The Birds' Christmas Carol: Chapter 6

Chapter 6

"WHEN THE PIE WAS OPENED,
THE BIRDS BEGAN TO SING!"
The children went out the back door quietly, and were presently
lost to sight, Sarah Maud slipping and stumbling along
absent-mindedly as she recited, under her breath,
"It--was--such--a--pleasant-evenin'--an--sech--a--short
--walk--we--thought--we'd--leave--our--hats--to--home."
     
Peter rang the door bell, and presently a servant admitted them,
and, whispering something in Sarah's ear, drew her downstairs
into the kitchen.  The other Ruggleses stood in horror-stricken
groups as the door closed behind their commanding officer; but
there was no time for reflection, for a voice from above was
heard, saying, "Come right up stairs, please!"
          "Theirs not to make reply,
           Theirs not to reason why,
           Theirs but to do or die."
Accordingly, they walked upstairs, and Elfrida, the nurse,
ushered them into a room more splendid than anything they had
ever seen.  But, oh woe! where was Sarah Maud! and was it Fate
that Mrs. Bird should say, at once, "Did you lay your hats in the
hall?"  Peter felt himself elected by circumstance the head of
the family, and, casting one imploring look at tongue-tied Susan,
standing next him, said huskily, "It was so very
pleasant--that--that" "That we hadn't good hats enough to go
round," put in little Susan, bravely, to help him out, and then
froze with horror that the ill-fated words had slipped off her
tongue.
     
However, Mrs. Bird said, pleasantly, "Of course you wouldn't wear
hats such a short distance--I forgot when I asked.  Now, will you
come right in to Miss Carol's room, she is so anxious to see
you?"
     
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.
     
Carol's bed had been moved into the farthest corner of the room,
and she was lying on the outside, dressed in a wonderful soft
white wrapper.  Her golden hair fell in soft fluffy curls over
her white forehead and neck, her cheeks flushed delicately, her
eyes beamed with joy, and the children told their mother,
afterwards, that she looked as beautiful as the pictures of the
Blessed Virgin.  There was great bustle behind a huge screen in
another part of the room, and at half-past five this was taken
away, and the Christmas dinner-table stood revealed.  What a
wonderful sight it was to the poor little Ruggles children, who
ate their sometimes scanty meals on the kitchen table!  It blazed
with tall colored candles, it gleamed with glass and silver, it
blushed with flowers, it groaned with good things to eat; so it
was not strange that the Ruggleses, forgetting that their mother
was a McGrill, shrieked in admiration of the fairy spectacle. 
But Larry's behavior was the most disgraceful, for he stood not
upon the order of his going, but went at once for a high chair
that pointed unmistakably to him, climbed up like a squirrel,
gave a comprehensive look at the turkey, clapped his hands in
ecstacy, rested his fat arms on the table, and cried, with joy,
"I beat the hull lot o' yer!"  Carol laughed until she cried,
giving orders, meanwhile, "Uncle Jack, please sit at the head,
Sarah Maud at the foot, and that will leave four on each side;
Mama is going to help Elfrida, so that the children need not look
after each other, but just have a good time."
     
A sprig of holly lay by each plate, and nothing would do but each
little Ruggles must leave his seat and have it pinned on by
Carol, and as each course was served one of them pleaded to take
something to her.  There was hurrying to and fro, I can assure
you, for it is quite a difficult matter to serve a Christmas
dinner on the third floor of a great city house; but if every
dish had had to be carried up a rope ladder the servants would
gladly have done so.  There was turkey and chicken, with
delicious gravy and stuffing, and there were half-a-dozen
vegetables, with cranberry jelly, and celery, and pickles; and as
for the way these delicacies were served, the Ruggleses never
forgot it as long as they lived.
     
Peter nudged Kitty, who sat next him, and said, "Look, will yer,
ev'ry feller's got his own partic'lar butter; I suppose that's to
show yer can eat that much 'n no more.  No, it ain't neither, for
that pig of a Peory's just gittin' another helpin'!"  "Yes,"
whispered Kitty, "an' the napkins is marked with big red letters.
I wonder if that's so nobody 'll nip 'em; an' oh, Peter, look at
the pictures painted right on ter the dishes.  Did yer ever!"
     
"The plums is all took out o' my cramb'ry sarse, an' it's friz to
a stiff jell!" shouted Peoria, in wild excitement.
"Hi--yah!  I got a wish-bone!" sung Larry, regardless of Sarah
Maud's frown; after which she asked to have his seat changed,
giving as excuse that he gen'ally set beside her, an' would "feel
strange;" the true reason being that she desired to kick him
gently, under the table, whenever he passed what might be termed
"the McGrill line."
     
"I declare to goodness," murmured Susan, on the other side,
"there's so much to look at I can't scarcely eat nothin!"
     
"Bet yer life I can!" said Peter, who had kept one servant busily
employed ever since he sat down; for, luckily, no one was asked
by Uncle Jack whether he would have a second helping, but the
dishes were quietly passed under their noses, and not a single
Ruggles refused anything that was offered him, even unto the
seventh time.  Then, when Carol and Uncle Jack perceived that
more turkey was a physical impossibility, the meats were taken
off and the dessert was brought in--a dessert that would have
frightened a strong man after such a dinner as had preceded it.
Not so the Ruggleses--for a strong man is nothing to a small
boy--and they kindled to the dessert as if the turkey had been a
dream and the six vegetables an optical delusion.  There was
plum-pudding, mince-pie, and ice-cream, and there were nuts, and
raisins, and oranges.  Kitty chose ice-cream, explaining that
she knew it "by sight," but hadn't never tasted none; but all the
rest took the entire variety, without any regard to consequences.
"My dear child," whispered Uncle Jack, as he took Carol an
orange, "there is no doubt about the necessity of this feast, but
I do advise you after this to have them twice a year, or
quarterly, perhaps, for the way they eat is positively dangerous;
I assure you I tremble for that terrible Peoria.  I'm going to
run races with her after dinner."
     
