IV
"BIRDS OF A FEATHER FLOCK TOGETHER"
Uncle Jack did really come on the twentieth. He was not detained bybusiness, nor did he get left behind nor snowed up, as frequentlyhappens in stories, and in real life too, I am afraid. The snow-stormcame also; and the turkey nearly died a natural and premature death fromovereating. Donald came, too; Donald, with a line of down upon his upperlip, and Greek and Latin on his tongue, and stores of knowledge in hishandsome head, and stories--bless me, you couldn't turn over a chipwithout reminding Donald of something that happened "at College." One orthe other was always at Carol's bedside, for they fancied her paler thanshe used to be, and they could not bear her out of sight. It was UncleJack, though, who sat beside her in the winter twilights. The room wasquiet, and almost dark, save for the snow-light outside, and theflickering flame of the fire, that danced over the "Sleeping Beauty's"face and touched the Fair One's golden locks with ruddier glory. Carol'shand (all too thin and white these latter days) lay close clasped inUncle Jack's, and they talked together quietly of many, many things.
"I want to tell you all about my plans for Christmas this year, UncleJack," said Carol, on the first evening of his visit, "because it willbe the loveliest one I ever had. The boys laugh at me for caring so muchabout it; but it isn't altogether because it is Christmas, nor becauseit is my birthday; but long, long ago, when I first began to be ill, Iused to think, the first thing when I waked on Christmas morning,'To-day is Christ's birthday--_and mine_!' I did not put the words closetogether, you know, because that made it seem too bold; but I firstsaid, 'Christ's birthday,' out loud, and then, in a minute, softly tomyself--'_and mine_!' 'Christ's birthday--_and mine_!' And so I do notquite feel about Christmas as other girls do. Mamma says she supposesthat ever so many other children have been born on that day. I oftenwonder where they are, Uncle Jack, and whether it is a dear thought tothem, too, or whether I am so much in bed, and so often alone, that itmeans more to me. Oh, I do hope that none of them are poor, or cold, orhungry; and I wish--I wish they were all as happy as I, because theyare really my little brothers and sisters. Now, Uncle Jack dear, I amgoing to try and make somebody happy every single Christmas that I live,and this year it is to be the 'Ruggleses in the rear.'"
"That large and interesting brood of children in the little house at theend of the back garden?"
"Yes; isn't it nice to see so many together?--and, Uncle Jack, why dothe big families always live in the small houses, and the small familiesin the big houses? We ought to call them the Ruggles children, ofcourse; but Donald began talking of them as the 'Ruggleses in the rear,'and Papa and Mamma took it up, and now we cannot seem to help it. Thehouse was built for Mr. Carter's coachman, but Mr. Carter lives inEurope, and the gentleman who rents his place for him doesn't care whathappens to it, and so this poor family came to live there. When theyfirst moved in, I used to sit in my window and watch them play in theirback yard; they are so strong, and jolly, and good-natured;--and then,one day, I had a terrible headache, and Donald asked them if they wouldplease not scream quite so loud, and they explained that they werehaving a game of circus, but that they would change and play 'Deaf andDumb Asylum' all the afternoon."
"Ha, ha, ha!" laughed Uncle Jack, "what an obliging family, to be sure!"
"Yes, we all thought it very funny, and I smiled at them from the windowwhen I was well enough to be up again. Now, Sarah Maud comes to her doorwhen the children come home from school, and if Mamma nods her head,'Yes,' that means 'Carol is very well,' and then you ought to hear thelittle Ruggleses yell,--I believe they try to see how much noise theycan make; but if Mamma shakes her head, 'No,' they always play at quietgames. Then, one day, 'Cary,' my pet canary, flew out of her cage, andPeter Ruggles caught her and brought her back, and I had him up here inmy room to thank him."
"Is Peter the oldest?"
"No; Sarah Maud is the oldest--she helps do the washing; and Peter isthe next. He is a dress-maker's boy."
"And which is the pretty little red-haired girl?"
