CHAPTER VII

CHRISTMAS GREENS

"Jane, I've the most charming plan in my head for Christmas week you ever heard of."

"Have you, Shirley dear? And are you going to tell it to me?"

"I am, indeed. Listen. Let's take cook and Norah, and go--all of us, your houseful and ours--and spend part of holiday week at Grasslands."

"Shirley! You take my breath away! Could we do it? Would n't it be fun if we could?"

"I don't see a thing in the way. When I stayed overnight, in November, your Grandmother Bell said she wished she could get her family together once more at Christmas there, instead of going in to have dinner in Gay Street, as they 've been doing since your family went to live in town. She said she 'd like to have us all if she were younger again, but she has no 'help,' and thought it would be a pity to ask us, and then have your mother and Nan do the work. I 've thought about it ever so many times since, but this idea has only just popped into my head."

"I should think it could be done," mused Jane. "There are rooms and rooms at the farm, and little open wood-stoves in every one. You and I could go out the day before, and get everything aired and ready."

"What if you and Mrs. Bell and Nan and I went, without telling any of the men? I 'm to have Christmas week for my first vacation, you know. Then when they came home in the evening, have a bouncing big sleigh ready to carry them off to the farm, and a jolly supper waiting? Then a tree that night, and Christmas next day, with coasting and skating and snowballing, if the weather is right?"

"You artful child!" exclaimed Jane. "It would do us all heaps of good--especially father and mother. Father looks to me so worn and tired. Have you noticed it?"

Shirley nodded. She had indeed noticed it, and a deep-laid plot, having for its beneficiary Mr. Joseph Bell, was at the back of the planning. But she did not intend that anybody should find that out. So she agreed lightly that Jane's father needed a holiday, as did all the others.

"If we can't get any of them to take more than Christmas day, we can at least bring them out there every night and back every morning," she said. "We 'll give them such good things to eat they won't mind the drive. With Grandfather Bell's big horses, all jingly with sleigh-bells, they certainly won't. Oh, will you go and speak to Cook now? I simply can't wait to get things under way."

"Do you mean to surprise Grandmother Bell, too?"

"Yes, if your grandfather agrees, as I 'm sure he will. If we told her she 'd tire herself all out, doing wholly unnecessary things. Everything in the house is always in apple-pie order, but she would n't think so."

"You 're quite right, I think. I 'll go and talk with Cook"--and Jane hurried away, looking as girlishly eager as Shirley herself.

She had small doubt of Cook. If Mrs. Murray Townsend had a friend in the house, it was Bridget. Mrs. Harrison Townsend had never considered Bridget a particularly amiable person, but Jane had won her completely by treating her always with consideration, and by showing the interest in her affairs, which is appreciated most by those who expect it least.

"Sure, then, we 'll go, Mrs. Murray, and take it as a holiday," agreed Cook, when her young mistress had explained her plans. "And we 'll take some of the fixings with us they 'll not be havin' at the farm."

During the week that intervened before Christmas, Shirley's head was so full of her schemes that for the first time since her initiation into office work she had considerable difficulty in keeping her mind upon her tasks. Christmas fell upon a Tuesday that year, fortunately for her plans, so after Saturday noon she was free to give her mind to the pleasures in prospect. Mrs. Bell and Nancy had agreed enthusiastically to every detail of the arrangements, and Grandfather Bell, when cautiously consulted over the telephone and urged to keep it all a secret from his wife, had responded as joyously as a boy that the party might occupy every nook and corner of the house and have things all their own way, if they would only come.

It proved necessary to let somebody into the plan at the last, in order that the men, returning to their homes on Monday evening, should be directed what to do. Rufus was selected for this office, an appointment which tickled him so that it was with difficulty he kept from bursting out with his secret. At night he was first at home, and as the others one by one arrived, he haled them to their rooms, bade them make themselves ready in short order, and surreptitiously packed away several travelling bags in the recesses of Grandfather Bell's capacious market-wagon, now on runners and fitted with seats.

"What on earth does it all mean?" asked Murray, taking his seat in the sleigh in which the energetic Rufus had stowed the male members of his own family, amidst a storm of questions and surmises, accompanied by much good humoured raillery at his own quite evident excitement.

