A Budget of Christmas Tales by Charles Dickens Part 26
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He might have said more; but the Bells, the old familiar Bells, his own dear, constant, steady friends, the Chimes, began to ring the joy-peals for a New Year; so l.u.s.tily, so merrily, so happily, so gayly, that he leapt upon his feet, and broke the spell that bound him.
"And whatever you do, father," said Meg, "don't eat tripe again without asking some doctor whether it's likely to agree with you; for how you _have_ been going on, Good gracious!"
She was working with her needle at the little table by the fire, dressing her simple gown with ribbons for her wedding. So quietly happy, so blooming and youthful, so full of beautiful promise, that he uttered a great cry as if it were an Angel in his house; then flew to clasp her in his arms.
But he caught his feet in the newspaper, which had fallen on the hearth, and somebody came rus.h.i.+ng in between them.
"No!" cried the voice of this same somebody; a generous and jolly voice it was. "Not even you. Not even you. The first kiss of Meg in the New Year is mine. Mine! I have been waiting outside the house this hour to hear the Bells and claim it. Meg, my precious prize, a happy year! A life of happy years, my darling wife!"
And Richard smothered her with kisses.
You never in all your life saw anything like Trotty after this. I don't care where you have lived or what you have seen, you never in all your life saw anything at all approaching him! He sat down in his chair and beat his knees and cried; he sat down in his chair and beat his knees and laughed; he sat down in his chair and beat his knees and laughed and cried together; he got out of his chair and hugged Meg; he got out of his chair and hugged Richard; he got out of his chair and hugged them both at once; he kept running up to Meg and squeezing her fresh face between his hands and kissing it, going from her backward not to lose sight of it, and running up again like a figure in a magic lantern; and whatever he did, he was constantly sitting himself down in this chair, and never stopping in it for one single moment, being--that's the truth--beside himself with joy.
"And to-morrow's your wedding-day, my pet!" cried Trotty. "Your real, happy wedding-day!"
"To-day!" cried Richard, shaking hands with him. "To-day. The Chimes are ringing in the New Year. Hear them!"
They WERE ringing! Bless their st.u.r.dy hearts, they WERE ringing! Great Bells as they were; melodious, deep-mouthed, n.o.ble Bells; cast in no common metal; made by no common founder; when had they ever chimed like that before?
"But to-day, my pet," said Trotty. "You and Richard had some words to-day."
"Because he's such a bad fellow, father," said Meg. "An't you, Richard?
Such a headstrong, violent man! He'd have made no more of speaking his mind to that great Alderman, and putting _him_ down I don't know where, than he would of--"
"--Kissing Meg," suggested Richard. Doing it, too.
"No. Not a bit more," said Meg. "But I wouldn't let him, father. Where would have been the use?"
"Richard, my boy!" cried Trotty. "You was turned up Trumps originally, and Trumps you must be until you die! But you were crying by the fire to-night, my pet, when I came home. Why did you cry by the fire?"
"I was thinking of the years we've pa.s.sed together, father. Only that.
And thinking you might miss me, and be lonely."
Trotty was backing off to that extraordinary chair again, when the child, who had been awakened by the noise, came running in, half dressed.
"Why, here she is!" cried Trotty catching her up. "Here's little Lilian!
Ha, ha, ha! Here we are and here we go! O, here we are and here we go again! And here we are and here we go! And Uncle Will, too!" Stopping in his trot to greet him heartily. "O, Uncle Will, the vision that I've had to-night, through lodging you! O, Uncle Will, the obligations that you've laid me under by your coming, my good friend!"
Before Will Fern could make the least reply, a band of music burst into the room, attended by a flock of neighbors, screaming: "A Happy New Year, Meg!" "A Happy Wedding!" "Many of 'em!" and other fragmentary good wishes of that sort. The Drum (who was a private friend of Trotty's) then stepped forward and said:
"Trotty Veck, my boy! It's got about that your daughter is going to be married to-morrow. There an't a soul that knows you that don't wish you well, or that knows her and don't wish her well. Or that knows you both and don't wish you both all the happiness the New Year can bring. And here we are, to play it in accordingly."
"What a happiness it is, I'm sure," said Trotty, "to be so esteemed. How kind and neighborly you are! It's all along of my dear daughter. She deserves it."
At this moment a combination of prodigious sounds was heard outside, and a good-humored, comely woman of some fifty years of age, or thereabouts, came running in, closely followed by the marrow-bones and cleavers and the bells--not _the_ Bells, but a portable collection on a frame.
Trotty said: "It's Mrs. Chickenstalker!" And sat down and beat his knees again.
