Uncle Noah's Christmas Inspiration by Leona Dalrymple, Chapter one, Christmas Cheer. The
twilight of a Christmas Eve, gray with the portent of coming snow, crept
slowly over the old plantation of briarwood, softening the outlines of a decrepit house
still rearing its roof in massive dignity, and a tumble down barn flanked by
barren fields. A quiet melancholy hovered about the old house, as if it
brooded over a host of by gone Yule tides, alive with the shouts of
merry negroes and the jingle of visiting sleighs. Yule tides. When the snowy
dusk had been ushered in to the lowing of cattle and the neighing of horses
safely housed in the old barn. There were no negroes now, no blooded
stock, no fluttering fowl, save one belligerent old turkey gobbler, fleeing from
a white haired darky who tried in vain to drive him to his roost in
the barn. In the line library of the old house, a man,
tall and eagle eyed, peered out beneath bushy, white eyebrows, at the
fading landscape, blurred by the dancing forms of the Negro and the recalcitant Turkey.
He watched the chase end with an impertinent gobble from the Turkey, and
at the sound of a closing door in the rear of the house, tapped
a bell at his side. Footsteps shuffled along the hallway, and breathless from
his chaise, the old Negro entered. Colonel Fairfax wheeled with military precision.
Uncle Noah, he said, sternly, tomorrow will be Christmas. The darky
nodded and hobbled hurriedly to the wood fire, bending over as he poked it
to hide the look of anxiety in his face. Laws a massy mass of
Fairfax, he grumbled, in good natured evasion, you'd most freeze to death.
I reckons thou sendin for me? He coughed, and amended hastily,
thou sendin for one of the servants to pile up this here fire. The
amendment was but one of Uncle Noah's many subterfuges to convince himself and his master
that there had been no changes in the Fairfax fortunes since the old days,
that he was the last of the Colonel's retainers, a wageless, loyal,
old dependent attending to the manifold tasks of a soul domestic. The negro never
admitted even to himself that his quaint pretensions, however, were daily stimulants to
the fierce old colonel, hungrily eating his heart out with memories. Uncle Noah
was well aware. So the pitiful little subterfuges, revealing the subtle understanding of
the two, peopled the old house with swarming Negroes and the horn of plenty,
to the joy of both. But to day Uncle Noah felt uneasily that
the reference to the servants had not bolstered the colonel as it usually did,
and the old Darky groaned inwardly as he added wood to the fire. From
the corner of his eye, he saw that the colonel had drawn himself up
to military rigidity and evidence that the old soldier was on his metal and would
brook no opposition, Uncle Noah, he said, fixing a stern eye on
the old man. In the Fairfax family, there has always been a turkey
at Christmas. There was no suggestion in the darkis affable tones of the erratic
manner in which his heart was beating. Yes, sir, he agreed ofttimes
morn one, Owing to circumstances understood by you and myself, but by no
one else, there would be no turkey this year save that, yes,
sir, Uncle Noah laid a wrinkled brown hand upon the nearest chair for support.
We have a live turkey in stock, added the colonel, firmly,
looking squarely into the trembling Negro's eyes. Uncle Noah's heart gave a convulsive leap.
The thunderbolt had fallen the fierce old turkey gobbler, solitary tenant of the
crazy outbuildings. The imperial tyrant, upon whom Uncle Noah had bestowed the affection
of his loyal old heart, had been sentenced to death by the highest earthly
tribunal. The old Negro recognized as as I fear'll be tough. Colonel Fairfax,
he quavered ah Ah a god, a massy mess, a dick.
You wouldn't kill old Joe. He's too smart for a bird, and he's
done a most powerful sight. O runnin sah. I reckons he's most all
muscle. There was an agonized appeal in the Darky's voice that cut straight to
the Colonel's heart. Uncle Noah, he said kindly, it can't be helped.
Job goes for the sake of some one else, Ol Missus. Yes,
thank god, Uncle Noah. The Colonel laid a gentle hand on the
Negro's shoulder. That she doesn't know of our er financial crisis. His halting
utterance showed how distasteful the words were to him, save of course, that
we must live with economy as we have for years of the catastrophe of last
fall. She is ignorant, and a Fairfax Christmas without a turkey would she
must not know, he finished abruptly. The Colonel had spoken with a simple
dignity and confidence that brought the old Negro back from the field of sentiment to
the barren desert of reality. Dimly in his mental chaos stood for three pitiless
facts. All Missus was grieving her heart out for the Sun with whom the
Colonel had quarreled three years before. Of this money trouble from which Colonel Fairfax
had shielded her, she must as yet know nothing, And there was no
turkey for the Christmas dinner. Verily, things looked dark for the ill fated
job roosting in unsuspecting security in the desolate old barn. With bowed head,
the darky walked slowly toward the door, Uncle Noah. The Colonel's tones were
incisive. You will kill job to night. I most forgot massa Dick faltered,
Uncle Noah, that supper is ready, sir, Oh, missus Duncombe
downstairs, just for I chases job to roost laws a mess in massa Dick.
Can he live till after supper? The colonel nodded, carefully avoiding the
old man's troubled eyes, and went to join his wife at supper. Christmas
Eve, My dear, he announced cheerfully as he bent to kiss the sweet,
wistful face that turned to greet him. I beg your pardon for keeping
you waiting. Uncle Noah, and I were discussing tomorrow's turkey. He gazed
calmly at the old negro nervously handling the tea things. He has selected a
large bird, and I have been advising a smaller. The Colonel opened his
napkin and deftly tucked the hole in the end out of sight beneath the table.
