The Goat and Her Kid, Harriet Myrtle [the gingerbread man read aloud .TXT] 📗

While they were at breakfast, Mary asked the question which she had asked for several mornings past. It was, "Do you think Aunt Mary, and Thomas, and Willie will come to-day?"

"I think it quite possible that they may," said her mamma; "but to-morrow is more likely."

"You had better try not to expect them till to-morrow, Mary," said Chrissy.

"I will try," said Mary, "but I think I do expect them to-day. And now let me think how many days it is before Christmas Eve will come. Yesterday we counted it was eleven days, so to-day it is ten. Still ten days."

"But you know, Mary, we have plenty to do first," said her mamma. Mary nodded and smiled.

Christmas Eve was the day they kept at the cottage; because Mary's papa and mamma always spent Christmas Day with grandmamma. She lived in a large old house, in a country town ten miles off. Everything in her house was clean and shining; the rooms smelt very sweet, and grandmamma was very kind, and let the children do whatever they liked; and her two maids were so good-natured, and petted them; and there were always such nice cakes, oranges, and jellies. Then, in the evenings there was sure to be a magic lantern, or a man to play the fiddle; in short, going to grandmamma's was a very great pleasure.

Mary now asked her papa to come down to the pond, and give her another lesson in sliding. He came out, and as they ran along they found numbers of things to admire. Every blade of grass was fringed with the white frost-work, and the leaves of all the weeds that grew near the hedges looked quite pretty with their new trimming. But, above all, the mosses in the little wood that skirted the field were most lovely. When winter strips the trees of their leaves, then the little bright green mosses come and clothe the roots and stems, as if to do all they can to comfort them; and to-day they were sparkling all over, and seemed to be dressed out for some festival. Mary and her papa stopped before a weeping birch-tree, with the green moss growing on its silvery white stem. After admiring it for some time, they looked up at its branches that hung drooping over their heads. "How light and feathery they look," said Mary. "I think they are quite as pretty as in summer."

"I think so too," said her papa. "I even think the birch more beautiful in winter than in summer; and all the trees show us the grandeur and beauty of their forms more when the leaves are gone. Look at their great sweeping branches."

"Yes," said Mary, "and then all the little twigs look so pretty, and like lace-work."

"And more than ever we must admire them," said her papa, "when we think that in every little bud at their tips lie the young leaves folded in, and safely shielded by this brown covering from the cold; but all ready to burst forth when the soft spring air and sunshine tell them it is time."

Mary was delighted at this thought, and they spent a little while looking at the different buds, particularly those of the chestnut-trees, with their shining brown coats. Mary took great care not to break one off; she said, "It would be such a pity the little leaves should not feel the spring air, and come out in the sunshine."

"But, O Chrissy, what a lovely bunch of jewelled leaves you have collected!" cried she. "O, yes, that branch in the middle will look pretty; it has managed to go on looking like coral, and to keep its diamonds, because it was so shaded. Now you will put the brown oak leaves, all shining. Here are some more; do put these; and then the pretty little brown beech leaves glittering all over. It looks beautiful!"

"How pretty the form of the oak leaves is," said Chrissy.

"Now let us take it in to mamma," cried Mary.

"But, remember," said Chrissy, "if we take it in all its charm will vanish. Here in the frosty air it looks as if it had been dressed up by the fairies, but in the warm room we should soon have nothing but a bare twig and a few withered leaves."

Mary looked rather sad.

"See," said Chrissy, "let us fasten it to the top of your mamma's favorite seat under the beech-tree; it will make a pretty ornament there."

Now the sliding began. Mary's papa took hold of her hand and ran with her along the field, till they came to the edge of the pond; then away they went, sliding side by side. He kept tight hold of her hand; for she could not help tumbling down very often, because this was only the second time she had tried. Once they both very nearly had a tumble, for Bouncer came out, and ran bounding and barking by their side, and rushed on the ice with them; but he suddenly stopped short and barked, as if to say, "How is this? What makes the water so hard this morning?" and when he stopped they nearly tumbled over him, but they managed to keep up. After sliding till Mary's face looked like a rosy-cheeked apple, it was time to go in to lessons; and afterwards they took a walk, and saw some gentlemen and boys skating on the large pond on the Common.

Just as Mary's mamma said they must go home, the London coach with its four horses came gayly along the hard frosty road along the Common. A boy on the top waved a red handkerchief, and Mary cried out, "That's Thomas; I know it is!" She was quite right, for the coach stopped, and aunt Mary and Willie got out, while Thomas slid down from the roof. They were soon shaking hands, giving kisses and kind welcomes, and all walked merrily up the lane, and had a very happy dinner.

Then came what Mary called "happy time." This was the time when it grew dark, candles were brought, shutters and curtains closed, and they all collected round the tea-table, while the fire blazed, the kettle boiled, and everything looked bright and pleasant. This evening it seemed happier than ever; and next morning it was delightful to awake and remember who had come to the cottage, and to see the party at breakfast; and then to have Thomas and Willie to slide on the pond. Mary grew quite a brave slider before they were called in to dinner.

When dinner was over, she asked her mamma whether they should not go on with nice work this evening? and her mamma said, "O, yes, they must, or they should not be ready." This "nice work" was preparing a number of presents, which were to be given away at Christmas. None of their friends had been forgotten. Mary was busy hemming, knitting, dressing dolls, and making pincushions; her mamma was also hard at work, and besides, was often cutting out and fixing, and had a village girl, who came almost every day for work, making frocks and different things; Chrissy was also busy making all kinds of pretty things.

When aunt Mary heard of it, she said, "We are all at work in the same way. Thomas has brought his turning lathe, and a few tools that he has, and he and Willie are very busy about something." Thomas put his finger on his lips to show her that she must not tell what that something was, and Willie put his arms round her neck, and whispered something very mysteriously.

"Chrissy and Mary have some secret too," said Mary's mamma, "they go into a room by themselves every day, and nobody must disturb them."

At this they both laughed.

"Well, we shall know about it all on Christmas Eve," said Mary, "and then, besides, we shall see somebody, mamma says; somebody that is coming here that we shall like very much, and that we know, and yet have never seen."

"Is it a gentleman or lady?" asked Thomas.

"A gentleman," said Mary; "I have guessed everybody I can think of, but I cannot find out."

"Somebody we know, and yet have never seen," said Thomas; "who can it be?"