The Christmas Megapack

by Reginald Robert

  “Perhaps; I hope so. There was no noise or confusion; it was just a merry time. Now, may I close the door and leave you alone, dear? Papa and I will steal in softly by and by to see if you are all right; but I think you need to be very quiet.”

  “Oh, I’m willing to stay by myself; but I am not sleepy yet, and I am going to hear the music, you know.”

  “Yes, I have opened the window a little, and put the screen in front of it, so that you won’t feel the air.”

  “Can I have the shutters open? and won’t you turn my bed, please? This morning I woke ever so early, and one bright, beautiful star shone in that eastern window. I never noticed it before, and I thought of the Star in the East, that guided the wise men to the place where the baby Jesus was. Good-night, Mamma. Such a happy, happy day!”

  “Good-night, my precious Christmas Carol—mother’s blessed Christmas child.”

  “Bend your head a minute, mother dear,” whispered Carol, calling her mother back. “Mamma, dear, I do think that we have kept Christ’s birthday this time just as He would like it. Don’t you?”

  “I am sure of it,” said Mrs. Bird, softly.

  VII. THE BIRDLING FLIES AWAY

  The Ruggleses had finished a last romp in the library with Paul and Hugh, and Uncle Jack had taken them home and stayed a while to chat with Mrs. Ruggles, who opened the door for them, her face all aglow with excitement and delight. When Kitty and Clem showed her the oranges and nuts that they had kept for her, she astonished them by saying that at six o’clock Mrs. Bird had sent her in the finest dinner she had ever seen in her life; and not only that, but a piece of dress-goods that must have cost a dollar a yard if it cost a cent.

  As Uncle Jack went down the rickety steps he looked back into the window for a last glimpse of the family, as the children gathered about their mother, showing their beautiful presents again and again—and then upward to a window in the great house yonder. “A little child shall lead them,” he thought. “Well, if—if anything ever happens to Carol, I will take the Ruggleses under my wing.”

  * * * *

  “Softly, Uncle Jack,” whispered the boys, as he walked into the library a while later. “We are listening to the music in the church. The choir has sung ‘Carol, brothers, carol,’ and now we think the organist is beginning to play ‘My ain countree’ for Carol.”

  “I hope she hears it,” said Mrs. Bird; “but they are very late tonight, and I dare not speak to her lest she should be asleep. It is almost ten o’clock.”

  The boy soprano, clad in white surplice, stood in the organ loft. The light shone full upon his crown of fair hair, and his pale face, with its serious blue eyes, looked paler than usual. Perhaps it was something in the tender thrill of the voice, or in the sweet words, but there were tears in many eyes both in the church and in the great house next door.

  “I am far frae my hame, I am weary aften whiles For the langed-for hame-bringin’, An’ my Faether’s welcome smiles An’ I’ll ne’er be fu’ content, Until my e’en do see The gowden gates o’ heaven In my ain countree.

  The earth is decked wi’ flow’rs, Mony tinted, fresh an’ gay, An’ the birdies warble blythely, For my Faether made them sae; But these sights an’ these soun’s Will as naething be to me, When I hear the angels singin’ In my ain countree.

  Like a bairn to its mither, A wee birdie to its nest, I fain would be gangin’ noo Unto my Faether’s breast; For He gathers in His arms Helpless, worthless lambs like me, An’ carries them Himsel’ To his ain countree.”

  There were tears in many eyes, but not in Carol’s. The loving heart had quietly ceased to beat, and the “wee birdie” in the great house had flown to its “home nest.” Carol had fallen asleep! But as to the song, I think perhaps, I cannot say, she heard it after all!

  * * * *

  So sad an ending to a happy day! Perhaps—to those who were left; and yet Carol’s mother, even in the freshness of her grief, was glad that her darling had slipped away on the loveliest day of her life, out of its glad content, into everlasting peace.

  She was glad that she had gone as she had come, on the wings of song, when all the world was brimming over with joy; glad of every grateful smile, of every joyous burst of laughter, of every loving thought and word and deed the dear last day had brought.