Now, Uncle Noah, what is there to night for supper? To
Uncle Noah, this nightly question had become a sacred institution, a stimulus to
imaginative powers highly developed. In his quaint dialogs with the Colonel, he forgot
the doomed job. It was Christmas Eve, and his creative gift took festive
wings. Well, sir, he beamed, we has a little chicken gumbo,
some fried chicken, just the right golden brown, sir, Cream potatoes,
hot biscuits with currant jelly er, slashed ham, and baked potatoes.
Colonel Fairfax thoughtfully considered the appetizing prospect in accordance with the rules of the game.
What mattered it that the luscious edibles existed only in the brain of the
loyal old Darky. The little pretense gave to each a delightful thrill, surely
an adequate extenuation of the harmless diversion. As usual, Colonel Fairfax found the
key to the situation in the closing items of Uncle Noah's list. It all
sounds delicious, Uncle Noah, he observed, graciously, But I have a
touch of my old enemy, the dyspepsia. To day I think I shall
have sliced ham and baked potatoes that I think will do for us both.
Missus Fairfax agreed, her kindly eyes fixed upon Uncle Noah's attentive face, and
Sir Uncle Noah began, it was Christmas Eve, and this game must be
perfectly played. Shall I attend to the distribution of gifts in a negro's coudice?
Sir Yes, agreed. The colonel see that no one is slighted.
Missus Fairfax bowed her wistful face upon her hands to hide the blinding tears,
and an odd, uncomfortable silence fell upon the little group. At length,
the Colonel pushed his chair back and rose, Uncle Noah, He said,
sternly, a suspicious brightness gleaming in his eyes. That turkey of yours is
making a terrible noise under the window. Make him quick gobbling, Patricia,
I don't wonder he makes you nervous. He's an old renegade. That the
object of the Colonel's wrath had long since retired to rust mattered not to his
accuser. The turkey had developed a convenient habit of gobbling under the window whenever
a motion forced the colonel to seek event In stern commands, Uncle Noah crossed
to the window and commanded job to be silent. Missus Fairfax, Southern gentlewoman
and thoroughbred from tip to toe, quivered proudly, and as Uncle Noah returned,
bade him serve the supper in tones as well controlled as they were gentle.
Chapter two, The Inspiration In the Great barren Kitchen, Uncle Noah wiped
his steel roomed spectacles and glared angrily about him. Oh, Missus Greebner had
out for young massa dick, he reflected, and a colonel say slat no
one, gaud em messy, what a missieur old world comin to every time,
Ol miss Kraft, a young massa dick. Colonel says, Job gobbles.
The old Darky choked miserably at the thought of the destined check to Job's
gobbling career, and replacing his spectacles, carefully carried in the supper, prolonging
its simple service to the uttermost with the single idea of adding precious minutes to
the doomed turkey's span of life. When at length he sought the barn,
it was quite dark, and the velvet stillness of the night was dotted thickly
with snowflakes. With trembling fingers, he opened the great barn door lit a
queer old lantern hanging just within, and hung it high upon a projecting hook.
The dim light revealed an antique carriage house in one corner of which,
upon a rude, improvised roost of shingles, the tyrant Job slept the sleep
of the just and the unjust rolled into one. As the lights flickered upon
his ruffled feathers. The turkey emitted a throaty grunt of disapproval and moved cumbrously
around to avoid the light. Uncle Noah addressed him with great firmness. Now
see here, massa Job, he said, tain't no use your puttin on
your high and mighty airs tonight. I's come to interview you, sir,
understand. Job majestically tucked his head beneath his wing, as if to intimate
his indifference to the proposed interview. Uncle Noah surveyed his ruffled back feathers with
increased respect. So he said, you refuse me an interview, massa Job,
Fairfax. You're sleepy, sah, that's what's got unto you. He
stroked the turkey with a gentle hand, and Job, resenting the indignity,
withdrew his head from the sheltering wing and pecked at the brown fingers, turning
around with a stately movement and facing the light once more with a sleepy blink
of his bright bead like eyes. Now, sir, we can talk,
exclaimed the negro in delight. Drawing up an old box, he seated himself
before the roost and beamed benevolently over his glasses. Colonel Dunn, say,
yo gobble under the window about supper time, he began confidentially when old miss
crabout young Massa dick. The colonel he just got a scold about somethin',
and as you was the most important person about, he just naturally selects you.
The Turkey held his head upon one side, apparently in critical admiration of
the Darky's quaint old scarf pin, which resembled a grain of corn mounted on
a needle. Uncle Noah, who had always had a faint mistrust of Job's
attitude towards this ancient Ethiopian heirloom, promptly removed it to a place of safety.
Then, with a sudden resolve that no thought of the coming tragedy should
mar his last visit with his old companion, he wrote and sought a dim
cobwebby corner of the barn. Whence he returned with a box. Deez here,
Job, he explained, is the flowers what young massa dick have sent
to his mother every holiday since he done went away from here mornin' aspects when
the Colonel sees him out of plate, he'll declare your goblin's somethin fierce under
the window again he always do. The old negro broke the string of the
box and removed a glowing mass of purple orchids. Odd transient tenants of the
crazy old barn Job suddenly reached over and pecked a blossom from its stem ate
the heart with the dainty air of an epicure, and discarded the remainder with
a noise akin to a gobble of disgust. Uncle Noah rose and scandalized.
