plenty of them, well beatenand baked quickly,--I do say that there is no breakfast better."

  The strangest thing about Sally Winn was that she longed for company,not for the good she might get out of it but just so she could pourforth her soul in conversation. We might just as well have been dumb forall she got from us, but all the time we were eating her truly wonderfulcake and drinking her eggnog that even she could not praise according toits deserts, she regaled us with a stream of conversation that made ourheads swim.

  "I understand poor Jo better now," whispered Dee to me. "How can he evertalk? No wonder! He gets out of the habit at home and can't get in itwhen he goes away."

  "Tell Mammy Susan I have got a good starting of rose geranium for her. Iwould have sent it over by Jo this morning but I was so afraid it mightbe too cold for it. It looks like Mammy Susan has all the luck withcitronella and I have luck with rose geranium. My bush is so big itlooks like I'll have to get Jo's watering tub from the barn to plant itin. It has long out-grown its pot. I certainly do like to have plenty ofhealthy rose geranium on hand when I make apple jelly. Nothing gives itthe flavour that a leaf of rose geranium will,--just pour the boilingjelly over a leaf--one to each glass."

  "That sounds fine!" exclaimed Santa Claus. "I don't think I ever tastedit."

  "Wait a minute! I am going to fix one up for you to take back toRichmond and next summer when I make my jelly, I'll make some for you.It comes in mighty handy for sudden company." Sally bustled off and cameback bearing a tumbler of jelly that would have taken a prize at anyfair in the world, I feel sure.

  "Here it is!" she panted. "Jo is that fond of it that I sometimes hateto think of leaving him because I don't know who will ever make it tosuit him."

  "But are you thinking of leaving him?" questioned Mr. Tucker.

  "Dying! I mean dying!"

  "Oh, but you look so well!"

  "I think so, too, Sally," I ventured. "You are getting to be right fat."

  "Ah, my dear, that has nothing to do with health. The fatter I get themore of me there is to feel bad. I won't be long for this world, I amthankful to say. Fat! Why, I have seen many a fat corpse--more fat onesthan lean ones." We could not gainsay such gruesome statistics, but Itold her that Father had sent her a prescription that she must takeimmediately without fail.

  "And give up the pink medicine?"

  "He says you won't need that for to-day, that is, if you take the other.Father says you are to bundle up and come over to Bracken for dinner. Joand Mr. Kent are to come, too, of course, and that will mean that youwill have no household cares. He says you must come. It is the doctor'sorders."

  "Well, if I must, I must!" she sighed. "I have great faith in Dr.Allison and am sure he would not prescribe something that would hurtme," and so Sally, with many layers of wraps enveloping her alreadyportly person, and, clasping in her arms the rose geranium for MammySusan, was bundled into Jo's already overflowing sleigh and we merr
ilystarted off for Bracken.

  A very funny thing happened on the way, at least it turned out to befunny although it might have been very serious. Dee, who was on thefront seat between Wink and Jo, insisted upon driving. Sally, on theback seat with Dum and Mr. Kent, was so wrapped up that she wasoblivious to the speed that the two spirited horses were making. Ofcourse Peg was ready for a race and so were all of us and race we didfor most of the trip home. Jo's horses were young and good trotters andDee, with blazing eyes and glowing cheeks, let them go as fast as theywanted to. My old Peg had seen better days as a racer but had theadvantage of a cutter and a small load and so made the best of it. Ihugged the road and kept it, while Zebedee hurled defiance at ourpursuers.

  About an eighth of a mile before the public road turned into the avenueat Bracken, Dee saw a chance to catch up with us and pass us. There wasa smooth, unbroken stretch of snow that she thought was part of the roadand she swerved her team to cut through it and get in the lead--butsnow, like Charity, covers a multitude of sins. This pure mantle covereda great gully. The snow had drifted to that side of the road and thegully was filled and then neatly smoothed over. There was nothing towarn a person unacquainted with the road. Jo was evidently so taken upwith Dee's glowing countenance that he was paying no attention to whereshe was taking them, when over they went as quietly and peacefully asturning over in bed.

  The horses were wonderful. They stopped stock-still. The near one wasdragged over by the weight of the sleigh but he lay quite still. Pegbehaved like the almost thoroughbred she is and not only stood quietlybut gave a ringing neigh of encouragement to the other horses.

  Zebedee and I were out in a jiffy and running to the assistance of theturnover. I deemed it wiser for me to attend to the horses. If they hadstruggled, it might have been quite serious. I loosened the traces onthe one who had been able to keep his feet, and then the fallen one, andas soon as I had accomplished that, I caught hold of the bridle and gothim up in no time. He was not hurt at all. Zebedee was digging out thecrowd, who had, one and all, taken headers. A waving sea of legspresented itself to our astonished gaze. One by one they scrambled out,all looking more or less sheepish but all rosy and ready to laugh ifthey could just be reassured that no one was hurt.

  "Jo! Jo! Pull me out! The grey legs are mine!" came in muffled tonesfrom the deepest part of the drift where two fat legs encased inhomemade grey woolen stockings were wildly beating the air.

  "Sally!" we cried, and in a moment we had her out.

