CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
The children insisted on leading him all through the house to show hownicely they had taken care of things. And in every room Gissing sawthe marks of riot and wreckage. There were tooth-scars on allfurniture-legs; the fringes of rugs were chewed off; there were printsof mud, ink, paints, and whatnot, on curtains and wallpapers andcoverlets. Poor Mrs. Spaniel kept running anxiously from the kitchen torenew apologies.
"I DID try to keep 'em in order," she said, "but they seem to bashthings when you're not looking."
But Gissing was too happy to stew about such trifles. When theinspection was over, they all sat down by the chimney and he piled onmore logs.
"Well, chilluns," he said, "what do you want Santa Claus to bring youfor Christmas?"
"An aunbile!" exclaimed Groups
"An elphunt!" exclaimed Bunks
"A little train with hammers!" exclaimed Yelpers
"A little train with hammers?" asked Gissing. "What does he mean?"
"Oh," said Groups and Bunks, with condescending pity, "he means atypewriter. He calls it a little train because it moves on a track whenyou hit it."
A painful apprehension seized him, and he went hastily to his study. Hehad not noticed the typewriter, which Mrs. Spaniel had--too late--putout of reach. Half the keys were sticking upright, jammed together andtangled in a whirl of ribbon; the carriage was strangely dislocated. Andyet even this mischance, which would once have horrified him, left himunperturbed. It's my own fault, he thought: I shouldn't have left itwhere they could play with it. Perhaps God thinks the same when Hiscreatures make a mess of the dangerous laws of life.
"A Christmas story!" the children were clamouring.
Can it really be Christmas Eve? Gissing thought. Christmas seems to havecome very suddenly this year, I haven't really adjusted my mind to ityet.
"All right," he said. "Now sit still and keep quiet. Bunks, give Yelpersa little more room. If there's any bickering Santa Claus might hear it."
He sat in the big chair by the fire, and the three looked upwardexpectantly from the hearthrug.
"Once upon a time there were three little puppies, who lived in a housein the country in the Canine Estates. And their names were Groups,Bunks, and Yelpers."
The three tails thumped in turn as the names were mentioned, but thechildren were too excitedly absorbed to interrupt.
"And one year, just before Christmas, they heard a dreadful rumour."
"What's a rumour?" cried Yelpers, alarmed.
This was rather difficult to explain, so Gissing did not attempt it. Hebegan again.
"They heard that Santa Claus might not be able to come because he wasso behind with his housework. You see, Santa Claus is a great bigNewfoundland dog with a white beard, and he lives in a frosty kennel atthe North Pole, all shining with icicles round the roof and windows. Butit's so far away from everywhere that poor Santa couldn't get a servant.All the maids who went there refused to stay because it was so coldand lonely, and so far from the movies. Santa Claus was busy in hisworkshop, making toys; he was busy taking care of the reindeer in theirsnow-stables; and he didn't have time to wash his dishes. So all summerhe just let them pile up and pile up in the kitchen. And when Christmascame near, there was his lovely house in a dreadful state of untidiness.He couldn't go away and leave it like that. And so, if he didn't get hisdishes washed and the house cleaned up for Christmas, all the puppiesall over the world would have to go without toys. When Groups and Bunksand Yelpers heard this, they were very much worried."
"How did they hear it?" asked Bunks, who was the analytical member ofthe trio.
"A very sensible question," said Gissing, approvingly. "They heard itfrom the chipmunk who lives in the wood behind the house. The chipmunkheard it underground."
"In his chipmonastery?" cried Groups. It was a family joke to callthe chipmunk's burrow by that name, and though the puppies did notunderstand the pun they relished the long word.
"Yes," continued Gissing. "The reindeer in Santa Claus's stable wereso unhappy about the dishes not being washed, and the chance of missingtheir Christmas frolic, that they broadcasted a radio message. Theirhorns are very fine for sending radio, and the chipmunk, sitting at hislittle wireless outfit, with the receivers over his ears, heard it. AndChippy told Groups and Bunks and Yelpers.
"So these puppies decided to help Santa Claus. They didn't know exactlywhere to find him, but the chipmunk told them the direction, and offthey went. They travelled and travelled, and when they came to the oceanthey begged a ride from the seagulls, and each one sat on a seagull'sback just as though he was on a little airplane. They flew and flew,and at last they came to Santa Claus's house. Through the stable-walls,which were made of clear ice, they could see the reindeer stamping intheir stalls. In the big workshop, where Santa Claus was busy makingtoys, they could hear a lively sound of hammering. The big red sleighwas standing outside the stables, all ready to be hitched up to thereindeer.
