Chapter 7

"Well, that is a time we were wrong," admitted the captain when he had listened to all Mary Jane had to say and talked with the man who had put the children aboard. "But even though we were wrong, we can't go back now. We'll have to make the children comfortable and take them back to their mother on the return trip."

So Mr. Merrill and Mary Jane went back to the deck, only this time they took with them the two little strangers. Mrs. Merrill was told the story and she and Alice and Mary Jane, with help from grandma, grandpa and Mr. Merrill, set themselves to the task of making the little children happy. At first it was hard work, because they cried all the time for their mother. But erelong they understood the friendliness around them and they stopped crying and began to have a good time. Grandpa discovered some crackerjack and everybody knows what a help _that_ is; Mrs. Merrill told some funny stories and Mr. Merrill took them all over the boat--to see the great engine and everything. Then there were the sights to watch from the deck and the big buildings to count and the boats they passed to watch--oh, there surely was a lot to do that made that trip interesting and so very short.

As the boat pulled up near the down town pier, the Merrills saw a taxi dash up near where the boat was to land: saw a woman get out and, followed by a policeman, hurry up to the side where the boat would pull in.

"Look!" exclaimed Mary Jane excitedly. "Look!"

The little girl, whose name was Ann, looked along with the others, and then she gave a happy cry.

"Mother!" she shouted, so loudly that her mother, waiting on the pier could hear and was so very relieved!

When the boat pulled into the dock, the captain was the first one to step off; he met the mother and the officer and brought them aboard at once. Mary Jane was called upon to explain all that she had seen and the officer, as well as the mother, was satisfied that the whole thing was an accident and not an attempt to steal the children.

"But how did you get up here so quickly?" asked Mary Jane, when the first excitement was over.

"My dear child!" laughed Ann's mother, "a person can do a lot when she thinks something is happening to her children! I took a passing taxi, dashed to a police station and then on up here. And nothing has happened at all--except you nice people have given my little folks a very pleasant trip. Next time, Bobby," she added, "we'll leave your toy boat or we'll all go together to find it. We won't take any chances of losing each other!"

"Well," laughed Mr. Merrill when the mother and children and officer and captain had all gone on about their own business, "what was it we were going to do to-day?"

Everybody laughed at that! They had been so excited that they had forgotten, yes, actually forgotten, that this was a sight-seeing trip for grandma and grandpa. But once they remembered, they knew just what to do. They climbed aboard a waiting launch, rode up to Lincoln Park, had a wonderful dinner and fun all the rest of the day.

"I don't see," remarked grandma, as they neared home, late that evening, "how you girls are ever going to settle down to school again! Did you know that school was only a few weeks away? Vacation will be over before you know it!"

SCHOOL BEGINS

When grandma suggested that it was nearly time for school to begin, on that day of the boat ride, she guessed better than the girls suspected. At the time they laughed and thought she was joking, but, after she and grandpa had gone home, they got out a calendar and counted up and there, to be sure, only one and one-half weeks of vacation were left.

"I didn't realize school began so early," exclaimed Mrs. Merrill in dismay.

"I thought summer was a long time!" cried Alice, "but it isn't any time at all!"

"Goody! Goody! Goody!" Mary Jane said happily, "then I get to start to school like a big girl."

It was no wonder Mary Jane was happy, for she remembered that the plan was for her to start in the really truly school, not the kindergarten where she had gone in her other home, and any little girl likes to start to school like her big sister.

When the day finally came, Alice was as much excited as Mary Jane herself. For although the summer had been so pleasant she almost hated to see it end--the free days with plenty of time for visits with mother and picnics and marketing and all--still, school was pleasant too and any little girl who does nice work and tries to learn, will make good friends and have happy days, just as Alice always had had.

Mary Jane had a hard time deciding which dress to wear. She wanted to look very grown up, so that teacher would realize she was a big girl, so she finally decided upon a dark blue sailor suit. The one that had the red insignia on the sleeve and that looked just like a big girl's dress. With a clean 'kerchief peeking out of her pocket and a smashing big red bow on the top of her brown head, she looked very nice.

