Marjories New Friend | Page 6

boys,
too, were delighted with their gifts. Mr. Maynard had brought real boys'
toys for them, such as small tool chests, and mechanical contrivances,
not to mention trumpets and drums. And, indeed, the last-named ones
needed no mention, for they were at once put to use and spoke for
themselves.
"Land sakes, children! stop that hullabaloo-lam!" exclaimed Mrs.
Simpson. "How can I thank these kind people if you keep up that noise!
Indeed, I can't thank you, anyway," she added, as the drums were quiet
for a moment. "It's so kind of you,--and so unexpected. We had almost
nothing for,--for to-morrow's dinner, and I didn't know which way to
turn."
Overcome by her emotion, Mrs. Simpson buried her face in her apron,
but as Mrs. Maynard touched her shoulder and spoke to her gently, she
looked up, smiling through her tears.
"I can't rightly thank you, ma'am," she went on, "but the Lord will bless
you for your goodness. I'm to see Mr. Simpson for a few moments
to-morrow, and when I tell him what you've done for us he'll have the
happiest Christmas of us all, though his sufferings is awful. But he was
heartsick because of our poor Christmas here at home, and the news

will cure him of that, anyway."
"I put in some jelly and grapes especially for him," said Mrs. Maynard,
smiling, though there were tears in her own eyes. "So you take them to
him, and give him Christmas greetings from us. And now we must go,
and you can begin at once to make ready your feast."
"Oh, yes, ma'am. And may all Christmas blessing's light on you and
yours."
"Merry Christmas!" cried all the Maynards as they trooped out, and the
good wish was echoed by the happy Simpsons.
"My!" said King, "it makes a fellow feel sober to see people as poor as
that!"
"It does, my boy," said his father; "and it's a pleasure to help those who
are truly worthy and deserving. Simpson is an honest, hard-working
man, and I think we must keep an eye on the family until he's about
again. And now, my hearties, we've done all we can for them for the
present; so let's turn our attention to the celebration of the Maynard's
Christmastide. Who wants to go to the station with me to meet
Grandma and Uncle Steve?"
"I!" declared the four children, as with one voice.
"Yes, but you can't all go; and, too, there must be some of the nicest
ones at home to greet the travellers as they enter. I think I'll decide the
question myself. I'll take Kitty and King with me, and I'll leave my
eldest and youngest daughters at home with Motherdy to receive the
guests when they come."
Mr. Maynard's word was always law, and though Marjorie wanted to
go, she thought, too, it would be fun to be at home and receive them
when they come.
So they all separated as agreed, and Mrs. Maynard said they must make
haste to get dressed for the company.

Marjorie wore a light green cashmere, with a white embroidered
_guimpe_, which was one of her favorite frocks. Her hair was tied with
big white bows, and a sprig of holly was tucked in at one side.
She flew down to the living-room, to find baby Rosamond and her
mother already there. Rosy Posy was a Christmas baby indeed, all in
white, with holly ribbons tying up her curls, and a holly sprig tied in the
bow. The whole house was decorated with ropes and loops of
evergreen, and stars and wreaths, with big red bows on them, were in
the windows and over the doorways.
The delicious fragrance of the evergreens pervaded the house, and the
wood fires burned cheerily. Mrs. Maynard, in her pretty rose-colored
house gown, looked about with the satisfied feeling that everything was
in readiness, and nothing had been forgotten.
At last a commotion was heard at the door, and Marjorie flew to open it.
They all seemed to come in at once, and after an embrace from
Grandma, Marjorie felt herself lifted up in Uncle Steve's strong arms.
"That's the last time, Midget," he said as he set her down again.
"There's too much of you for me to toss about as I used to. My! what a
big girl you are!"
"Toss me, Uncle Teve," said Rosy Posy, and she was immediately
swung to Uncle Steve's shoulder.
"You're only a bit of thistle-down. I could toss you up in the sky, and
you could sit on the edge of a star. How would you like that?"
"I'd ravver stay here," said Rosy Posy, nestling contentedly on her
perch. "'Sides, I must be here for Kismus to-morrow."
"Oh, is Christmas to-morrow? How could I have