Part 10

“He thought his deer had been stolen. He had followed the tracks to the schoolhouse and now he wanted the deer.

“We all knew what the boys had done. We looked at each other, waiting for some one to speak.

“John Cornplanter waited, too, his back to the door.

“I thought about Charlie, at home sick. If he had been there, he might have straightened things out. I was the only other person who knew John Cornplanter well and did not fear him. I went over to him and explained as well as I could about the deer just being moved and not stolen, and that the boys were only in fun and meant no harm. When I finished, it was so quiet you could have heard a pin drop. Cornplanter did not like to be teased. Would he think it a joke on himself that he had not seen the deer, or would he be furious?

“Suddenly he smiled, and the teacher with a sigh of relief announced morning intermission.

“A few minutes later when a group of anxious men came in sight of the schoolhouse they stopped to listen in amazement to a series of unusual sounds—a bull frog croaking hoarsely, an owl calling to its mate, a cardinal singing sweetly, the long-drawn-out wail of the whip-poor-will, the joyful note of the lark, the sharp barking of a squirrel.

“And what they saw surprised them even more, for there was the Indian, surrounded by children, as he mimicked for their amusement one after another of the animals and birds he knew so well.

“It’s bedtime now, so run along and we’ll have another story soon.”

A PRESENT FOR MOTHER

“Goody, goody!” sang Pink, dancing into Grandma’s room one evening, “It’s only four weeks till Christmas.”

“And I’m saving all my allowance for Christmas presents,” Bobby announced. “I’m going to get Mother an umbrella—hers is slit and it has a long handle—or a sparkly comb for her hair or some silk stockings.”

“Why!” exclaimed Grandma in surprise. “How did a little boy ever think of such nice, appropriate things?”

“Oh, Mother always makes a list,” Alice explained carefully. “She puts down all the things she’d like to have, and we pick from that. You see, the first year we bought our own presents to give, Bobby got her an iron-handle at the five-and-ten-cent store and she always uses an electric iron, and I gave her a book that she already had, so after that she made us a list. But Bobby won’t have money enough for any of the things he named,” she said, with scorn for her brother’s idea of prices. “I know very well he won’t.”

“Well, you might all three go together,” Grandma suggested, “just as brother Charlie and I did once for a present we got for our mother. Her birthday came in November, and we wanted to give her something nice—a real store present—so we put our money together. Of course there was nothing at our store, but twice a year, in the spring and again in the fall, Mr. Simon, the peddler, came straight from the city, and it was from him that we planned to buy Mother’s present.

“Mr. Simon was no common peddler, no, indeed. He was little and round and fat and bald-headed—not handsome at all, but one of those people whose looks you never think about after you know them. He always staid over night with us, and because Father would take no money for keeping him he left tucked away some place a little present that Mother said more than paid his bill.

“We all liked to see Mr. Simon come. He brought Father the latest news from the city and told Mother and the girls about the newest fashions and customs. I remember when he told Mother how some people were putting wire screens over their windows to keep the flies out, and how she laughed and said, ‘The very idea of shutting out the fresh air like that!’

“He would tell stories to us children and recite poetry, and when he opened up his packs in the evening, how we all crowded around!

“He didn’t show everything at all the houses, but he did at ours—fine Irish linens, velvets and satins, beads and brooches and wonderful shawls.

“It was a shawl that Charlie and I meant to buy for Mother—a soft, creamy, silk shoulder shawl. Aunt Louisa had just such a shawl, and when Mr. Simon was showing his things that spring we decided on that shawl the minute we saw it. We coaxed Mother to try it on, and she threw it around her shoulders to please us. It was so soft and lovely and the creamy tint was so becoming to Mother that we would have bought it immediately, but, alas! when we slipped out to count our money we didn’t have enough—not nearly enough.

“‘But we don’t need it till fall,’ said Charlie. ‘Let’s get Mr. Simon to keep it for us till he comes next time, and then we’ll have enough money.’

