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
"What have you got ter do with it," demanded their mother; "did I tell
YOU to say it! Wasn't I talkin' ter Sarah Maud?" The little Ruggleses
hung their diminished heads. "Yes, marm," they piped, more feebly.
"Now git up, all of ye, an' try it. Speak up, Sarah Maud."
Sarah Maud's tongue clove to the roof of her mouth.
"Quick!"
"Ma thought--it was--sech a pleasant hat that we'd--we'd better leave
our short walk to home," recited Sarah Maud, in an agony of mental
effort.
This was too much for the boys.
"Oh, whatever shall I do with ye?" moaned the unhappy mother; "I
suppose I've got to learn it to yer!" which she did, word for word,
until Sarah Maud thought she could stand on her head and say it
backwards.
"Now, Cornelius, what are YOU goin' ter say ter make yerself good
comp'ny?"
"Dunno!" said Cornelius, turning pale.
"Well, ye ain't goin' to set there like a bump on a log 'thout sayin' a
word ter pay for yer vittles, air ye? Ask Mis' Bird how she's feelin'
this evenin', or if Mr. Bird's havin' a busy season, or somethin' like
that. Now we'll make b'lieve we've got ter the dinner--that won't be
so hard, 'cause yer'll have somethin' to do--it's awful bothersome ter
stan' round an' act stylish. If they have napkins, Sarah Maud down to
Peory may put 'em in their laps 'n the rest of ye can tuck 'em in yer
necks. Don't eat with yer fingers--don't grab no vittles off one
'nother's plates; don't reach out for nothin', but wait till yer asked,
'n if yer never GIT asked don't git up and grab it--don't spill nothin'
on the table cloth, or like's not Mis' Bird 'll send yer away from the
table. Now we'll try a few things ter see how they'll go! Mr.
Clement, do you eat cramb'ry sarse?"
"Bet yer life!" cried Clem, who, not having taken in the idea exactly,
had mistaken this for an ordinary family question.
"Clement Ruggles, do you mean to tell me that you'd say that to a
dinner party? I'll give ye one more chance. Mr. Clement, will you
take some of the cramb'ry?"
"Yes marm, thank ye kindly, if you happen ter have any handy."
"Very good, indeed! Mr. Peter, do you speak for white or dark meat?"
"I ain't particler as ter color--anything that nobody else wants will
suit me," answered Peter with his best air.
"First rate! nobody could speak more genteel than that. Miss Kitty,
will you have hard or soft sarse with your pudden?"
"A little of both if you please, an' I'm much obliged," said Kitty with
decided ease and grace, at which all the other Ruggleses pointed the
finger of shame at her and Peter GRUNTED expressively, that their
meaning might not be mistaken.
"You just stop your gruntin', Peter Ruggles; that was all right. I
wish I could git it inter your heads that it ain't so much what yer
say, as the way yer say it. Eily, you an' Larry's too little to train,
so you just look at the rest, an' do 's they do, an' the Lord have
mercy on ye an' help ye to act decent! Now, is there anything more
ye'd like to practice?"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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