Alice and Mary Jane waked up that morning the very minute they were called for they wanted to help mother so she could go over to school with them. And with all that good help of course they were off on time. Alice was glad to have company going to school for Frances wasn't home yet and wouldn't be there for a couple of weeks.

Mary Jane's heart went thump, thump as she and her mother went in at the teachers' gate, and up the stairs and into the principal's office. And thump, thump some more when she saw the whole roomful of strange boys and girls and thump, thump some more when her turn came and she was sent (fortunately with her mother along) to the first grade room--number 104. The room was full of children, hundreds, Mary Jane thought there must be, though the teacher told Mrs. Merrill there were about forty-five. And if her heart went thump, thump before, it certainly went thump, thump, _thump_ when the teacher, smiling at her so kindly, gave her a seat in the--front-row--such a nice seat for her very own! and she sat down and tried to look as though she had been used to going to school all her whole life.

For a minute she couldn't look around or anything, she felt so queer. Then she glanced at the next seat and there, sitting right beside her, was--whom do you suppose? Ann! The same pretty little Ann who had been lost on the boat. Immediately Mary Jane forgot all about being afraid and thumping hearts and strangeness and everything and began to like school. The two little girls had much to say about what they would do at recess and where did they live and everything, so the time before school began passed very quickly.

Suddenly, in the midst of their talk, a bell rang, "GONG-GONG!" Two loud tones close together that way, and school began. Mary Jane Merrill was in a really truly school like the big girl she was getting to be.

Ann came home with Mary Jane that first afternoon and Mrs. Merrill discovered that her name was Ann Ellis and that she lived two blocks from their own home and that the two little girls would no doubt find it very easy to be friends. They began having a good time that very afternoon and they planned still better times when Betty would be back and they could all play together. Now wasn't that fine!

Mary Jane found that she liked school every bit as much as she had thought she would. She liked her teacher, a charming Miss Treavor, and she liked her studies. But most of all she liked the fun she had on the playground. In the big cities, like Chicago, where lots of girls and boys have no yards, the school yards are the only places were children can play. So, to make everything safe and orderly, the school folks have a playground teacher stay at school all the day, to help in the games and to see that every one has a happy time. The playground teacher at Mary Jane's school liked little girls very much and she knew many good games for them to play. So in addition to "London Bridge" and "Drop the Handkerchief" and "Tag" that all children play, Mary Jane learned "Roman Soldiers" and "Ghost Walk" and "Three times Three."

Of the new ones, Mary Jane liked "Ghost Walk" the best. To play it, the girls and boys made a big circle, then they selected some one to be "Ghost." This person stood in the middle of the circle and everybody shut eyes tight, very tight. Then the Ghost, while every one kept very quiet, tried to tip-toe to the edge of the circle, slip out between two folks and get away without being caught. That may sound easy, but played in a yard full of romping boys and girls, it is not really as easy as it might seem and it was lots of fun, because often folks would think the "Ghost" was near them and would try to grab--and the joke was on them because all the while, maybe, the "ghost" was in another part of the ring. And whenever folks thought they caught the "Ghost" and _didn't_, then every one opened their eyes, the person who had made the mistake had to get out of the circle and the game began again. But if the "Ghost" really did get out of the circle without being caught, then the "Ghost" could hide anywhere in the yard and the game became an old-fashioned hide-and-seek with everybody hunting one lucky person.

One day, when Mary Jane was "Ghost," she was determined she would get out of that circle without getting caught. She had tried it many a time before and failed; this time she was going to do it. She tiptoed, oh, so softly over the loose gravel to the edge of the circle. Then noiselessly she dropped down on hands and knees and, without a thought for her dress, crawled slowly between Ann and the girl next to her. She could hardly keep from giggling, it was so funny to be so close she almost bumped them and yet not to be discovered. Now she was right between them, now she was almost outside--now she was free and away she dashed to the spot she had long ago picked out as a hiding place for just such a time as this.

