And smiles we know are true
Are warmer than the summertime
And brighter than the dew.
“It is not much the world can give
With all its subtle art;
And gold and gems are not the things
To satisfy the heart;
But Oh, if those who cluster round
The altar and the hearth,
Have gentle words and loving smiles,
How beautiful the earth!”
Through the music, Mary cried out, “What’s that?”
“What, Mary?” Pa asked.
“I thought I heard—Listen!” Mary said.
They listened. The lamp made a tiny purring sound, and the coals softly settled a little in the stove. Past the little space above the white frost on the windows, falling snowflakes twinkled in the lamplight shining through the glass.
“What did you think you heard, Mary?” Pa asked. “It sounded like—There it is again!”
This time they all heard a shout. Out in the night, in the storm, a man shouted. And shouted again, quite near the house.
Ma started up. “Charles! Who on earth?”
Chapter 20
The Night before Christmas
Pa laid the fiddle in its box, and opened the front door quickly. Snow and cold swirled in, and again a husky shout. “Hullo-o-o, Ingalls!”
“It’s Boast!” Pa cried. “Come in! Come in!” He snatched his coat and cap, jerked them on and went out into the cold.
“He must be nearly frozen!” Ma exclaimed, and she hurried to put more coal on the fire. From outside came voices and Mr. Boast’s laugh.
Then the door opened and Pa called, “Here’s Mrs. Boast, Caroline. We’re going to put up the horses.”
Mrs. Boast was a great bundle of coats and blankets.
Ma hurried to help her take off layer after layer of wrappings. “Come to the stove! You must be nearly frozen.”
“Oh, no,” a pleasant voice answered. “The horse was warm to sit on and Robert wrapped me so tightly in all these blankets, the cold couldn’t reach me. He even led the horse so my hands would be under cover.”
“This veil is frozen just the same,” said Ma, unwinding yards of frosted woolen veil from Mrs. Boast’s head. Mrs. Boast’s face appeared, framed in a fur-edged hood. Mrs. Boast did not look much older than Mary. Her hair was soft brown, and her long-lashed eyes were blue.
“Did you come all this way on horseback, Mrs. Boast?” Ma asked her.
“Oh, no. Only about two miles. We were coming in a bobsled, but we got stuck in the snow in a slough. The team and the sled fell down through the snow,” she said. “Robert got the team out but we had to leave the sled.”
“I know,” said Ma. “The snow drifts over the top of the tall slough grass, and you can’t tell where the slough is. But the grass underneath won’t hold up any weight.” She helped Mrs. Boast out of her coat.
“Take my chair, Mrs. Boast. It’s in the warmest place,” Mary urged her. But Mrs. Boast said she would sit beside Mary.
Pa and Mr. Boast came into the lean-to with a great stamping of snow from their feet. Mr. Boast laughed, and in the house everyone laughed, even Ma.
“I don’t know why,” Laura said to Mrs. Boast. “We don’t even know what the joke is, but when Mr. Boast laughs—”
Mrs. Boast was laughing too. “It’s contagious,” she said. Laura looked at her blue, laughing eyes and thought that Christmas would be jolly.
Ma was stirring up biscuits. “How do you do, Mr. Boast,” she said. “You and Mrs. Boast must be starved. Supper will be ready in a jiffy.”
Laura put slices of salt pork in the frying pan to parboil, and Ma set the biscuits in the oven. Then Ma drained the pork, dipped the slices in flour and set them to fry, while Laura peeled and sliced potatoes.
“I’ll raw-fry them,” Ma said to her low, in the pantry, “and make milk gravy and a fresh pot of tea. We can make out well enough for food, but what will we do about the presents?”
Laura had not thought of that. They had no presents for Mr. and Mrs. Boast. Ma whisked out of the pantry to fry the potatoes and make the gravy, and Laura set the table.
“I don’t know when I’ve enjoyed a meal more,” said Mrs. Boast, when they had eaten.
“We didn’t look for you until spring,” said Pa.
“Winter is a bad time to make such a drive.”