"Never mind," laughed Carol, "let them eat for once; it does my
heart good to see them, and they shall come oftener next year."
     
The feast being over, the Ruggleses lay back in their chairs
languidly, and the table was cleared in a trice; then a door was
opened into the next room, and there, in a corner facing Carol's
bed, which had been wheeled as close as possible, stood the
brilliantly lighted Christmas-tree, glittering with gilded
walnuts and tiny silver balloons, and wreathed with snowy chains
of pop-corn.  The presents had been bought mostly with Carol's
story money, and were selected after long consultations with Mrs.
Bird.  Each girl had a blue knitted hood, and each boy a red
crocheted comforter, all made by Mama, Carol and Elfrida
("because if you buy everything, it doesn't show so much love,"
said Carol).  Then every girl had a pretty plaid dress of a
different color, and every boy a warm coat of the right size. 
Here the useful presents stopped, and they were quite enough; but
Carol had pleaded to give them something "for fun."  "I know they
need the clothes," she had said, when they were talking over the
matter just after Thanksgiving, "but they don't care much
for them, after all.  Now, Papa, won't you PLEASE let me go
without part of my presents this year, and give me the money they
would cost, to buy something to amuse them?"
     
"You can have both," said Mr. Bird, promptly; "is there any need
of my little girl's going without her Christmas, I should like to
know?  Spend all the money you like."
     
"But that isn't the thing," objected Carol, nestling close to her
father; "it wouldn't be mine.  What is the use?  Haven't I almost
everything already, and am I not the happiest girl in the world
this year, with Uncle Jack and Donald at home?  Now, Papa, you
know very well it is more blessed to give than to receive; then
why won't you let me do it?  You never look half as happy when
you are getting your presents as when you are giving us ours. 
Now, Papa, submit, or I shall have to be very firm and
disagreeable with you!"
     
"Very well, your Highness, I surrender."
     
"That's a dear Papa!  Now, what were you going to give me? 
Confess!"
     
"A bronze figure of Santa Claus; and in the little round belly,
that shakes, when he laughs, like a bowl full of jelly, is a
wonderful clock.  Oh, you would never give it up if you could see
it."
     
"Nonsense," laughed Carol; "as I never have to get up to
breakfast, nor go to bed, nor catch trains, I think my old clock
will do very well!  Now, Mama, what were you going to give me?"
     
"Oh, I hadn't decided.  A few more books, and a gold thimble, and
a smelling-bottle, and a music-box."
     
"Poor Carol," laughed the child, merrily, "she can afford to give
up these lovely things, for there will still be left Uncle Jack,
and Donald, and Paul, and Hugh, and Uncle Rob, and Aunt Elsie,
and a dozen other people."
     
So Carol had her way, as she generally did, but it was usually a
good way, which was fortunate, under the circumstances; and Sarah
Maud had a set of Miss Alcott's books, and Peter a modest silver
watch, Cornelius a tool-chest, Clement a dog-house for his "lame
puppy," Larry a magnificent Noah's ark, and each of the little
girls a beautiful doll.  You can well believe that everybody was
very merry and very thankful.  All the family, from Mr. Bird down
to the cook, said they had never seen so much happiness in the
space of three hours; but it had to end, as all things do.  The
candles flickered and went out, the tree was left alone with its
gilded ornaments, and Mrs. Bird sent the children down stairs at
half-past eight, thinking that Carol looked tired.
     
"Now, my darling, you have done quite enough for one day," said
Mrs. Bird, getting Carol into her little night-dress; "I am
afraid you will feel worse to-morrow, and that would be a sad
ending to such a good time."
     
"Oh, wasn't it a lovely, lovely time," sighed Carol. "From first
to last, everything was just right.  I shall never forget Larry's
face when he looked at the turkey; nor Peter's, when he saw his
watch; nor that sweet, sweet Kitty's smile when she kissed her
dolly; nor the tears in poor, dull Sarah Maud's eyes when she
thanked me for her books; nor--"
     
"But we mustn't talk any longer about it to-night," said Mrs.
Bird, anxiously; "you are too tired, dear."
     
"I am not so very tired, Mama.  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?  I will steal in softly the first thing in the morning,
and see if you are all right; but I think you need to be quiet."
"Oh, I'm willing to stay alone; but I am not sleepy yet, and I am
going to hear the music by and by, you know."
     
"Yes, I have opened the window a little, and put the screen in
front of it, so that you will not feel the air."
"Can I have the shutters open; and won't you turn my bed a
little, please?  This morning I woke ever so early, and one
bright beautiful star shone in that eastern window.  I never saw
it before, and I thought of the Star in the East, that guided the
wise men to the place where Jesus was.  Good night, Mama.  Such a
happy, happy day!"
     
"Good night, my precious little Christmas Carol--mother's blessed
Christmas child."
     
"Bend your head a minute, mother dear," whispered Carol, calling
her mother back.  "Mama, 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.

Back to chapter list of: The Birds' Christmas Carol