On Christmas Day in the Morning | Page 4

silly boy said I was
to hang mine, too. Goodness knows what he'll find to put into it that'll
fit, 'less it's a poker."
They smiled kindly at her, wished her good night, and went back into
their own room. The little episode had aroused no suspicions. It was
very like Guy's affectionate boyishness.
"I presume he'll be down," said Mrs. Fernald, as she limped quietly
about the 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