  “Oh come, all ye faithful, joyful and triumphant; Oh come ye, oh come ye to Bethlehem; Come and behold Him born the King of angels; Oh come, let us adore Him, Oh come, let us adore Him, Oh come, let us adore Him, Christ the Lord.” Esther sang the first few lines of the beautiful Christmas hymn in a low voice but with gathering strength until when she had reached the refrain Sunrise cabin was filled with melody. She had awakened before any one else on this Christmas morning and after thinking over more quietly the events of yesterday, had slipped into her clothes and then stolen into the living room hoping that her hymn might be the first sound that her friends should hear. It was a perfect winter day. From the window Esther could see the snow-crowned peak of Sunrise Hill from which the dawn colors were now slowly fading and beyond a long line of the crystal hills. Wherever the Sunrise Camp Fire girls should go in after years, to whatever places their destinies should call them, the scene surrounding their camp could never be forgotten, nor could there be found many places in the world more beautiful. Of course Esther had until now seen nothing beyond the New Hampshire hills and so this morning, with a little only half-defined fear tugging at her heart, she gazed at the landscape until the eternal peace of the mountains rested and soothed her. Then, turning away, she went first to building up their great log fire until its flames roared up the chimney and then to the singing of her song. By and by, with a blue dressing gown wrapped about her, Betty came into the room, and stood resting an elbow on the piano. Polly and Mollie followed, and soon after Meg and Eleanor with Miss McMurtry between them, until finally every member of the Sunrise club had gathered in the room, including the little probation girl who entered last holding tight to Rose’s hand. She looked like a pale little Christmas angel with her big blue eyes set in a colorless face and her soft rings of light yellow hair, which had been cut close on account of recent fever, curling like a fringe about her high forehead. When Esther came to the last verse of her hymn, there were many other voices to join in with hers, and somehow all their eyes turned instinctively toward the great pine tree which stood undecorated upon the farthest corner of their stage with the great silver star overhead. “Yea, Lord, we greet Thee, born this happy morning; Jesu, to Thee be glory given; Word of the Father, now in flesh appearing; Oh come, let us adore Him, Oh come, let us adore Him, Oh come, let us adore Him, Christ the Lord.” There was an instant’s hush after this and then a surprising amount of noise. Surely Esther’s idea had been a very lovely one, for there was little Christmas peace and quiet at the cabin for the rest of the wonderful and eventful day. Some weeks before the girls had decided that there would be no present giving among themselves except the merest trifles, since all their money and energy must be spent in making a success of their Camp Fire play, but this did not forbid the receiving of gifts from the outside. So before breakfast was over offerings began to arrive, some of them for individual girls but more for the camp. Mr. and Mrs. Webster sent from the farm a great roasted goose stuffed with chestnuts, a baked ham and two immense mince pies, while Billy Webster, who drove over to bring the gifts, shyly tucked into Mollie’s hands a bouquet of pink geraniums and lemon verbena from his mother’s little indoor garden. To Polly, with a perfectly serious expression, he presented a bunch of thistles grown on the mountains that fall and made very brilliant and effective by having their centers dyed scarlet and being tied with a bright red ribbon. They were beautiful enough to have been bestowed on any one and would be an ornament for the cabin living room all winter, and yet Polly, though she was far too clever to betray herself, could not but wonder if there were not a double meaning attached to Billy’s gift. Dick Ashton gave no individual presents, not even one to Betty, but to the club he gave a reading lamp so brilliant that half a dozen girls might do their studying around it at night. If it were placed on the piano Esther might be able to read her most intricate music without difficulty. Then there were other more valuable gifts, Mr. Wharton, Sylvia’s father, who had unexpectedly gone to Europe for a few weeks, left a check to supply the winter’s coal bill, while Mrs. O’Neill from over in Ireland sent a set of kitchen aprons, which she had made during that winter, for each member of the Sunrise club including Mammy. There was a mysterious communication received by Betty Ashton, however, of which she did not speak to any one, not even to Polly. She was not at all sure from whom it came, but naturally there was but one person whom she could suspect. The post-mark was a near-by town, and it was a common looking gift—just a card with the picture of a ladder rising in the air, apparently by its own volition, and very slowly ascending it the figure of a young man. Yet the words written below were of far finer significance than the picture and Betty really wondered how they had ever made their appeal.
At four o’clock, when the girls were resting for an hour before getting ready for the evening’s entertainment, convinced that there was nothing more to come for any one of them, there appeared at the cabin door certainly the most unlooked-for gift. Rose happened for the moment to be alone in the living room, having firmly ordered the girls off to their bedrooms to lie down while she attended to some final arrangements, such as finding space for a few more chairs for their audience than had been sent out from town an hour before. So the sounds outside did not at first attract her attention, though they were most unusual. But suddenly, when a large form apparently flung itself against the door and there followed a low muffled cry, Rose, without a thought of Christmas, ran hastily to the rescue. Fortunately she was not nervous, else she might have been frightened when an unexpected object leapt up to her shoulders and a warm wet tongue caressed her cheek. Straightway her cry of surprise and admiration brought half a dozen girls to her side, who had found sleep at so critical a time quite out of the question. Imagine their surprise at finding their new guardian being embraced by a cream and brown and gold St. Bernard dog, already a tremendous fellow and yet still in his puppyhood. Polly, who was ever a lover of dogs, got down on her knees before him. “Whose ever can he be and how has he found his way to our cabin?” she cried, but before her question was ended Polly herself discovered a small envelope attached to the dog’s collar and tearing it off hastily presented it to Rose with an eastern salaam, as she happened to be already seated on the floor. “From an unknown admirer, Rose? Isn’t this like a story book?” Betty commented with an unnecessary expression of demureness, for she had noticed an evident though faint blush touching their guardian’s cheeks. But Rose answered with a dignity that somehow made Betty feel ashamed of herself. “No, Betty, the dog is for our club if you girls wish to keep him. Dr. Barton writes that he feels we are too much alone in these woods in the winter and that if we will forgive his solicitude he has sent us a third Camp Fire guardian.” And Rose slipped the stiff little note she had just received inside her pocket, realizing that it was as near an apology as the severe young doctor could bring himself to make. |
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