“When we went back to the sitting room the shawl had been put away in its flat little box. At the first opportunity we asked Mr. Simon if he would save it for us, and he said he would.

“‘It won’t be too much trouble, carrying it around so long?’ I asked as an after-thought.

“‘Not a bit of trouble,’ he answered cheerfully. ‘’Tis no heavier than one of your own black curls.’

“But the next day we forgot all about the shawl, for Mother had lost her best brooch. It was a cameo with a carved gold border set around with pearls. It had been Father’s wedding present to Mother, and she always wore it even with her everyday print dresses. That brooch looked as well on a common gown as it did on a fine silk. Mother said it was like some people, they were so fine and wonderful that they were at home in any company.

“Mother missed the brooch that night when she went to take it off. She had gone back downstairs and searched carefully all over the sitting-room floor, but she hadn’t found it. She didn’t mention losing it until after Mr. Simon had gone. Then we hunted all over the house and the yard and the garden, and Charlie kept on hunting when everyone else had given up. He climbed the trees and looked in all the bird nests around, because he had heard that sometimes, when birds are building, they carry valuable things to their nests. And he searched in every other unlikely place you could think of, but he didn’t find the brooch.

“We were very busy that summer, for besides our regular work we had to earn enough money to pay for Mother’s shawl. I weeded in the garden for five cents a day, and Charlie picked potato bugs, and we sold blackberries and did all sorts of things. When it was time for Mr. Simon to come again we had our reward, for safely hidden away under a loose board in the attic floor, was enough money to pay for Mother’s present.

“But by this time we had changed our minds about what we wanted to give her—instead of the shawl we thought we would give her a brooch. We met Mr. Simon at the gate and asked him anxiously if he had saved the shawl, for we were afraid that maybe he wouldn’t like our not taking it in the spring.

“‘Indeed, I did,’ he answered. ‘I haven’t so much as opened that box since I was here before.’

“Then Charlie and I told him that if he could sell the shawl to someone else we would like to buy instead a brooch for Mother. He said he could sell the shawl, but why buy our mother a brooch when she already had one so much finer than anything he had to offer? We told him about Mother’s brooch being lost, and he was awfully sorry. We selected a new brooch, and Mother was pleased with it and fastened it into her collar right away.

“The next morning I came into the sitting room, after seeing Mr. Simon off, to find Father and Mother talking seriously together.

“‘I can’t understand it,’ Father was saying. And I saw that Mother held in one hand the cream-colored shawl that Charlie and I had meant to buy for her.

“‘Oh, is that what Mr. Simon left this time?’ cried Belle, coming in just behind me. ‘Who gets it, Mother, Aggie or me? I think I ought to have it because I am going to be married, but Aggie will say it’s her turn because I got the lace collar last time.’

“But Mother did not answer, and we saw with surprise that in her other hand she held her brooch—not her new brooch, but the one that had been lost.

“‘It was in the box with the shawl,’ she said quietly, and looked at Father. How had the brooch come into Mr. Simon’s possession, they were wondering, and why had he returned it in this mysterious way? Had he found it the night Mother lost it and had he now repented of having kept it?

“‘You had the shawl around your shoulders the night you lost the brooch, Mother,’ Belle said. ‘Maybe the brooch got fastened in it then.’

“‘That would be perfectly possible,’ said Father gravely, ‘but how many times do you think Simon has showed that shawl in the last six months?’

“Then I found my voice.

“‘Oh, not once, Father!’ I cried. ‘He never even opened the box since he was here last time. He said so himself.’ And I told them how he had been saving the shawl all that time for Charlie and me. Mother laughed happily and said we were dear children, and Father picked up the county paper with an air of relief.

“Next time I think, yes, I know that next time we shall have a Christmas story.”

A CHRISTMAS BARRING OUT

’Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the house Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.

Bobby and Alice and Pink had hung their stockings by the living-room mantle and, though it was very, very early, they decided to go to bed. They always wanted to go to bed early on Christmas Eve. Morning seemed to come so much more quickly when they went to bed early. They wouldn’t even wait for a story. They would just say good night to Grandma and go right to bed.

