Part 1
THE SURPRISE BOOK
THE
SURPRISE BOOK
BY
PATTEN BEARD
_Author of “The Jolly Year,” “The Bluebird’s Garden” “The Good Crow’s Happy Shop”_
_Illustrated by Alice Beard_
THE PILGRIM PRESS
BOSTON CHICAGO
COPYRIGHT 1918
BY PATTEN BEARD
THE PILGRIM PRESS BOSTON
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I. The Surprise Book that Dotty Made 3
II. The December Surprise, The Telephone Santa Claus 13
III. The January Surprise, The Penny Bank Window 35
IV. The February Surprise, Angelina’s Valentine 51
V. The March Surprise, Buttinski, Peacemaker 63
VI. The April Surprise, Angelina’s Bird-Flower 77
VII. The May Surprise, Marjorie’s Mystery 91
VIII. The June Surprise, The Two Little Bates Girls 103
IX. The July Surprise, Arne’s Fourth of July Battle 115
X. The August Surprise, The Blackberry Adventure 129
XI. The September Surprise, Betty Crusoe 147
XII. The October Surprise, The Magical Circle 159
XIII. The November Surprise, Ermelinda’s Family 173
XIV. The First December Surprise, The Directory Santa Claus 185
XV. The Second December Surprise, Mary Elizabeth’s Soldierly Christmas 195
Conclusion 209
_The Surprise Book That Dotty Made_
_I_
_The Surprise Book That Dotty Made_
The Surprise Book was Marjorie’s, but it really belonged to Dotty also, Marjorie said. It was Dotty who had made it once upon a time when she had not been able to go to school because of a snowstorm and a snuffy cold. The combination of cold and snowstorm was more or less a lucky mixture, so Marjorie argued. At any rate, if it had not been for these, maybe there never would have been Marjorie’s Surprise Book. You shall hear about it.
It began just after Marjorie, wrapped in storm-coat and arctics, had left for school. Dotty was sitting upon a carpet hassock by the fireside. The fire snapped and crackled pleasantly but Dotty frowned. “I wanted to go to school with Marjorie, too,” she said for about the forty-eleventh time since nine o’clock. “There isn’t anything to do!”
“Nothing to do!” exclaimed Mother. “Why not make a Surprise Book, Dot?”
“How?” inquired Dotty, turning around to face Mother in sudden interest. “_How?_”
“Oh, it’s quite simple,” Mother returned. “You will find it ever so much fun. I used to make Surprise Books when I was a little girl. They’re made in scrapbooks. You know how to make a scrapbook, Dot, don’t you?”
Dotty nodded. “I just take some brown wrapping-paper an’ fold it ever so many times an’ then I cut the folds into leaves. When I have ever so many leaves, I cut a cover for ’em an’ I tie the cover to the leaves with a ribbon. It goes through the centre of the book an’ ties at the back like a sash.”
Mother nodded. “That’s it. To make a Surprise Book you first make a scrapbook that way. Then, one at a time, you fold each leaf of the scrapbook twice. You begin by taking the first leaf. You fold its upper corner down till its edge runs parallel with the centre of the scrapbook’s leaves. Then you take the lower corner and fold this up in the same way. It makes a pocket and one can put things into this pocket and seal them tight with a pretty paper seal like those used to seal Christmas packages.”
“What do you do it for?” asked Dotty. “Why do you put things into the pockets and seal them?”
Mother laughed. “Why, Dot,” she explained. “You put the things into the pockets as surprises because you give the Surprise Book away to somebody that you love very much. Every pocket holds a surprise when it is sealed fast. You write on each pocket the exact time when it is to be opened and the one you love very much must open the pockets and find the surprises only when the time falls due. Do you see?”
Dotty beamed. “I see,” she chuckled. “I’m going to make a Surprise Book right away. What can I put into it for Marjorie to find?”
There was a silence while Mother rocked back and forth in the big old-fashioned rocker as she ran her needle in and out of the hole she was mending in Marjorie’s stocking, and thought. “Suppose you cut nice stories out of magazines and put one in each pocket,” she suggested. “There’s a pile of story-papers up in the attic. I’ll get them for you. You might find twelve stories, one for every month of the year, and you might make the Surprise Book for Marjorie’s Christmas present.”
