Little Maid Marian, Amy Ella Blanchard [best e ink reader for manga txt] 📗

"Dearest Marian:

"I hope you will like your stocking. It is exactly such as Patty will have, and I know you will be pleased to have it so. A Merry Christmas from all of us at Revell.

"Lovingly yours,

Dorothy Robbins."

[221]A stocking just like Patty's! What joy! Perhaps at that very moment Patty was looking at hers. It was so delightful to open the small packages, to find a beautiful paper-doll from Miss Emily, a funny cheap toy from each of the boys: a silly monkey, a quacking duck and a jumping jack; a little fairy tale book from Patty, and oh, wonder! the Roman sash from Miss Dorothy. Even Mr. Robbins and Aunt Barbara had contributed, the former a little purse with a ten cent piece in it, and the latter a box of her famous nut candy. Surely never was a stocking more appreciated and more gloated over.

It was broad daylight and her grandmother was calling her before Patty realized that her candle had burned down to its socket and that it was time to get up. She huddled her gifts back into the stocking and hurried to get bathed and dressed, for a day beginning so delightfully must surely have more happiness in it. And indeed this did seem to be so, for though her presents from her grandparents were, as usual, useful, among them was a set of furs, just what Marian had longed for since she saw Patty's, and there was also a little typewriter for her very self from[222] her grandpa. Marian's mustard seeds were surely doing their work.

There were buckwheat cakes for breakfast, too, and Heppy beckoned Marian to the kitchen afterward. A row of mince pies stood on the table, and at the end of the row was a little scalloped one, "for you," said Heppy. There was a pair of queerly shaped figures, too, among the ginger-snaps. Heppy gave a funny chuckle as she picked them out. "I guess nobody'd know what they're intended for," she said. "I guess I won't go into the sculping business, for I find I'm no hand at making figgers."

But Marian was as delighted with these as if they had been perfect and bore them with the rest of her things to show Mrs. Hunt.

Her grans had smiled indulgently when she showed her stocking, but had not seemed to think very much of it. Mrs. Otway said she supposed Miss Dorothy had paid a pretty penny for the sash, and it was more than she ought to have done. Mr. Otway thought Marian must be too big a girl to care for jumping-jacks and such foolishness, but that was the most that was said.

One of the events of Christmas day had always[223] been the visit to Mrs. Hunt, for this usually meant the best of the day's doings, and Marian was always in a hurry to get off, but this time she was not in such haste, for she liked to linger over her delightful stocking, and enjoyed trying her typewriter while her grandfather showed her how to use it. So it was not till her elders set out for church that she was ready. Her cough shut her out of any churchgoing for a while, but she begged to wear her new furs to show Mrs. Hunt, and was given consent.

The church bells were all ringing as she entered Mrs. Hunt's door. "I thought you wouldn't get here at all," said Mrs. Hunt in response to Marian's "Merry Christmas!" "I was getting real anxious about you. Come right in out of the cold. What made you so late, chickadee?"

"Because it has been such a glad morning," Marian answered. "I don't care anything about moving mountains any more, though it would have been nice to have a tree, too."

"It would, would it? Well, I don't know. Is that for me?" as Marian presented the book of photographs. "Well, I declare, isn't that you[224] all over? This is a Christmas gift worth having. What a Miss Dorothy it is. Come, kiss me, dearie, you couldn't have given me anything I like better. Now tell me what has made you so glad."

Then Marian displayed her stocking and her furs, and was describing her typewriter when Mrs. Hunt said: "Then I suppose you won't care about what I have for you."

"Oh, Auntie Hunt, you know I always care," returned Marian reproachfully. "I never had a Christmas stocking before, and I did so want furs."

"Bless her dear heart! Auntie Hunt was only teasing you a little. Well, I don't believe what I have will wait much longer, so perhaps we'd better go look at it." And she led the way to the parlor.

Marian wondered at this, for she was not such a stranger as to be taken there even upon such a day as Christmas. What could Mrs. Hunt have in there that she couldn't bring into the sitting-room? She had always had Marian's present and her little basket of goodies set on a side table and why must they be in the parlor to-day?[225] She wondered, too, why Mrs. Hunt fumbled at the door-knob and rattled it a little before she went in, but when she saw at the end of the room a bright and dazzling Christmas tree, she forgot all else. It was such a glittering, shining affair, all wonderful ornaments and gleaming tinsel, and was a joy to look upon, from the flying angel at the tip-top to the group of sheep on a mossy pasture at the foot. The impossible had happened. Faith and works had triumphed. The might of the mustard seed's strength had been proved, and Marian dropped on her knees before the marvelous vision. "Oh, I am so happy, Lord. I am so much obliged to you for your loving-kindness," she breathed.

"That's just like her," said Mrs. Hunt nodding her head as if to some one behind her. "You are pleased, aren't you, chickadee? Well, now, who do you think gave you all those pretty things? Mr. Hunt cut the tree and brought the moss, I'm ready to confess. I helped with the trimming, but who did the rest?"

"Miss Dorothy," promptly replied Marian.

Mrs. Hunt shook her head. "Wrong guess," she said laughing. "Stand right there and shut[226] your eyes while I count ten, then see if you can make a better guess."

Marian did as she was told, squeezing her eyes tight together lest she should be tempted to peep at the tree. As "ten" fell from Mrs. Hunt's lips her eyes opened, not upon the tree, for between her and it stood the figure of a tall man who held out his arms to her. Marian stood stock still in amazed wonder, gazing at him fixedly, then in a voice that rang through the room she cried: "Papa! Papa!" and in an instant his arms were around her and she was fairly sobbing on his breast.

"It's almost more than the child can bear," murmured Mrs. Hunt wiping her eyes. "I don't know that it was right to surprise her so. Maybe it would have been better to prepare her." But Marian was herself in a little while, ready to hear how this wonderful thing happened.

"It was all on account of that little book of photographs," her father told her. "My longing to see my dear little daughter grew stronger and stronger as I turned over the pages, and when I came to the last picture I simply could not stand it.[227] I rushed out, looked up the next sailing, and found I could make a steamer sailing from Bremen the next morning, and before night I was on my way to that city. I found I had a couple of hours to spare in Bremen, and I remembered that my little girl had said that she had never had a Christmas tree, so I went up town, bought a jumble of Christmas toys, and took them to the steamer with me. I reached here last night, and my dear old friend Mrs. Hunt took me in. Between us all we set up the Christmas tree, and arranged the surprise. I felt as if I could not spend another Christmas day away from my dear little daughter when she wanted me so much. Do you think they will let me in at the brick house, Marian?" he asked holding her close.

"I am sure they will," she answered with conviction. "I've found out that nobody is as cross inside as they seem outside. Even Heppy is just like a bear sometimes, but she has the most kind thinkings when you get at them."

It was hard to leave the beautiful tree, but even that was not so great and splendid a thing as this home-coming of Marian's father, and[228] when the churchgoers had all gone by, the two went up street together, hand in hand. At the door of the brick house they paused.

"Tell them I am here and ask them if I may come in, Marian," said her father, as he stood on the steps.

Marian went in, and entered the sitting-room. Her grandmother was taking off her bonnet. "It was a good sermon, my dear," she was saying to her husband. "Peace and good-will to all men, not to some, but to all, our own first." She smoothed out her gloves thoughtfully. "Eight years," she murmured, "eight