  “Why, of course,” said Betty, “Christmas will be fun, whatever we do; but I mean I’d like to do something specially exciting.” “Such as?” demanded Jack, her adopted brother. “Oh, I don’t know; I can’t think of anything. But we can have a party here any time; I’d like to go somewhere else for the day—somewhere where there’s something to see and do.” “Restless little Betty,” said her mother, smiling. “Well, what do you think of going to Lakewood for a few days?” Betty looked dubious. “Lakewood is lovely,” she said, “and I do want to go there again sometime; but it doesn’t seem just right for Christmas. I want to do something more—more—” “Rackety,” suggested Jack. “Yes, more gay and festive. I’d like to fly to the North Pole in an air-ship.” “With flags waving and bands playing?” “Yes. Wouldn’t it be fun? What could we do, Mother?” Her mother caressed Betty’s curly head and smiled indulgently at her, as she said: “Let me think a minute. There must be plenty of places if you’re bent on going away somewhere. How about New York?” “Oh, that’s just right!” cried Betty. “Let’s all go to New York to spend Christmas, and see the beautiful things there. Oh, wouldn’t we have fun!” Betty’s eyes fairly shone with delighted anticipation, and she threw a sofa-pillow at Jack to stir him to greater enthusiasm. “Wake up, Sleepyhead!” she cried. “Come on, let’s plan it all.” “If you choose,” said her mother, “you might invite Agnes Graham and her brother to go with you.” “Oh, Mother! That will be grand! We’ll have the greatest time anybody ever had!” “Glorious!” said Jack, roused to enthusiasm at last. “It will be fine if Jamie, or ‘Stub’ as we call him, is along. When shall we start?” “Christmas is next week, Thursday, Betty,” said her mother. “Suppose we start about Tuesday and come home on Friday?” “Just right!” said Betty. “And stay at a fine hotel and go to the shops—and the play? Oh, Mother, could we go to the play?” BETTY THREW A SOFA-PILLOW AT JACK TO STIR HIM TO GREATER ENTHUSIASM BETTY THREW A SOFA-PILLOW AT JACK TO STIR HIM TO GREATER ENTHUSIASM “Yes, I think we’ll go to a matinÉe,” said her mother. “Do you think Mrs. Graham would spare both her children on Christmas day?” “I don’t know,” said Betty, a little doubtfully, “but I’ll ask her, and I know Agnes and Stub will be crazy to go, so prob’ly we can coax her into it.” Wheedlesome Betty did “coax Mrs. Graham into it,” though that lady was loath to be separated from her son and daughter at the Christmas season. But the proposed trip was so tempting that permission was finally given, and the four young people were radiant with happiness at the prospect. “I shall take Lisette,” said Mrs. McGuire, speaking of her own maid, “and if I get too tired to take you children around to all the places you want to go to, she can go with you; she is thoroughly reliable and capable.” So everything was arranged. Tuesday proved to be a clear, cold day, and the party started off in high spirits. Of course the Grahams were Betty’s guests for the whole trip. Though Betty’s large fortune, inherited from her paternal grandfather, was all her own, her mother had been appointed her guardian until she should come of age; and while conscientious and prudent as to expenditures, she also was determined that Betty should be allowed a goodly number of the harmless pleasures that her large income justified her having. So when the New York trip was decided upon, Mrs. McGuire made every effort to give the children the most enjoyable time possible. And it was for this reason she proposed taking the two Grahams as guests. Lisette had been with her mistress a long time, and was well versed in looking after the luggage and all such details, so the party had nothing to do but enjoy every moment. But, noticing a tendency on Jack’s part to make himself useful and attentive, Betty’s mother wisely encouraged it, knowing it was for the boy’s own good. When they reached New York, the children, used to the quiet village life of Greenborough, were fascinated and almost bewildered by the noise and confusion. Jack had never been in New York before, and Betty only once, but the bustle and rush of the city appealed to them both, and many kindly people smiled as they noted the shining eyes and eager faces of the four friends. “A taxicab will not hold us all,” said Betty’s mother, “so, Lisette, you take the young ladies and Master James in that one, and, Jack, will you kindly call that electric hansom for you and me?” Proud to be of service, Jack beckoned to the hansom driver, and soon the two vehicles were whizzing away to the Plaza Hotel, where rooms had been engaged for the party. “Well, if this isn’t great!” said Stub Graham, who, though addressed by Lisette as “Master James,” was “Stub” to the others. “I say, Betty, you’re the brickiest sort of a brick to ask us to this splendiferous treat!” Betty smiled