CHAPTER XII.

CHRISTMAS AT OLD BLUFF.

ONE of the handsomest evergreens in the Townsend woods was chopped off close by the roots, and dragged to Camp Comfort by Preston Gray and James Hunnicut. The Old Bluff children had thought and dreamed of nothing else for three weeks but that mysterious Christmas Tree. If it were to be placed in a church they would have shrunk from approaching it, for they were afraid of churches, and none of the Pancakes, except Pecielena, and none of the Pecks, except Charlie, had as yet been drawn inside a Sunday school. Or if the Tree were to be in some elegant house at Laurel Grove, in a cold parlor with high walls and solemn marble fireplaces, where rich children congregate, what would these little savages have cared for it then?

But this Tree, _their_ Tree, was to be at Camp Comfort, a place they knew all about; and the doorkeeper, Mr. Hunnicut, was to let in every child big enough to walk. As for the grown people, they would be let in also, but merely that they might take care of the children; for that is all that is wanted of grown people at Christmas time!

Mary Gray, Ethel, Blanche Jones, and Fanny Townsend watched the clouds for the whole three weeks. At one time it rained, and there were fears of “a green Christmas;” then it grew cold, and the first snow came; but before there was much time to be glad of the snow, the wind hastened along and heaped it into drifts.

“It isn’t likely they’ll have a Tree if it keeps on drifting like this,” said Dora, who was apt to grow melancholy when she baked for “two days running;” and surely the turkeys, pies, puddings, and cakes that had gone through her hands were enough to drag her spirits very low. Mary did not know then of her own new piano that was to be given her on Christmas, and Dora’s prediction seemed to spoil all her holiday joy; but her father reassured her.

“Why, my child, we’ll have the Tree if the drifts are as high as your head.”

Ethel said there were to be “three Christmases this year; one at Laurel Grove, one at Rosewood, and one at Old Bluff.” Yes, and the wind held its breath, and the sun and moon shone for every one of the three!

When the night came for “Old Bluff Christmas,” a rose-blue sky bent above the white splendor of the world. The Pecks, Browns, and Pancakes arrived in wild haste at Camp Comfort before Mr. Hunnicut was ready to let them in. They would have thought him very unfeeling if they had known that he was finishing his turkey supper while they waited in the entry.

But they did not wait long. There was a loud jingling of sleigh-bells, the blowing of a cornet, and the eight campers and lame Sadie Stockwell appeared in a boat-sleigh drawn by two horses adorned with about twenty strings of bells. Behind this imposing equipage glided the modest sleighs containing meek parents and friends.

Then the warm, cheerful parlor was thrown open at last, with its dozen lamps, blazing and twinkling as if they knew it was Christmas; and the beautiful tree was seen shining like all the stars in the sky. Aloft, on the topmost part, stood a little waxen image called the Christ-child; and if it had been alive it could hardly have smiled more benignly.

Dr. Gray, stepping forward, told the delighted little guests to look up at it and think of it as the image of the little child Jesus, the good Lord, who loved little children while on earth, and who loves them still in heaven.

Then Mr. Lee made a short prayer, so very simple that the youngest ones could understand; but they scarcely listened for looking at the Tree.

Ah, you that have seen Trees ever since you can remember, they are an old story to you; but if you were a poor little child, and this were your first vision of one, can you fancy what it would be to you then?

Pecielena Pancake, with hair neatly braided and falling down the back of her new frock, stood gazing at it in amazement. To her it was a beautiful marvel. Her mother would not come, but had sent all the children, and they were dragging and tugging at her skirts.

Mrs. Peck and Mrs. Brown were there, women who could not “behave” much better than Pecy, but they were quiet and smiling, and they and all the poor rough little children stood looking at the shining Tree with lips far apart and very wide eyes.

Some of the children were trembling between smiles and tears, so eagerly hoping they had presents coming, so sadly afraid they hadn’t!

The Quintette and the Trio looked around benevolently. Mary Gray felt little thrills of joy at seeing the children so happy now, and knowing they would be happier still when the presents were given out. She was glad Sadie Stockwell was there and enjoying it; but it had not occurred to her to be proud because she herself was the one who had thought of inviting Sadie. Neither was Mary conscious this evening of her own looks and appearance. Her tresses “of crisped gold” floated unheeded, and she never once looked down at her new dress to admire the color. Her thoughts were not of herself but of others.

“Dr. Gray,” said Miss Pike in a low tone, “don’t you agree with me that this last year has been the best year of Mary’s life? I believe she will grow up to be a thoughtful, unselfish woman.”

“_Flaxie Growing Up!_” said Dr. Gray, blinking and rubbing his eyes.

“Why, Doctor, she is thirteen,” laughed Miss Pike. “But, there, they are beginning to sing, and we must go over and join them.”

After the Christmas songs, Dr. Gray and General Townsend took off the presents.

There was a joyous scream from Pecy Pancake when she received her new cloak of gray beaver cloth, with buttons to match, and a collar that would turn down or up. The name of the giver was not mentioned, and the studied look of innocence on Mary’s face was edifying to behold.

