Christmas gold, p.460
Christmas Gold, page 460
"A shawl and hood and gloves and a dress! Why, I never had so many things at once, I believe; and how hard you must all have worked! I don't see how you could save so much money!"
"It's better than living with Mrs. Van Wyck," returned Florence with pardonable pride. "Embroidering is real pretty work, and it pays well. Mrs. Howard has asked me to do some for a friend of hers."
"You're a wonder, Florence, to be sure. I can't see how you do 'em all so nice. But my fingers are old and clumsy."
"They know how to make pies and doughnuts," said Kit, as if that was the main thing, after all.
They went to work at the dinner. It was to be a grand feast. Joe kept the fire brisk; while Hal waited upon Granny, and remembered the ingredients that went to make "tip-top" dressing.
"It is a pity you were not a Frenchman," said Florence. "You would make such a handy cook."
Hal laughed, his cheeks as red as roses.
"I couldn't keep house without him," appended Granny.
There was a savory smell of roasting goose, the flavor of thyme and onions, which the children loved dearly. Charlie and Kit went out to have a good run, and came back hungry as bears, they declared. Joe went off to see some of the boys, and compare gifts. Though more than one new sled or nice warm overcoat gave his heart a little twinge, he was too gay and happy to feel sad very long; and, when he had a royal ride down hill on the bright sleds that flashed along like reindeers, he returned very well content.
Florence sighed a little as she arranged the table. Three kinds of dishes, and some of them showing their age considerably. If they were all white it wouldn't be so bad. She did so love beauty!
But when the goose, browned in the most delicious manner, graced the middle dish, the golden squash and snowy mound of potatoes, and the deep wine color of the cranberries lent their contrast, it was quite a picture, after all. And when the host of eager faces had clustered round it, one would hardly have noticed any lack. They were all in the gayest possible mood.
Hal did the carving. The goose was young and tender, and he disappeared with marvellous celerity.
Wings, drumsticks, great juicy slices with crisp skin, dressing in abundance; and how they did eat! For a second helping they had to demolish the rack; and Charlie wasn't sure but picking bones was the most fun of all.
"Hal, you had better go into the poultry business," said Joe, stopping in the midst of a spoonful of cranberry.
"I've been thinking of it," was the reply.
"I should think he was in it," said Charlie slyly.
Joe laughed.
"Good for you, Charlie. They must feed you on knives at your house, you're so sharp. But I have heard of people being too smart to live long, so take warning."
Charlie gave her head a toss.
"Why wouldn't it be good?" pursued Joe. "People do make money by it; and I suppose, before very long, we must begin to think about money."
"Don't to-day" said Granny.
"No, we will not worry ourselves," rejoined Hal.
One after another drew long breaths, as if their appetites were diminishing. Dot sat back in her high chair, her hands and face showing signs of the vigorous contest, but wonderfully content.
"Now the pie!" exclaimed Joe.
Florence gathered up the bones and the plates, giving Tabby, who sat in the corner washing her face, a nice feast. Then came on the Christmas pie, which was pronounced as great a success as the goose.
"Oh, dear!" sighed Joe. "One unfortunate thing about eating is, that it takes away your appetite."
"It is high time!" added Florence.
They wouldn't allow Granny to wash a dish, but made her sit in state while they brought about order and cleanliness once more. A laughable time they had; for Joe wiped some dishes, and Charlie scoured one knife.
Afterward they had a game at blind-man's-buff. Such scampering and such screams would have half frightened any passer-by. They coaxed Granny to get up and join; and at last, to please Hal, she consented.
If Joe fancied he could catch her easily, he was much mistaken. She had played blind-man's-buff too many times in her young days. Such turning and doubling and slipping away was fine to see; and Charlie laughed so, that Joe, much chagrined, took her prisoner instead.
"Granny, you beat every thing!" he said. "Now, Charlie."
Charlie made a dive at the cupboard, and then started for the window, spinning round in such a fashion that they all had to run; but even she was not fleet enough.