happily. She was looking out at the hurrying throngs of people, the tall buildings, the gay shop-windows, and the jam of traffic, with unspeakable delight in the novelty and excitement of the scene. “And to think of three days of this gorgeousness! Three whole days!” said Agnes, squeezing Betty’s arm in her glee. They soon reached the hotel and found Betty’s mother and Jack already there and waiting for them in the great entrance-hall. Betty was a little awed by the splendor all about her, and Agnes and Stub were frankly delighted, and looked around with undisguised interest. But Jack, feeling a new responsibility as the escort of Mrs. McGuire, had, quite unconsciously, acquired a manner as of one accustomed to elaborate hotels and in no way impressed by them. He seemed quite at home and he paid no attention to the surroundings, but in a simple, unaffected, but perfectly correct fashion, he stood by Betty’s mother, carrying her wrap gracefully over his arm, and holding himself in readiness to obey her slightest wish. “Where did Jack get that manner?” thought Betty, in amazement, and then she realized that he was acquiring it merely by association with her mother, and through a natural ability to adapt to himself her innate refinement and gracious ways. Betty was impulsive herself and now, though secretly moved to mirth by Jack’s quiet elegance of manner, she resolved to try harder to improve her own demeanor. They all went at once to the rooms reserved for them, a beautiful apartment overlooking Central Park. It was quite a little home of itself, as there was a comfortable sitting-room, attractive dining-room, and four bedrooms with dressing-rooms and baths. A large room with two beds was allotted to Betty and Agnes, and a similar one across the entrance-hall was for the two boys. Lisette had a small room opening from Mrs. McGuire’s own which adjoined the girls’ room. In a short time bags and trunks were unpacked and a few individual belongings scattered about, and the apartment seemed quite like a private home. “Why do we have a dining-room?” asked Betty. “Can’t we eat in the big restaurant down-stairs?” “Sometimes, if you choose,” said her mother. “But I think our Christmas dinner is a personal sort of feast, and I’d like it better here by ourselves.” “So should I,” agreed Jack. “Lots more fun, Betty.” “But we’ll dine down-stairs to-night,” went on Mrs. McGuire; “so skip away, girlies, and put on pretty frocks for the occasion.” “Isn’t it larks!” said Betty, as she and Agnes went to their room to dress. “Look at the beautiful Park! To-morrow we’ll take a ride in it. I wish we could go to-night.” “I don’t want to go to-night,” returned Agnes. “I’d rather stay here in this beautiful hotel. There’s so much to see.” “So there is. Hurry and dress. What are you going to wear?” “I brought my blue voile,” said Agnes. “Mother thought that would be right.” “So it is; you look lovely in blue. I’m wearing this Dresden silk. They go nicely together.” Betty expeditiously arranged herself in the pretty light silk frock, and the girls hooked each other up and tied each other’s hair-ribbons, so that when Lisette came to offer her services, they were quite unnecessary. The boys, too, had made good time with their dressing and awaited the girls in the sitting-room. “Oh, I wish we were going to dance!” said Agnes. “But I suppose we couldn’t in a hotel.” “We can dance up here after dinner,” said Jack. “Mother will play for us, I am sure; for see, there’s a piano here!” Though an adopted son, Mrs. McGuire had asked Jack to call her “Mother,” and the boy had been only too glad to do so. “Play for you? Of course I will,” said the lady herself, entering the sitting-room. “And now we will go down to dinner. Lisette will stay here in charge of everything.” Jack sprang to open the door. He held it open till the last of his party went through it, and then he closed it and followed them. Somehow he was again in place to push the elevator bell, and Mrs. McGuire looked at him with pride as she noticed his quiet quickness and graceful ways. Dinner was a delightful experience. Betty was a little bewildered by the array of silver and glass, and Stub frankly inquired which fork to use first, but Jack seemed to know by intuition. “I’d like to live in a place like this always,” said Stub, as he ate his ice-cream. “So wouldn’t I,” said Jack. “A hotel is all very well for a few days, but it isn’t a home.” “That’s so,” agreed Agnes; “I suppose we’d get tired of it if we had it all the time.” “Well, it’s good enough for me,” returned Stub. “When I’m a man, I’m going to live in one. I don’t see many boys here, though,” he added, looking round. “No,” said Mrs. McGuire, smiling; “most boys prefer a home.” And then dinner was over, and they all strolled through the hotel corridor and bought some flowers at the flower-stand, and some illustrated papers at