"It means that you 're kidnapped, and may never see home again," responded Rufus, tucking a hot soapstone under his father's feet, for the night was sharp, and Shirley's orders imperative. "Warm, daddy? Want an extra rug over you? I 've enough here to wrap up a party of elephants."

"I'm very comfortable," Mr. Bell replied. His shoulder rested against Peter's, and Peter's arm lay along the low back of the seat behind him. Mr. Bell always felt a comfortable sense of support and protection when Peter was near--and Peter generally was near in these days. The elder man well understood why, and appreciated the devotion which showed itself in acts rather than in words.

"I've only one objection to make," declared Ross, as the sleigh moved briskly off, driven by Grandfather Bell's next neighbour, a man who did odd jobs for him when needed, and worked for him steadily during the summers. "I 'm hungry as a bear, and don't want to go more than fifty miles to supper."

"It would pay you to go a hundred, judging by my observations," asserted Rufus, from among the fur robes at Ross's feet. "And we 'll be there in a jiffy. Don't these boys go, though? They must get fed plenty of oats."

"They certainly do," agreed the driver. "Elihu Bell is n't the man to starve his horses, let alone humans."

"That's encouraging," and Murray, who also boasted a vigorous appetite, fell to conjecturing, after the manner of hungry man, what supper at the farm would be like. He knew nothing of the arrangements that had been made, and felt rather doubtful whether anything could take the place of the dinner of Jane's planning he had expected to find at home.

The ten miles were covered in a little more than an hour, for the sleighing was good, and the driver anxious to show what his horses could do. As they turned in at the gate and drew up at the side porch, they saw that the old house was aglow from top to bottom with lights in every window. At the jingle of their bells the door flew hospitably open, although no one was in sight, and only the roaring fire in the wide fireplace opposite the door seemed on hand to give them a welcome.

"It looks Christmas-sy enough in there, does n't it?" said Ross, catching sight of holly branches and ropes of ground-pine adorning the chimney-piece, and holly wreaths tied with scarlet ribbons in the windows.

"Well, well!" ejaculated Mr. Joseph Bell, slowly, as Peter gently pushed him ahead into the room, and his eyes fell upon a tree, its top touching the low ceiling, its branches twinkling with candles and loaded with packages. He blinked with astonishment, and sat abruptly down in the first chair that offered, looking as pleased as a boy.

"Where are they all?" and Rufus, putting his hands to his mouth, gave a ringing hail.

"Merry Christmas!" responded a chorus of gay voices, and a curtain fell aside. Grandmother Bell, her rosy old face beaming, advanced with outstretched hand, her husband close behind her. In the background appeared Mrs. Joseph Bell, Jane, Shirley and Nancy, all in white dresses, with holly berries gleaming in their hair.

"This is the best surprise ever heard of!" cried Peter, stooping to kiss Grandmother Bell's soft, wrinkled cheek, and then turning to wring his grandfather's hand. "This beats Christmas in town all to nothing."

"It _is_ jolly!" and Murray saluted the old lady in his turn, for he was a favourite with her, not only because he was Jane's husband, but because, from the first, he had taken pains to be very good to her. He smiled at Jane as he stood straight again, thinking she had never looked prettier than she did to-night. But Murray was apt to think that, wherever he first caught sight of her after a day's absence.

"I 've been trying all day," said Ross, as he greeted the old people, "to make myself realise this was Christmas eve. But from this hour all difficulty leaves me. I smell Christmas in the air."

"It's the pumpkin pies, and mince, and doughnuts, and plum pudding you smell," laughed Nancy.

"The greens smell sweet and Christmas-sy, too," said Shirley. "We had such fun gathering them this morning. It seemed a pity to do it by ourselves."

"If I 'd known of it, I should have blown out through the factory roof and landed over in grandfather's woods!" declared Peter, coming up to shake hands. "Woods in winter! And to-morrow's a holiday! Are we to stay? I thought I fell over a grip as I got out of the sleigh."

"Indeed you are--for four days."

"Four days! I only wish I could!"

"You can--evenings and nights and mornings."

"Do you mean it? Are we invited?"

"We are."

"Who thought this magnificent scheme up?" demanded Peter. "Ah, you 're blushing! I might have----"

"I 've been out in the cold air more than half the day," and Shirley covered one brilliant cheek with her hand. "Are n't you hungry?"

