A Little Girl in Old New York Part 43

"And Queen Elizabeth spent enough time later on with gay gallants,"

remarked Aunt Nancy. "So I do not know as her early industry held out."

"I'd rather have had her splendid reign than to have made s.h.i.+rts for an army," declared Ben.

"Well, we all have our duties in this world," sighed Aunt Patience. "I learned to make s.h.i.+rts, but I never had a husband or boys to make them for."

They all laughed at that. But what would a little girl say now if she had to st.i.tch down the middle of a s.h.i.+rt bosom, following a drawn thread, and taking up only two threads at every st.i.tch?

There certainly was great need of Elias Howe.

The visitors declared they must get home by dark. There was the poor cat, and the fires must need looking after. Mrs. Underhill was fain to keep them to tea, but instead packed them up a basket of cold turkey and some delicious boiled ham, a dozen or two crullers, and a nice mince pie. John was to see the old ladies home.

When they were gone Hanny went up to the "spare" room, for in one drawer of the best bureau she had kept her beautiful doll, which had never been permanently named. She opened it and kneeling down raised the napkin that covered her, as one tucks in a little child.

Yes, she was lovely, really prettier than Stephen's baby, she felt, though she would not say it. But when you came to kiss on the cold wax--ah, that was the test. And Stephen's baby would grow and walk and talk, and have cunning little teeth and curly hair, maybe. She did so love curly hair.

"Dolly," she began gravely, "I am going to put you away. I shall be eleven next May, and though I shall always be father's little girl, I shall be growing up and too old to play with dolls. Then I shall have so much to do. And I should love the real live baby best. That would hurt your feelings. Sometime there may be another little girl who will be as glad to have you come on Christmas Day as I was. I shall love you just the same, but you have a different kind of love for something that is human and can put truly arms around your neck and kiss you. When girls are little they don't mind the difference so much. You won't feel real lonesome, for dolls don't. We only make believe they do. And now I shall not make believe any more, because I am getting to know all about real things. There are so many real and strange things in the world that are lovely to think about, and I seem to have learned so much to-day. I can't feel quite as I did yesterday."

She put on the wadded satin cloak and the dainty hood and laid it back in the box. There was room for the m.u.f.f and the travelling shawl. She put the cover on softly. She folded the pretty garments and packed them in the corner, and spread the towel over them all.

There was no morbid feeling of sacrifice or sense of loss. A great change had come over her, a new human affection had entered her soul.

She had a consciousness that could not be put into words. She had outgrown her doll.

Margaret was going to an oratorio with Dr. Hoffman. The boys were to attend the Christmas celebration at Allen Street church with the Deans.

Hanny had not cared to go. Her mother kept watching her with a curious feeling as if she saw or suspected some change in her.

The room settled to quiet. The fire burned drowsily. Mrs. Underhill took the big rocking-chair at one side, and Hanny came and settled herself on a footstool, leaning her arms on her mother's knee.

"I shall not hang up my stocking next Christmas," she said, in a soft, slow tone. "It is very nice when you believe in it, and real fun afterward when you don't believe in it but like it; when you seem little to yourself."

"You do grow out of it," replied her mother; but at heart she was half-sorry. "You get just the same things. At least you get suitable things."

Was she glad to have them all growing up?

"Dear me, there's no little children," she continued, with a sigh.

"You'll be eleven next May, Hanny."

"But there's Stephen's lovely little baby. Doesn't it seem just as if G.o.d had sent him at the right time, when we were all growing big?"

She took the little girl's hands in hers and said dreamily, "You were sent that way, at the right time. I was so glad to have you. I can recall it so plainly. Old Mother Tappan was there. I was so afraid you'd be a boy, and we had boys enough. And she said, 'Oh, what a nice little girl. You'll be glad enough, Mrs. Underhill.' And so I was."

"As glad as Stephen?" said Hanny, with s.h.i.+ning eyes.

"Yes, dear. Even if it wasn't Christmas. You were a welcome little May flower."

In Bethlehem of Judea the other child had been born with the mighty significance of a great gift to the world, a gift that had made Christmas possible for all time to come. Just how the world was redeemed no little girl of ten or so could understand. But it was redeemed because the little child of Bethlehem bore the sins of the whole world in His manhood. Ah, no wonder they wrote under the picture of His mother, when He was gone, "_Mater Dolorosa_." But the years of His childhood must have been sweet to remember. "The young child and His mother." The wise men coming with their gifts. The sweet song going around the world, the great love.

Her mother's hands relaxed from their clasp. She was very tired and had fallen asleep. Her father folded his paper and looked over at her wistfully. Hanny came and dropped softly on his knee and his strong, tender arms enclosed her.

Was there any child quite like the little girl? They had been so proud and happy over Stephen, so delighted with Margaret. He had loved them all, and they were a nice household of children. But they were growing up and going their ways. They would be making new homes. Ah, it would be many a long year before the little girl would think of such a thing.

They would keep her snug and safe, "to have and to hold," and he smiled to himself at the literal rendering.

The chime of the clock roused Mrs. Underhill. It was Hanny's bedtime, and she had been so busy all day, so full of excitement, too, that her checks had bloomed with roses. She glanced across. The fair flaxen head was on the shoulder half hidden by the protecting arm. The other head, showing many silver threads now, drooped over a little. The picture brought a mist to her eyes, and there was a half sob in her throat. The same thought came into her mind. She would be their "little girl" when the other one had gone to her new home.

She could not disturb them. It was "good will and peace" everywhere.