The folks in the circle waited--but nobody was caught, so they shouted, "Ghost Walk?" and when the "ghost" didn't answer they opened their eyes and--no Mary Jane was there!

"I'll get her," shouted Ann, "I'll find her! I'll bet she got out on your side of the circle, Janny, she never could have passed _me_!"

"I'll find her myself," answered Janny, "but she never passed by me, she didn't!"

So they hunted, up and down the yard, around the bushes, by the doorway, everywhere they could think of. But no sign of Mary Jane did they discover. They hunted and they hunted till the gong sounded and they had to go into school again. But not a sign of any Mary Jane did they find. Was Mary Jane lost? Miss Treavor must be told so everybody could hunt, for something surely must have happened to a little girl who didn't answer the recess bell when it rang for school to begin.

Now it happened that some days before, when Mary Jane had first learned to play "Ghost walk" she hunted around the yard for a good place to hide--in case she ever succeeded in getting out of the circle so she _could_ hide. She didn't want to hide among the bushes because that was the first place the children looked; she didn't want to hide in the doorway because that was against rules and if a child was discovered there by a teacher, the child had to go straight upstairs and stay the rest of recess. And there didn't seem to be any other place. But there was another hiding place--and Mary Jane found it. Around the corner of the building, on the side nearest the furnace entrance, there was a jog in the brick wall. And in front of the little niche made by this jog, boards left by some carpenters had been carelessly tossed.

"I could climb over the boards," Mary Jane had thought, "and hide down behind and nobody'd ever find me--ever."

So when her time came, and she really did get out of the circle without being caught, she didn't have to stop and hunt a hiding place; she knew exactly where she wanted to go.

But there was one thing Mary Jane hadn't figured on; one thing she didn't even think of as she crouched down behind her boards while the children hunted for her, hither and yon over the school yard. She hadn't thought that way off, 'round the corner and behind boards that way, she couldn't--_hear_. The sounds of playing and romping seemed so quiet, so quiet that they were hardly noticeable. She didn't hear the bell and she didn't even notice the sudden quiet when the children fell in line to march upstairs. She sat there, huddled in a snug little heap, and she laughed to herself about the joke she was playing on her mates.

To be sure the time _did_ seem pretty long and she thought they were very stupid--but then--she never suspected that recess was over and--

Till suddenly there descended upon her a cloud of chalk dust! It powdered her face and dress and shoes and made her forget all about being quiet and jump up with a lively scream of fright.

Overhead she heard Miss Treavor's voice, exclaiming, "Whatever in the world!" And then, before she could quite get the dust out of her eyes and understand what had happened, Miss Treavor and two other teachers who had heard the scream, stood before her and the whole story came out. Miss Treavor tried not to laugh when Mary Jane told her she was hiding but she couldn't help it. Mary Jane looked so be-powdered and forlorn. But Mary Jane didn't mind the laughing because at the same time, Miss Treavor lifted her out from behind the boards and set her down in the cheerful sunlight.

"That _was_ a good place to hide," the teacher admitted, "and you were a clever little girl to think of it. But I believe, dear," she added kindly, "that next time you'd better hide some place where you can hear the bell, even though you _are_ more likely to get caught."

And Mary Jane promised that she would never, never hide in such a very good place again.

Mary Jane hated to go back into the school room all mussed and tumbled as she was, so Miss Treavor sent for Alice and the two little girls skipped home for a fresh dress and clean ribbons so Mary Jane could enjoy the classes.

When, a half an hour later, she came back, with the dark blue dress changed to a plaid gingham and the red bow changed to green, the children wanted to know where she had been and what had happened. But Miss Treavor wouldn't tell. And she had made Mary Jane promise not to tell, because that place was _such_ a good hiding place that the teachers didn't want other folks finding it and hiding there to make trouble too.