"Famishing!"

"We 're to have supper right away. Your grandmother calls it supper, and Cook calls it dinner."

"Cook!"

"She 's here."

"Well, of all the----"

But Peter had to be hurried away by his sister Nancy to his room--his old room upstairs under the eaves, where he found his hand-bag awaiting him, and a brisk fire snapping in the old box stove. For the time being, he felt he could let himself forget that the old roof was encumbered by a heavy mortgage, due in six weeks now, and held by a man who had long coveted that farm. It was Christmas.

The meal spread in the long, low dining-room, to which a merry company presently sat down, was a delicious one. Grandmother Bell's old blue-and-white Canton plates and cups had never been more delectably filled, nor had her antique silver forks and spoons clinked to a livelier measure than the talk and laughter which went round as the supper proceeded.

"Does it seem like home here?" Shirley asked Mr. Joseph Bell.

"Home?" said he, with a glance from the old prints upon the walls to the antique side table below, with its turned-up leaf. "It's the only place in the world that will ever really seem like home to me. It 's just a makeshift, living in the city, to people who were brought up on a place like this. You see, though I went away from here when I was a young man, and lived a long time in the city, working up in the paper factory, we came back here again and stayed five years, while the children were little, on account of a breakdown in my health. Then when I grew strong again, we moved back and settled in Gay Street. But the farm is home--always will be. My wife feels the same way, though she was a city girl. She 'd like to live here now as much as ever."

"I don't wonder. It's one of the pleasantest farm-houses I ever saw." And Shirley smiled across the table at Peter as she spoke, meeting his eyes as he glanced from his father's face to hers, well pleased to see the elder man looking as if heartily enjoying himself.

"The tree is only to look at this evening," announced Jane, when they were all back in the living-room. "Nothing is to be taken off it till to-morrow evening."

"And we're to be tantalised all that while? I 'm willing to see it shorn of its fruit any time after I 've made a quick trip to town--which will be the first thing to-morrow morning," said Murray, with a meaning wink at Peter, who nodded, comprehending.

Rufus grinned at his father, and a general spirit of understanding appeared to prevail among the guests, who had been brought away to the party without a chance to get together the parcels they had stowed in sundry secret places.

"We 're glad you 're so clever at seeing our reasons for delay," said Nancy, gazing up into the thick branches of the tree, her eye upon various packages of her own, all tied in the same way, so that they were easily recognisable. She had worked for months over her gifts, having little money to spend, but possessing much love and ten skilful fingers.

"Meanwhile we must have something doing this evening," said Rufus. "What shall it be?"

"How will making candy suit your zest for sport?" asked Jane.

"Bully! We haven't made candy since we grew up--not real candy. I don't count Nan's caramels and Shirley's fudge. Let's make some real old-fashioned molasses candy, and _pull_ it!"

"What else, at the old farm? As soon as the kitchen is clear we 'll go out," and Jane disappeared, to hasten operations in the kitchen by tying on an apron and wiping dishes herself with Norah. Her blithe talk, while her fingers flew, kept both Cook and Norah smiling while they worked, and the big farm-house kitchen was soon in spotless order.

"It does be after doin' me good to work in a place like this again," declared Cook, as she helped Jane measure out molasses and get the big kettle on. "It's not that I don't like the tiles and the copper and all the conveniences of my kitchen in the city. But when a person has been brought up in the country, there 's always the fondness clingin' to them for the old ways, even if they 're a bit inconvenient. See the gourd dipper, now, Norah. Will you say that water does n't taste better out of it than from granite ware?"

"I never saw a dipper like this before," answered Norah, who had been born in town, and could hardly share Cook's enthusiasm for these details of country living.

"_She_ knows what I mean," said Cook, with a nod of the head after her young mistress, just departing. "Sure, I have n't seen such a sparkle in the eyes of her since she came to live at the house. She 's not born to be a great lady, just a home-keeping one. And that's the best sort, to my mind."

Then she beckoned Norah away, and they fled up the back stairs, just as the sounds of approaching feet warned them that the company were coming.

"Jolly! This is the stuff!" exulted Rufus, bursting first into the kitchen. "Doesn't that smell like the real thing? Tie an apron on me and let me take charge of the kettle. The rest of you can grease tins. I 'll offer a prize for the whitest candy. Secure your partners for the pulling!"