After that, Kit and Florence essayed; and Joe, manœuvring in their behalf, fell into the trap himself, at which they all set up a shout.
"I'm bound to have Granny this time," he declared.
Sure enough, though he confessed afterwards that he peeped a little; but Granny was tired with so much running: and, as the short afternoon drew to a close, they gathered round the fire, and cracked nuts, washing them down with apples, as they had no cider.
"It's been a splendid Christmas!" said Charlie, with such a yawn that she nearly made the top of her head an island.
"I wonder if we'll all be here next year?" said Joe, rather more solemnly than his wont.
"I hope so," responded Granny, glancing over the clustering faces. Dot sat on Hal's knee, looking bright as a new penny. She, too, had enjoyed herself amazingly.
But presently the spirit of fun seemed to die out, and they began to sing some hymns and carols. The tears came into Granny's eyes, as the sweet, untrained voices blended so musically. Ah, if they could always stay children! Foolish wish; and yet Granny would have toiled for them to her latest breath.
"Here's long life and happiness!" exclaimed Joe, with a flourish of the old cocoanut dipper. "A merry Christmas next year, and may we all be there to see!"
Ah, Joe, it will be many a Christmas before you are all there again.
Chapter V.
Good Luck for Joe
Table of Contents
"Hooray!" said Joe, swinging the molasses jug over his head as if it had been a feather, or the stars and stripes on Fourth of July morning.
"O Joe!"
"Flossy, my darling, you are a poet sure; only poetry, like an alligator, must have feet, or it will lose its reputation. Here's your 'lasses, Granny; and what do you think? Something has actually happened to me! Oh, my! do guess quick!"
"You've been taken with the 'lirium"—and there Charlie paused, having been wrecked on a big word.
"Delirium tremenjous. Remember to say it right hereafter, Charlie."
Charlie looked very uncertain.
"Maybe it's the small-pox," said Kit, glancing up in amazement.
"Good for you!" and Joe applauded with two rather blue thumb-nails. "But it's a fact. Guess, Granny. I'm on the high road to fortune. Hooray!"
With that, Joe executed his usual double-shuffle, and a revolution on his axis hardly laid down in the planetary system. He would have said that it was because he was not a heavenly body.
"O Joe, if you were like any other boy!"
"Jim Fisher, for instance,—red-headed, squint-eyed, and freckled."
"He can't help it," said Hal mildly. "He is real nice too."
"You're not going"—began Granny with a gasp.
"Yes, I'm going"—was the solemn rejoinder.
"Not to sea!" and there came a quick blur in Hal's eyes.
"Oh, bother, no! You're all splendid at guessing, and ought to have a prize leather medal. It's in Mr. Terry's store; and I shall have a dollar and a half a week! Good by, Mr. Fielder. Adieu, beloved grammar; and farewell, most fragrant extract of cube-root, as well as birch-oil. O Granny! I'm happy as a big sunflower. On the high road to fame and fortune,—think of it!"
"Is it really true?" asked Florence.
"Then, I won't need to go for any thing," appended Charlie.
"No; but you'll have to draw water, and split kindlings, and hunt up Mrs. Green's cows."
"In Mr. Terry's store! What wonderful luck, Joe!"
Granny's delight was overwhelming. All along she had experienced a sad misgiving, lest Joe should take a fancy to the sea in real earnest.
"Yes. It's just splendid. Steve Anthony's going to the city to learn a trade. He had a letter from his uncle to-day, saying that he might start right away. I thought a minute: then said I, 'Steve, who's coming here?' 'I don't know,' said he. 'Mr. Terry'll have to look round.' 'I'm your boy,' said I, 'and no mistake.' And with that I rushed in to Mr. Terry, and asked him. He gave me some columns of figures to add up, and questioned me a little, and finally told me that I might come on Monday, and we'd try for a week."
"There's Joe's fortune," said Hal, "and a good one too. You will not need to go to sea."
