THE CHRISTMAS BRIDE

by Grace Livingston Hill

  “I’ll be ready!” said Margaret joyfully. “But I must finish those letters and get them off before we go.”

  “Let the letters go hang till we get back!” grinned Greg. “We’re going off on a jaunt, and we don’t want to be bothered with letters! Anyway, the men they’re going to don’t even know they’re going to get them, and they wouldn’t read them Thanksgiving Day if they came, so why not mail them next week?”

  Margaret laughed happily.

  “You’re just like a child tonight!” she said and then checked herself. This was her employer. She mustn’t be too free with him.

  “Well, let’s!” he said and gave her a happy boy’s grin again.

  “All right!” she answered, rising to meet his festive spirit.

  “That’s great! Now, I’m going out on a few errands. Is there anything I can get for you? Or would you go along?”

  Margaret gave swift, wistful thought for a moment and then resolutely shook her head.

  “No,” she said firmly, “I’ll stay and get ready.”

  So he went whistling off down the hall and out the door, and she heard his car drive away. She stood still a minute, looking thoughtfully after him, trying to keep her heart from being so wildly happy at the pleasure that was before her. Trying to tell herself that he was only being nice and that it was really a business excursion. She just mustn’t think so much about him. She mustn’t!

  Then she went back to her typewriter and made her fingers fly over the keys. He might be willing to have those letters finished next week, but she wasn’t. She wouldn’t enjoy her outing if she left unfinished work at home.

  So before he got back, she had them all typed and ready for his signature. And after dinner she hurried breathlessly upstairs to put her small necessities into the old suitcase. For just a moment, when he had offered to take her out shopping, she had thought wistfully of getting a new suitcase or bag or something. This one was so shabby. Then she remembered how much her dear family needed money, and she desisted.

  But she was happy as she went about her small preparations and crept into bed at midnight so excited she could hardly sleep. She was going home tomorrow! Would tomorrow never come?

  Chapter 16

  It was still quite dark the next morning at five o’clock when Greg parked his car in front of the house and opened the front door with his latchkey. But he found Margaret standing in the hall hatted and cloaked, her little, shabby suitcase on the floor by her side and Mrs. Harris just coming from the dining room with a neat box in one hand and a thermos bottle in the other.

  “It’s just a few chicken sandwiches and a cup of coffee,” she said as she extended the two to Greg. “I thought they might come in handy before you get there, for you know she scarcely ate a bite of breakfast. Just drank some orange juice and took one bite of toast.”

  “You’re not sick, are you, Miss McLaren?” he asked anxiously. “Maybe I shouldn’t have asked you to start quite so early.”

  “No, I’m not one bit sick, Mr. Sterling,” she declared. “I’m just so excited about going home, I couldn’t swallow, that’s all. I tried not to disturb Mrs. Harris. I begged her not to get up at all. I could easily have found something myself, but when I stole carefully downstairs, I found her here before me.”

  Greg grinned.

  “She’s a winner as a boardinghouse keeper, I should say. I didn’t find anybody having lost sleep on my account at the hotel. I was told the dining room wasn’t open yet, and I had to get a bite at an all-night restaurant.”

  You don’t say!” said Mrs. Harris indignantly. “Well, you just come right in here and drink this other cup of coffee and eat an egg and some of this nice, hot toast. I left it on the top of the toaster to keep hot.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Harris, I’ll just take a swallow of your wonderful coffee so I can forget what I had at the restaurant. It was awful stuff, bitter as gall. Too bad you had to get up so early, but we’re profiting by it all the same.”

  “Oh, I’m expecting my niece today. I had to get up early anyway to get ready for her.”

  “As if you weren’t always ready,” laughed Greg. “Well, I guess we’ll be going along. No thanks! Nothing more to eat. I haven’t got any family or home to be going to. I’m taking my fun by proxy, you see. But I guess I’m too excited to eat, also. Well, good-bye till Saturday probably. Too bad you couldn’t go with us, but we’ll be thinking of you when we eat the sandwiches. Thanks for your thoughtfulness.”

