On Christmas Day in the Morning | Page 4

room, making ready for bed. "Don't you remember how he surprised us last year? I'm sorry the others can't come. Of course, I sent them all the invitation, just as usual--I shall always do that--but it is pretty snowy weather, and I suppose they don't quite like to risk it."
Presently, as she was putting out the light, she heard Marietta at the door.
"Mis' Fernald, Peter Piper's got back in this part o' the house, somehow, and I can't lay hands on him. Beats all how cute that cat is. Seem's if he knows when I'm goin' to put him out in the wood-shed. I don't think likely he'll do no harm, but I thought I'd tell you, so 'f you heard any queer noises in the night you'd know it was Peter."
"Very well, Marietta"--the soft voice came back to the schemer on the other side of the door. "Peter will be all right, wherever he is. I shan't be alarmed if I hear him."
"All right, Mis' Fernald; I just thought I'd let you know," and the guileful one went grinning away.
* * * * *
There was a long silence in the quiet sleeping-room. Then, out of the darkness, came this little colloquy:
"Emeline, you aren't getting to sleep."
"I--know I'm not, John. I--Christmas Eve keeps one awake, somehow. It always did."
"Yes.... I don't suppose the children realise at all, do they?"
"Oh, no--oh, no! They don't realise--they never will, till--they're here themselves. It's all right. I think--I think at least Guy will be down to-morrow, don't you?"
"I guess maybe he will." Then, after a short silence. "Mother--you've got me, you know. You know--you've always got me, dear."
"Yes." She would not let him hear the sob in her voice. She crept close, and spoke cheerfully in his best ear. "And you've got me, Johnny Boy!"
"Thank the Lord, I have!"
So, counting their blessings, they fell asleep at last. But, even in sleep, one set of lashes was strangely wet.
* * * * *
"Christopher Jinks, what a drift!"
"Lucky we weren't two hours later."
"Sh-h--they might hear us."
"Nan, stop laughing, or I'll drop a snowball down your neck!"
"Here, Carol, give me your hand. I'll plough you through. Large bodies move slowly, of course, but go elbows first and you'll get there."
"Gee whiz! Can't you get that door open? I'll bet it's frozen fast."
A light showed inside the kitchen. The storm-door swung open, propelled by force from inside. A cautious voice said low: "That the Fernald family?"
A chorus of whispers came back at Miss Marietta Cooley:
"Yes, yes--let us in, we're freezing."
"You bet we're the Fernald family--every man-Jack of us--not one missing."
"Oh, Marietta--you dear old thing!"
"Hurry up--this is their side of the house."
"Sh-h-h--"
"Carol, your sh-h-ishes would wake the dead!"
[Illustration: "STUMBLING OVER THEIR OWN FEET AND BUNDLES ... THE CREW POURED INTO THE WARM KITCHEN"]
Stumbling over their own feet and bundles in the endeavour to be preternaturally quiet, the crew poured into the warm kitchen. Bearded Oliver, oldest of the clan; stout Edson, big Ralph, tall and slender Guy--and the two daughters of the house, Carolyn, growing plump and rosy at thirty; Nan, slim and girlish at twenty-four--they were all there. Marietta heaved a sigh of content as she looked them over.
"Well, I didn't really think you'd get here--all of you. Thank the Lord, you have. I s'pose you're tearin' hungry, bein' past 'leven. If you think you can eat quiet as cats, I'll feed you up, but if you're goin' to make as much rumpus as you did comin' round the corner o' the wood-shed I'll have to pack you straight off to bed up the back stairs."
They pleaded for mercy and hot food. They got it--everything that could be had that would diffuse no odour of cookery through the house. Smoking clam-broth, a great pot of baked beans, cold meats, and jellies--they had no reason to complain of their reception. They ate hungrily with the appetites of winter travel.
"Say, but this is great," exulted Ralph, the stalwart, consuming a huge wedge of mince pie with a fine disregard for any consequences that might overtake him. "This alone is worth it. I haven't eaten such pie in a century. What a jolly place this old kitchen is! Let's have a candy-pull to-morrow. I haven't been home Christmas in--let me see--by Jove, I believe it's six--seven--yes, seven years. Look here: there's been some excuse for me, but what about you people that live near?"
He looked accusingly about. Carolyn got up and came around to him. "Don't talk about it to-night," she whispered. "We haven't any of us realised how long it's been."
"We'll get off to bed now," Guy declared, rising. "I can't get over the feeling that they may catch us down here. If either of them should want some hot water or anything--"
"The dining-room door's bolted," Marietta assured him, "but