Protest you good for nothin miserable sassed turkey, he scolded, hastily removing the
orchids. You certainly is the most scandless no count bird I ever knowed.
Eat one o ol missus Orchard's laws a massive job. You goes most too
far. Now, sir, you be quiet and listen to this note I
gets from young Massa Dick, and he carefully deciphered the written lines for the
listening job. Dear Uncle Noah, I have written Foster and Company as usual
to send mother's orchids. They should get there Christmas Eve. Will you put
them at her plate in the morning. I find they are the only suggestion
of me that the Colonel will allow in the house. I tried another letter
this week, but it came back unopened, Uncle Noah, give mother a
merry Christmas for me, Dick. Uncle Noah laid the letter on his knee
and drew from a worn leather wallet several newspaper clippings. They were glowing reports
gleaned from a stray newspaper of the success of a young architect in a distant
northern city, one Richard Fairfax. Junior. Uncle Noah proudly read them aloud
for the hundredth time, interpolating little explanatory remarks to the turkey who gobbled threateningly
but failed to intimidate his tormentor job. What you think about this here,
quarrel, Uncle Noah said, as the turkey eyed him sternly. I say
the Colonel's too hot on the boy a Quarrel's a quarrel, you say,
hum, Maybe you're right, but it's this fair Fax pride of the Colonel's
to keep him from readin the boy's letters and nothin else. Sir, he's
sorry for that quarrel. Don't you forget it? But the colonel he prouder
and lucifer. Hum, you say, y understand pride, as you're proud
yourself. Then, as the turkey relapsed into slumber, now see yere massa
job, ye ain't no more sleepier eyes, Uncle Noah poked the turkey with
his finger, and Job arched his neck with a threatening flap of his wings,
and descended from his perch. Fight me, will ya, demanded Uncle
Noah in secret delight you is the touchiest bird. Yere fight with these here
crusts of bread. Job spread his tail magnificently and began an erratic consumption of
the bread crusts, pertly taking them more by one from the old Negro's hand
and arranging them upon the barn floor for later and more personal inspection. Uncle
Noah watched him with misty eyes. Presently his gaze furtively sought the rusty axe
in the corner, and great tear rolled down his cheek. Caught in the
wave of a sudden panic, he dropped upon his knees and clasped his trembling
hands. The dusky barn, littered with odds and ends, was dimly visible
in the glimmering light of the old fashioned lantern, whose slanting rays fell upon
the doomed bird and the praying negro. No thought of sacrilege marred the quaint,
halting prayer. A terrible earnestness lined the Negro's face with a holiness of
purpose and made it beautiful. Oh Lord, he prayed, Save this here,
old turkey gobbler. I knows, Lord, he's a powerful, worthless
bird, but he's all as God. A's just an old slave massa what's
been free since the war? And Job, sir, he understands me.
Lord, I don't want to live no more if I ask to kill old
Job. Send me an inspiration, Lord, and tell me how I can
save his worthless old hide. Save him and an God bless the colonel aimen
for an interval in which the only sound was that of Job's feet as he
strutted about, seeking an eatable successor to the bread Uncle Noah remained upon his
knees in the attitude of prayer, perhaps awaiting inspiration. At length, he
rose, and seating himself upon the box once more buried his white head dejectedly
in his hands. The snowflakes filtered slowly through a crevice at the side,
heaping fantastically into a miniature drift. Absently, Uncle Noah watched them, his
mind traveling back to many a snowy Christmas before the war. Suddenly, his
brown face glowed with radiance, and he drew a long breath of relief.
Joe, he said, leaning forward and patting the turkey. I has it.
You'd scarcely believe it, sir, But I's a gunna save you.
He rose, transformed the bond and droop of his lean body, replaced by
an alert energy. Now, Joe, he coaxed, I'll just want you
for to come along with me, peaceable sir, as after you, to
save your old had from the Christmas platter. But Job, with a malicious
enjoyment of the game, was prancing wildly about the barn, flapping his wings
in hysterical derision of his breathless pursuer. Brought to bay, he squawked a
protest and struggled violently as Uncle Noah unceremoniously imprisoned him beneath one arm. There,
Sir exclaimed the Negro triumphantly. Ah, hes, yer, you're certainly
the most worthless turkey on this yere plantation. Tightly clasping the outraged tyrant,
Uncle Noah tiptoed to the lantern and blew it out. Then, stumbling across
the floor, he stealthily left the barn and set out across the snowy fields
to a tumble down shanty sole survivor of a string of Negro huts long since
burned one by one in the library fireplace. Into its dilapidated interior, he
thrust the protesting turkey, pausing at the door as he struck a match to
view the bird's temporary quarters. Now, massa job, Fairfax, he began,
I know you is just mad clean through y're jest naturally objects to beIN
toped out in the snow in the middle of a turkey knat without beIN asked,
he says, your back is full of snow. Well, I just
ask you, massa job Fairfax. Ain't to have better an beIN without a
head, now, sa I ask ye to be most terrible quiet as yea
not ies A goin into Coatsville on a little trip. An I don't want
a colonel to know you're here. He closed the rickety door, and,
hurrying back across the fields, sought the kitchen, his eyes behind their spectacles
shining with excitement. Muffling himself in a quaint red knitted scarf, a dingy
overcoat, and a worn fur cap plentifully earlapped, he left the house again,
pausing only long enough to peer through the library window at the colonel,
who was reading aloud to his wife, both drawn up in the cheery warmth
of a blazing wood fire. Then he hurried on along the road to town,
with a prayer in his heart for the success of his mission. Uncle
Noah trudged sturdily down the two miles to Coatesville, past Major Verney's old plantation,
the cheery lights of the great House twinkling brightly through a curtain of snow,
and into the snow laden air of the village, streets alive with Christmas
shoppers, hawley and mistletoe Christmas trees filling the air with the odor of pine
dancing snowflakes and bright lights, wonderful windows wreathed and dotted in Christmas glitter,
and cheery voices. Who could resist them? Uncle Noah felt his heart quiver
with hope. Jubilantly, he turned his steps toward the railroad station. Ahead.
