Chapter 3

CHRISTMAS.

What a beautiful morning it was, that Christmas morning! It seemed as though the earth, in its pure robe of snow, and the trees, in their sparkling armour of ice, every twig jewelled and gleaming in the sun, had clothed themselves in beauty, and with joyful thoughts were giving thanks to their Creator.

Nannie didn't think all this, but something very much like it was in her heart, as she stood looking out from the window, as sister Mary set the last smoking dish on the table.

That morning Dr. Merry read the 116th Psalm, beginning, _"I love the Lord, because he hath heard my voice."_ Nannie listened very attentively, but there was one verse she didn't quite understand. It was this: _"I will offer to thee the sacrifice of thanksgiving."_ She hadn't time after prayers to ask her father or sister Mary about it, but all the time she kept thinking of it and trying to understand it. She didn't know that every time she had looked out upon the snow, and felt thankful to God for the bright fire within that kept her warm, she had offered the sacrifice of thanksgiving. She didn't know that when she thought of Jesus, and her little heart seemed so full of love to him, because he had died for her, she had offered indeed an acceptable sacrifice of thanksgiving. She didn't know it; but Jesus knew it, and accepted the sacrifice, with the same love as when royal David sang the words to his golden harp.

"Nannie," called sister Mary, "Jack is waiting for you."

"In a minute," said Nannie, as she pulled on her warm mittens.

"It had better be a minute," Jack cried, "if you're going with me, for I haven't much time to spare before dinner."

Nannie, laughing, took up the little basket her mother had packed so nicely for Grannie Burt, and off they started, Jack drawing the large basket on his little hand-barrow.

"Where shall we go first, Jack?"

"Oh, to Grannie Burt's, of course, and then you can help me to draw the barrow the rest of the way."

"Let us go to the other places first," said Nannie, "and then you can draw me on the barrow the rest of the way."

"That's more than I bargained for; this basket is all that I want to carry before dinner."

Poor Jack, however, was destined to carry a much heavier load than his basket of mince-pies and roast chickens; for as Nannie skipped along, her foot slipped, and down she came, basket and all, while grannie's nice mince-pies tumbled out, and rolled down the street.

"Oh dear!" said Nannie, not knowing whether to laugh or cry, "do look at grannie's pie! What shall we do?"

"Pick it up, of course," said Jack, as he ran after it.

"Nothing but clean snow," he said, as he brought it back; "nobody will know it from sugar."

"Oh, but it's all broken! What shall we do?"

"See here!" said Jack, lifting the cover of the large basket; "mother has sent Aunt Betsy two; we can take one of them for grannie."

"Why, Jack, are you in earnest?"

"Well, it's the best I can do. I can't mend it, and I can't make a new one."

"Let us go back, then, and get another."

"Go back! why, Nannie, it's all you can do to walk now; you're limping away like crazy Sam."

"Don't make me laugh," said Nannie, laughing all the time through her tears; "my foot hurts me so, I can hardly walk."

Jack's fun was all gone in a minute, as he shouldered his big basket, and lifted Nannie on his little hand-barrow.

"O Jack! you can't carry the basket and drag me too!"

"Yes, I can,--and hundreds more like you."

And Jack trudged along, stopping now and then to take breath, until they came to Grannie Burt's.

"O Jack! what shall we do about the pie?" said Nannie, her tears starting afresh at the thought.

Jack couldn't stand the sight of Nannie's tears; so he said, "Never mind it; I'll go back and get another."

"Oh, will you? Thank you, Jack."

Grannie Burt's daughter, Susan, now came to the door, and made all sorts of exclamations over Nannie, whose ankle pained her so much, she couldn't walk, and Jack had to carry her into the house. While Jack told the story of the pie, Susan had taken off Nannie's shoe and stocking, and was bathing her ankle, while grannie kept saying, "Does it feel better, dear?"

"Never mind the pie," said grannie, as Jack went on with his story; "it's just as good as ever, though it is broken."

"Oh, but it doesn't look so nice," said Nannie.

"I can't see it, you know," said grannie, laughing.

But Nannie wasn't satisfied, and called to Jack, as he started off, to be sure and bring another.

Very soon Nannie felt better, and sitting up in the big chair, she reached over for the large Bible, and said,--

"Grannie, shall I read to you, while I'm waiting?"

"I'm afraid you don't feel well enough."

"Oh yes, I should like to read; I want to read the chapter father read this morning."

She turned over the leaves and found the place, and began: _"I love the Lord, because he hath heard my voice and my supplications."_

"Oh yes," said grannie; "David isn't the only one who can say that. God has always heard me."

"Did you ever ask him, grannie, to make you see?" said Nannie.

"No; I never asked him. I asked him to make me patient to bear it. You think it's dreadful, Nannie, to be blind, and I used to think so too. But God never takes anything from us without giving us something else to make up for it. You think I sit in the dark always; but it isn't dark, Nannie; it's all light--a light brighter than the sun: it's the light of heaven; I see it constantly. It isn't only those that live in heaven that can say they have no need of the sun or moon, for the Lamb is their light: I can say it too.--Yes," she went on, more to herself than Nannie,--"yes, dear Saviour, thou art my light."

Nannie sat looking wonderingly at the wrinkled old face, so happy and peaceful, and at the withered hands folded so quietly, and thought she did not understand it then. Many years after, when she too was old, did she remember that peaceful face and those folded hands, and say in the midst of trial and sorrow,--

"Yes, dear Saviour, thou art my light!"