the news-stand, and then went up to their own apartment. Mrs. McGuire played the piano for them, and they danced a little, and then, after some planning for the next day’s entertainment, they all went to rest. The next day was clear and pleasant, and when breakfast was served in their own dining-room, all the party were ready and eagerly awaiting it. “Then it is decided,” said Mrs. McGuire, “that we have our Christmas tree this evening?” “Oh, yes,” said Betty; “Christmas eve is the time for a tree, and to-morrow, on Christmas day, we’ll have our feast, our real Christmas dinner. Don’t you think so, Agnes?” “Yes, indeed. And then the tree can stay here, can’t it, all day to-morrow? I love to look at a Christmas tree.” “So do I,” said Betty. “And as I never had one before, I’ll keep this one as long as I can.” It was less than a year since Betty had inherited her fortune, and before that she had been a poor little waif, without money and without a home. Her mother’s heart thrilled with gladness to think that Betty would have a tree this year, and she resolved to do everything in her power to make it a beautiful one. Very soon after breakfast they started on a shopping expedition. Two taxicabs were engaged, and the two girls, with Lisette, occupied one, while Mrs. McGuire and the boys rode in the other. Such fun as they had shopping! They fairly tumbled out of one shop into another. The tree had been ordered from the hotel, but they bought ornaments and candles and festoons of tinsel rope, and Mrs. McGuire bought some other things secretly, as she wanted to have some surprises for the young people. Then everybody bought presents for everybody else. Betty found lovely things for the dear ones who had remained at Denniston, and for the faithful servants there, as well. She bought presents for her young friends in Greenborough, too, and all these things they had expressed directly home. But the fun was in buying presents for each other. These, of course, must be kept very secret, and Betty would urge Jack in a whisper to take Agnes to another counter and keep her there, while Stub helped Betty choose the present for his sister. And so with the whole four. Each must be safely removed from the scene of action while his or her gift was purchased. Betty’s mother cautioned the young folks that all gifts be simple and inexpensive. So Agnes bought for Betty a pretty little white fan that she might carry to evening parties, and Betty bought for Agnes a slender gold bangle. The boys bought knives for each other, which caused the girls much amusement, for neither Jack nor Stub knew that each had bought a knife, and the girls knew that the knives were exactly alike. Of course Betty wished to give more valuable gifts to Jack and her mother, so, under the guidance of Mrs. McGuire, she bought a beautiful little gold watch and fob for Jack. It was a beauty, and Betty knew it would give the boy the keenest pleasure. For her mother she wanted to get something very nice indeed, but she had no one with whom to consult. Jack and the Grahams were no better able than herself to advise on such a subject, and Lisette could not be expected to know much about it. But, by a fortunate occurrence, the way was made easy. Betty and her mother had gone to a great jewelry shop to buy Jack’s watch, and, after the purchase was completed, they strolled about the shop looking at the beautiful things displayed in the cases. Suddenly Betty spied a lady whom she recognized. It was Mrs. Sanderson, at whose house in New York Betty had first met Grandma Kinsey. “Mother,” said Betty, speaking very quickly, “will you stay right here and not look around for a few minutes?” “I can’t let you go away from me alone, Betty,” said her mother, smiling at the earnest little face. “But, Mother, I’m only going to the very next counter, and there’s a lady that I know.” “Very well; I trust you not to go farther than the next counter; and I’ll wait for you here.” “Don’t turn round.” “No, but don’t be too long.” Betty hurried to Mrs. Sanderson, who was looking at jewels at the next counter. “How do you do, Mrs. Sanderson?” she said, speaking politely, but very rapidly. “Do you remember me? I’m Betty McGuire, and I was at your house last year with Mrs. Van Court, and I found Mrs. Kinsey there, and now she lives with me.” Mrs. Sanderson looked at the excited little girl, and at last she remembered her. “Oh, yes,” she said; “the little Irish girl who came into a fortune.” “Yes’m,” said Betty. “That’s me, ma’am. And since then I’ve found my mother, and she’s here with me. But I want to buy her a Christmas present unbeknownst to her, and I thought you’d be willing to help me a bit if I asked you.” “What a strange child!” said Mrs. Sanderson, putting up her lorgnette to look at Betty again. “Yes, I am, ma’am. But will you help me buy the present, and then I’ll introduce my