But all of Mary Jane's school fun wasn't from trouble. That was just one day. Most of the time, she played without anything happening just as the other folks did. And all the time she made more friends and had a better time, till, when Betty came back from the country, she knew most everybody in her room.

She liked school so very much that the days slipped by one after another so fast a person could hardly count them--one day and another day and another day--just that way. Till one Monday morning when they went to school, Miss Treavor announced, "Do you boys and girls know what we are going to do to-day? We're going to start making Christmas presents. Because Christmas is only _three weeks away_!"

"Christmas!" thought Mary Jane, with a thrill of joy, "Christmas! Why, they _do_ have Christmas in Chicago! I wonder what I'll get and what I'll do!"

CHRISTMAS IN CHICAGO

Christmas in Chicago! When Mary Jane heard those words she had her first real pang of homesickness for the home she had left when they moved to Chicago. Would any Christmas anywhere ever be so beautiful as the Christmas in that dear home? She remembered the pine trees in the yard, loaded down with their wealth of snow: the glowing fire on the hearth with its Christmas-y smell from the pine cones that were saved through the year for the Christmas Day fire; the tree in the angle near the fireplace where the afternoon sun touched it into a blaze of glory; the party for the poor children that had been such fun to plan for--would anything in Chicago ever be half the fun of Christmas in the old home? But Mary Jane was soon to discover that Christmas doesn't need certain houses or fires or trees to make it perfect; that Christmas is made in folks' hearts and that wherever there is a Christmas heart, there will be a happy day--in village or city, the place makes no difference.

When she went home from school that afternoon and announced that Miss Treavor said Christmas was so very near, she found that mother wasn't even a little surprised.

"Why to be sure Christmas is coming," laughed Mrs. Merrill, "and here I've been waiting and waiting and _waiting_ for you to talk about it till, actually, I thought I'd had to begin myself, if you didn't wake up pretty soon." And then everybody began to talk at once.

"Do they have trees in Chicago?" asked Alice.

"Are there any poor folks who would like parties?" asked Mary Jane.

"Is anybody coming to see us?" demanded Mary Jane.

"Here! Here! Here!" exclaimed Mr. Merrill, "one at a time, ladies, one at a time! If you doubt that there will be trees in Chicago, you should see what I saw this morning as I went down to work. A train load of Christmas trees--yes, sir!" (for he noticed the girls could hardly believe him) "a whole train load of trees. And I see by the paper this evening that a boat load has arrived, too, so there will be no shortage of trees."

"Then we can have one," said Mary Jane, with a satisfied sigh.

"And let's put it in front of this foolish little gas log," suggested Alice, "then we won't think about a real fireplace."

"And there are plenty of poor folks," said Mrs. Merrill, going back to Mary Jane's question, "only they will not be so easy to get together, as back at home. How would you like to take a Christmas party to some family instead of having a party at home as we did last year?"

The girls hardly knew what to say about that new idea so Mrs. Merrill explained further. "I telephoned to the Associated Charities this very day," she said, "and they gave me the names of a fatherless family in which there are two girls about your ages, and one boy. I thought we could plan a fine Christmas for them and then, on Christmas morning, take it over and surprise them."

"Oh, let's do that, mother," said Mary Jane happily, "then we'd be like a real Santa Claus only we'd be a morning Santa. May we do it, surely?"

"I thought you'd like the idea," said Mrs. Merrill, "so I got lists from the association as to just what was most needed. Alice, if you'll get a pencil and paper, we'll figure it all out."

Making plans was the girls' favorite way of spending an evening so they whisked the cover off the dining table, pulled up chairs for four and went to work list-making.

"Tom," began Mrs. Merrill, consulting her list, "hasn't a bit of warm clothing."

"Why couldn't I knit him a muffler and some mittens?" asked Mary Jane. "I remember how and I haven't knitted anything since the war stopped."