“We found that out,” Mr. Boast answered. “But I tell you, Ingalls, the whole country is moving west in the spring. All Iowa is coming, and we knew we must be ahead of the rush or some claim jumper would be on our homestead. So we came, weather or no weather. You should have filed on a homestead last fall. You’ll have to rush it in the spring, or you’ll find no land left.”
Pa and Ma looked soberly at each other. They were thinking of the homestead that Pa had found. But Ma only said, “It’s getting late, and Mrs. Boast must be tired.”
“I am tired,” Mrs. Boast said. “It was a hard drive, and then to leave the sled and come on horseback through the snowstorm. We were so glad to see your light. And when we came nearer, we heard you singing. You don’t know how good it sounded.”
“You take Mrs. Boast in with you, Caroline, and Boast and I will bunk down here by the fire,” Pa said. “We’ll have one more song, then all you girls skedaddle.”
He raised the fiddle again from its nest in the box and tried it to see that it was in tune. “What’ll it be, Boast?”
“‘Merry Christmas Everywhere,’” said Mr. Boast. His tenor voice joined Pa’s bass. Mrs. Boast’s soft alto and Laura’s soprano and Mary’s followed, then Ma’s contralto. Carrie’s little treble piped up happily.
“Merry, Merry Christmas everywhere!
Cheerily it ringeth through the air;
Christmas bells, Christmas trees,
Christmas odors on the breeze.
“Why should we so joyfully
Sing with grateful mirth?
See the Sun of Righteousness
Beams upon the earth!
“Light for weary wanderers,
Comfort for the oppressed;
He will guide his trusting ones,
Into perfect rest.”
“Good night! Good night!” they all said. Ma came upstairs to get Carrie’s bedding for Pa and Mr. Boast. “Their blankets are sopping wet,” she said. “You three girls can share one bed for one night.”
“Ma! What about the presents?” Laura whispered.
“Never mind, I’ll manage somehow,” Ma whispered back. “Now go to sleep, girls,” she said aloud. “Good night, sleep tight!”
Downstairs Mrs. Boast was softly singing to herself, “Light for weary wanderers…”
Chapter 21
Merry Christmas
When Laura heard the door shut as Pa and Mr. Boast went out to do the morning chores, she dressed chattering in the cold and hurried downstairs to help Ma get breakfast.
But Mrs. Boast was helping Ma. The room was warm from the glowing stove. Mush was frying on the long griddle. The teakettle was boiling and the table was set.
“Merry Christmas!” Ma and Mrs. Boast said together.
“Merry Christmas,” Laura answered but she was staring at the table. At each place, the plate was turned bottom-up over the knife and fork, as usual. But on the plates’ bottoms were packages, small packages and larger packages, some wrapped in colored tissue paper and others in plain wrapping paper tied with colored string.
“You see, Laura, we didn’t hang up stockings last night,” said Ma, “so we will take our presents off the table at breakfast.”
Laura went back upstairs, and told Mary and Carrie about the Christmas breakfast table. “Ma knew where we hid all the presents but hers,” she said. “They are all on the table.”
“But we can’t have presents!” Mary wailed horrified. “There isn’t anything for Mr. and Mrs. Boast!”
“Ma will fix it,” Laura answered. “She told me so last night.”
“How can she?” Mary asked. “We didn’t know they were coming! There isn’t anything we could give them.”
“Ma can fix anything,” said Laura. She took Ma’s present from Mary’s box and held it behind her when they all went downstairs together. Carrie stood between her and Ma while quickly Laura put the package on Ma’s plate. There was a little package on Mrs. Boast’s plate, and another on Mr. Boast’s.
“Oh, I can’t wait!” Carrie whispered, squeezing her thin hands together. Her peaked face was white and her eyes were big and shining.
“Yes, you can. We’ve got to,” said Laura. It was easier for Grace, who was so little that she did not notice the Christmas table. But even Grace was so excited that Mary could hardly button her up.
“Mewy Cwismas! Mewy Cwismas!” Grace shouted, wriggling, and when she was free she ran about, shouting, until Ma told her gently that children must be seen and not heard.
“Come here, Grace, and you can see out,” said Carrie. She had blown and wiped a clear space in the frost on the windowpane, and there they stayed, taking turns at looking out, till at last Carrie said, “Here they come!”