mother; you’ll love her, ma’am, she’s that sweet!” Always when Betty was embarrassed or excited she slipped back into her almost forgotten brogue. And perhaps it was that and the persuasive little voice that touched Mrs. Sanderson’s sympathies, for she said kindly: “Why, certainly, my dear; I’ll help you with pleasure. What do you want to buy?” “I want a small diamond brooch, please, and not too grand a one; my mother doesn’t like things too grand. But a plainish one that she could wear every day, and yet a good one at that.” Mrs. Sanderson smiled, but she seemed to understand, and as the affable salesman showed them various styles, she selected one that seemed to fit accurately Betty’s requirements. “This, I think, is lovely,” she said; “I’m sure your mother would like it.” “I’m sure, too,” said Betty, “and it’s the very one I like best myself.” The purchase was completed, and, with the little box in her hand, Betty took Mrs. Sanderson to the next counter to meet her mother. The ladies seemed too pleased to know each other, and Betty was very happy. Then good-by greetings were exchanged and, as it was luncheon-hour, Betty’s mother marshaled her brood together. “I think we won’t go back to the hotel for luncheon,” she said; “for it’s after one o’clock, and we still have some errands to do. So we’ll go over to the Waldorf and lunch there, which will give you hotel-loving children another glimpse of a New York Christmas crowd.” This plan was carried out, and the young quartet watched with sparkling eyes the throngs of people on Christmas errands bent. “Now to finish our errands, and then home,” said Mrs. McGuire, after luncheon was over. But when they reached the hotel again, about mid-afternoon, Betty didn’t want to go in. “Oh, Mother,” she pleaded, “the streets are so gay, and the people are all going along with bundles and holly wreaths, and it’s all so Christmas-evey, can’t we stay out longer?” Her mother considered. “I must go in,” she said, “and I want Lisette to help me. But, if you wish, you four may go for a ride in the Park or along the Avenue. But you must promise not to get out of the cab. The chauffeur is entirely reliable, and if you stay in the cab, you cannot get lost. Be back here in one hour, please.” “We will,” chorused the four, so Mrs. McGuire and Lisette went into the hotel, and the four delighted young folk went for a further ride. Their course down the Avenue was slow, owing to the crowded traffic; they had ample opportunity for observing the people, an amusement of which Betty never tired. Then afterwards a short spin in the Park, where the lights had already begun to gleam through the early winter dusk. “Now for home,” said Jack decisively, when the hour had elapsed; and back they went to their hotel. But when they entered their own sitting-room, nobody was there,—no tree, no presents, and no sign of any human being. Betty opened the door of her mother’s bedroom, but that, too, was unoccupied, as, indeed, were all the bedrooms. Betty looked frightened, and said, in a half-whisper: “Oh, do you suppose anything has happened to Mother?” Then Jack laughed outright. “Oh, Betty,” he said; “can’t you guess? I’ll wager Mother and Lisette are in the dining-room, and they’re fixing the tree in there!” Sure enough, the dining-room door was closed, and when Betty flew to open it, she found it was locked as well. “Let us in, Mother; let us in!” she cried. “Not yet, my child,” said Mrs. McGuire, opening the door a tiny crack and peeping out. “You must all amuse yourselves till dinner-time.” “Oh, can’t we help fix it?” said Jack. “No; I’ve plenty of help in here, and you must keep out and not bother.” Then the door was shut and locked again, and the young folks laughed to find themselves with occupation gone. “All right; let’s get up a surprise for her,” said Betty. “Oh, yes!” cried Jack; “just the thing! What’ll it be?” “Wait. I’ll have to think. Oh, I’ll tell you, Jack; you go down to the flower place, and get a lot of white carnations—just heaps of ’em. And then get a lot of holly, and bring ’em all up, and I’ll show you. Oh, wait—get the biggest holly wreath you can find, and a paper of pins!” Obediently Jack went off, and as the big hotel was able to supply such demands, he brought back everything Betty asked for. “It won’t be much,” said Betty, as she tied a big towel over her pretty frock for an apron. “Come in my room, all of you, so she won’t see it if she comes out.” The other three followed Betty, and she disclosed her plan. First she filled the center of the big wreath with white carnations, having first crisscrossed it closely with string, to keep the blossoms in place. Then she set the others to work picking off the red berries from the bunch of holly Jack had brought, sticking a pin through each. With these prepared berries Betty formed letters on the white background, and as she deftly