Dotty jumped up and down. “Oh, hurry, hurry!” she begged. “I want to begin right away. Marjorie will be coming home soon and she mustn’t know anything about it. Can I put other things into the pockets of the Surprise Book too? What can I put in?”
“All manner of things that one could put into small space like that--picture-cards, paper dolls, transfer pictures, little verses and games that you find in magazines--’most everything that will lie flat. You can try it and think of things to put into the Surprise Book’s pockets.”
Hooray! That was an idea! Dotty knew of a flat penwiper that she could make out of flannel. _That_ would go in flat--and there might be a penny all wrapped up in paper, maybe. Such a thing as this would be simply a splendid surprise. Each pocket should hold something new and wonderful except the pocket that was to be for April Fool’s Day. That pocket should hold only a blank piece of paper folded up tight to feel as if it were going to be a surprise. There’d be nothing at all in it, when Marjorie broke the seal! What a joke! And every month’s holiday should have a pocket, too! Dotty chuckled. Old Christmas cards would now find a new use. Valentines and Easter gift cards would go into the Surprise Book, too. And every month there would be a story pocket in the book! What fun! As soon as she had made the brown paper scrapbook, she fell to work folding its leaves--first, top corner over and down; next, lower corner up toward it to make a three-cornered pocket. The book had twenty-four leaves, two surprises for every month. First of all, Dotty put the penwiper into the first pocket for a Christmas surprise. She sealed it with a holly seal. Then into the next pocket, she put a January surprise and a January story followed. So it went through all the year. It was exciting trying to find stories that fitted the different months, but the story-papers helped because Mother had kept them in file, month by month. Dotty had only to look the papers over and cut out the story she imagined might best please Marjorie. She worked very hard indeed. All day she worked, while it snowed outside. It seemed quite lucky, then, that Marjorie stayed away so long. It wasn’t really lonely without her!
And at last, with some help and suggestions from Mother, the Surprise Book was done! It was a big three-cornered book that seemed quite bulky. As Dot held it, she felt that Marjorie would surely like it and she couldn’t bear to keep it till Christmas. Christmas was so far away yet! There were four more days till Christmas Eve! But, nevertheless, because the Surprise Book was to be a Christmas present, Mother and Dot did it up, finally, in nice, fresh, white tissue paper and tied the parcel together with bright red ribbon. It was a splendid present!
When Christmas came, the Surprise Book was placed under the tree and Dotty left all her own presents while she urged Marjorie to open the big package that was tied with red ribbons. “You’ll like it,” she laughed. “I made it for you. It’s a book of surprises that last all through the year--it really is a Surprise Book because there’s so much fun in it!”
Then Marjorie tore off the paper and red ribbon. When she saw and understood jail about it, she said she would make Dotty a promise and the promise was that every time there fell due a story, she’d read it aloud to Dotty each month.
So, here in this book are the stories that Marjorie read to Dotty, the stories that were in Marjorie’s Surprise Book, together with the penwiper, the Valentine, the St. Patrick’s favor for March, the April Fool, the paper May-basket, the four-leaf clover for June. Beside these, there were a great many other nice things that came in the pockets that were not filled with the stories. You shall hear about them all yourself, as you turn the pages here.
_The Telephone Santa Claus_
_THE DECEMBER SURPRISE_
_Of course, you know as well as Dotty that there was a penwiper in the first Christmas pocket. The writing on that pocket said,_
“_Not to be opened till after you have seen all your presents from the Christmas tree on Christmas Eve._”
_Marjorie liked the penwiper ever so much. She said it could be used at school. It was made of round red circles of cloth and had a button sewed at its centre. The story pocket was quite bulky and it said,_
“_Open on Christmas Eve for a bed-time story._”
_Marjorie read it aloud as she and Dot curled up in a big cosy comfortable at bed-time. They had to have a very special dispensation from Mother. She said that the Surprise Book story that came on Christmas Eve might keep the bed-time light lit till it was finished. So Marjorie read aloud, “The Telephone Santa Claus.”_
_II_
_The Telephone Santa Claus_
The shops were full of Christmas toys. There were Christmas greens and fir trees everywhere. Big ribbon-trimmed holly wreaths began to appear in front windows and everybody in the streets carried Christmas bundles. At this time, too, Mary Louise, who lived in the large and beautiful house with mother and daddy, and who was the only little girl they had, began to plan what she should ask Santa Claus to bring her.