The Northern Express flashed through the snow and came to a stop with a
clang and a roar, disgorging a chattering holiday crowd who paused for a change
of cars at Coatesville on their southbound trips. Uncle Noah hastened his shuffling footsteps.
The Northern Express, with its horde of transient visitors, had been a
vital part of the inspiration. Upon the station platform, people stamped up and
down in the snow, or laughed and chatted, quite oblivious to the timid
gaze of the old Darky, who slowly made his way among them. One
by one. Uncle Noah left them all behind, a great disappointment in his
face. In their laughing countenances, he had found nothing of what he sought.
Chapter three, The Gray eyed Lady. Just ahead, a girl appeared
from the shadows and walked quickly toward the waiting room. Uncle Noah looked into
her fresh, sweet face. Then his own lit up with renewed hope,
and he followed her in and touched her timidly on the arm. The girl
turned, revealing her face rosy with cold and a pair of warm gray eyes
fringed in lashes of black eyes that frankly offered a glimpse of a girl's impulsive
heart brimming over with Christmas spirit. Uncle Noah removed the battered fur cap and
bowed low with the deference of a cavalier a asjist come in to to ask
him, miss, He said, simply, if you'd like to buy an
old nigger servant as for sale? For sale? The girl took in the
quaint figure with a glance of blank astonishment. Why, she gasped, surely
you as, oh, miss, he interrupted timidly, but meeting her gaze
with unwavering sincerity. I suspects asmost a hundred, but as powerful, tough
and full o work an a miss. I has to sell myself to night
cause cuz Uncle Noah paused uncertainly, seeking a fit expression of his dilemma,
and the girl readily intuitive glanced swiftly about to assure herself that the waiting room
was free from unsympathetic eavesdroppers, then strangely drawn by this quaint old vender of
humanity, and warmly eager to put him more at his ease, she impulsively
pushed a rocking chair toward the old stove in the center, and motioned him
to be seated. But Uncle Noah had been reared in the Fairfax family,
and a Fairfax never sat when a lady was still upon her feet. With
a courtly gesture, the old man bowed her to the chair she had drawn
for him. A quick gleam of approval flashed in the gray eyes, and
with a deepening flush of puzzled interest, the girl instantly seated herself, unfastening
the silver fox at her throat, as she felt the warm of the old
country stove. Please, I would so much rather you too, would sit
down, she said impulsively, And as Uncle Noah drew forward another of the
rickety old rocking chairs with which the coats filled waiting room was dotted, she
bent toward him. A light in the wonderful gray eyes that one Uncle Noah's
heart. Tell me, she said, kindly, tell me just why you
want to sell yourself. No, she had not laughed at him. Uncle
Noah glowed to the tips of his fingers at the ready sympathy of her tone.
He beamed mildly at her over his spectacles, turning the old fur cap
round and round in his hands as he sought to voice the words struggled to
his lips. Old masses money an miss. He ain't had much since the
war, just enough to live comfortable. I'll go in the Coatsville bank crash
last fall, and he don't want old miss for the know. I's the
only one of the niggas was left, and there's only one old turkey gobbler
left to the stock. He's my old pet, miss, most like a
child. And and Uncle Noah choked. The girl's eyes were misty velvet.
And he told you to kill your pet for the Christmas dinner, she finished
gently. Uncle Noah nodded. MASSA doesn't say we must have a turkey for
the Christmas dinner or old missiles suspect the the financial crisis, what we're in
out in the bond. I prays for an inspiration, an I suspect it
come. And so you decided to sell yourself, began the girl. Yes'm
Uncle Noah's voice had grown apologetic. You see, miss, I's the only
thing what I really own sip is here, old stickpin, cause I's free
now. But I reckons if I I has a mind to sell myself,
de norf can't stop me. I's sellin' my own property. There was a
gentle defiance in the old Negro's argument, and you you wouldn't accept a alone,
The girl flushed. The Negro's hurt eyes were answer enough. Uncle Noah
had not lived in an atmosphere permeated with Fairfax pride without feeling its influence.
I was not asking for charity, Miss he averred stubbornly. I's a sellin
somethin'. I reckons if you buy me, miss An, you'll let me
go back and stay Christmas with the old Master. I'll sell myself cheap.
You see, I's a plannin first to buy a turkey what'll take Job's place
on a platter, And then to give the Massa a grand Christmas. WI
the restin' money what I gets for myself, savin' out jest enough to buy
my old turkey An, come to your first day after Christmas. It'd be
hard to leave old Massa and miss but I reckons it's just gotta be done.