"They slipped into Santa Claus's house quickly and quietly, so no onewould see or hear them. The house was in a terrible state, but they setto work to clean up. Groups found the vacuum cleaner and sucked up allthe crumbs from the dining-room rug. Bunks ran upstairs and made SantaClaus's bed for him and swept the floors and put clean towels in thebathroom. And Yelpers hurried into the kitchen and washed the dishes,and scrubbed the pots, and polished the egg-stains off the silverspoons, and emptied the ice-box pan. All working hard, they got throughvery soon, and made Santa Claus's house as clean as any house could be.They fixed the window-shades so that they would all hang level, notjust anyhow, as poor Santa had them. Then, when everything was spick andspan, they ran outdoors again and beckoned the seagulls. They climbed onthe gulls' backs, and away they flew homeward."
"Was Santa Claus pleased?" asked Bunks.
"Indeed he was, when he came back from his workshop, very tired aftermaking toys all day."
"What kind of toys did he make?" exclaimed Yelpers anxiously. "Did hemake a typewriter?"
"He made every kind of toy. And when he saw how his house had beencleaned up, he thought the fairies must have done it. He lit his pipe,and filled a thermos bottle with hot cocoa to keep him warm on his longjourney. Then he put on his red coat, and his long boots, and his furcap, and went out to harness the reindeer. That very night he drove offwith his sleigh packed full of toys for all the puppies in the world. Infact, he was so pleased that he loaded his big bag with more toys thanhe had ever carried before. And that was how a queer thing happened."
They waited in eager suspense.
"You know, Santa Claus always drives into the Canine Estates by thelittle back road through the woods, where the chipmunk lives. You knowthe gateway, at the bend in the lane: well, it's rather narrow, andSanta Claus's sleigh is very wide. And this time, because his bag hadso many toys in it, the bag bulged over the edge of the sleigh, and onecorner of the bag caught on the gatepost as he drove by. Three toys fellout, and what do you suppose they were?"
"An aunbile!"
"An elphunt!"
"A typewriter!"
"Yes, that's quite right. And it happened that the chipmunk was outthat night, digging up some nuts for his Christmas dinner, a little sadbecause he had no presents to give his children; and he found thethree toys. He took them home to the little chipmunks, and they weretremendously pleased. That was only fair, because if it hadn't beenfor the chipmunk and his radio set, no one would have had any toys thatChristmas."
"Did Santa Claus have any more typewriters in his bag?" asked Yelpersgravely.
"Oh, yes, he had plenty more of everything. And when he got to the housewhere Groups and Bunks and Yelpers lived, he slid down the chimney andtook a look round. He didn't see any crumbs on the floor, or any toyslying about not put away, so he filled the stockings with all kinds oflovely things, and an aunbile and an elphunt and a typewriter."
"What did the puppies say?" they inquired.
"They were sound asleep upstairs, and didn't know
anything about ituntil Christmas morning. Come on now, it's time for bed."
"We can undress ourselves now," said Groups.
"Will you tuck me in?" said Bunks.
"You're sure he had another typewriter in his bag?" said Yelpers.
They scrambled upstairs.
Later, when the house was quiet, Gissing went out to the kitchen to seeMrs. Spaniel. She was diligently rolling pastry, and her nose was whitewith flour.
"Oh, sir, I'm glad you got home in time for Christmas," she said. "Thechildren were counting on it. Did you have a successful trip, sir?"
"Every trip is successful when you get home again," said Gissing. "Isuppose the shops will be open late to-night, won't they? I'm going torun down to the village to get some toys."
Before leaving the house, he went down to the cellar to see if thefurnace was all right. He was amazed to see how naturally and cheerfullyhe had slipped back into the old sense of responsibility. Where was theillusory freedom he had dreamed of? Even the epiphany on the hilltop nowseemed a distant miracle. That fearful happiness might never come again.And yet here, among the familiar difficult minutiae of home, what alightness he felt. A great phrase from the prayer-book came to hismind--"Whose service is perfect freedom."
Ah, he said to himself, it is all very well to wear a crown of thorns,and indeed every sensitive creature carries one in secret. But there aretimes when it ought to be worn cocked over one ear.
He opened the furnace door. A bright glow filled the fire-box: he couldhear a stir and singing in the boiler, and the rustle of warm pipes thatchuckled quietly through winter nights of storm. Over the coals hovereda magic evasive flicker, the very soul of fire. It was a Pentecostalflame, perfect and heavenly in tint, the essence of pure colour, a clearimmortal blue.
THE END
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