Can anybody ever have too many toys? Mary Louise had a whole toy closet full. There were certain “very best toys” put by nurse on the top shelf for special occasions and there were countless “every day toys,” some of them a bit broken, but a great many of them quite whole and splendid, ever so much nicer than the toys that Mary Louise’s little friends had to play with. Still, Mary Louise wanted more toys. The list that she was now writing in her round, wiggly handwriting had already covered several sheets of large pad paper that nurse had given her.
Mary Louise sat at the big flat desk in the library. Her velvet dress was almost lost in the big arm-chair that was daddy’s favorite. Behind her was a cheerful fire on the hearth and it snapped and crackled joyously. Mary Louise’s blue eyes travelled about the room as if seeking fresh inspiration in the objects that they rested upon. She already had everything, but she wanted more, and so she put the pencil on the paper and continued the letter to Santa Claus.
“I want two new Teddy bears, the biggest you have, Santa Claus,” the pencil said. “I want one that is pure white like snow and another that is furry and brown. Both should have a squeak and if you have any that will growl, I’d like that kind, too.
“I want a white doll carriage lined with pink satin. They have them at Bunty’s Department Store, for I saw them once and they cost twenty-five dollars. I want a big doll to go in it. I want a whole wardrobe of clothes for it, a new doll cradle, and it must have a pink silk dress, too. I want a doll that will open and shut its eyes--one with real hair. It must talk, too.
“You can bring me, beside this, a boy doll with a sled and all the different kinds of clothes that a little boy ought to wear. I want a real toy automobile with a horn and a lamp--not the kind that is like a tricycle, because I already have one like that--I mean the real kind that runs with gasoline. They cost a hundred and twenty-five dollars, maybe a little more, but I don’t think you mind what they cost.
“I want a doll house that is nicer than the one you gave me before. It ought to be big enough for me to go into myself and I would like to have it built up in the garden like a real house. You can put it down by the greenhouses because it will be too big to bring into our house or carry down the chimney, I know. And then too I want--”
Mary Louise’s blue eyes considered the ceiling for a space of time: “I want a ring like mother’s--one with a blue stone in it,” she added. While she was trying to think of something else to ask for, the door of the library opened and in walked Mary Louise’s big daddy. He glanced for a minute at Mary Louise and he took up the telephone.
Mary Louise’s daddy was busy there several minutes. He watched Mary Louise nibbling the end of her pencil and he looked over her shoulder at the letter. As he did so, a smile crossed his face. “Writing to Santa Claus, Mary Louise?” he asked when he put down the receiver.
“I was wondering what to ask for next,” Mary Louise informed him. “I think I’ll ask for another pony. Nibbles is very nice, of course, but I’d rather like one that will trot faster. I think I’d like a white pony with a white kid harness and a white basket-cart.”
“You’re asking for a great many things, aren’t you?” daddy suggested. “Maybe it might be well to close the letter now. I’ll take it with me and mail it on the way down town--better address the envelope.”
“I might think of something more,” remonstrated Mary Louise. But she folded the six sheets of pad paper and put them into the envelope that daddy held out. Then she addressed it to Mr. Santa Claus, Santa Claus Land, Santa Claus Country, North Pole, exactly as nurse had told her.
Daddy put it into his overcoat pocket as Mary Louise had seen him put letters that he posted for mother. Then as the library door closed, she plumped herself down upon the thick black fur rug in front of the fire to look at a picture book.
