The Misfit Christmas Puddings Part 5

And in that man's pocket lay thirteen cards, and _they_ never said a word.

_Sixth Episode_

WIDOW M'CARTY'S ABODE EIGHT O'CLOCK CHRISTMAS EVE

Every ill known or imagined by the pessimistic Granny had been voiced in graphic predictions, but at last even her vocabulary of grumblings was exhausted, and she hobbled off to her pallet,--the thump, thump, thump of her cane beating a resentful retreat.

Grandad still sat in his corner, and Bridget left her uncomfortable seat and dropped into Granny's vacant chair.

"Sure, it ain't much like Christmas Eve I'm thinkin'," she said, glancing at Grandad. "There's the difference in the look of things since Mike, me darling, is gone--him that always went into town, when he stayed home the day before Christmas, to buy presents for me an'

the childer. I remimber, yes, I do, 'cause I aint forgot it yet, the elligant bonnit he bought me wanst. What with feathers standing this way an' that, I was the fine lady of all Fifth Street."

"Ye wor that," answered Grandad, looking up with a twinkle in his kind gray eyes. "Ye wor that, Bridget, me girl, an' ye're the same this day, fithers or no fithers."

"It's the feathers makes the bird, Daddy," sighed Bridget, but his pleasant word softened the despairing look on her care-worn face.

"Fithers makes the birds, did ye say, Bridget?" continued Grandad.

"What kind of rasonin' is that, sure? Nivir a fither have I seen that was not projuced by wan bird or anither. An' what difference does it make what kind of fithers a bird has whin he's picked, tell me that?

For me taste, a bird is betther withoot fithers at all, at all."

"Ah, well," said Bridget, "it's you that have the cheery word, Grandad, and it's good to hear, but to-night I'm that beat out I couldn't throw a stick at Dooley if he came to the door this minit."

Mrs. M'Carty looked about the room, so scant with furniture and so cheerless.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "'A MERRY CHRISTMAS FROM KATRINA BAUMGaRTNER!'"]

"It's no use trying--" she began, but at that moment a knock that fairly rattled the whole shanty called her to the door. It also woke up Granny M'Carty, who thrust her head from the bedclothes and peered into the kitchen.

"'Tis a mistake," she growled as a round package was handed to her daughter, and a strange voice said:

"A Merry Christmas from Katrina Baumgartner!"

"'Tis a mistake, I say," she continued, as the delivery boy disappeared in the darkness, and Mrs. M'Carty, with hands trembling from excitement, carried the mysterious package to the lean-to.

"Indeed, then, and it's no mistake," she whispered to herself as she opened the package and disclosed to view a beautiful Christmas pudding. "It's Miss Katrina, the darling, that's remembered us this night. One, two, three," she counted, as in imagination she divided the gift among the little M'Cartys. "Four, five, six,--sure, I must be more sparing of my pieces,--but bless the sweet Ellen, she can't eat any, and I'm not needing any myself,--but Grandad, and Granny, they must have a bit;--seven, eight, nine,--it's a trifle small, to be sure, but enough for a taste for the darlings. If Granny hadn't heard the boy, what a fine surprise I'd have for her; but she'll be wanting to know what the likes of me is getting for Christmas. She's that curious, she sleeps with her other eye open just to be seeing what she can hear. But I'll be letting her think it was a mistake, so I will."

Bang! whack! bang! another thundering noise shook the rickety door.

"I told you it was a mistake," screamed Granny. "He's come to take it away from yez."

[Ill.u.s.tration: "SHE PLACED BOTH PUDDINGS IN HER Ap.r.o.n"]

Mrs. M'Carty's heart sank. The gift evidently was a mistake.

Concealing the pudding, divested of its wrappings, under her ap.r.o.n, she hastened to the door, to be handed another package with the same Christmas greeting from Miss Katrina Baumgartner.

Quick-witted and anxious to deceive the keen eyes and ears of old Granny, she placed both puddings in her ap.r.o.n, and with an audible sigh and lament that "poor folks couldn't have even the things that was give to them," she returned with renewed pleasure to her problem in division.

"Sure," said she, "I must begin my count all over. It's Miss Katrina, bless her sweet eyes, knew one pudding for eleven of us would be just a bite. Now it's two puddings for eleven of us. I wish I had a yardstick and a 'rithmetic to measure them, so I do.

"It's Christmas Eve after all," she continued, regarding with pleasure the two plump puddings, but the sound of approaching footsteps caused her to start again in fear that it might be as Granny had prophesied, all a mistake. She slipped quietly to the door and reached it in time to avert the knock which might have aroused Granny from her dozing.

"A Merry Christmas from Katrina Baumgartner," shouted a jolly boy as he placed a package in Mrs. M'Carty's hands. There was no mistaking this greeting, nor the contents of the parcel.