Uncle Noah gulped and blinked, and there was a glimmer of wet flashes
about the warm gray eyes that had won his heart. The girl was silent
so long that Uncle Noah shifted uneasily. But at last she spoke a little
tremulously. For what price will you sell yourself? She asked, And Uncle
Noah never doubted, but that she regarded the purchase in the same light in
which he himself had viewed it. He turned about for his purchaser's thorough inspection,
his bald head above the fringe of white wool about it, glistening in
the lamp let. Do you think I's worth? Say twenty five dollars?
He queried, regarding her fixedly over his spectacles. The girl touched her throat
with an unconscious gesture. Yes you are, she cried impulsively, You are
indeed, And before Uncle Noah had quite time to adjust himself to the joy
of his unique sale, the girl thrust a roll of bills into his hands
and disappeared through the station door. Chapter four Christmas Intrigue. Uncle Noah hobbled
after her. Her his new mistress had quite forgotten to tell him where to
deliver himself when his Christmas with the Colonel was over. But when he reached
the door, she was eagerly greeting a man who had just alighted from a
waiting carriage. Uncle Noah could but dimly see, but as the genial voice
reached his ears, he halted in the shadow, quite content it was Major
Verney. The fact that the colonel's old friend and neighbor had driven in from
Fernlands to meet the radiant lady, whose great gray eyes Uncle Noah now recalled
had had the Verney look, which endeared the owner of Fernlands to all who
knew him, seemed to the watching Negro a direct interposition of providence. A
scant mile of cotton fields lay between the two plantations, and Christmas over,
Uncle Noah had but to trudge across the fields to deliver himself to the Major's
guest, and Ruth concluded Major Verney in laughing reprimand you've kept me waiting,
why, child? The Northern Express came in fifteen minutes ago. Uncle Noah
did not catch the girl's reply as Major Verney assisted her into the carriage and
they drove rapidly. The old darky beamed happily after the retreating carriage. Then,
with his hand tightly clasped about the precious roll of green backs for which
he had so willingly bartered his freedom, he began a tour of the Coatesville
stores. When at length he staggered into the Big Grocery store for his final
purchases. He was laden with a miscellaneous collection of Christmas packages, from which
he was cheerfully disentangled by the bulky proprietor himself. Uncle Noah made a critical
pilgrimage about the store, pausing at last before a counter where the proprietor had
laid out a number of turkeys for the careful inspection of this beaming shopper about
to select an understudy for the incomparable job. A very respectable fowl was presently
mantled in brown paper and laid beside the other bundles, along with sundry bags
of cranberries and apples, oranges and nuts, celery and raisins, cigars for
the kernel, a box of candy for Missus Fairfax, huge bunches of holly
and mistletoe, Christmas wreaths for the windows, and a great bag of cracked
corn for the reprieved tyrant, gloomily roosting in the ruined hut. As Uncle
Noah carefully counted out the money required to purchase this astonishing outlay, the bulky
proprietor asked pleasantly, Uncle Noah, do you happen to know where I can
get a good woman to scrub up my store every evening? Uncle Noah fingered
his scarf pin uncertainly. How much do you pay for the work, he
queried? Fifty cents a day. The negro leaned forward intense expectancy. Do
you suspect I could do it? He demanded excitedly. The proprietor, secretly
astonished by the old man's manner, nodded assuringly. Why yes, you could
easily. It's nothing much. But the colonel Colonel don't have foo to know,
exclaimed Uncle Noah. I comes yer Mornin's foys up, and I clare
to goodness, sir, I need the money most powerful. The proprietor was
easy going and too phlegmatic to harbor curiosity, so the bargain was straightway sealed
under a pledge of deepest secrecy. Somewhat Confused by the unusual series of events,
Uncle Noah, his eyes shining with a strange excitement, started for the
door, quite forgetting the countless packages on the counter. The proprietor recalled him
with a hearty laugh. Uncle Noah, he called, you've forgotten one or
two little bundles here with a smothered gasp. The old negro hurried back,
but try as they would, room for all the numerous bundles could not be
found. The proprietor energetically tucked bundles into all of Uncle Noah's pockets, piled
them tower fashion upon his arms, and even hung a collection bound together with
a string over his shoulder while Uncle Noah wheezed and groaned and struggled to find
new and unsuspected storage space in his clothes. But still there remained bundles and
bundles, at which Uncle Noah gazed over his spectacles in growing discomfiture. What
am I going to do? He demanded, I never can come all the
way back here in the snow of desire, old legs. Man, get
one of them station cabs, advised the grocer, and so, after considerable
discussion, the bundle problem was resolved. Ten minutes later, Uncle Noah entered
a hired carriage for the first time in his life at the town florist's.
He rapped a timid signal to the driver to stop, and, glowing with
anticipation, spryly shuffled into the warm scented air of the little shop. Here,
to the smiling clerk's astonishment, he ordered a bunch of violets to be
delivered Christmas morning to the young lady with the gray eyes. What's at Major
Verney's, surely smiled the clerk. You don't want that on the card.
But Uncle Noah was stubborn more. He insisted on writing the inscription himself,
his orthography quite as quaint as his penmanship, and so the card went to
be read by the wonderful gray eyes in the morning. Back through the snow
in his rickety carriage rolled Uncle Noah rattling home along the snowy road down which
he had trudged in the early evening, chuckling now intermittently in a mental rehearsal
of his new plan. Fifty cents a day, he thought, and to
morrow I was a going to slip over to fern Lands in a morning and
ask her to let me buy myself back on a stallment plan. Most likely
she'll take a week and with all the rest of that grocer money. Oh,
miss don't have to know what the Colonel and me is a goin through.