Preston’s expression was equally innocent when Charlie Peck bounded forward and seized his brave sled, “Clipper,” and when little Bobby Brown shouted over his first pair of skates.

And every time a present was taken off the Tree, the little candles on the branches seemed to twinkle more gayly, and the Christ-child to smile more benevolently than ever.

“Susy Peck,” called Dr. Gray from the right, and a wee girl stepped forward with fingers in her mouth, and snatched—snatched is the word—the pretty doll which Julia Gray had dressed in a scarlet frock, with fashionable hood, fur tippet, and muff. Like most of the others, Susy forgot to say “Thank you;” but I suppose it was the proudest moment of her life.

“Baby Peck,” called out General Townsend from the left; and another wee girl toddled up, holding on by her mother’s finger, and got a handsome box so full of sugarplums that the cover would hardly stay on. And then the overjoyed baby had to be taken in her mother’s arm, lest, in running about to show the box, she should get under everybody’s feet.

“Johnny Brown,” called Dr. Gray. And Johnny’s chin dropped on his little ragged necktie with delight at receiving a pretty jacket with linen collar and cuffs, while the “Electric Light” was suddenly extinguished behind the parlor door.

But why enumerate the presents which fell like ripe fruit from that bountiful Tree? The pretty dresses, the modest needle-books, the painted drums, beautiful books and pictures, and all manner of gay toys?

And why describe the long table which the ladies had spread with every dainty that these children had ever sighed for; real turkey with genuine “stuffing;” cakes of all sorts and sizes, with fruit and without; some as yellow as gold, and some buried under snow-drifts of frosting; and best of all, perhaps, to them, large mounds of candy, oranges, nuts, and raisins!

“Worth while, isn’t it?” said the “Electric Light,” nodding his head, which was nearly as bright as a Christmas candle.

“Our coming out to Camp Comfort was a great thing for the neighbors,” remarked Bert Abbott to James Hunnicut, who wished _he_ had been one of the immortal three!

And Preston took off his spectacles and wiped them, remarking that the glass was apt to grow dim in a warm room.

“Now strike up your cornet, Jack; take your harmonica, Sadie, and let’s have another Christmas song.”

“Merry, merry Christmas everywhere! Cheerily it ringeth through the air; Christmas bells, Christmas trees, Christmas odors on the breeze; Merry, merry Christmas everywhere! Cheerily it ringeth through the air. Deeds of Faith and Charity; These our offerings be, Leading every soul to sing, Christ was born for me!”

The poor, little, happy, wondering children listened in delight, as the music seemed to hover and float on wings over the heads of the people, losing itself at last in the upper air.

And, all the while, the beautiful Christmas Tree stood glittering with its little candles, its green branches stripped of everything but their straight pine needles.

Miss Pike looked up from the children’s happy faces to the Christmas Tree, and her soul was stirred with awe. For the Christ-child on the topmost bough seemed alive; and behold how large he grew, how grand and beautiful! It was as if the heaven of heavens could not contain him: yet he was there in that very room, and she beheld him! His arms were extended in blessing, his lips moved, and in a still, small voice, as if it fell from the sky, she heard him say once more: “_Suffer little children to come unto me, and forbid them not; for of such is the kingdom of heaven._”

SOPHIE MAY’S “LITTLE-FOLK’S” BOOKS.

SPECIMEN CUT TO “LITTLE PRUDY’S FLYAWAY SERIES”

LITTLE GRANDMOTHER.

“Grandmother Parlen when a little girl is the subject. Of course that was ever so long ago, when there were no lucifer matches, and steel and tinder were used to light fires; when soda and saleratus had never been heard of, but people made their pearl ash by soaking burnt crackers in water; when the dressmaker and the tailor and the shoemaker went from house to house twice a year to make the dresses and coats of the family.”—_Transcript._

LITTLE GRANDFATHER.

“The story of Grandfather Parlen’s little boy life, of the days of knee breeches and cocked hats, full of odd incidents, queer and quaint sayings, and the customs of ‘ye olden time.’ These stories of SOPHIE MAY’S are so charmingly written that older folks may well amuse themselves by reading them. The same warm sympathy with childhood, the earnest naturalness, the novel charm of the preceding volumes will be found in this.”—_Christian Messenger._

MISS THISTLEDOWN.

“One of the queerest of the Prudy family. Read the chapter heads and you will see just how much fun there must be in it. ‘Fly’s Heart,’ ‘Taking a Nap,’ ‘Going to the Fair,’ ‘The Dimple Dot,’ ‘The Hole in the Home,’ ‘The Little Bachelor,’ ‘Fly’s Bluebeard,’ ‘Playing Mamma,’ ‘Butter Spots,’ ‘Polly’s Secret,’ ‘The Snow Man,’ ‘The Owl and the Humming-Bird,’ ‘Talks of Hunting Deer,’ and ‘The Parlen Patchwork.’”

ILLUSTRATION TO “LITTLE PRUDY’S FLYAWAY SERIES”

FLAXIE FRIZZLE. DOCTOR PAPA. LITTLE PITCHERS. TWIN COUSINS. FLAXIE’S KITTYLEEN. FLAXIE GROWING UP.

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Transcriber’s Note: Obvious punctuation errors repaired.