On Christmas Day in the MorningRichmond, Grace S. (Grace Smith)
General
On Christmas Day in the Morning
Richmond, Grace S. (Grace Smith)
Christmas stories
They smiled kindly at her, wished her good night, and went back into
their own room. The little episode had aroused no suspicions. It was
very like Guy's affectionate boyishness.
"I presume he'll be down," said Mrs. Fernald, as she limped quietly
about the room, making ready for bed. "Don't you remember how he
surprised us last year? I'm sorry the others can't come. Of course, I
sent them all the invitation, just as usual--I shall always do
that--but it _is_ pretty snowy weather, and I suppose they don't quite
like to risk it."
Presently, as she was putting out the light, she heard Marietta at the
door.
"Mis' Fernald, Peter Piper's got back in this part o' the house,
somehow, and I can't lay hands on him. Beats all how cute that cat is.
Seem's if he knows when I'm goin' to put him out in the wood-shed. I
don't think likely he'll do no harm, but I thought I'd tell you, so 'f
you heard any queer noises in the night you'd know it was Peter."
"Very well, Marietta"--the soft voice came back to the schemer on the
other side of the door. "Peter will be all right, wherever he is. I
shan't be alarmed if I hear him."
"All right, Mis' Fernald; I just thought I'd let you know," and the
guileful one went grinning away.
* * * * *
_There was a long silence in the quiet sleeping-room. Then, out of the
darkness, came this little colloquy:_
_"Emeline, you aren't getting to sleep."_
_"I--know I'm not, John. I--Christmas Eve keeps one awake, somehow. It
always did."_
_"Yes.... I don't suppose the children realise at all, do they?"_
_"Oh, no--oh, no! They don't realise--they never will, till--they're
here themselves. It's all right. I think--I think at least Guy will be
down to-morrow, don't you?"_
_"I guess maybe he will." Then, after a short silence. "Mother--you've
got me, you know. You know--you've always got me, dear."_
_"Yes." She would not let him hear the sob in her voice. She crept
close, and spoke cheerfully in his best ear. "And you've got me,
Johnny Boy!"_
_"Thank the Lord, I have!"_
_So, counting their blessings, they fell asleep at last. But, even in
sleep, one set of lashes was strangely wet._
* * * * *
"Christopher Jinks, what a drift!"
"Lucky we weren't two hours later."
"_Sh-h_--they might hear us."
"Nan, stop laughing, or I'll drop a snowball down your neck!"
"Here, Carol, give me your hand. I'll plough you through. Large bodies
move slowly, of course, but go elbows first and you'll get there."
"Gee _whiz_! Can't you get that door open? I'll bet it's frozen fast."
A light showed inside the kitchen. The storm-door swung open,
propelled by force from inside. A cautious voice said low: "That the
Fernald family?"
A chorus of whispers came back at Miss Marietta Cooley:
"Yes, yes--let us in, we're freezing."
"You bet we're the Fernald family--every man-Jack of us--not one
missing."
"Oh, Marietta--you dear old thing!"
"Hurry up--this is their side of the house."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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