In accordance with Uncle Noah's whispered directions, the cab crept gently up the
driveway at Briarwood and paused at the kitchen door, where the driver, who
had taken a great fancy to Uncle Noah, became transformed into a benevolent stevedore,
tiptoeing in and out of the kitchen with the bundles which the old darky
drew from the cavernous pit of the cab. Job's understudy came last, and
Uncle Noah, tightly pressing the precious fowl in his arms, watched the carriage
drive slowly away. Then, after an interval in the kitchen, devoted to
hiding his purchases, he sought the library, striving to simulate a decent depression
over the assumed decapitation of Job. Colonel Fairfax looked up inquiringly as he entered.
I's just come to tell you, sir, said Uncle Noah, with
a meaning glance at missus Fairfax that I has a turkey all ready for the
oven. A faint red crept through the Colonel's skin, but he met the
darky's eyes squarely. Thank you, Uncle Noah, he said, and the
Negro shuffled hurriedly away in his old rocking chair by the kitchen fire. Uncle
Noah, alert and excited, waited until he heard the Colonel and Missus Fairfax
go up to bed. Then, chuckling to himself, he extinguished the kitchen
lights, and, carrying one of his Christmas bundles, plodded across the field
to Job's nocturnal hermitage. The light of a match revealed the tyrant roosting glumly
on the summit of a ruined plowshare. As brought you a Christmas surprise,
Messa Job, Fairfax, said Uncle Noah, And he sprinkled the floor of
the hut with corn, that the turkey might find it in the morning.
With his heart full of thanksgiving, the Negro plodded homeward through the snow.
As he reached the old barn, the great clock in the library struck twelve,
and faintly through the snowy air floated the distant, silvery charms of the
Coatsville, bells clear and sweet, ringing in a Christmas morning, creeping to
bed. Long after the first rooster had crowed, Uncle Noah had sought the
kitchen again with the sunrise, his tired eyes opening jubilantly upon a snapping,
cold Christmas morning, radiant in gold and white. Downstairs, clusters of holly
and mistletoe festooned doors and windows, dotted the old fashioned hanging lamps with spots
of crimson, and crowned the family portraits with royal diadems and evergreen wreaths hung
in the windows, all the work of a wrinkled pair of faithful brown hands
toiling while the world slept. In the library, a blazing wood fire leaped
and crackled, while in the dining room the table was spread for breakfast.
Certain long needed articles of china, which had mysteriously disappeared from time to time
since the autumn, dotted a tablecloth free from holes, a new one subjected
to a severe laundry process during the night, and the napkins no longer resembled
ku Kluck's masks. A great bowl of purple orchids glowed at Missus Fairfax's plate.
Chapter five Fern lands. The Colonel greeted the Christmas festoons of Holly in
the library with a stare of astonished approval. A question had risen to his
lips, but the warning look in Uncle Noah's eyes as they rested on Missus
Fairfax had checked it. These two had had many financial and domestic secrets from
the dear Lady, and the Colonel promptly decided that Uncle Noah had sold some
forgotten relic and had once more made use of his highly developed faculty for expanding
a small sum to incredible elasticity, and he praised the result accordingly. Missus
Fairfax too brightened wonderfully, yielding to the Christmas spirit with which the old Darky
had contrived to fill the house. Uncle Noah felt a glow of delight at
their outspoken appreciation, and bowing elaborately, he ushered his master and mistress to
breakfast here again. As he seated himself, the Colonel was conscious of an
agreeable flood of astonishment. There was quite an air about this Christmas breakfast.
Fixing his keen eyes on the tablecloth and napkins, he stealthily fingered them with
a searching look at the waiting Negro. Fortunately, his interest were speedily diverted.
He caught sight of the orchids and the tear stained face of his wife,
bending over them with a wrench of his chair. He arose Patricia,
He said, stormily, Did I not say that nothing of his? Did
I not? He paused and gulped. Uncle Noah. He added, unsteadily
that turkey of yours is gobbling like a fiend out of the window. You
he The colonel stopped, abruptly, reddened as his eyes fell upon the Negro.
Uncle Noah had wisely turned away and sternly reseated himself. Somewhat confused by
his thoughtless reference to the late lamented job, Uncle Noah hobbled from the room,
his brown face working convulsively. In the kitchen, he shook with silent
laughter, doubling over breathlessly and clasping his hands over his stomach in aching distress.
And what, Uncle Noah asked the colonel kindly, as the old Negro
presently re entered the dining room, have we for our Christmas breakfast? Well,
sir? Uncle Noah began luinley. We has grapefruit cereal with cream,
quail on toast, fried oysters, er, oatmeal, hot muffins, fried
chicken, com bread and coffee. The colonel, appearing to be thoughtfully considering
his choice, replied, as usual, it all sounds delicious, Uncle Noah,
but I have a touch of my old enemy dyspepsia today. I think
I shall have some corn bread and coffee, and so will missus Fairfax.
I don't think you quite understand, mess Sir averred, Uncle Noah, and
Sir, I suspect yer dyspepsia ain't so bad this morning. We has for
breakfast, sir, grapefruit cereal with cream, quail on toast, fried oysters,
er, oatmeal, fried chicken, hot muffins, corn bread and coffee.
There was no mistaking in the emphasis this time. Colonel Fairfax darted a
lightning glance at the negro and amended his selection with a question in his voice.