She had not been there very long when the telephone bell rang. James didn’t come as he ought and Marie was upstairs, so Mary Louise incommoded herself by getting up from the rug to answer it. It had already rung three times and she was quite ready to scold Marie for not answering it. But she did not have the chance as Marie still did not come. So Mary Louise took up the receiver. “Hello!” she called.
“Hello,” came a cheery answer.
“What is it?” inquired Mary Louise.
“I want to talk to Miss Mary Louise Snow,” came the answer. “I’m Santa Claus.”
“Oh, I’m her!” gasped Mary Louise. “I’m--I’m her!” Never before had Santa Claus called Mary Louise up by telephone! Never had she spoken to him except for a few brief minutes at a Christmas party celebration.
“You are,” returned the voice. “Well, I’m glad you are at home, Mary Louise. There’s something very special that I want to talk about. It’s almost time for me to receive your usual Christmas letter. I suppose there are a great many things that you will want. Have you been a good little girl this year?”
“Sometimes,” Mary Louise faltered. “I have tried very hard not to have tantrums. Maybe I did once or twice but I tried not to say things when Marie _would_ unsnarl my hair.”
“Have you learned your multiplication tables?”
“Up to sevens,” answered Mary Louise. “I think I can say them, but I can’t _always_ remember what seven times nine is and I forget seven times twelve.”
“That sounds as if you had tried fairly well,” the voice of Santa Clause commented. “There are a great many Christmas presents that you would like, I suppose?”
“Yes,” returned Mary Louise, “Oh, yes, Santa Claus! I just wrote you my letter and I hadn’t quite finished it when daddy came in and took it to mail, so maybe I’ll write another later on. I didn’t ask for any games or things. I might send another letter when I think of what I want. If you like, I will tell you the things that I asked for in my first letter if I can remember them. I want a big, big doll that can talk, and it must have real hair and shut and open its eyes and it must have blue eyes and real eye-lashes too. I asked for a pink silk dress and gloves, I think--I can’t remember. And there were to be two big Teddy bears with a growl and a squeak _both_--very big bears, one pure white and the other furry and brown. I want a white pony, too, and a white cart and harness. The letter will tell you all about _that_--I forget all that I said in the letter,” she explained. “It was ’most six pages long of big pad paper.”
“That was rather long,” chuckled Santa Claus.
“Yes,” smiled Mary Louise, “but I think I forgot to say that I wanted gloves for the doll.”
“I’m not sure I can bring the gloves,” Santa Claus said. “I think, however, that I might get the doll to you. Would you rather have a doll than the two Teddy bears?”
“I want _both_,” replied Mary Louise. It seemed strange that Santa Claus should not understand a thing, as simple as _that_! “Teddy bears are very po-pular, I know, but I guess you must have ever so many and you’ve usually brought me nicer things than you’ve given other little girls that I know.”
“Well, maybe I can bring a Teddy bear, if there’s one left over, Mary Louise, but I’m not at all sure I can bring the pony this year, you know. I’m afraid I’ve got to cut down on your presents, Mary Louise. That’s why I called up. I have something very, very important to ask you. I want to know if you can help me? I’m trying to distribute my gifts more--more properly this year. You know, of course, Mary Louise, that there are ever so many little children that do not get Christmas presents, especially in war time.”
“Are there?” inquired Mary Louise. “I suppose it’s the children who have been naughty.”
“Oh, no.”
“What is it, then?”
“It’s not because I forget them or because they are naughty,” explained Santa Claus’ voice. “It’s because too many goodies go to the rich little children. Then the poor little children who would like toys--they have nothing.”
“Oh,” gasped Mary Louise. “Then, I suppose you’ve given me more than my share?”
“I’m afraid so,” answered Santa.
“Don’t the poor children have _anything_?”
“Sometimes I’ve given to the wrong people,” came the evasive answer. “You see, I have a great deal to do. I ought to have a lot of people to help me. How can one person do it _all_! Sometimes I don’t find the right children and I use up the things that grow in the Santa Claus Land and then I have nothing left after the long, long lists are made up for the very particular little rich children.”
“Oh, dear!”
“Yes, that’s why. Do you want to give up some of your things this year so that they can go to the poor children?”