There was an odd and knowing twinkle in Joe's merry hazel eye, which showed to an observing person that he was not quite sound on the question.
"Tate Dotty;" and two little hands were outstretched.
"O Dot! you're a fraud, and more trouble to me than all my money."
With that, Joe sat her up on his shoulder, and she laughed gleefully.
Granny lighted a candle, and began to prepare for supper. While Charlie set the table, Granny brought out the griddle, and commenced frying some Indian cakes in a most tempting manner. Joe dropped on an old stool, and delighted Dot with a vigorous ride to Banbury Cross.
Kit stood beside him, inhaling the fragrance of the cakes, and wondering at the dexterity with which Granny turned them on a slender knife.
"I don't see how you do it. Suppose you should let 'em fall?"
"Ho!" said Charlie, with a sniff of disdain. "Women always know how."
"But they can't come up to the miners," suggested Joe. "They keep house for themselves; and their flapjacks are turned,—as big as Granny's griddle here."
"One cake?"
"Yes. That's where the art comes in."
"They must take a shovel," said Charlie.
"No, nor a knife, nor any thing."
With that Joe shook his head mysteriously.
"With their fingers," announced Kit triumphantly.
"My mother used to bake them in a frying-pan," said Granny. "Then she'd twirl it round and round, and suddenly throw the cake over."
"There!"
Kit gave a nod as much as to say, "Beat that if you can."
"That isn't a circumstance," was Joe's solemn comment.
"But how then?" asked Charlie, who was wound up to a pitch of curiosity.
"Why, they bake them in a pan too, and twirl it round and round, and then throw it up and run out of doors. The cake goes up chimney, and comes down on the raw side, all right, you see, and drops into the pan before you can count six black beans."
"Oh, I don't believe it!" declared Charlie. "Do you, Granny?"
"They'd have to be pretty quick," was the response.
"You see, a woman never could do it, Charlie," Joe continued in a tormenting manner.
"But, Charlie, a miner's cabin is not very high; and the chimney is just a great hole in the roof," explained Hal.
"'Tory, 'tory," said Dot, who was not interested in the culinary art.
"O Dotty! you'll have a piece worn off the end of my tongue, some day. It's high time you were storing your mind with useful facts; so, if you please, we will have a little English history."
"What nonsense, Joe! As if she could understand;" and Florence looked up from her pretty worsted crocheting.
"To be sure she can. Dot comes of a smart family. Now, Midget;" and with that he perched her up on his knee.
Charlie and Kit began to listen.
"'When good King Arthur ruled the land,
He was a goodly king:
He stole three pecks of barley-meal
To make a bag pudding.'"
"I don't believe it," burst out Charlie. "I was reading about King Arthur"—
"And he was a splendid cook. Hear his experience,—
'A bag pudding the king did make,
And stuffed it well with plums;
And in it put great lumps of fat,
As big as my two thumbs.'"
Dot thought the laugh came in here, and threw back her head, showing her little white teeth.
"It really wasn't King Arthur," persisted Charlie.
"It is a fact handed down to posterity. No wonder England became great under so wise and economical a rule; for listen—
'The king and queen did eat thereof,
And noblemen beside;
And what they could not eat that night,
The queen next morning fried,'—
as we do sometimes. Isn't it wonderful?"
"Hunnerful," ejaculated Dot, wide-eyed.
"I hope you'll take a lesson, and"—
"Come to supper," said Granny.
Irrepressible Charlie giggled at the ending.
They did not need a second invitation, but clustered around eagerly.
"I'm afraid there won't be any left to fry up in the morning," said Joe solemnly.
After the youngsters were off to bed that evening, Joe began to talk about his good fortune again.
"And a dollar and a half a week, regularly, is a good deal," he said. "Why, I can get a spick and span new suit of clothes for twelve dollars,—two months, that would be; and made at a tailor's too."
"The two months?" asked Florence.
"Oh! you know what I mean."