"May I have the honour?" and Peter made his best bow to Shirley as she appeared from the pantry, her hands full of shining tins.

"Of course you may, if you 'll show me how. I never pulled candy in my life."

"Your education has been appallingly insufficient, in spite of those two years in England. But I used to be pretty good at it, and we 'll take the prize if you follow directions. Please begin by taking off those rings!" commanded Peter.

Shirley obediently slipped off several pretty rings. Then she tied on a small and frivolous apron, at which Peter frowned.

"Do you call that absurdity of lace and ribbons an apron?" he demanded. "What do you suppose will happen to it if you drop a hunk of candy in the sticky stage on it? Here, I 'll get you one of grandma's--they 're worth something." Shirley presently found herself invested in a bountifully made apron of checked white material, with a bib and strings, which nearly covered her from sight. "Now you're safe--and so is the candy. The minute it's fairly cool, we 'll seize a generous portion and get away to some cool spot with it."

It was some time before this stage in the operations was reached, and meanwhile Peter found himself obliged to share his partner with Ross and Rufus, who had no idea of allowing monopolies, with no other girls present but Nancy.

The elder people, however, proved themselves nearly as good company as the younger ones, for everybody seemed to have adopted the spirit of the season and to be ready for as much fun-making as possible. And to the great satisfaction of both Peter and Shirley, not the least care-free of the company seemed Mr. Joseph Bell himself.

To Peter, especially, watching his father with an eye which took note, as the others could not, the very evident relaxation and refreshment of the occasion were a source of deep satisfaction. For once the son felt that he could himself relax and dare to get out of the hour all the joy there was in it. Happiness of this sort could not hurt, he was sure. It could only help.

"Our panful is cool enough!" declared Peter, flourishing the blue-and-white-checked gingham apron which veiled his long legs, as he returned from the porch, where the candy had been cooling. "Now, partner, hands buttered, courage good? Stand ready to take hold when I say the word, I 'll work the lump into malleable condition. Open the door into the wood-shed, please. We 'll do our pulling there, if it's not too cool for you; then we 'll not get stuck."

"_Ooh-h-h!_" Shirley gave a little shriek as Peter presently, with a deft pull of his big lump into a long, smooth skein, handed her one end with the injunction to draw it out quickly and swing it back to him. "But it's hot!"

"Of course it is, Miss Tender-Fingers! If we let it get comfortably cool we could n't pull it at all. Keep hold--keep it moving. Don 't let it stay in your fingers long enough to stick. Pull--swing--pull--swing! Hold on! You're getting stuck! Wait a minute!"

"I can't do anything but wait!" gasped Shirley, holding up ten fingers hopelessly embedded in a mass of uncomfortably warm material.

"What! Can this be the expert stenographer, all balled up in a couple of quarts of molasses? Hold still! Don't try to work out. I 'll pull you loose. Don't let the others see. Keep away from that kitchen door!"

But Rufus, pulling smoothly away from Jane, with the art acquired by much practice in past years, spied out the tangled ones. His shout of laughter brought all the others toward the wood-shed door.

Shirley and Peter were obliged to return to the kitchen to obtain butter for the stuck-up fingers. They fell into a state of great merriment over the situation, in which everybody else joined appreciatively, and the old kitchen rafters rang with the laughter.

"Where would the stage apron be now? This is no gallery play!" jeered Peter, rescuing one long string of brownish-yellow sweetness from the front of Shirley's big white apron. "Want a taste? Shut your eyes and open your mouth!"

"No, thank you. Eat it yourself."

"I will," and Peter tipped back his head.

At this interesting moment the door between dining-room and kitchen swung open. A figure appeared upon the threshold--a figure clad in silk and furs, topped by a Parisian bonnet. Over its shoulder showed the heads of two others--one wearing a wonderful hat covered with fine black ostrich-plumes, the other its own thin thatch of short, iron-gray hair.

"We have found you at last!" said the voice of Mrs. Harrison Townsend.

Behind her, Olive burst into a musical peal of laughter.

"Look at Shirley, mother! Don't you think it's about time we came home to prevent her quite returning to childhood?"

Then Mr. Harrison Townsend, from the background:--"This is rather stealing a march on you, good friends. But we found our own house dark--and this is Christmas eve!"