  Sadness reigned, it is true, in the little house behind the garden; and one day poor Sarah Maud, with a courage born of despair, threw on her hood and shawl, walked straight to a certain house a mile away, up the marble steps into good Dr. Bartol’s office, falling at his feet as she cried, “Oh, sir, it was me an’ our children that went to Miss Carol’s last dinner-party, an’ if we made her worse we can’t never be happy again!” Then the kind old gentleman took her rough hand in his and told her to dry her tears, for neither she nor any of her flock had hastened Carol’s flight; indeed, he said that had it not been for the strong hopes and wishes that filled her tired heart, she could not have stayed long enough to keep that last merry Christmas with her dear ones.

  And so the old years, fraught with memories, die, one after another, and the new years, bright with hopes, are born to take their places; but Carol lives again in every chime of Christmas bells that peal glad tidings, and in every Christmas anthem sung by childish voices.

  THE MERRYVALE BOYS: CHRISTMAS HOLIDAYS AT MERRYVALE, by Alice Hale Burnett

  CHAPTER I: TOAD’S WISH

  “Hurrah!” shouted “Reddy.” “School is out and no more lessons for two weeks!” and he threw his cap into the air.

  “Let’s go home by the way of the village, so we can look into Daddy Williams’ toy shop,” suggested his friend Thomas Brown, better known as “Toad,” who ran up to join him.

  “All right,” agreed Reddy, “and I’ll show you what I want for Christmas,” and they started down the street.

  “Looks as though it might snow by night,” said Toad, “don’t you wish there would be a big one? Then we could get all the boys together and have a battle.”

  “It’s the best fun I know of, next to swimming in the creek,” was the answer.

  “Here we are,” he cried a few minutes later and both boys stopped in front of a small shop window that looked very gay with a wonderful display of Christmas toys.

  “See those skates hanging up by that sled. That’s the kind I want,” pointed out Reddy. “You screw them right into the heels of your shoes and you bet they can’t ever come off.”

  “They’re fine,” agreed Toad, “but look at that engine and train. It goes right through the tunnel and up over the bridge. I wonder how fast it can run.”

  “That’s a dandy mitt there,” said the other, pointing to a baseball outfit. “I wouldn’t be afraid to stop any kind of a ball with that on.”

  “Wish my dad would get me a new sled like that flyer,” sighed Toad. “I finished mine last winter when I ran into that tree with you and Herbie on board.”

  “You surely did,” was the laughing answer. “I remember how we all went flying head first into a snow drift.”

  “There’s a nice pocket knife,” was Toad’s next remark. “I mean the one with the pearl handle, just next to that doll with the pink dress on.”

  “Oh!” exclaimed Reddy, “here’s what just suits me,” catching sight, for the first time, of a punching bag.

  “How do you work it?”

  “Why, you see there’s an elastic rope on each end of it, and one of them you tie to a ring in the floor and the other to something overhead. Then when you give it a punch it comes back to you with a bang.”

  “Well, I’d rather have a football; then maybe we could get up a regular team,” remarked Toad.

  “I’ll bet all those reals would cost about ten dollars,” ventured the other, pointing to a box of marbles toward the front of the window. “If I was rich I’d buy them.”

  “What for? You have plenty. You won nearly all mine away from me. Look!” he added in a low voice, “there goes Herbie’s mother into the store. Let’s see what she buy
s.”

  “Hello, Daddy,” greeted both the boys, as old Mr. Williams, with his white hair, red cheeks and dancing blue eyes, came to the doorway of the shop and smiled at them.

  “Merry Christmas, Merry Christmas!” he replied. “Have you been good boys?”

  “I should say we have,” cried Toad. “Everybody’s good before Christmas.”

  “Well, run along home then, and I’ll tell your mas just what you want,” promised Daddy. “Herbie’s ma’s in here now and she doesn’t want you boys to know what she buys.”

  “All right,” answered Reddy. “Don’t forget to say I want a punching bag and a pair of skates.”

  “And I want a new sled,” chimed in Toad, as they both started off.

  “Shucks, I didn’t see half the things, did you?” protested Reddy.

  “Oh, well, we can come down again this afternoon,” was the cheering answer. “Come on over to my house, anyway,” he called as they parted.