  They went out into the cold, crisp morning air and got into the car.

  “Would you prefer to take the backseat, Miss McLaren?” asked Greg quite formally. “You could lie down and take another sleep before daylight really comes. Or would you like to sit up front and be chummy?”

  “I’ll sit up front and be chummy if you don’t mind,” said Margaret, her eyes sparkling. “You don’t think I could go to sleep now, do you? Why this is the first time in my life I ever started off for an all-day automobile ride! And you talk about sleeping! I want to see how the stars go to bed and listen to the world wake up.”

  “Well, it’s the first time in my life, too,” said Greg. “There’s a pair of us. Oh, perhaps I’m mistaken. I used to get up at five to drive the milk delivery truck when I was in high school to make extra money, but that doesn’t count.”

  So Margaret got into the front seat, and Greg stowed her suitcase into the back along with a big hamper and his own suitcase, and they started off.

  They were out and away from the city before the day began to break faintly. Margaret saw her stars go to bed one by one, saw the night put out its lights and day creep dimly into the east, and her heart was so happy it seemed almost bursting.

  It was a crisp, bright morning when the day really got awake, and the road stretched before them like a smooth white ribbon. They were out from the city now and past its suburbs, into the real country, with fields of huddled corn and heaped up pumpkins on every hand, and here and there a gnarled apple tree with a single brown apple hanging by a long, stark brown stem. A place of wide spaces and fallow fields, here and there a space of fall wheat standing out with startling emerald brightness against the frostiness of all the other brown-tinged world. A place of great spreading barns, mostly painted red, and small, cozy white houses green-blinded and sheltered by a group of tall elms or pines.

  “This is what I like!” said Greg, pointing out a lovely old white farmhouse that wore a homey look. “There’s some space to breathe out here, and it’s quiet. I don’t know how long I could survive in a city. It didn’t used to be that way when I lived in the hometown. Things were farther apart, and there weren’t so many of them.”

  Margaret’s eyes lighted.

  “Oh, maybe then you will like my home,” she said. “It’s very still there. You can hear the trees whisper and hear the clouds go by. When anyone comes driving up the mountain, it sounds like an army with banners, and we all rush to the window to see who it is. It’s an event, you know.”

  “Will they do that when we come?” asked Greg like a little, pleased boy who was getting ready a surprise.

  “Oh yes!” said Margaret. “They will. They’ll be so surprised. And pleased! This lovely car! I don’t think they’ve ever seen a car like this close by. Of course, in the summer we have lots of cars down the mountain where the hotel is, but of late years, Grandfather hasn’t been going down so much. Not since the old horse got lame. And now he’s sold, of course, and they don’t go down at all. They will be proud to see me riding in such state.”

  “But if it’s night when we get there,” said Greg, “they can’t see the car. Will they perhaps be frightened?”

  “Oh no,” said Margaret, “they are not easily frightened people. They will think it is some stranger perhaps who has lost his way. They will come out with lamps, both of them, and hold them high, and expect to bring any stranger in and offer hot coffee and a place to sleep.”

  Greg beamed.

  “Had you lived there all y
our life?” he asked wistfully.

  “No,” said Margaret. “I was born in India. My father and mother were missionaries. They both died of fever when I was only four years old, and I was sent home to my mother’s parents. They brought me up. I only dimly remember my parents. So my grandmother and grandfather have been everything to me. They moved to Rutland when I was old enough for high school. Before that I was in the country school. Then when I finished high school, they sent me away to college. It was very hard for them to spare the money. They had to mortgage the farm. But they’ve lived up on the mountain in the old farmhouse ever since, and when I was graduated and came home, I was so happy to be with them again! But it didn’t last long. A little over a year ago, the bank where Grandfather had everything closed, and then I had to come to the city to earn something. It’s been rather hard to be separated from them now when they’re getting old, but they are so sweet about it, and they are going to be so delighted when I come in tonight. It’s going to be just wonderful! I feel as if I ought to have some special words in which to thank you for giving me and them this great pleasure.”