"That's Kitty."
"And the fat youngster?"
"Baby Larry."
"And that--most freckled one?"
"Now, don't laugh--that's Peoria."
"Carol, you are joking."
"No, really, Uncle dear. She was born in Peoria; that's all."
"And is the next boy Oshkosh?"
"No," laughed Carol, "the others are Susan, and Clement, and Eily, andCornelius; they all look exactly alike, except that some of them havemore freckles than the others."
"How did you ever learn all their names?"
"Why, I have what I call a 'window-school.' It is too cold now; but inwarm weather I am wheeled out on my balcony, and the Ruggleses climb upand walk along our garden fence, and sit down on the roof of ourcarriage-house. That brings them quite near, and I tell them stories. OnThanksgiving Day they came up for a few minutes,--it was quite warm ateleven o'clock,--and we told each other what we had to be thankful for;but they gave such queer answers that Papa had to run away for fear oflaughing; and I couldn't understand them very well. Susan was thankfulfor '_trunks_,' of all things in the world; Cornelius, for 'horse-cars;'Kitty, for 'pork steak;' while Clem, who is very quiet, brightened upwhen I came to him, and said he was thankful for '_his lame puppy_.'Wasn't that pretty?"
"It might teach some of us a lesson, mightn't it, little girl?"
"That's what Mamma said. Now I'm going to give this whole Christmas tothe Ruggleses; and, Uncle Jack, I earned part of the money myself."
"You, my bird; how?"
"Well, you see, it could not be my own, own Christmas if Papa gave meall the money, and I thought to really keep Christ's birthday I ought todo something of my very own; and so I talked with Mamma. Of course shethought of something lovely; she always does: Mamma's head is justbrimming over with lovely thoughts,--all I have to do is ask, and outpops the very one I want. This thought was to let her write down, justas I told her, a description of how a child lived in her own room forthree years, and what she did to amuse herself; and we sent it to amagazine and got twenty-five dollars for it. Just think!"
"Well, well," cried Uncle Jack, "my little girl a real author! And whatare you going to do with this wonderful 'own' money of yours?"
"I shall give the nine Ruggleses a grand Christmas dinner here in thisvery room--that will be Papa's contribution,--and afterwards a beautifulChristmas tree, fairly blooming with presents--that will be my part; forI have another way of adding to my twenty-five dollars, so that I canbuy nearly anything I choose. I should like it very much if you wouldsit at the head of the table, Uncle Jack, for nobody could ever befrightened of you, you dearest, dearest, dearest thing that ever was!Mamma is going to help us, but Papa and the boys are going to eattogether downstairs for fear of making the little Ruggleses shy; andafter we've had a merry time with the tree we can open my window and alllisten together to the music at the evening church-service, if it comesbefore the children go. I have written a letter to the organist, andasked him if I might have the two songs I like best. Will you see if itis all right?"
BIRDS' NEST, DECEMBER 21, 188-.
DEAR MR. WILKIE,--I am the little girl who lives next door to the church, and, as I seldom go out, the music on practice days and Sundays is one of my greatest pleasures.
I want to know if you can have "Carol, brothers, carol," on Christmas night, and if the boy who sings "My ain countree" so beautifully may please sing that too. I think it is the loveliest thing in the world, but it always makes me cry; doesn't it you?
If it isn't too much trouble, I hope they can sing them both quite early, as after ten o'clock I may be asleep.
Yours respectfully, CAROL BIRD.
P.S.--The reason I like "Carol, brothers, carol," is because the choir-boys sang it eleven years ago, the morning I was born, and put it into Mamma's head
to call me Carol. She didn't remember then that my other name would be Bird, because she was half asleep, and could only think of one thing at a time. Donald says if I had been born on the Fourth of July they would have named me "Independence," or if on the twenty-second of February, "Georgina," or even "Cherry," like Cherry in "Martin Chuzzlewit;" but I like my own name and birthday best.
Yours truly, CAROL BIRD.