The Birds' Christmas CarolWiggin, Kate Douglas Smith
General
The Birds' Christmas Carol
Wiggin, Kate Douglas Smith
Children's stories; Christmas stories; Terminally ill children -- Juvenile fiction
Just then Sarah Maud came up the back-stairs, so radiant with joy from
her secret interview with the cook, that Peter could have pinched her
with a clear conscience, and Carol gave them a joyful welcome. "But
where is Baby Larry?" she cried, looking over the group with searching
eye. "Didn't he come?"
"Larry! Larry!" Good Gracious, where was Larry? They were all sure
that he had come in with them, for Susan remembered scolding him for
tripping over the door-mat. Uncle Jack went into convulsions of
laughter. "Are you sure there were nine of you?" he asked, merrily.
"I think so, sir," said Peoria, timidly; "but, anyhow, there was
Larry;" and she showed signs of weeping.
"Oh, well, cheer up!" cried Uncle Jack. "I guess he's not lost--only
mislaid. I'll go and find him before you can say Jack Robinson!"
"I'll go, too, if you please, sir," said Sarah Maud, "for it was my
place to mind him, an' if he's lost I can't relish my vittles!"
The other Ruggleses stood rooted to the floor. Was this a dinner
party, forsooth; and, if so, why were such things ever spoken of as
festive occasions?
Sarah Maud went out through the hall, calling, "Larry! Larry!" and
without any interval of suspense a thin voice piped up from below,
"Here I be!" The truth was that Larry, being deserted by his natural
guardian, dropped behind the rest, and wriggled into the hat-tree to
wait for her, having no notion of walking unprotected into the jaws of
a dinner-party. Finding that she did not come, he tried to crawl from
his refuge and call somebody, when--dark and dreadful ending to a
tragic day--he found that he was too much intertwined with umbrellas
and canes to move a single step. He was afraid to yell! When I have
said this of Larry Ruggles I have pictured a state of helpless terror
that ought to wring tears from every eye; and the sound of Sarah Maud's
beloved voice, some seconds later, was like a strain of angel music in
his ears. Uncle Jack dried his tears, carried him upstairs, and soon
had him in breathless fits of laughter, while Carol so made the other
Ruggleses forget themselves that they were soon talking like
accomplished diners-out.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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