"How many be she a-sending?" she whispered cautiously, and added by way of explanation, "The darlings is asleep, and I wouldn't want them to be knowing what a fine Christmas is coming for them."

"Vell, vell, ain'dt one enough?" laughed the boy as he disappeared puddingless, leaving the bewildered Mrs. M'Carty in possession of the third treasure.

"Now Grandad is nodding, and it's meself that's thinking there's no telling how many more Santa Clauses is coming to the M'Carty roof this night. I'll just take the light into the lean-to, and busy myself with a few pieces to fold down for my ironing; and if any more presents do be coming, they'll be taking them to the other door. Then Granny won't be hearing what's going on at all, at all."

The removal of the light proved a wise precaution, though done in innocence of the avalanche of puddings which was fatefully descending upon the M'Carty household.

Greater and greater was the surprise of the widow as pudding after pudding, and pudding after pudding was handed in, until twelve goodly brown concoctions graced her impromptu table,--a long white ironing-board.

"Sure, I'm that excited, I'm fit to tie up," laughed Mrs. M'Carty, as she viewed the bounty of the unsuspecting Katrina. "Twelve puddings for twelve of us, even one for little Ellen. It ain't such a sum as I minded. Blessings on Miss Katrina,--may the saints have her in their keeping,--we've a pudding apiece this Christmas. It's thankful I am, and I'm not complaining, but I could' a' wished she'd tried a little variety. Bedad, if there wasn't so many of them, they'd seem to be more, so they would."

_Seventh Episode_

HERR BAUMGaRTNER'S ESTABLISHMENT TEN O'CLOCK ON CHRISTMAS EVE

It was ten o'clock on Christmas Eve, and had it not been for the holiday decorations, Baker Baumgartner's establishment would have presented a somewhat forlorn appearance. The shelves, which earlier in the day were filled with bread, cakes, and confections of all kinds, were now almost bereft of their store, and the whole aspect of the place was disorderly and confused. Boxes and baskets, papers and strings cluttered every available corner. The clerks and drivers, congratulating themselves that they were finis.h.i.+ng so early in the evening, had just begun the task of clearing up, when the baker entered the store.

"Donnerwetter!" he exclaimed, on seeing the untidy interior. "Vat a looking place is dis! Oh, vell, I tink I can stand it ven it fills my pockets mit moneys."

He stepped behind the bra.s.s screen that kept possible intruders at a respectful distance from the money-drawer. Opening it, he found that the contents of the drawer had grown very perceptibly during his absence, and he surveyed his gains with a feeling of deep self-gratulation.

The Widow M'Carty's cake and the thirteen puddings must have been bread cast upon the waters that day, and so rich was the quality it had returned at once, many fold.

"Der Widow M'Carty's cake, and der orphans' t'ings were nodings," he soliloquized. "But dose puddings! Dere was gut rich stuff in dose, but I got plenty moneys, I can spare dose puddings to my customers ven I gets dem back sometime all right."

Looking through his change window, he saw his clerks, who evidently had made their employer's interests their own, busily rearranging everything before going home, and transforming the chaotic condition of the store into one of order. The fact of their fidelity was very manifest, and may have reminded him of all the pleasures of Christmas Eve which they had forfeited in consequence of his extra holiday trade. According to his custom, he must bestow on each a Christmas remembrance, but it was not in the spirit of a cheerful giver that he contemplated the act.

"Himmel!" he said under his breath. "Twelve clerks and twelve drivers, and Hans Kleinhardt, my head man, besides all dose bakers. It makes me poor ven I am joost rich," and he sighed regretfully at the thought.

The widow's cake and the thirteen puddings, although his voluntary gift, had not been spared without a wrench, and now to be confronted with the necessity of adding to them was too much for human nature,--or at least for Baumgartner nature. He turned as if addressing some one over his shoulder,--probably his good angel, whose winged company is especially active on Christmas Eve,--and muttered reproachfully, "You expect me to be one Santa Claus again?"

However, he knew that he could not escape his kind intent, and being withal a just man, yielded with a sigh.

From the money-drawer he took a crisp five-dollar bill, laid it on the desk before him, and regarded it thoughtfully. The longer he looked at it the harder it seemed to part with twenty-four of them, and with an emphatic shake of the head he thrust it back again. He next selected a bright silver dollar, but, true to his better nature, he acknowledged its insufficiency, and swept it after the five-dollar bill. His third move was a compromise. He took twenty-four two-dollar bills, looked at them for a moment regretfully, then gathered them in his hand and walked toward where the clerks were just finis.h.i.+ng and locking up for the night.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "'GOTT IN HIMMEL! DONNER UND BLITZEN!'"]

As he pa.s.sed through the store, he glanced here and there with the keen eye of the master, stopping suddenly as he espied a package which looked suspiciously like a Christmas pudding. A sniff and a touch was enough to satisfy this expert. Down, down deep in his pocket went the precious bills, while the air reverberated with German expletives.