The Birds' Christmas CarolWiggin, Kate Douglas Smith
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The Birds' Christmas Carol
Wiggin, Kate Douglas Smith
Children's stories; Christmas stories; Terminally ill children -- Juvenile fiction
"I am not so very tired, Mamma. I have felt well all day; not a bit of
pain anywhere. Perhaps this has done me good."
"Perhaps; I hope so. There was no noise or confusion; it was just a
merry time. Now, may I close the door and leave you alone, dear? Papa
and I will steal in softly by and by to see if you are all right; but I
think you need to be very quiet."
"Oh, I'm willing to stay by myself; but I am not sleepy yet, and I am
going to hear the music, you know."
"Yes, I have opened the window a little, and put the screen in front of
it, so that you won't feel the air."
"Can I have the shutters open? and won't you turn my bed, please? This
morning I woke ever so early, and one bright, beautiful star shone in
that eastern window. I never noticed it before, and I thought of the
Star in the East, that guided the wise men to the place where the baby
Jesus was. Good-night, Mamma. Such a happy, happy day!"
"Good-night, my precious Christmas Carol--mother's blessed Christmas
child."
"Bend your head a minute, mother dear," whispered Carol, calling her
mother back. "Mamma, dear, I do think that we have kept Christ's
birthday this time just as He would like it. Don't you?"
"I am sure of it," said Mrs. Bird, softly.
[Illustration]
VII
The Birdling Flies Away
The Ruggleses had finished a last romp in the library with Paul and
Hugh, and Uncle Jack had taken them home and stayed a while to chat with
Mrs. Ruggles, who opened the door for them, her face all aglow with
excitement and delight. When Kitty and Clem showed her the oranges and
nuts that they had kept for her, she astonished them by saying that at
six o'clock Mrs. Bird had sent her in the finest dinner she had ever
seen in her life; and not only that, but a piece of dress-goods that
must have cost a dollar a yard if it cost a cent.
As Uncle Jack went down the rickety steps he looked back into the window
for a last glimpse of the family, as the children gathered about their
mother, showing their beautiful presents again and again,--and then
upward to a window in the great house yonder. "A little child shall lead
them," he thought. "Well, if--if anything ever happens to Carol, I will
take the Ruggleses under my wing."
* * * * *
"Softly, Uncle Jack," whispered the boys, as he walked into the library
a while later. "We are listening to the music in the church. The choir
has sung 'Carol, brothers, carol,' and now we think the organist is
beginning to play 'My ain countree' for Carol."
"I hope she hears it," said Mrs. Bird; "but they are very late to-night,
and I dare not speak to her lest she should be asleep. It is almost ten
o'clock."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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