After a loud stamping-off of snow in the lean-to, Pa and Mr. Boast came in.
“Merry Christmas! Merry Christmas!” they all cried.
Grace ran behind Ma and clung to her skirts, peeping around them at the strange man. Pa picked her up and tossed her, just as he used to toss Laura when Laura was little. And Grace screamed with laughter just as Laura used to. Laura had to remember hard that she was a big girl now or she would have laughed out loud too. They were all so happy in the warmth full of good smells of cooking, and with company there for Christmas in the snug house. The light from the frost-furred windows was silvery, and just as they all sat down to that exciting Christmas table, the eastern window turned golden; outdoors the stillness of the whole vast snowy prairie was full of sunshine.
“You first, Mrs. Boast,” said Ma, for Mrs. Boast was company. So Mrs. Boast opened her package. In it was a lawn handkerchief edged with narrow crocheted lace. Laura recognized it; it was Ma’s best Sunday handkerchief. Mrs. Boast was delighted, and so surprised that there was a gift for her.
So was Mr. Boast. His present was wristlets, knitted in stripes of red and gray. They fitted him perfectly. They were the wristlets that Ma had knitted for Pa. But she could knit some more for Pa, and the company must have Christmas presents.
Pa said his new socks were exactly what he needed; the cold from the snow had been going right through his boots. And he admired the necktie that Laura had made. “I’ll put this on, right after breakfast!” he said. “By George, now I’ll be all dressed up for Christmas!”
Everyone exclaimed when Ma unwrapped her pretty apron. She put it on at once, and stood up for them all to see. She looked at the hem, and smiled at Carrie. “You hem very nicely, Carrie,” she said, then she smiled at Laura, “And Laura’s gathers are even, and well sewed. It is a nice apron.”
“There’s more, Ma!” Carrie cried out. “Look in the pocket!”
Ma took out the handkerchief. She was so surprised. And to think that the very morning she gave away her Sunday best handkerchief, she was given another one; it was as if this had been planned, though none of them had planned it. But of course this could not be said in Mrs. Boast’s hearing. Ma only looked at the handkerchief’s tiny hem and said, “Such a pretty handkerchief too! Thank you, Mary.”
Then everyone admired Mary’s bed shoes, and how they had been made of the ends of a worn-out blanket. Mrs. Boast said she was going to make some for herself, as soon as any of her blankets wore out.
Carrie put on her mittens and softly clapped her hands. “My Fourth of July mittens! Oh, see my Fourth of July mittens!” she said.
Then Laura opened her package. And in it was an apron, made of the same calico as Ma’s! It was smaller than Ma’s apron, and had two pockets. A narrow ruffle was all around it. Ma had cut it out of the other curtain, Carrie had sewed all the seams, Mary had hemmed the ruffle. All that time, Ma hadn’t known and Laura hadn’t known that each was making an apron for the other from those old curtains, and Mary and Carrie had been almost bursting with the two secrets.
“Oh, thank you! Thank you all!” Laura said, smoothing down the pretty white calico with the little red flowers scattered over it. “Such tiny stitches in the ruffle, Mary! I do thank you.”
Then came the best part of all. Everyone watched while Ma put the little blue coat on Grace and smoothed the swan’s-down collar. She put the lovely white swan’s-down hood over Grace’s golden hair. A bit of the blue silk lining showed around Grace’s face and matched her shining eyes. She touched the fluffy soft swan’s-down on her wrists, and waved her hands and laughed.
She was so beautiful and so happy, blue and white and gold and alive and laughing, that they could not look at her long enough. But Ma did not want to spoil her with too much attention. So, too soon, she quieted Grace and laid away the coat and hood in the bedroom.
There was still another package beside Laura’s plate, and she saw that Mary and Carrie and Grace each had one like it. All at once, they unwrapped them, and each found a little pink cheesecloth bag full of candy.
“Christmas candy!” Carrie cried and “Christmas candy!” Laura and Mary said at the same time.
“However did Christmas candy get here?” Mary asked.
“Why, didn’t Santa Claus get here on Christmas Eve?” said Pa. So, almost all at once, they said, “Oh, Mr. Boast! Thank you! Thank you, Mr. and Mrs. Boast!”