  “Please!” said Greg. “I’m enjoying this as much as you are! You don’t know how empty my life has been since my mother died. When I came east, I guess I somehow felt there’d be something left of the old life for me to come into, where I’d be happy and contented and could live as I knew my mother would like me to live. But when I went down to our old house—it was the day I’d made up my mind you were lost hopelessly—I found everything gone flooey. I had always thought I’d buy that house and fix it up just as Mother had it and live in it, but there’s a boiler factory back of it now, and the noise and dirt and squalor are something fierce. There was even a pig in a pen in the back yard grunting at me, and a lot of dirty, squalling children in the front yard, and mud, mud, mud everywhere! Not a spear of our old lawn left! The people on the street all looked dirty and discouraged and shabby.

  “I went down to my old school and sat in my same old desk and tried to feel at home. It looked the same, only everything was grimy from the boiler factory and the other industries that had grown up around. Nothing was the same.

  “Then, there was a girl I used to go with in high school. Mother never liked her, but I thought Mother didn’t understand her. But when I saw her—well, she’s a mess! You know! She’s that girl that came to the office the other day. She ran away and got married, but she’s been divorced twice since. She’s just a mess! That’s all there is to say!”

  Margaret’s spirit suddenly soared aloft.

  “So, perhaps you can understand,” went on Greg, “how kind of lonely and disappointed I felt till I got this idea of business and doing something worth while in the world. There just wasn’t anything to tie to! You see, I had a wonderful mother, and we used to do a lot of things together, and I’ve always been lonesome since she died. So it’s mighty nice to be going to a real home and seeing people together who love each other and are living a decent life. I know I don’t belong there, and I don’t intend to hang around a lot and get in the way, but I’m mighty grateful for a little glimpse of home life on Thanksgiving Day at least, if you’re sure your folks won’t mind having me. I don’t suppose there’ll be any business I can transact on a holiday.”

  “Oh, I know they won’t mind,” said Margaret eagerly. “The only thing is they’ll feel badly that they haven’t any turkey to offer you. Grandmother has had to give up raising turkeys. She wasn’t strong enough to look after them right. They take a lot of coddling, you know. But they’ll roast some chickens, and Grandmother certainly does make wonderful roast chicken. It’s almost as good as turkey. That is, if they haven’t had to sell the chickens, too!” she added soberly.

  It occurred to her that they might have had to kill the chickens for their own food lately.

  “Oh,” said Greg, “you needn’t worry about that. I brought along a turkey! I couldn’t go out to dinner and not bring something. It’s back there in the hamper with a lot of stuff that the man said goes with it. I didn’t know but I was carrying coals to New Castle, but it was the only thing I could think of that I could take, and I couldn’t just invite myself to a Thanksgiving dinner and not bring something.”

  “How very wonderful of you!” said Margaret, sitting back and drawing a deep breath of relief. That lack of a turkey had been secretly troubling her mind ever since she started. If she could have hoped at four o’clock that morning to find a food shop open, she would certainly have gone out and purchased one, but it hadn’t occurred to her the night before, and there was no way to get one so early in the morning.

  “I think you must be related to a fairy godmother!” she said, her eyes starry. “I never saw anybody with money before who used it in such beautiful ways!”

  “I’m glad you’re pleased!” said Greg. “I got to thinking maybe you would think I was presumptuous! But of course you didn’t have to use the things if you didn’t want to. That’s why I told you before we got there. If you aren’t perfectly sure they won’t be offended, I can stop at some poor little cottage on the way and leave it, or even sling it out on the road. I wouldn’t hurt your people for the world.”

  “I’m perfectly certain that they will think that the Lord sent it!” said Margaret solemnly.

  “He did!” said Greg as solemnly. “I asked Him last night what to do about it, and He told me to take it.”

  “Then why did you ask me?” asked Margaret with a twinkle in her eye, and then they both laughed heartily.