  CHAPTER II: THE SNOW FIGHT

  By evening the snow that Toad and Reddy had so eagerly awaited had come, and by morning many inches had fallen. A crowd of boys had gathered on the Brown’s lawn, for the news of a snow battle had carried far.

  “First chooser!” cried Charley Brown, a happy-faced boy who bore the name of “Chuck” among his friends.

  “Second,” shouted Reddy, and when the sides were chosen Toad found himself with Herbie, a boy with whom he played very often, and four others on Reddy’s side.

  It was then decided by the choosers, who were also the captains, to build two forts, ten yards apart, and a half hour was agreed upon as time enough in which to do the work.

  “We must hurry,” Reddy told the boys he had chosen, “and I think,” he added in a low voice, “three of us had better build the fort while the other three make snowballs, as we want a lot on hand so we wont have to stop firing to make them.

  “Work fast,” he ordered as he selected two of them to help him build the fort.

  Toad piled up great heaps of snow while Reddy and Herbie packed it down with wooden spades into a wall which curved like a new moon.

  “How are the snowballs getting on, boys?” asked Toad of the three boys who were working hard making them.

  “We’re stacking them up so they’ll be easy to get at,” answered one.

  “They’re good hard ones,” said another. “It’s fine packing snow.”

  “We’re going to have plenty, too,” laughed the third.

  “Wonder what Fat’s doing?” cried Reddy. “He’s bringing a pail of water from the house.”

  Frank, called “Fat” by the other boys, because of his size, was Reddy’s older brother.

  “I wonder,” mused Toad. “He’s pouring it on the walls of their fort. Oh, don’t you see,” he added a moment later, “it’s to make it freeze.”

  “Let’s do that too,” proposed Herbie. “I’ll get the water,” and he started for the house.

  Ten minutes later the walls of the fort were like a solid mass of ice, and the snowballs were inside in four heaps so all were anxious for the fun to begin.

  CHAPTER III: THE VICTORY

  “Hey, Captain of the enemy!” shouted Chuck from the other fort, “are you ready?”

  “All ready,” came the answer. “Fire!”

  A storm of snowballs flew through the air and Reddy barely had time to duck his head as they whizzed by.

  “Looks as though they had plenty of balls, too,” exclaimed Toad, hastily picking up an armful and running outside to get within closer range.

  “I don’t think so,” protested Herbie. “I could see all of them working on the fort. We have lots more, I’m sure.”

  “Well,” cried the Captain, “let everybody take a pile of snowballs and we’ll run out together and maybe we can drive them from their fort.”

  Each boy carried as many as he could in one arm, this leaving the other one free to throw with.

  “We’ll have to make a quick run for it and throw just as fast and hard as we can,” said Herbie, as Toad, who had at that moment returned to the fort in a great hurry, his hat covered with snow, exclaimed:

  “They got me, but I hit two or three of them!”

  “All ready!” shouted the Captain, and the others, following close on his heels, dashed out.

  Such a hail of snowballs met them that they halted for a moment, then dashed onward right up to the enemy’s fort.

  “Don’t waste any ammunition until you get close,” ordered Reddy, and his company obeyed. “Now let her fly,” he directed, as they surrounded the fort.

  The boys threw with a will and were vigorously answered by the defenders of the fort, and for a time it was hard to see which side would win. Finally, after the ammunition of the attacking force was used up, Captain Reddy ordered a retreat back to their own fort.

  “I have a better plan this time,” he announced after they were safely inside. “When we charge again, two of you fellows must keep running back to our own fort so as to bring us supplies of snowballs. Then we can keep up a much longer fight and when anyone gets tired throwing,” he added, “he can change places with one of the fellows that have been carrying the balls.”

  At this moment, Herbie, who had been on the lookout, suddenly cried:

  “They’re coming to charge us.”

  “Get ready to give it to them,” ordered the Captain and each boy, snatching up an armful of snowballs, prepared to repel the attack.

  “Fire!” Reddy shouted, as the enemy drew near, and when they met that rain of balls it didn’t take them long to get back to the cover of their own fort.

  “That was great!” cried Herbie. “Come on, let us charge this time before they have a chance to get ready for us.”