  "Oh, Lord!" I groaned. "Poor Father and more pink medicine!" but not abit of it! Sally was as game as the rest of them, and came up smilingand happy when she, too, found no one was hurt. The snow was as dry aspowder and shook off them like so much flour. The sleigh was righted inshort order and they all clambered back. Dee penitently handed the reinsto Jo.

  "I am not to be trusted. You had better drive."

  "Not at all! No one could have told that was not perfectly good road. Ishould have been looking at the road instead of--ahem--ahem--insteadof--instead--of--that buzzard, sailing down there," pointing to one ofthe denizens of the air who had made his appearance in the sky almost asthough he had expected some pickings from our turnover.

  "Humph! Buzzard, indeed!" grunted Sally. "If I was Miss Dee I shouldn'tthank you to be a calling me a buzzard." Which went to show that Sallywas not so much wrapped up that she could not see what was right infront of her.

  What a dinner we did have! Tweedles and I often spoke of it when we wereback at school, especially on the veal pot-pie days. The table wasresplendent with its fine old damask and silver and with its load ofgood things.

  "That there gobbler," said Mammy Susan, pointing with pride at the kingof the feast sitting on his parsley throne, "don't weigh a ounce less 'ntwenty pounds. He was the greediest one of the whole flock an' now seewhat he done come to! He was always the struttinest fowl and looks lakhe is still some pompous with his bosom chuck full of chestnuts."

  Blanche and Bill were to wait on the table, but Mammy Susan had to comeinto the dining room to see that everything went off in proper style.She stood back like a head waiter in some fine restaurant and directedher minions with the airs of a despot.

  "Pass that ther macaroni to Miss Dum!" would come in a sibilant whisper.And then as Bill would prance by the old woman with all of the style hehad learned on the Mississippi steamboat, she would say in sternundertones: "Don't wait fer folks to lick they plates befo' you gib um asicond help."

  "Blanche, gib Miss Sally Winn some 'scalloped oyschters, and there isMr. Tucker 'thout a livin' thing on his plate."

  Eating was not the only thing we did at that feast. We talked andlaughed and cracked jokes until poor Sally Winn forgot all about dyingand I think realized there was something in life, after all. What we hadfor that Christmas dinner was no doubt what every family in the UnitedStates who could have it was having, but it seemed to us to be better,and I believe it was. Mammy Susan had a witch's wand to stir things withand whatever she touched was perfect. Her cranberry sauce always jelled;her candied sweet potatoes were only equalled by marrons glace, soZebedee said. The cheese on her macaroni always browned just right; andher mashed potatoes always looked like banks of snowy clouds. She seemedto have the power of glorifying egg plant and salsify so that personsoften asked what the delicious thing was they were eating.

  "Whew!" ejaculated Zebedee, "I am certainly glad I did not have to eatin my embonpoint. I would have touched the table long ago and would havehad to stop. As it is, I can still eat about three inches without havinga collision."

  Our day passed in feasting and merry making. The walls of Bracken rangwith merriment. Even Father came out of his book and got quite gay.Sally Winn forgot to hold her heart and laughed like a girl at thejests.

  "It will be fatal to sit down after such a dinner," declared Dee. "Wehad better go out and coast and jolt it down."

  There was only one small sled, left from my childhood, but the attic wasfull of broken chairs, and in a few minutes the eager males hadfashioned make-shift coasters out of old rockers and chair backs.

  "They are not very elegant but they will slide down the hill, which isthe main thing," said Wink, as he lay flat on his stomach and whizzeddown the long hill to the spring.

  We had a chair back apiece and so did not have to wait turns nor did wehave to go double. I must say I like to coast by myself and guide my ownsled. The impromptu sleds were not so very strong and it was much safernot to overload. We coasted until the long hill was as slick as glassand, with the exception of an occasional turnover, there were nocasualties.

  Father and Sally Winn watched us from the library window but after awhile they came out, Sally bundled up to within an inch of her life, andwhat should they do but mount some chair backs and get in the game. JoWinn fell off his sled when he saw his invalid sister, who only thenight before had been on the point of shuffling off this mortal coil,actually straddling a chair back and taking the hill like a native ofSwitzerland.

  "This is a new prescription I have given Sally," whispered Father to Jo."She is to coast every day as long as the snow lasts, and after it meltswe are to think of some other form of exercise for her."

  "How about horse-back riding?" I suggested. "Jo's old Bess is just likea comfortable rocker."

  "The very thing!" exclaimed Father. "Let her ride around the yard for afew days until she gains confidence, and then she can go on a regularride. Go to Milton for the mail and even come over here after a little."

  "Must we still keep up the pink medicine?" asked Jo.

  "Oh, well! Give it to her in emergencies, but not too freely."

  Jo had a twinkle in his eye. He knew that the pink medicine was made ofperfectly good pump water with a little colouring matter and enoughbromide to quiet the nerves of an oyster.

  "This Christmas has done something for Sally if for no one else," saidFather. "It has taught her that she can go heels over head in the snowwithout affecting her heart; that she can eat as good a dinne
r as thenext without feeling bad; and that she can coast down a hill withoutturning a hair."

  I looked at Sally settling herself on a chair back that Wink had kindlypulled up the hill for her. Sticking out her fat, woolly, grey legs oneach side, she took the hill in great shape. I hoped she was cured ofher imaginary ailments and would let my dear Father get many a goodnight's rest by not sending for him every time she felt her heart beat.