"I have thought sometimes," grannie went on, "that heaven will be pleasanter to me, for not seeing here. Think how new it will all be there! People that have always had their sight only see something different when they go to heaven; but I haven't seen anything for ten years. Just think what it will be to me to see those beautiful things you read about!"

"What are they, Nannie?"

Nannie said, "Golden streets, gates of pearl, the tree of life, the wall of jasper. I don't remember any more."

"And Jesus, Nannie; you don't forget him? Think of these poor blind eyes, that have seen nothing for so long, opening at last upon _his_ face! I love to think of those blind people Jesus healed, and think that he was the first thing they saw."

Then Nannie read on: _"Gracious is the Lord, and righteous; yea, our God is merciful. Return unto thy rest, O my soul; for the Lord hath dealt bountifully with thee."_

Just as she finished, there was a knock at the door; and who should it be but Dr. Merry, with two pies for grannie, and the horse and gig to take Nannie home. And soon Nannie was lying on the couch by the bright dining-room fire, while mother, and Mary, and Belle, and Charlie all crowded round, asking how she felt.

"Oh, well enough," said Nannie, as sister Mary took off the warm hood, and kissed the dear face inside of it. "I hope it will stop aching in time for me to go to church."

"To church!" said Dr. Merry, looking up from his book; "no church for Nannie to-day."

Nannie said nothing, but turned her head away to hide the tears, while sister Mary, stooping down and kissing her, said, "Never mind; you couldn't walk there, you know."

Afterwards, when no one was in the room except her father, she reached over to the table for the Bible, and found the psalm they had read that morning. Pointing with her finger to the last two verses, she said, "Father, please read that."

Dr. Merry laid down his paper, and coming over to her couch, he read: _"I will pay my vows unto the Lord now in the presence of all his people, in the courts of the Lord's house, in the midst of thee, O Jerusalem. Praise ye the Lord!"_--"Well what of that?" he said, looking up, though the tears stood in his eyes, as he watched the little face turned so wistfully toward him.

"I want to go to church so much, father," she said, as she saw he understood her.

"But, Nannie, I don't think David went to church when he couldn't walk."

"He might have been carried," said Nannie, driving back the tears that wanted to come.

"Perhaps he was," said her father; "and so might you be, if father thought it right."

"Would it hurt me, father?"

"I don't know that it would. It might, though; so I think you had better not try. You must be patient, and remember what I've told you, that God sends all these little trials. Do you understand me?"

"I think I do."

"I like to see my little daughter love God's house, but I like to see her bear it patiently when she can't go there."

"I will try," said Nannie, while she kept saying "No!" to the tears as fast as they came. Every little while, however, one wouldn't mind, and would jump over the edge and run down. But she kept on saying, "Be patient, be patient;" and at last the tears got tired of coming, and troubled her no more. She had pulled up an ugly weed called "Impatience" that morning.

Soon after, Jack came in with his empty basket.

"Well, Nannie, I wish I were in your place--not obliged to go to church, and not sick enough to lose your dinner. I always go to church, for fear, if I'm sick, father'll say, 'Turkey isn't good for headache.' I never thought of such a convenient excuse as spraining my ankle. Let me hear how you did it. It's too late to try it now, but it may do the next time."

"O Jack, how you do talk! I'm so glad you're better than you talk."

"How do you know that, Miss Nannie?"

"Why, everybody knows it. This morning you laughed at me; but as soon as you found out I was really hurt, you drew me and that big basket too on your barrow. You're so kind."

Jack whistled a tune and kicked the fire-irons, because he didn't want Nannie to see the tears that started. He was too much of a boy to let them do anything but start.

"Jack," Nannie began, after a pause, "why don't you like to go to church?" She was saying to herself all the time, _"In the courts of the Lord's house, in the midst of thee, O Jerusalem."_

"Oh, I don't know; I should like it well enough if father would let me sit up with the rest of the boys in the gallery."

"But you wouldn't do as they do in church, Jack?"

"Why not?"

"It's God's house," said Nannie softly. Jack sat silent for a long time, while Nannie lay looking into the fire, and whispering all the time to herself, "Be patient, be patient."

That afternoon, as father, mother, and children were engaged beside her, Nannie lay on her couch and looked on; but she did not need to say, "Be patient, be patient," for she was patient; and when her father, stopping for a moment, whispered, "Is all right, Nannie?" she said, smiling, "Yes, father; trying helps, doesn't it?"

Swiftly the evening fled. They had cracked nuts and eaten apples, till even Jack was satisfied; and as the fire burned down, and Charlie lay asleep in his mother's lap, the father said, "How many things we have to be thankful for this year! Let us each tell of something, and then together we will offer our sacrifice of thanksgiving."

The mother's fingers played in Charlie's curls, as she said, "I thank my heavenly Father for my children's lives."

They were still for a moment. They all remembered the sad days of last winter, when they gathered round the fire and whispered anxiously together, while Charlie tossed and wearied on his sick-bed.

Then sister Mary said, "I thank him for his Son Jesus Christ."

Then Belle, in a softened tone, said, "I thank him for our pleasant home."

Jack said, while Nannie looked up with a pleasant smile, "I thank him for my little sister."

Then it was Nannie's turn, and, smiling to her father, she said, "I thank him for _patience_."

So ended their Christmas-day.