"You will get into worse habits than ever," she said with a wise elder-sister air.
"I don't ever expect to be a grand gentleman."
"But you might be a little careful."
"Flo acts as if she thought we were to have a great fortune left us by and by, and wouldn't be polished enough to live in state."
"The only fortune we shall ever have will come from five-finger land," laughed Hal good-naturedly.
"And I'm going to make a beginning. I do think it was a streak of luck. I am old enough to do something for myself."
"I wish I could find such a chance," said Hal, with a soft sigh.
"Your turn will come presently," Granny answered, smiling tenderly.
Joe went on with his air-castles. The sum of money looked so large in his eyes. He bought out half of Mr. Terry's store, and they were to live like princes,—all on a dollar and a half a week.
Granny smiled, and felt proud enough of him. If he would only keep to business, and not go off to sea.
So on Friday Joe piled up his books, and turned a somerset over them, and took a farewell race with the boys. They were all sorry enough to lose him. Mr. Fielder wished him good luck.
"You will find that work is not play," he said by way of caution.
Early Monday morning Joe presented himself bright as a new button. He had insisted upon wearing his best suit,—didn't he mean to have another soon? for the school clothes were all patches. He had given his hair a Sunday combing, which meant that he used a comb instead of his fingers. Mr. Terry was much pleased with his promptness.
A regular country store, with groceries on one side and dry goods on the other, a little sashed cubby for a post-office, and a corner for garden and farm implements. There was no liquor kept on the premises; for the mild ginger and root beer sold in summer could hardly be placed in that category.
Joe was pretty quick, and by noon had mastered many of the intricacies. Old Mr. Terry was in the store part of the time,—"father" as everybody called him. He was growing rather childish and careless, so his son instructed Joe to keep a little watch over him. Then he showed him how to harness the horse, and drove off with some bulky groceries that he was to take home.
"All things work together for good, sonny," said Father Terry with a sleepy nod, as he sat down by the stove.
"What things?"
"All things," with a sagacious shake of the head.
This was Father Terry's favorite quotation, and he used it in season and out of season.
The door opened, and Mrs. Van Wyck entered. She gave Joe a sharp look.
"So you're here?" with a kind of indignant sniff.
"Yes. What will you have?"
There was a twinkle in Joe's eye, and an odd little pucker to his lips, as if he were remembering something.
"You needn't be so impudent."
"I?" and Joe flushed in surprise.
"Yes. You're a saucy lot, the whole of you."
With that Mrs. Van Wyck began to saunter round.
"What's the price of these cranberries?"
"Eighteen cents," in his most respectful tone.
"They're dear, dreadful dear. Over to Windsor you can get as many as you can carry for a shillin' a quart."
Joe was silent.
"Say sixteen."
"I couldn't," replied Joe. "If Mr. Terry were here"—
"There's Father Terry." She raised her voice a little. "Father Terry, come and look at these cranberries. They're a poor lot, and you'll do well to get a shillin' a quart."
Joe ran his fingers through them. Plump and crimson, very nice he thought for so late in the season.
"I don't s'pose I'd get more'n two good quarts out of three. They'll spile on your hands. Come now, be reasonable."
Father Terry looked undecided. Joe watched him, thinking in his heart that he ought not fall a penny.
"Say a shillin'."
The old man shook his head.
"Well, fifteen cents. I want three quarts, and I won't give a penny more."
The old gentleman studied Joe's face, which was full of perplexity.
"Well," he said with some reluctance.
Joe measured them. Mrs. Van Wyck gave each quart a "settle" by shaking it pretty hard, and Joe had to put in another large handful.
"Now I want some cheese."
The pound weighed two ounces over.
"You can throw that in. Mr. Terry always does."
"How much?"
"Twenty-three cents."
"No: you can't fool me, youngster. I never pay more than twenty cents."
"I'm sure Mr. Terry told me that it was twenty-three."
Father was appealed to again, and of course went over to the domineering enemy.
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