did her task they saw the words grow under her fingers, “Merry Christmas to Mother.” “Fine!” cried Stub. “Betty, you’re a real genius! I declare it’s the prettiest wreath I ever saw!” It was pretty, for the holly wreath framed the loving greeting spelled out on the white carnations, and Betty’s true eye had spaced the letters admirably. It was not quite finished when Mrs. McGuire emerged from the dining-room. But Betty hastily stuck in the remaining pins with their red berry heads, and Jack asked Mrs. McGuire not to peep into Betty’s room. “Indeed, I won’t,” was the reply. “I’ve only time to dress for dinner, and you young people had better scamper if you want to have any evening left for your tree.” Scamper they did, and soon a very hungry but jolly party made its way down to the dining-room. The girls were in festival dress because it was Christmas eve. Their white frocks of filmy mousseline were cut out a little at the throat, and red sashes and hair-ribbons gave an air of Christmas to their costumes. Each wore a holly spray in her hair, and Jack declared himself proud of the visions of loveliness that graced his party. But notwithstanding the jolly time they were having, and the excitement of it all, there was no lingering after dinner. Though the girls would have liked to stay down-stairs and listen to the music and watch the people, yet the tree seemed to call loudly to them even through the closed door. So up they went, Betty’s little face fairly aglow with the happiness of her first real Christmas. She held her mother’s hand tightly as, at last, Lisette threw open the door of the dining-room, and they all went in. The tree was a marvel. Stalwart porters of the hotel had set it in place, and had assisted Mrs. McGuire to decorate it. It shimmered and glittered with tinsel ropes; it sparkled with shining ornaments; it trembled with tiny lighted candles, and it fairly blazed with hundreds of tiny electric lights of all colors. This was one of Mrs. McGuire’s surprises. Even the Grahams had never seen a Christmas tree electrically lighted, and as for Stub—he fairly whistled in ecstasy. “Oh, what a corker!” he exclaimed, for more grammatical language seemed inadequate. Betty drew closer to her mother’s side and slipped her arm around her waist, as she stood speechless before the beautiful tree. “For me!” she exclaimed, her eyes as bright as the electrics themselves. “Yes,” said her mother, bending to kiss the top of her child’s head. “And for Jack,” she added, holding out her other hand to the boy, who came, a bit shyly, to her embrace. “And for all of us,” shouted Stub gaily; “you can’t leave us out, Mrs. McGuire, and though my small sister seems for the moment to be speechless, yet I can assure you she thinks it’s a very nice tree.” “Very nice tree!” cried Agnes; “it’s the gorgeousest, wonderfulest tree that ever was on the face of the earth! I know it is!” After they had admired it over and over, Mrs. McGuire proposed that they take off the gifts, assuring them that such a proceeding would not mar the effect of the tree. So the ever polite and ready Jack, aided by Stub when the gifts were flung high, took down the presents one by one, and delivered them to those whose names were written on them. Somehow there seemed to be lots of gifts. For five people, each giving to every one else, made a good many, and then there were a lot of extra ones that just seemed to come from Santa Claus himself. Of course Lisette was not forgotten, and she stood in the background, delighted beyond words to see Betty’s pleasure in her beautiful Christmas tree. Mrs. McGuire’s present to her daughter was a gold locket containing a miniature of her own lovely face. It hung from a slender gold chain, and no gift could have pleased Betty more. “I shall always wear it,” she said, as her mother clasped it round her throat; “and, Mother, you must always wear my gift.” Her mother was greatly surprised at the diamond brooch, and wondered how Betty had sufficient taste and judgment to select such a beauty. So Betty told how Mrs. Sanderson had helped her, and all admired the lovely jewel when it was pinned at the top of its owner’s delicate lace bodice. The tables were filled with the various trinkets and knickknacks, and the floor was strewn with tissue-papers and narrow red ribbons. Then Jack and Stub brought in the big Christmas greeting Betty and the others had made, and her mother was delighted at the pretty attention. It was late indeed when they sought their beds, for a refection of ices and cakes had to be attended to, and some Christmas carols sung, and a Christmas dance indulged in. But at last all the lights were out, and the stars twinkled down on one of the happiest girls in the great city, a girl who was restfully sleeping after the joys of her first real Christmas. |
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