to attract attention.
The door was locked, but we easily got in by a window, lighted our lantern, and went to work. The schoolroom was small, and the old-fashioned furniture bore marks of hard usage; but everything was very snug, and the carefully swept floor and dusted desks bore testimony to the neatness of our small friend Maggie and her chum Minnie.
Our basket was full of mottoes made from letters cut out of cardboard and covered with lissome sprays of fir. They were, moreover, adorned with gorgeous pink and red tissue roses, which Carrie and Mabel had contributed. We had considerable trouble in getting them tacked up properly, but when we had succeeded, and had furthermore surmounted doors, windows, and blackboard with wreaths of green, the little Enderly Road schoolroom was quite transformed.
“It looks nice,” said Frank in a tone of satisfaction. “Hope Maggie will like it.”
We swept up the litter we had made, and then scrambled out of the window.
“I’d like to see Matt Dickey’s face when he comes Monday morning,” I laughed, as we struck into the back lands.
“I’d like to see that midget of a Maggie’s,” said Frank. “See here, Phil, let’s attend the examination Monday afternoon. I’d like to see our decorations in daylight.”
We decided to do so, and also thought of something else. Snow fell all day Sunday, so that, on Monday morning, sleighs had to be brought out. Frank and I drove down to the store and invested a considerable share of our spare cash in a varied assortment of knick-knacks. After dinner we drove through to the Enderly Road schoolhouse, tied our horse in a quiet spot, and went in. Our arrival created quite a sensation for, as a rule, Blackburn Hillites did not patronize Enderly Road functions. Miss Davis, the pale, tired-looking little teacher, was evidently pleased, and we were given seats of honour next to the minister on the platform.
Our decorations really looked very well, and were further enhanced by two large red geraniums in full bloom which, it appeared, Maggie had brought from home to adorn the teacher’s desk. The side benches were lined with Enderly Road parents, and all the pupils were in their best attire. Our friend Maggie was there, of course, and she smiled and nodded towards the wreaths when she caught our eyes.
The examination was a decided success, and the program which followed was very creditable indeed. Maggie and Minnie, in particular, covered themselves with glory, both in class and on the platform. At its close, while the minister was making his speech, Frank slipped out; when the minister sat down the door opened and Santa Claus himself, with big fur coat, ruddy mask, and long white beard, strode into the room with a huge basket on his arm, amid a chorus of surprised “Ohs” from old and young.
Wonderful things came out of that basket. There was some little present for every child there — tops, knives, and whistles for the boys, dolls and ribbons for the girls, and a “prize” box of candy for everybody, all of which Santa Claus presented with appropriate remarks. It was an exciting time, and it would have been hard to decide which were the most pleased, parents, pupils, or teacher.
In the confusion Santa Claus discreetly disappeared, and school was dismissed. Frank, having tucked his toggery away in the sleigh, was waiting for us outside, and we were promptly pounced upon by Maggie and Minnie, whose long braids were already adorned with the pink silk ribbons which had been their gifts.
“You decorated the school,” cried Maggie excitedly. “I know you did. I told Minnie it was you the minute I saw it.”
“You’re dreaming, child,” said Frank.
“Oh, no, I’m not,” retorted Maggie shrewdly, “and wasn’t Matt Dickey mad this morning! Oh, it was such fun. I think you are two real nice boys and so does Minnie — don’t you Minnie?”
Minnie nodded gravely. Evidently Maggie did the talking in their partnership.
“This has been a splendid examination,” said Maggie, drawing a long breath. “Real Christmassy, you know. We never had such a good time before.”
“Well, it has paid, don’t you think?” asked Frank, as we drove home.
“Rather,” I answered.
It did “pay” in other ways than the mere pleasure of it. There was always a better feeling between the Roaders and the Hillites thereafter. The big brothers of the little girls, to whom our Christmas surprise had been such a treat, thought it worthwhile to bury the hatchet, and quarrels between the two villages became things of the past.
Aunt Cyrilla’s Christmas Basket
When Lucy Rose met Aunt Cyrilla coming downstairs, somewhat flushed and breathless from her ascent to the garret, with a big, flat-covered basket hanging over her plump arm, she gave a little sigh of despair. Lucy Rose had done her brave best for some years — in fact, ever since she had put up her hair and lengthened her skirts — to break Aunt Cyrilla of the habit of carrying that basket with her every time she went to Pembroke; but Aunt Cyrilla still insisted on taking it, and only laughed at what she called Lucy Rose’s “finicky notions.” Lucy Rose had a horrible, haunting idea that it was extremely provincial for her aunt always to take the big basket, packed full of country good things, whenever she went to visit Edward and Geraldine. Geraldine was so stylish, and might think it queer; and then Aunt Cyrilla always would carry it on her arm and give cookies and apples and molasses taffy out of it to every child she encountered and, just as often as not, to older folks too. Lucy Rose, when she went to town with Aunt Cyrilla, felt chagrined over this — all of which goes to prove that Lucy was as yet very young and had a great deal to learn in this world.
That troublesome worry over what Geraldine would think nerved her to make a protest in this instance.
“Now, Aunt C’rilla,” she pleaded, “you’re surely not going to take that funny old basket to Pembroke this time — Christmas Day and all.”
“‘Deed and ‘deed I am,” returned Aunt Cyrilla briskly, as she put it on the table and proceeded to dust it out. “I never went to see Edward and Geraldine since they were married that I didn’t take a basket of good things along with me for them, and I’m not going to stop now. As for it’s being Christmas, all the more reason. Edward is always real glad to get some of the old farmhouse goodies. He says they beat city cooking all hollow, and so they do.”
“But it’s so countrified,” moaned Lucy Rose.
“Well, I am countrified,” said Aunt Cyrilla firmly, “and so are you. And what’s more, I don’t see that it’s anything to be ashamed of. You’ve got some real silly pride about you, Lucy Rose. You’ll grow out of it in time, but just now it is giving you a lot of trouble.”
“The basket is a lot of trouble,” said Lucy Rose crossly. “You’re always mislaying it or afraid you will. And it does look so funny to be walking through the streets with that big, bulgy basket hanging on your arm.”
“I’m not a mite worried about its looks,” returned Aunt Cyrilla calmly. “As for its being a trouble, why, maybe it is, but I have that, and other people have the pleasure of it. Edward and Geraldine don’t need it — I know that — but there may be those that will. And if it hurts your feelings to walk ‘longside of a countrified old lady with a countrified basket, why, you can just fall behind, as it were.”
Aunt