“Why!” exclaimed Grandma in surprise, when they had explained their intentions to her, “you mustn’t go to bed so soon. You’d be awake in the morning before daylight! Come in and visit with me a while and I’ll see if I can’t think up a story to tell you, the same as on other nights.”

So they went in and sat down on their stools in front of the fire. Grandma put on her spectacles, but, instead of her knitting, she took up her Bible. The children were very still while she read the story of the first Christmas—how in a stable in Bethlehem the baby Christ was born, and how an angel appeared to the shepherds, who were watching their flocks, and told them about the Savior’s birth, and then a host of angels came and praised God, saying, “Glory be to God on high, and on earth peace, good will toward men,” just as we sing today on Christmas.

“I think,” said Grandma, “that I will tell you tonight about a Christmas treat at our school. When I was a little girl we had a custom, handed down from pioneer times, called ‘barring out.’ A few days before Christmas the teacher would arrive to find the schoolhouse door securely fastened. Before he was admitted he would have to sign a paper promising to ‘treat’ his pupils.

“In those days we didn’t have much ‘store’ candy, and we looked forward for weeks to the Christmas treat we got at school. You wouldn’t think much of it today—six sticks of red and white striped candy apiece, wintergreen and sassafras and clove and maybe one of horehound. My, but it tasted good to us! We didn’t eat it all up at once, either. No, indeed!

“But one year we didn’t know whether to look for a treat or not. The teacher, a Mr. Hazen, was from Clayville, and he had been heard to say that he did not believe in ‘barring out’ or in being forced to treat his pupils. Nevertheless we all came early to school one morning and locked him out.

“While we all cried ‘Treat! Treat!’ at the tops of our voices, William Orbison opened the window a tiny bit and thrust out the paper they had prepared for the teacher to sign, but he refused to touch it.

“This was not alarming, as most all of the teachers stayed out for an hour or two just for fun. We played games and had a good time. But by time for morning intermission the older pupils had begun to get anxious. Could it be possible that the teacher really did not mean to treat? At noon he was still out, walking up and down the playground, clapping his hands together, stamping his feet, and rubbing his ears to keep warm. We were anxious in earnest now. The wood box was empty and the fire was getting low. There was no water in the water bucket, and some of the younger children were coaxing for drinks.

“No teacher in our recollection had ever refused to treat. There was an old rule that if the teacher persisted in refusing to treat he was to be ducked in the nearest stream of water. We had heard of instances when this had been done, but no one wanted to try it. The older pupils stood around in frightened little groups, and some of the smaller children were crying openly, when the teacher knocked loudly on the door and asked that the paper be handed out to him.

“But the paper had disappeared! We searched all over the room, but it was nowhere to be found. Again the teacher knocked and asked rather impatiently for the paper.

“Then William Orbison sat down at his desk and hurriedly prepared another paper and handed it out the window to the teacher. He looked at it in a puzzled way for a little bit, smiled a queer smile, and without a word signed the paper and handed it back to William. Then he was admitted and took up books, but all afternoon he kept smiling to himself as if he knew a joke on some one. We felt uneasy, though we didn’t know why.

“After school that evening my brother Truman asked William Orbison to let him see the paper the teacher had signed. When he read it, he gave a long whistle of astonishment. And what do you think William had done? In the fuss and excitement of writing out the second paper he had omitted the word ‘treat.’ The teacher had promised nothing! That explained his smiles. We were a disappointed lot of children, I can tell you.

“We shouldn’t have any Christmas treat, for after the way the teacher had talked about treating, no one thought he would treat if he could help it, and here was a way out for him. The next day we were perfectly sure he did not intend to treat, for when William Orbison left out a word in his reading lesson the teacher said, ‘Watch yourself, William. Leaving out words is getting to be quite a habit with you.’