Well, now, I come to think of it, Uncle Noah,
he said, my dyspepsia isn't nearly so bad. I'll have a let me
see oatmeal that was in the list. I believe h fried chicken, Am
I right? Muffins, corn bread and coffee. There was a conviction in
the colonel's deep voice that something extraordinary was afoot, and Uncle Noah, flurried
by its ominous ring, hurried from the room. Dimly he had pictured his
master's gracious astonishment and pleasure. Any queries relative to the financial source of the
Christmas delicacies, however, had been lost entirely in the darky's jubilant excitement.
Now, he groaned in dismay. Yo is in a mess for sure,
Uncle Noah, he apostrophised himself, What do you do when it come time
for dinner? Here you has a Christmas dinner fit for a king and a
colonel. He know right well that we has only a little left from the
money and what we don't get when we sold a silver teapot. It was
Christmas, however, and Uncle Noah felt convinced that the providence that had watched
so well over his Christmas Eve would order a special dispensation for his new dilemma
while awaiting its manifestation, and he would studiously avoid the Colonel and would slip
across to Fernlands once the pseudo job was safe in the oven, and begged
the gray eyed lady to accept a dollar a week of the grocer's money.
In his inspired scheme of self redemption. With this in mind, Uncle Noah
served the breakfast, hurried his preparations for the mid day feast, and at
five minutes of eleven the turkey, safely roasting, set out across the fields
for Major Verney's. At Fernland's, the eleven strokes of the grandfather's clock in
the great Hall found the gray eyed lady in the arms of a young fellow,
who had but that instant, bounded lightly up the walk from the sleigh.
Major Verney had dispatched to Coatesville to meet the Northern Express. The Major,
smilingly awaiting his opportunity to greet the newcomer, ran his eye approvingly over
the lines of the well knit figure and handsome face of the young man.
Well dick, said the Major, advancing with outstretched hand, as the girl
flushed prettily and smoothed back the dark mist of hair from her forehead. How
are you, my boy? Busy? Of course, we read fine things
of you in the papers at times. Then, as the young man took
off his overcoat, what, sir, the Major, inquired, do you
mean by falling in love with my only niece? Here? My brother writes
me that his daughter is engaged to a man who knows me, and will
I pack off a car load of testimonials by a special messenger endorsing the little
rascal who used to steal my apples. What, sir, do you mean
well, Major Dick answered, as he was ushered into the big living room,
his laughing eyes alight with happiness. She had the verny eyes, and
you remember I always liked them. He sank into a chair by Ruth with
a smiling glance at the Major. It is unusually cold for down here.
There's a real bracing northern sting in the air, and what a snow.
It's packed down so that the runners fairly flew. Major, do sit down.
The Major was still bustling about, urging Ruth into another chair by the
fire, that he himself might sit by Dick, poking energetically at the blazing
logs and firing a volley of direct at black Sam there, he exclaimed,
finally seating himself. Now, Sir, relative to this infatuated young person on
my left, who has condescended to visit her uncle for the first time since
she arrived on the planet, I met her last night. According to telegraphed
instructions and she kept me waiting. Let me see, Uncle, protested,
ruth you've added fifteen minutes to that weight every time you've mentioned it, my
dear child, politeness alone has kept me from naming the full extent of my
weight, If you please, sir, He turned to Dick. She was
in the clutches of a beggar who obtained twenty five dollars by a most extraordinary
yarn. Twenty five dollars, Dick whistled, smiling at the flush that crept
up to the gray eyes. Was it an aged father this time or a
hungry brood of motherless waifs Ruthie, Dick listen, cried the girl. Uncle
misjudges him. It was a dear old colored man, and he told me
the strangest story. You don't often find a grateful beggar who sends you violets
in the morning, purchased with some of your own, shekels, said,
the major, pinching the flushed cheek. Tell him, Ruthie, it was
odd, and I believe I'd have done the same thing myself. The girl
flashed a grateful look at him, and then told the story of her purchase
of the night before, so eloquently that The Major and Dick heard her through
with sober faces, secretly touched by its pathos, and he must have recognized
Uncle. She ended for the violets came this morning with the quaintest card.
For an instant, she dreamily scanned the fire, seeing in its glowing embers,
the brown wrinkled Negro face with its honest eyes, peering at her over
his spectacles in troubled apprehension. Then she sprang to her feet. Uncle Edward,
she cried, did you tell Uncle Neb to wait with the sleigh?
Those sleigh bells are beginning to sound hysterical merciful goodness, cried the Major.
I certainly did. I had the strictest commands to drive into church for Mother
Vernie at eleven o'clock. Hi, Sam, you black rascal. Tell Uncle
Neb. I'll be right out. I'll tell him. Uncle called Ruth,
flying swiftly up the long hall to the library window, But no clear call
went ringing over the snow to Uncle Neb. Instead, there was silence,
broken at length by a voice that called softly in great excitement, Dick,
Uncle Edward, do come here. Look, she cried, as they quickly
joined her. You see, Uncle he didn't forget. Smiling, the two
men looked from the window. An old negro, muffled in a threadbare coat,
was plodding up the walk, his eyes scanning the house with evident curiosity.
The Major uttered a quick exclamation, and the girl wheeled about. Don't
you see, she cried, he's come to day, honest old fellow that
he is. See Dick, She stopped abruptly, looking from one to the
other. There was something in the two stern faces staring beyond her at the
bent negro that struck a chill to her heart. Dick's face had gone white,
and the Major's hand had stolen to the younger man's shoulder, as if
to steady him. There was a startled incredulity in the Major's face as he
said, praise up, old man. You didn't know neither did I?