  “Hey, I’m the Captain,” insisted Reddy. “Nobody gives any orders but me,” and he pulled his woolen cap well down over his ears in preparation for the coming attack.

  “Well, hurry up and give them, then!” shouted Toad. “I’m all loaded up.”

  “Charge, charge on!” shouted Reddy, starting out on the run with the others close upon his heels, and after a few minutes of hard fighting they had forced their way to the walls of the fort.

  The balls were flying so thick and so fast, from both sides, that it looked like a snow storm of enormous flakes shooting in all directions.

  The boys carrying balls to supply the invaders were kept busy, but before long it was noticed that there were fewer coming from inside the fort.

  “They’ve used up all they have,” shouted Toad. “Let’s get closer.”

  “Close in,” cried Captain Reddy, “and aim well!”

  In another minute you could plainly tell that each of the enemy, after throwing one snowball, had to stop long enough to make another one and this was the time for which Captain Reddy had been waiting.

  “Charge the walls!” he ordered, and with wild cries the boys dashed forward.

  Up over the walls they went and once inside the victory was easily won for the boys inside the fort were empty handed and couldn’t defend themselves.

  “We win, we win!” exclaimed Toad, throwing his hat into the air. “Three cheers for Captain Reddy!”

  “Hurrah!” shouted all the boys.

  CHAPTER IV: CHUCK’S RUDE AWAKENING

  The day before Christmas dawned bright and cold. Mother Brown, who had been up early, made some wonderful Christmas pies and a pudding before Toad and Chuck were awake.

  It was eight o’clock before Toad opened one eye.

  “What’s the use of getting up,” he thought, “I’m so warm and comfortable here in bed. My, but something smells awfully good. Wonder if it’s breakfast.”

  Suddenly he sat up straight in bed.

  “Look at that lazy thing,” he declared. “Bet he’d sleep until noon if I’d let him, and with all we have to do today.”

  Chuck continued to snore peacefully.

  “But I won’t—I’ll have some fun,” thought Toad, as quietly, with as little noi
se as possible, he crept from his bed to the basin in one corner of the room. It took him only a few seconds to wet a large sponge with cold water, then, creeping very carefully back to the foot of Chuck’s bed, he took careful aim.

  The sponge flew through the air true to its mark and landed “kersplash” on Chuck’s tousled brown head.

  “W-w-w-what’s the matter?” spluttered Chuck, sitting up and blinking his eyes. Then, as he felt the water trickling down his cheeks and caught sight of Toad, doubled up with laughter, he jumped out of bed and, running across the room, he pushed Toad flat on his back on the bed and sat upon his chest.

  “Let me up,” pleaded Toad. “I couldn’t help it, you looked so sweet.”

  “What’ll you give me if I do?” laughed Chuck. “You’ve got to pay for that smart trick before I let you up.”

  “Nothing!” gasped Toad, trying very hard to free himself.

  “Oho!” laughed Chuck. “You won’t, eh? Well,” he added, “I don’t mind sitting here all day. I’m real comfortable.”

  At this moment there came a knock at the door and before either of the boys could answer Father Brown entered.

  “What’s up?” he inquired.

  “Toad hit me in the face with a wet sponge while I was asleep,” explained Chuck, “and he’s going to give me something for it.”

  “Then why are you sitting on him?” asked Father.

  “Because he says he won’t,” replied Chuck with a grin.

  “I suppose you’ll have to pay up Thomas,” laughed Father. “Anyway, I hope you’ll both be down to breakfast soon,” he added—“before all the cakes are gone. I’ve a terrible appetite this morning,” and with these words he left the room.

  “Do you give up now?” asked Chuck.

  “No, sir,” persisted Toad.

  “Remember what he said about the cakes. They’ll be hot ones with lots of maple syrup,” teased Chuck.

  “Well, you’re missing them, too,” retorted Toad.

  “I guess I’ll let you off this time,” relented Chuck, “but if you ever do it again,” he threatened, “I’ll hold you down for a week, cakes or no cakes.”

  “You’d starve to death in that time,” argued Toad, with a laugh as he commenced to hurry into his clothing.