“Other years we could hardly wait till the day before Christmas. We wore our best clothes, and right after dinner we would speak pieces, have spelling and ciphering matches, sing songs, have our treat, and play games the rest of the afternoon. Lots of the older brothers and sisters would come to visit, and they would play with us and the teacher would play, too, and we would have lots of fun.

“But this year I should rather have stayed at home and watched the Christmas preparations at our house, for there wouldn’t be much fun at school without any treat.

“It was a cold, windy morning, and Father took us to school in the sled. We had lessons in the morning as usual, and in the afternoon recitations and songs and a little play that the teacher had helped us get up. Truman gave ‘Hamlet’s Soliloquy,’ and did it very well, too. And Charlie had a piece, but he forgot all but the first verse. We were so interested that we didn’t think about the treat, and you can imagine how surprised we were when the teacher, instead of dismissing us, said that we would now have an unexpected but very welcome visitor. The door opened, and in came old Santa Claus with a white beard and a red coat and on his back the biggest bag! You should have seen our eyes pop! Of course it wasn’t the really, truly Santa Claus who comes in the night and fills the stockings. Oh, no, this was just a pretend Santa.

“He put his bag down on the teacher’s platform, and after he had made a little speech he opened it up.

“And what do you suppose was in that bag? Candy! Cream candy and chocolate drops and clear candy, red and yellow, shaped like animals and horns and baskets, such candy as we had never seen before. A sack for each pupil.

“As we went up, one by one, the smallest first, to get our treat, Santa asked each one of us to recite something for him. The smaller children knew verses out of their readers, and some of us recited the pieces we had said earlier in the afternoon. But how we all laughed when Longford Henlen, who was the tallest boy in school, couldn’t think of anything to say but,

“I had a little dog, his name was Jack, Put him in the barn, he jumped through a crack.

“And now to bed, to bed, and go right to sleep. I’ve heard that if Santa Claus comes and finds children awake he goes away and comes back later. That is, he means to come back later, but he has been known to get so busy he forgot to come back at all. So say your prayers and go to sleep.”

A VOCABULARY

(This vocabulary contains only words of unusual difficulty in spelling, pronunciation, and meaning.)

Transcriber’s Note: To make the most of this pronunciation guide, you’ll need a font that supports the characters used to indicate the different sounds. U+1DF5 COMBINING UP TACK ABOVE (᷵) is probably the least commonly supported character: if you can’t see this, find and install a font that can display it, and you should be covered for everything else as well.

KEY TO PRONUNCIATION

ā _as in_ āle a᷵ _as in_ senʹa᷵te ă _as in_ ăm ă _as in_ fiʹnăl ȧ _as in_ ȧsk ä _as in_ ärm â _as in_ câre ē _as in_ ēve e᷵ _as in_ e᷵vent ĕ _as in_ ĕnd ẽ _as in_ hẽr ī _as in_ īce ĭ _as in_ ĭll ō _as in_ ōld o᷵ _as in_ o᷵bey ô _as in_ ôrb ŏ _as in_ ŏdd ŏ _as in_ cŏn-nectʹ o͞o _as in_ fo͞od o͝o _as in_ fo͝ot ū _as in_ ūse ŭ _as in_ ŭp u᷵ _as in_ u᷵nite û _as in_ ûrn

_alpaca_ (ăl păkʹ_ȧ_). A kind of cloth made from the hair of the alpaca, an animal of the sheep family.

_arbutus_ (ärʹbū tŭs). A plant having small, sweet-smelling pink and white blossoms; known also as the Mayflower, and ground laurel.

_ascension_ (_ă_ sĕnʹsh_ŭ_n). Rising in the air, as a balloon.

_auction_ (ôkʹsh_ŭ_n). A public sale, where each article is sold to the one offering the most money for it.

_barricaded_ (bărʹĭ kādʹĕd). Filled with materials making it difficult for one to pass.

_beaux_ (bōz). Men paying special attention to certain young women.