  “Well, you see, I’m rather new at praying,” explained Greg, “and I wasn’t sure that perhaps I had understood the Lord aright. But say, wouldn’t this be a good time for those chicken sandwiches? I believe I’m hungry.”

  Margaret produced the box and the thermos bottle, and they had a merry time at the side of the road on the edge of a little grove that was mostly bare branches now, with an evergreen here and there. There were paper cups and plates, and the contents of the box were ample and delicious.

  “That Mrs. Harris is a crackerjack cook,” said Greg as he finished off with a big piece of Mrs. Harris’s spice cake and a large hunk of cheese.

  “She certainly is, and she’s a wonderful woman. I can’t think how it ever fell to my lot to board with her after all the terrible places I’ve been since I came to the city. Why, when I think of where I stayed last week at this time and how I scrimped along hungry all the time, I have to pinch myself to believe it’s myself riding along in state today. It doesn’t seem possible!”

  “And a week ago today, I didn’t know where you were!” mused Greg. “Gosh, I’m glad I found you! I couldn’t forget how sick you looked and how you needed somebody to take care of you. And…I couldn’t see going all my life and thinking you thought such rotten things about me!”

  Margaret’s spirit soared again. He cared what she thought of him! Later she told herself that any decent man would care about having any girl think things like that about him, of course. But at the time, she was just happy about it, and the day seemed bright indeed.

  “It was good of you to care!” said Margaret gravely. “I guess if it hadn’t been for you, I might not have been alive by now. Or at least, maybe I’d have been very sick somewhere in a hospital, nobody knowing where I was. That last morning before I found the twenty-five dollars in my purse, I was just about as near desperate as any human being could be. I had prayed twenty-five dollars and thought twenty-five dollars till I couldn’t think of anything else, and I hadn’t eaten anything for a whole day. I could hardly topple along the sidewalk, and I wasn’t in any condition to work if I had found a job. And then when I’d just begun to realize it, after bringing my baggage down from the third story, God sent you! He sent the money, and He sent you!”

  Greg gave her a look then, a look that went way down deep into her soul and seemed to come from deep in his soul. And the look was followed by a smile that seemed to enfold her and take her right to his heart. It filled her with a quivering joy, and h
er conscience flew right up and told her to choke it. Told her it was all her silly, little, sick imagination, and she must not be glad like that for a man who was really a stranger, just an employer, who had done all this for her merely because he was a Christian and wanted to help her, had just been sorry for her, that was all.

  The little glad quiver lay down in her heart ashamed, but every time he looked into her eyes, it rose up and soared again, and finally she gave up and decided she was having a nervous breakdown or something and must try to take things as they came along and be glad and not be so self-conscious.

  They stopped for lunch early in the afternoon, and Greg made her take a rest on the couch in the empty parlor of a country hotel while he went to a garage to have the car looked over.

  Late that afternoon they fell to talking about their childhood days, she telling how she used to skate and swim and trudge to school across the mountain, and how on rainy days, her grandfather took her to school with the old horse and buggy. Then Greg told little anecdotes of his own boyhood, things he had not thought of for years, precious, sweet, little memories about how Mother had oyster soup on a cold night when he had been out shoveling sidewalks all afternoon.

  They began to feel as if they had known one another for a long time. They had come in Vermont now, and the little mountain stream rushed away, making hurrying melody over great boulders or cascading down a cut in the hillside. Now and then they came upon a casual railroad rambling out of the dense forest of hemlock and spruce, and into it again on the other side of the road without any warning whatsoever. On and on they went without meeting anyone for an hour or two at a time. Impressive silence reigned.

  “I didn’t know we had any such vastness unoccupied in the east,” said Greg. “And yet they say that there is danger of the world getting overpopulated! Plenty of room right here for a good many thousands to live comfortably for several eons to come, I should say. It reminds me of the West. I’m glad I came up here. I had a feeling that all the East was one city after another. I guess I need to do a little traveling around my home parts and find out where I’m living. But this is great! I’d like to come up here summers! Yes, and winters, too. This would be splendid with snow on the ground and branches.”