The Chronicles of Rhoda Part 9

"Norah, what if you were to put a blue ribbon about its neck?" I suggested.

She went into fits of laughter and hugged me.

"To think that you've niver even seen a pig!" she cried. "To think of it dressed up! The innocent!"

It was on that same night that with a great parade of secrecy she showed me something hidden in the knife tray. It was a doll's hat made of blue velvet, and trimmed with lovely white feathers, such as came out of the pillows when Norah thumped them in the morning. Right in front there was a big bra.s.s pin that shone like gold. Norah watched me while I examined the hat, breathlessly. She seemed much pleased with my admiration, and turned it around and around on one of her big fingers that I might decide on the prettiest side, which was, of course, the one with the bra.s.s pin.

"But whom is it for, Norah?" I asked.

"It's for a small frind of mine," she explained, with an air of deep mystery.

It was very strange. The dolls and the picture-book, even the hat, were all for somebody's little friend, never for me.

"I wonder what I'll get?" I said, weakly.

"Why don't you ask Santa Claus, dear?" Norah inquired.

I looked at her quickly. That was Evelyn's friend.

"Who is he, Norah?" I questioned.

She threw up her arms in the air.

"And have I niver told you about him?" she cried. "The quare ould chap that lives up in the chimney!"

"Up in the chimney, Norah! Isn't he hot?" I demanded, in astonishment.

"Faith, there's no fire could warm him," Norah answered, lowering her voice mysteriously.

Then her finger went up in apparent alarm.

"Hus.h.!.+ He's listening! He wants to know which are the good byes and gurrls. When Christmas morning comes the good ones will get prisents.

For he owns all the prisents in the world! And the bad ones will get nought, barring switches!"

I crept a little closer to Norah, and took a firm hold on her ap.r.o.n. It was very sudden news. Had I always been good?

"But the good childer," Norah went on, with a rea.s.suring smile, "and you are good, Rhoda, have only to ask for whativer they want at the parlor fireplace!"

I could not keep away from the fireplace after that. Every time that I went into the parlor I peeped up the black bricks, and though I never saw anything but the blue sky far, far above, I felt quite sure that he was there. I made little scenes in my mind of the things which I should say to him, and the things which he would say to me, after he became convinced of my goodness. In the meanwhile I was good, oh, so good! and best of all in the parlor. Later, I meant to ask for the queen doll, and the pretty book, and the little hat trimmed with the white feathers and the beautiful bra.s.s pin. Even if he could not give me just those ones, because they were promised, he might give me others. I felt that he could manage it in some way, if he were pleased with me. It was nice to know that he was partial to good girls.

Once I went so far as to speak his name.

"Mr. Santa Claus!" I called, politely, for it was best to be polite.

"Oh, please, Mr. Santa Claus!"

A big piece of soot dropped down over the burning wood right at my feet.

That was his way of showing that he heard! Then I was frightened, and would have run away but for a sudden sound. Somebody was crying! It was grandmother up in the corner of the sofa with the Bible on her knees.

She did not see me at all. She did not know that I was there. I put my arms around her neck, and she looked up and talked to me quite as if I were a grown person.

"I want him so badly, Rhoda!" she said.

"Who is it, grandma?" I whispered.

"My little boy, Rhoda. He went away and he never came back again. I was not patient enough with him. Always be patient, my dear."

"Don't you cry, grandma," I said. "I'll get him back, dear grandma, if you won't cry."

She looked at me for a moment as if she almost believed me. I nodded confidently at her. I knew. There was a way, but only little Rhoda had thought of it as yet. If Norah had only told me sooner about Santa Claus!

After she had dried her eyes, and kissed me, and gone to her room, I put my plan into execution. I told Santa Claus all about it up the black bricks. He did not answer, but the soot fell softly, so I knew that he heard and would remember. It was no longer a question of dolls or books or even hats. I felt that the one thing which I wanted most in the world was just for grandmother's little boy to come home.

I did not hang up my stocking on Christmas eve. The twins hung up theirs,--two little podgy stockings side by side at the mantel-piece.

Even quite a small stocking will hold candy, and I have known times when the very nicest present of all would be away down at the toe. My little Susan Suns.h.i.+ne, my littlest doll, came in the toe. I found her after I thought everything was out. I wondered whether d.i.c.k or Trixie would find a little Susan Suns.h.i.+ne.

"Why don't sister hang up her stocking?" d.i.c.k asked, anxiously.

"Is she bad?" Trixie inquired.

"I'm not bad," I declared, hastily, from my bed in the next room.

"Why don't you hang up your stocking, dear?" mother questioned.

"I don't want anything," I answered, miserably.

Afterwards I heard her talking to my father.

"I don't know what to make of Rhoda," I heard her say. "She won't hang up her stocking. I hope that she is not going to be sick. It would be dreadful to have one of the children sick at Christmas time. Her head is quite hot."

I felt my head. It was hot.

I lay awake for a long time thinking of things. I considered the twins and their stockings, and grandmother's delight in the morning. Somehow I had to think a great deal about grandmother in order to keep myself from crying. Grandmother did not know what I was doing for her. The little boy must be getting ready to come right now. Off in the distance I could hear sleigh-bells, perhaps his sleigh-bells, now near, now far away, and in the pauses between the soft throb of the organ over in the church, and a voice singing a hymn, the one that I knew about angels and the manger with the Child. It was very beautiful. I sighed a little, sleepily. After all I was happy.

Then in a moment it was day, bright day, and in the next room there was a confused murmur of voices and a hurried scamper of feet. d.i.c.k shouted excitedly. Somebody beat a drum with a low rumble like soldiers, not as a little boy would beat a drum, but as my father might if he were teaching a little boy. Somebody marched pitapat about the room, and somebody danced by the fireplace.

"Go back to your cribs," my mother cried, uneasily. "You'll get your death of cold!"

On the chair by the side of my bed there was a stocking, with queer k.n.o.bby places, which meant oranges, and square places, which meant candy. Right on top there was a blue velvet hat trimmed with white feathers, and against the stocking there leant a picture-book. I looked at them incredulously. Santa Claus had not understood! Or else he had thought that I loved my presents better than I did my grandmother! I kissed the hat and the picture-book twice, and then I put them sternly back on the chair. I knew what I should do. Santa Claus would find that I meant what I said.

"Did you like the picture-book, Rhoda?" my father inquired at the breakfast table.

"Yes," I answered, hurriedly.

Norah smiled at me from the shelter of the kitchen door.

"How did my little frind like the hat?" she asked, in a stage whisper.

It seemed to me that there were some subjects which would not bear talking about.

They felt my head a great many times that morning, and even looked at my tongue.