_Bethlehem_ (bĕthʹle᷵ hĕm). The village where Christ was born.

_brooch_ (brōch). An ornamental clasp; a breastpin.

_calico_ (kălʹĭ kō). A kind of cotton cloth.

_cameo_ (kămʹe᷵ ō). A gem containing a carving, usually in the shape of a head.

_Canterbury_ (kănʹtẽr bĕr ĭ) _bell_. A plant having lovely bell-shaped blossoms.

_carcasses_ (kärʹk_ȧ_s ĕz). Dear bodies.

_cardinal_ (kārʹdĭ n_ă_l). A small red bird.

_cashmere_ (kăshʹmēr). A cloth made of fine woolen material.

_chiffonier_ (shĭfʹo᷵ nērʹ). A high chest of drawers, with mirror.

_ciphering_ (sīʹfẽr ĭng). Doing arithmetic examples.

_circuit_ (sûrʹkĭt). When a minister was pastor of several churches at the same time, the circuit was his regular journeying around the whole number.

_code_ (kōd). A system of rules governing one’s own conduct.

_colony_ (kŏlʹo᷵ nĭ). A company of people going to a new place to make their home.

_conference_ (kŏnʹfẽr _ĕ_ns). A meeting for the purpose of deciding some question.

_conspicuous_ (k_ŏ_n spĭkʹū _ŭ_s). In plain sight.

_Copenhagen_ (kōʹp_ĕ_n hāʹg_ĕ_n). A children’s game.

_cravat_ (kr_ȧ_ vătʹ). A man’s necktie.

_cretonne_ (kre᷵ tŏnʹ). A strong cotton cloth, prettily colored.

_crocheted_ (kro᷵ shādʹ). Made out of thread woven together by means of a hook.

_dahlia_ (dälʹy_ȧ_). A plant with showy blossoms.

_delaine_ (de᷵ lānʹ). A kind of light woolen cloth.

_Delaware_ (dĕlʹ_ȧ_ wâr). Name of an early tribe of Indians; name of a state of the United States.

_dolman_ (dŏlʹm_ă_n). A woman’s cloak with cape-like pieces instead of sleeves.

_Dominique_ (dŏmʹĭ nēkʹ). A variety of fowl something like the Plymouth Rock.

_Egypt_ (ēʹjĭpt). A country in Africa.

_election_ (e᷵ lĕkʹsh_ŭ_n). The choosing of one to hold some public office.

_embarrassed_ (ĕm bărʹr_ă_st). Ashamed; mortified.

_epidemic_ (ĕpʹĭ dĕmʹĭk). Spreading to many people in a community, as a disease.

_fluting_ (flo͞otʹĭng). Ruffles so made as to have a wavy appearance.

_furlough_ (fûrʹlō). A soldier’s vacation from the army.

_gnarled_ (närld). Twisted or rugged.

_gnawed_ (nôd). Bitten apart, little by little with effort.

_gospel_ (gŏsʹp_ĕ_l). The story of the life of Christ.

_husking_ (hŭskʹĭng). Taking the husks from ears of corn.

_immersion_ (ĭ mûrʹsh_ŭ_n). Baptism by dipping the person into the water all over.

_infare_ (ĭnʹfâr). A party given by the husband’s family as a welcome to the new wife.

_institute_ (ĭnʹstĭ tūt). A meeting of school teachers.

_Israel_ (ĭzʹra᷵ ĕl). Ancient kingdom of Palestine, the scene of the stories of the Bible.

_larvae_ (lärʹvē). The tiny worms hatched from insect eggs.

_leghorn_ (lĕgʹhôrn). A variety of fowl that gets its name from Leghorn, a city in Italy.

_loam_ (lōm). Clayey earth or soil.

_lozenge_ (lŏzʹĕnj). A kind of candy.

_mahogany_ (m_ȧ_ hŏgʹ_ȧ_ nĭ). A tree having a reddish brown wood.

_mature_ (m_ȧ_ tūrʹ). To become ripe.