Then Laura gathered up all the paper wrappings, and she helped Ma set on the table the big platter of golden, fried mush, a plate of hot biscuits, a dish of fried potatoes, a bowl of codfish gravy and a glass dish full of dried-apple sauce.
“I’m sorry we have no butter,” said Ma. “Our cow gives so little milk that we can’t make butter anymore.”
But the codfish gravy was good on the mush and the potatoes, and nothing could taste better than hot biscuits and applesauce. Such a breakfast as that, like Christmas, came only once a year. And there was still the Christmas dinner to come, on that same day.
After breakfast, Pa and Mr. Boast went with the team to get Mr. Boast’s bobsled. They took shovels to dig the snow away so that horses could pull it out of the slough.
Then Mary took Grace on her lap in the rocking chair, and while Carrie made the beds and swept, Ma and Laura and Mrs. Boast put on their aprons, rolled up their sleeves, and washed the dishes and got dinner.
Mrs. Boast was great fun. She was interested in everything, and eager to learn how Ma managed so well.
“When you haven’t milk enough to have sour milk, however do you make such delicious biscuits, Laura?” she asked.
“Why, you just use sour dough,” Laura said.
Mrs. Boast had never made sour-dough biscuits! It was fun to show her. Laura measured out the cups of sour dough, put in the soda and salt and flour, and rolled out the biscuits on the board.
“But how do you make the sour dough?” Mrs. Boast asked.
“You start it,” said Ma, “by putting some flour and warm water in a jar and letting it stand till it sours.”
“Then when you use it, always leave a little,” said Laura. “And put in the scraps of biscuit dough, like this, and more warm water,” Laura put in the warm water, “and cover it,” she put the clean cloth and the plate on the jar, “and just set it in a warm place,” she set it in its place on the shelf by the stove. “And it’s always ready to use, whenever you want it.”
“I never tasted better biscuits,” said Mrs. Boast.
With such good company, the morning seemed to go in a minute. Dinner was almost ready when Pa and Mr. Boast came back with the bobsled. The enormous jack rabbit was browning in the oven. Potatoes were boiling, and the coffee pot bubbled on the back of the stove. The house was full of the good smells of roasting meat, hot breads, and coffee. Pa sniffed when he came in.
“Don’t worry, Char
les,” said Ma. “You smell coffee, but the kettle is boiling to make your tea.”
“Good! Tea is a man’s drink in cold weather,” Pa told her.
Laura spread the clean white tablecloth, and in the center of the table she set the glass sugar bowl, the glass pitcher full of cream, and the glass spoonholder full of silver spoons all standing on their handles. Around the table Carrie laid the knives and forks, and filled the water glasses, while Laura set all the plates in a pile at Pa’s place. Then at each place, all around the table, she cheerfully put a glass sauce dish holding half a canned peach in golden syrup. The table was beautiful.
Pa and Mr. Boast had washed and combed their hair. Ma put the last empty pot and pan in the pantry, and helped Laura and Mrs. Boast whisk the last full dish to the table. Quickly she and Laura took off their work aprons and tied on their Christmas aprons.
“Come!” said Ma. “Dinner is ready.”
“Come, Boast!” said Pa. “Sit up and eat hearty! There’s plenty more down cellar in a teacup!”
Before Pa, on the big platter, lay the huge roasted rabbit with piles of bread-and-onion stuffing steaming around it. From a dish on one side stood up a mound of mashed potatoes, and on the other side stood a bowl of rich, brown gravy.
There were plates of hot Johnny cake and of small hot biscuits. There was a dish of cucumber pickles.
Ma poured the strong brown coffee and the fragrant tea, while Pa heaped each plate with roast rabbit, stuffing, and potatoes and gravy.
“This is the first time we ever had jack rabbit for Christmas dinner,” Pa said. “The other time we lived where jack rabbits grow, they were too common, we had them every day. For Christmas we had wild turkey.”
“Yes, Charles, and that was the most we did have,” said Ma. “There was no surveyors’ pantry to get pickles and peaches out of, in Indian Territory.”
“Seems to me this is the best rabbit I ever tasted,” said Mr. Boast. “The gravy is extra good too.”
By the Shores of Silver Lake Page 12