"Fine!" approved Mrs. Merrill, "I think I have enough yarn for the mittens and if you'll get it out of the drawer there we can wind it while we talk and it will be all ready for you to set up at once. You'll have to work hard and fast if you want to make a muffler and a pair of mittens before Christmas."

"Now then," she continued, looking at the list, "they have very few bed covers and the children get so cold at night."

"Why couldn't you make some covers, mother?" suggested Alice, "and let me make them each some flannelette pajamas like we wear--you know how toasting warm they are. And I have the pattern and I know I could make them all myself."

"That's a beautiful idea," approved Mrs. Merrill, "and I hadn't even thought of such a thing. When we get through planning, dear, you can get out your pattern and see how much material you'll need. Then, when I go up town to-morrow, I'll get it for you."

"And they need stockings," she continued, "and shoes--"

"Could any of 'em wear my good shoes that are too little?" asked Mary Jane eagerly. She had been greatly distressed about those "best" shoes that were so good, and yet were hopelessly outgrown.

"I think they'll be exactly right," said Mrs. Merrill. "In fact I picked out this particular family because I was sure we could find nice things for them among you girls' outgrown things and that, put with what we buy new, would make all the bigger Christmas for them.

"And about toys," she continued with the list, "the girls have never had a doll--"

"Never had--" began Mary Jane but she couldn't quite get the words out. Never had a doll. Never had a Marie Georgiannamore to love and care for and take riding in a beautiful cart. Never had--no, she couldn't quite imagine it.

After that there was no more reading off a list. Mary Jane and Alice began making a list of their own, of what those children were to have for Christmas.

"But," objected Mrs. Merrill, "you girls forget that things cost money--a lot of money these days. And you can't possibly buy all those things and get any Christmas of your own too."

"Humph!" grunted Mary Jane as she squeezed her face up tight in an effort to write, "then we won't have one of our own! Haven't we got Marie Georgiannamore and a cart and a nice house and warm clothes--and--everything?"

That settled it. There would be a tree and dinner and a lot of fun in the Merrill house on Christmas Day, but the presents were to go to their adopted family to make _their_ Christmas one never to be forgotten.

If you have ever planned a Christmas for somebody who never, in all their lives had one, you will know something about the fun that Mary Jane and Alice had in the time that was left before Christmas. They were about the busiest girls in all Chicago! They hurried home from school and they worked Saturdays but, actually, as soon as they got one thing done they thought of something else they wanted to make or buy and they had to begin all over again. They made cookies and candies and dressed dolls, one for each girl, and made a complete set of covers and pillows and "fixings" for an adorable doll bed that Mr. Merrill made in the evenings. Alice had to work pretty hard to get the pajamas all finished in time for there was considerable work on each pair; but she got them finished and she could hardly wait till Christmas to take them over to their family.

Mary Jane finished the muffler and mittens though she _almost_ had to knit while she ate--towards the last--it takes a good many stitches to make a muffler big enough for an eight year old boy. The muffler was a deep crimson and the mittens a warm shade of gray with three rows of crimson in the wrist end; Mary Jane had picked colors she was sure Tom would like.

At last the twenty-fourth of December came around--cold and snowy and just the kind of a day for making a Christmas. The trees were bought and set on the balcony, the turkeys, two of them, were in the pantry ready to dress and three big baskets were set on the dining-room table ready for packing.

"Now, then," said Mrs. Merrill, "if you have everything ready, I think we'd better pack all the things we can now, because when Dadah comes home there'll be plenty to do."

Mary Jane thought the packing was the most fun of anything she had ever done. They packed all the doll things in one basket, doll things and toys and three nice books. Of course the doll bed wouldn't go in the basket; it had to have a package all by itself. A second basket was for clothing, the pajamas--and no one would ever guess that a girl as young as Alice had made those charming garments--the muffler, the mittens, one pair for each child, warm underwear and a dress for each girl (one of the nicest of Alice and Mary Jane's outgrown frocks). Mr. Merrill had added a nice flannel shirt for Tom and Mrs. Merrill put in a warm sweater for the good mother.