_mincemeat_ (mĭnsʹmētʹ). A mixture of meat, apples, raisins, etc., to be used as a pie filling.

_mistletoe_ (mĭsʹ ʹl tō). A vine having waxy white berries.

_muskrat_ (mŭskʹrătʹ). A small fur-bearing animal living in holes in the banks of streams or lakes.

_myriads_ (mĭrʹĭ _ă_dz). Large numbers.

_parsonage_ (pär ʹs’na᷵j). The house occupied by the minister of a church.

_persimmon_ (pẽr sĭmʹ_ŭ_n). A plum-like fruit.

_Pharaoh_ (fāʹrō). The name of the kings of Egypt in the long-ago time.

_pioneer_ (pīʹo᷵ nērʹ). One who goes first to make a home in an unsettled country.

_pippin_ (pĭpʹĭn). A general name for apple. Here means “something extra good.”

_pithy_ (pĭthʹĭ). Soft and spongy.

_plagues_ (plāgz). Great troubles.

_plaid_ (plăd). Woven in the form of squares.

_Plymouth_ (plĭmʹ_ŭ_th). The town settled by the Pilgrims.

_portico_ (pōrʹtĭ kō). A porch or piazza.

_preserve_ (pre᷵ zûrvʹ). To make to last.

_proclamation_ (prŏkʹl_ȧ_ māʹsh_ŭ_n). A public announcement.

_Psalm_ (säm). One of the verses from the Book of Psalms in the Bible.

_quilting_ (kwĭltʹĭng). A meeting of women for the purpose of making a bedquilt.

_recollection_ (rĕkʹ_ŏ_ lĕkʹsh_ŭ_n). That which is called to mind; a memory.

_recommendation_ (rĕkʹ_ŏ_ mĕn dāʹsh_ŭ_n). Expression in favor of something.

_recruiting_ (re᷵ kro͞otʹĭng). Persuading new men to join the army or navy.

_recruits_ (re᷵ kro͞otzʹ). Men who had recently joined the army or navy.

_reveille_ (re᷵ vālʹya᷵). The bugle call awakening the soldiers in the morning.

_Reverend_ (rĕvʹẽr _ĕ_nd). A clergyman’s title; one who is to be honored.

_ruching_ (ro͞oshʹĭng). A plaited strip of lace or net.

_sassafras_ (săsʹ_ȧ_ frăs). A kind of tree, from the root bark of which a flavoring extract is made.

_Savior_ (sāvʹyẽr). Christ.

_scarred_ (skārd). Having the marks of old cuts.

_serenade_ (sĕrʹe᷵ nādʹ). Singing or playing outside a house as a greeting to one or more within the house.

_shirred_ (shûrd). Sewed in such a way as to make the material hang full and loose.

_soliloquy_ (so᷵ lĭlʹo᷵ kwĭ). A talking to oneself.

_sorghum_ (sôrʹgŭm). A sirup made from a variety of corn plant.

_stealth_ (stĕlth). In secret.

_suet_ (sūʹĕt). A hard fat.

_superstitious_ (sūʹpẽr stĭsh_ŭ_s). Having fear of what is unknown; believing in signs.

_symbol_ (sĭmʹb_ŏ_l). A sign.

_telescope_ (tĕlʹe᷵ skōp). A kind of traveling bag.

_Timotheus_ (tĭ mōʹthe᷵ ŭs). A man spoken of in the Bible.

_tithes_ (tīthz). Tenths. What one gives toward the support of a church.

_unsurveyed_ (ŭnʹs_ŭ_r vādʹ). Not measured.

_vouchers_ (vouchʹẽrz). Papers showing money is due one.

_wagered_ (wāʹjẽrd). Bet.

_waistcoat_ (wāstʹkōt). A man’s garment worn under the coat; a vest.

_whinny_ (hwĭnʹĭ). The sound made by a horse; a neighing.

_worsted_ (wo͝osʹtĕd). A cloth made of soft woolen yarn.