A Little Girl in Old New York by Amanda Minnie Douglas (epub ebook reader txt) 📖

a little while everybody talked. Then John and Joe made their appearance, and Martha rang the bell, though the savory odors announced that all was ready.

They had a very delightful dinner. Mrs. Underhill had a pretty new consequence about her, and was not a bit teased by being called grandmother. Dolly's advent into the family had been a source of delight, for she fraternized so cordially with every member. And of late she and Mother Underhill had been tenderly intimate, for Mrs. Beekman was kept much at home by her husband's failing health.

When they had lingered over the mince pies which certainly were delicious, and finished their coffee, they went up-stairs to chat around the fire. After the dishes were dried Hanny ran into the Deans' to interchange a little Christmas talk and tell the girls about Stephen's baby. She was so excited that all other gifts seemed of little moment.

Daisy Jasper had been confined to the house for a week with a severe cold.

"I began to think you had forgotten me," she said, as Hanny entered the beautiful parlor. "And Doctor Joe said you had something special to tell me. Oh, what is it?" for the little girl's face was still in a glow of excitement.

"I can never have any nieces or nephews because there is only one of me," said Daisy, with a sad little smile. "I _almost_ envy you. If I could have one of your brothers out of them all I should choose Dr. Joe. He is so tender and sweet and patient. He used to take me in his arms and let me cry when crying wasn't good for me either. I was so miserable and full of pain, and he always understood."

Hanny was so moved by pity for Daisy that she felt almost as if she could give him away--she had so much. Not quite, however, for he was very dear to her. And when she looked into Daisy's lovely face and remembered her beautiful name and glanced at the elegant surroundings, it seemed strange there should be anything to wish for. But health outweighed all.

Daisy was delighted with the Christmas Eve anniversary, the singing of "bonnie Prince Charlie," the fair, and was wonderfully interested in the little Chinese girls. She meant to send some money toward their education.

Mr. Bradbury was to give a concert in February with the best child singers of the different schools. Charles was to take part, his father had promised him that indulgence.

"I hope I shall get strong enough to go," began Daisy wistfully. "It is the sitting up straight that tires my back, but last year it was so much worse. Doctor Joe says I shall get well and be almost like other girls. See how much I have gone to school. It is so splendid to learn for your own very self. You don't feel so helpless."

Daisy's Christmas had been a beautiful Geneva watch. We had not gone to watchmaking then and had to depend on our neighbors over the water for many choice articles. And a watch was a rare thing for a little girl to possess.

When she went home Hanny had to get out her pretty new work and show the visitors. She had nearly four yards of lovely blue edging she was making for Margaret, but she had not hinted at its destination.

"Why," exclaimed Aunt Nancy, "I've seen mittens knit with a hook something like that. Not open work and fancy, but all tight and out of good stout yarn. They're very lasting."

"I do believe they're like what Uncle David makes," said John. "Don't you remember, he used to give us a pair now and then?"

"Well, I declare, there's nothing new under the sun!" laughed Aunt Patience.

Hanny was quite sure there could not be any connection between her delicate lace and stout yarn mittens, and she meant to ask Uncle David the next time they made a visit. Both ladies praised her a good deal, especially when they heard of the shirts she had been making with Margaret.

"It used to be a great thing," said Aunt Patience. "When I was six years old I had knit a pair of stockings by myself, and when I was eight I had made my father a shirt. All the gussets were stitched, just as you do a bosom. My, what a sight of fine work there was then!"

"I'll tell you something I read the other day in a queer old book I picked up down at the office," began Ben. "When little Prince Edward was two years old, the Princess Elizabeth who was afterward queen made him a shirt or smock, as it was called, with drawn work and embroidery. And she was only six."

"Children have more lessons to study now," said Mrs. Underhill, half in apology. "And Hanny has done some drawn work for me, and embroidered some aprons."

"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 shirts for an army," declared Ben.

"Well, we all have our duties in this world," sighed Aunt Patience. "I learned to make shirts, 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 stitch down the middle of a shirt bosom, following a drawn thread, and taking up only two threads at every stitch?

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 muff 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 God 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 shining 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.