The Christmas Book. Enid blyton

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The Christmas Book - Enid blyton

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      “All right, Benny, you hang it up,” said Mother, still wondering how it was that Benny’s stocking had no foot. “It’s nice to keep up these old Christmas customs. There are such a lot of them.”

      “There are, aren’t there?” said Susan. “I wonder how they all began. Mother, why do we hang up our stockings—who first thought of that?”

      “I really don’t know,” said Mother.

      “And why do we put up holly and mistletoe?” said Ann. “Holly’s so prickly—it’s a silly thing to put up really, I think. And why do we kiss under the mistletoe?”

      “Oh dear—I don’t really know,” said Mother. “These customs are so very very old—goodness knows how they began!”

      “Well, I know how Christmas began,” said Ann. “It’s the birthday of the little Christ. Mother, are you going to tell us the Christmas story, as you always do, on Christmas Eve?”

      “Would you like me to?” said Mother.

      “Oh yes!” said all the children at once.

      “Mother, that’s one of our customs,” said Susan. “It’s not a very old one, not nearly as old as the customs we keep at Christmas time—but it’s a very nice family custom of ours, so we’ll go on with it.”

      “And we’ll choose carols and sing them too,” said Ann. “I like carols better than hymns—they are much merrier, aren’t they?”

      “Very well,” said Mother. “We will keep up our little family custom this Christmas as usual—carols on Christmas Eve, and the Christmas story.”

      “And then off to bed and to sleep, whilst Santa Claus comes down the chimney, very secretly and quietly, to leave his presents!” said Ann.

      “It’s funny he should hate to be seen giving his presents,” said Peter. “We are always supposed to be asleep when he comes. Mother, who was Santa Claus, really?”

      “Well—I really don’t know,” said Mother. “What a lot of questions you ask me today. I keep saying ‘I don’t know, I don’t know.’ Do ask me a question I can answer now.”

      “Well—why is Christmas pudding called plum pudding?” asked Benny, at once. “There aren’t any plums in it.”

      “I don’t know that either,” said Mother. “I begin to think I am not at all clever.”

      “And what is the Yule log?” said Susan. “I am always hearing about Yule-tide and the Yule log, but I never know exactly what Yule means.”

      “Neither do I, really, except that it is another name for Christmas-time. You’d better ask Daddy all these questions when he comes home. He is cleverer than I am.”

      Now the trunks were unpacked, and were put up into the loft for four whole weeks. It was tea-time, and the children rushed downstairs to a lovely tea. Mother always had a special cake for the first day the children came home, and special biscuits.

      “I love the first few hours at home,” said Susan. “It’s all so deliciously new and exciting—then it gradually gets nice and familiar and homey. Mother, when are we going to begin the decorating?”

      “Tomorrow, if you like,” said Mother. “Our holly trees in the garden are full of berries this year—and the farmer has said you may go to the big oak trees in his field and cut some mistletoe for yourselves, if you like.”

      “But why should we go to the oak trees for mistletoe?” said Ann, in wonder. “Doesn’t mistletoe grow on its own bush or tree?”

      The others shouted with laughter. “There isn’t a mistletoe tree,” said Benny. “It only grows on other trees—oak trees, for instance, and apple-trees.”

      “How funny,” said Ann. “I’d like to see it.”

      “You shall, tomorrow,” said Mother. “Benny shall take you to the farmer’s field, and he can climb up and cut some mistletoe and throw it down for you.”

      “We’ll cut holly too, and bring stacks of it in,” said Susan. “And we’ll make some paper-chains, and get out the silver stars and bells we had last year, to hang down from the ceiling. Oh, we shall have fun!”

      “And what about the ornaments for the Christmas tree?” said Benny. “We’ll get those too. I hope there won’t be many broken, they’re so pretty and shiny.”

      “We’ll find the big silver star that goes at the very top of the tree,” said Susan, “and we’ll get out the little old fairy doll and put her under it. Mother, isn’t Christmas time lovely?”

      “It is,” said Mother. “Well, you children will have plenty to do these few days before Christmas, if you are going to do the decorating of the house, the dressing of the Christmas tree, the sending of cards, and the buying of presents.”

      “You’ll be busy too, won’t you, Mother?” said Ann. “You said you must boil the pudding again—and make the Christmas cake—and buy some crackers for us—and finish making some of your presents.”

      They finished their tea, and then they heard the sound of a key being put into the front door.

      “It’s Daddy!” cried Susan and Benny and rushed to welcome him.

      “Well, well, you’ve grown again!” said Daddy, hugging them both. “Have you got good school reports? Who’s going to help with the decorating tomorrow? I’ve got the day off, so I can take you all out to get holly and mistletoe!”

      “Oh, lovely!” cried Susan. “Yes, we’ve got good reports. I’m top of my form. Oh, Daddy, it’s lovely to be home for Christmas!”

      “Yes—Christmas is a proper family time,” said Daddy, hanging up his hat. “All the old customs to keep up, the old carols to sing, the old tales to tell!”

      “Well, I hope you know a lot about the old customs, Dick,” said Mother, kissing him. “These children have been pestering me with Christmas questions, and I can’t seem to answer any of them. I feel so stupid.”

      “I don’t feel like a lot of questions tonight,” said Daddy. “Tomorrow, perhaps.”

      And with that promise they settled down again. They all felt very happy. They were home together, beneath one roof. It would soon be Christmas, the season of goodwill, good cheer, and kindness.

      “Christ-mas,” said Susan, separating the two syllables. “I suppose it means Mass of Christ. What does ‘mass’ mean, in the word Christmas, Daddy?”

      “Feast or holiday,” said Daddy. “The Feast of Christ, a holiday in His honour. There is Michael-mas, too, and Candle-mas.”

      “Christ-mas is the nicest time of all,” said Susan. “People in olden times thought so too, didn’t they, Daddy,

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