"Married, and not tell me, Meg!" cried the good woman. "Never! I couldn't rest on the last night of the Old Year without coming to wish you joy. I couldn't have done it, Meg. Not if I had been bed-ridden. So here I am."
"Mrs. Tugby," said Trotty, who had been going round and round her in an ecstasy--"I _should_ say Chickenstalker--bless your heart and soul! A happy New Year, and many of 'em! Mrs. Tugby," said Trotty, when he had saluted her--"I _should_ say Chickenstalker--this is William Fern and Lilian."
The worthy dame, to his surprise, turned very pale and very red.
"Not Lilian Fern, whose mother died in Dorsets.h.i.+re?" said she.
Her uncle answered "Yes," and meeting hastily they exchanged some hurried words together, of which the upshot was that Mrs. Chickenstalker shook him by both hands, saluted Trotty on his cheek again of her own free will, and took the child to her capacious breast.
"Will Fern," said Trotty, pulling on his right-hand m.u.f.fler. "Not the friend that you was hoping to find?"
"Ay," returned Will, putting a hand on each of Trotty's shoulders. "And like to prove a'most as good a friend, if that can be, as one I found."
"O!" said Trotty. "Please to play up there. Will you have the goodness?"
Had Trotty dreamed? Or are his joys and sorrows, and the actors in them, but a dream; himself a dream; the teller of this tale a dreamer, waking but now? If it be so, O listener, dear to him in all his visions, try to bear in mind the stern realities from which these shadows come; and in your sphere--none is too wide and none too limited for such an end--endeavor to correct, improve and soften them. So may the New Year be a happy one to you, happy to many more whose happiness depends on you! So may each year be happier than the last, and not the meanest of our brethren or sisterhood debarred their rightful share in what our great Creator formed them to enjoy.
BILLY'S SANTA CLAUS EXPERIENCE.
BY CORNELIA REDMOND.
Of course I don't believe in any such person as Santa Claus, but Tommy does. Tommy is my little brother, aged six. Last Christmas I thought I'd make some fun for the young one by playing Santa Claus, but as always happens when I try to amuse anybody I jes' got myself into trouble.
I went to bed pretty early on Christmas Eve so as to give my parents a chance to get the presents out of the closet in mamma's room, where they had been locked up since they were bought. I kep' my clo'es on except my shoes, and put my nightgown over them so as I'd look white if any of them came near me. Then I waited, pinchin' myself to keep awake. After a while papa came into the room with a lot of things that he dumped on Tommy's bed. Then mamma came in and put some things on mine and in our two stockings that were hung up by the chimney. Then they both went out very quiet, and soon all the lights went out too.
I kep' on pinchin' myself and waitin' for a time, and then when I was sure that everybody was asleep I got up. The first thing I went into was my sister's room and got her white fur rug that mamma gave her on her birthday, and her sealskin cape that was hanging on the closet door. I tied the cape on my head with shoestrings and it made a good big cap.
Then I put the fur rug around me and pinned it with big safety pins what I found on Tommy's garters. Then I got mamma's new sc.r.a.p-basket, trimmed with roses, what Mrs. Simmons 'broidered for the church fair and piled all of the kid's toys into it. I fastened it to my back with papa's suspenders, and then I started for the roof.
I hurt my fingers some opening the scuttle, but kept right on. It was snowing hard and I stood and let myself get pretty well covered with flakes. Then I crawled over to the chimney that went down into our room and climbed up on top of it. I had brought my bicycle lantern with me and I lighted it so as Tommy could see me when I came down the chimney into the room.
There did not seem to be any places inside the chimney where I could hold on by my feet, but the ceiling in our room was not very high and I had often jumped most as far, so I jes' let her go, and I suppose I went down. Anyway, I did not know about anything for a long time. Then I woke up all in the dark with my head feeling queer, and when I tried to turn over in bed I found I wasn't in bed at all, and then my arms and legs began to hurt terrible, mostly one arm that was doubled up. I tried to get up but I couldn't because my bones hurt so and I was terrible cold and there was nothing to stand on. I was jes' stuck. Then I began to cry, and pretty soon I heard mamma's voice saying to papa:
"Those must be sparrers that are making that noise in the chimney. Jes'
touch a match to the wood in the boys' fireplace."
I heard papa strike a light and then the wood began to crackle. Then, by jinks! it began to get hot and smoky and I screamed:
"Help! Murder! Put out that fire lest you want to burn me up!"
Then I heard papa stamping on the wood and mamma calling out:
"Where's Billy? Where is my chile?"
Next Tommy woke up and began to cry and everything was terrible, specially the pains all over me. Then papa called out very stern:
A Budget of Christmas Tales by Charles Dickens Part 26
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A Budget of Christmas Tales by Charles Dickens Part 26 summary
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