Mary Louise reflected. “Which?” she asked. “Do you mean the doll or the pony or the automobile or the new doll house?”
“You have about a hundred dolls, haven’t you?”
“No,” corrected Mary Louise, “only just seventy-six, counting the little bits of china ones in the doll house. Without these there are about forty--but only twenty are big ones.”
“Well,” chuckled Santa Claus, “that seems to me a good deal too many. You _could_ give up the doll, I think. Suppose that _you_ were a little girl who had never had any doll ever!”
“Well, but I’d like the pink doll--”
“I’ll tell you what,” Santa Claus suggested. “You think things over. Maybe I’ll find that I _can_ spare a pink doll for you, after all. But I want you to help me look out for some of the poor children this year and I want you to buy at least six presents out of your very own money. I want you to find some children that I ought to know about. I want you to help them for me. I’ll telephone you some addresses where there are little poor children and you must write these down and keep them and see that the boys and girls have proper Christmas presents. Will you do it?”
“Oh, yes, Mr. Santa Claus, gladly,” returned Mary Louise. “I have nineteen dollars in my bank, I think. My daddy will help me.”
“No, I don’t want your daddy to help you. It’s to be your very own money!”
“All right. I’ll not ask him. Of course I want to help you, Mr. Santa Claus. I’ll love to do it.”
“Well, good-bye. If I can, I’ll come on Christmas eve to your tree. You do the very best you can, Mary Louise, and invite the poor children to share your tree!”
The receiver was hung up at the other end of the line and Mary Louise stood bewildered before the library table where she had just written her long Christmas list. She stood there thinking it all over from beginning to end. She, _she_ had been asked to help Santa Claus! It was a great distinction! Poor overworked Santa Claus had appealed to her as a very rich little girl who already had everything--and she mightn’t get the pink doll at all!
Then Mary Louise could not keep the secret any longer and she dashed up the stairs to mother’s room. She wouldn’t let mother go out of the room till she had told her the whole story and mother had a very important engagement and was all ready to go out in the car. Together they emptied Mary Louise’s bank and counted out exactly nineteen dollars and fifty-three cents. Mary Louise wanted to take it and start right out in the car to buy the presents, but with difficulty mother explained that she had better wait till Santa Claus sent in the names and she had found out what the children wanted.
And Santa Claus did telephone the names. Mary Louise was at dinner and James answered the telephone. Mary Louise felt badly that she had not been called, but there was no need to take her away from dinner; James had the addresses on the telephone pad, mother said. She was sure they were right.
Mary Louise wished daddy were home. It seemed to her that he would never come. As she felt sure she would need to buy a tree for the Christmas party, she got nurse to take her to that shop in the afternoon. But it is wonderful to think that a Christmas tree costs money! Before this, Mary Louise had never considered the subject. It was a very tall tree and it was an expensive tree. The charge for it ate into the nineteen dollars and fifty-three cents considerably. The things that went onto the tree must all be new. Santa Claus must see that Mary Louise had bought new ones to please him. So she bought ever so many-stars and birds, and balls of red, yellow, blue, green, white, silver, gold. And there was need of tinsel. If Mary Louise had had her own way, she would have spent almost all the nineteen dollars and fifty-three cents just on that tree without thinking of the consequences. Why, if she had, how could she have bought any presents for the poor children?
Next day, after having told daddy all about it, she wrote to the addresses that Santa Claus had given her. She wrote the letters in ink and used her very bestest best blue note-paper. All the letters were sealed with a Santa Claus sticker. It did take a great deal of time, I assure you.
The invitations were to Mamie and Johnnie and Toby Smith. They were to Tony Pettino and Lily Wicks and Benny Wicks who lived in a part of the city Mary Louise had never seen. Nurse said it was a very sad part of the city. When Mary Louise asked if she might go there and see it and see the children, nurse said she guessed Santa Claus didn’t know what he was talking about--she guessed _not_. Mary Louise insisted, but all in vain. Santa Claus had told her what the children’s ages were and left the gifts to Mary Louise’s selection.