Ruth Dick asked, unsteadily. Is that the old colored man? Whose whose
master? Yes? Cried the girl, the sharp pain of premonition in her
voice. Oh, Dick, who is he? Dick's miserable eyes sought hers
as he answered, it's it's Dad's uncle. Noah, Ruth I. He
turned and sought the hall. Ruth's face flamed at his words. Uncle Noah's
pathetic story came crowding over her again in the light of Dick's revelation. His
father and mother, the stern old Colonel, of whom Dick always spoke with
such respectful loyalty in spite of their quarrel, and the dear mother, whose
tender eyes, gazing from the old fashioned to geratype Dick always carried, had
made her choke with sudden tears. These two were Uncle Noah's beloved Old Massa
and old miss She turned. The Major had followed Dick to the hallway.
A shuffling step sounded on the porch outside, and the girl hurried towards the
door, a sudden light of daring in her eyes. Impulse had always ruled
the Verney's, and Ruth was a vernie, from the crown of her dark
head to the tips of her small feet. Catching up Grandmother Verney's long cloak
hanging over a chair, she softly left the house. Dick, struggling into
his overcoat, turned at the Major's touch on his arm. Just a minute
Dick. Major Verney's genial voice was sympathetic as a woman's. Remember that what
the colonel refused in prosperity, he's not likely to take in adversity. Sit
down here by the fire until we talk it over. But Major, there
was a note of anguish in the boy's voice. I must go to him.
Think of Uncle Noah's selling himself to help them and and I. But
the Major had already removed the overcoat and gently pushed his guests into a chair
by the fire. Yes, yes, he said, as he seated himself.
We know all about that, my boy. But I'm afraid Dick.
He added, regretfully that the Colonel wouldn't let you in. He's very bitter.
Dick groaned. He was calmer. Now, you're right, Major,
he said steadily. It hurts so at first that I didn't think I can't
go. Now he leaned forward anxiously. The coats fill bank, he questioned,
abruptly crashed in the autumn in September. Dick bit his lip, and
the Major added he was heavily interested. Dick stared at the fire. It
was all he had, he said, I see. The Major's quiet voice
gave no hint of his own emotion. I didn't know, of course,
I'd heard he lost something. But we all did, but I thought he
had other money. No, tell me, Major, you've been going to
Briarwood this winter, just as usual, of course, every Wednesday night.
The Colonel and I are too old to alter the habit of a lifetime.
And besides, we both loved that long evening playing chess. There's always a
roaring wood fire and a steaming pot of coffee, and your mother always plays
Beethoven for us. Just before I go, a look of relief shone in
Dick's eyes. Always a fire, he repeated. I'm glad of that.
There was no suggestion of I've want Heavens. No, The Major's deep voice
was full of assurance. Last week, he added, thoughtfully, the coffee
was pretty weak, But it never occurred to me that he stopped. Abruptly,
rose from his chair with sudden energy, violently blew his nose, and
tramped down to the end of the hall and back. Damn the fair Fax
Pride, he exclaimed fiercely. Here, Uncle Noah has been coming into the
library Wednesday nights and telling the Colonel that the stock had all been bedded down
for the night, when all the time there's been nothing left but this confounded
old Turkey gobble we've been hearing about. He swore last week that somebody had
stolen the silver teapot. Abominable old liar, he must have sold it.
The Major threw out his arms with a wrathful gesture. All this comedy,
if you please from my benefit here. I've been there every week and never
suspected thanks to the infernal stratagems of that black fiend of an uncle. Noah,
damn the Fairfax pride. The Major sat down as suddenly as he had
risen, and bending over, attacked the fire with vicious energy. Tell me,
Major, Dick presently asked, have you ever mentioned me to the Colonel
since I went north? Once? The Major made a wry face. I
never tried again, Dick colored, does he know about Ruth? No?
I dared not mention it. The Major looked at the other intently. Dick,
He said, what was this quarrel all about? Anyway? In the
beginning, Major admitted, the young man flushing, it was so childish,
I'm ashamed to speak of it. Out with it, commanded the Major.
I won't be hoodwinked by a Fairfax any longer, well, sir, if
you must know, it was about the war, the war, exploded the
Major. By God, sir, what what about the war? Dad and
I were talking it over and well, to be frank, Major, I
said, I thought the North had been right, and that if I been
in the world at the time, I would have fought with them despite my
Kinsman, go on, did you fight in any other post mortem wars?
The Revolution or the fall of Rome? Dick ignored the sarcasm. My sympathy
for the North made him furious. He went on, we quarreled terribly,
and both of us said things that I know we didn't mean. It was
the Fairfax temper, Sir, I damn the Fairfax temper, roared the Major.
Thank Heavens, the Verneys are mild. Dick laughed in spite of himself.
I apologized, he continued soberly, but he wouldn't listen. Told me
to get out, said if I chose to change my opinions about the North,
we'd talk it over, and I of course refused. Of course,
interpolated the Major trimly I've written since, suggesting that we forget it all and
start anew But he won't listen, Sir. The Major stroked his beard ominously.
Did it ever occur? To you, Dick. He demanded that enough
families were estranged by that war without carrying it over into the twentieth century.
Let me see how long after the war were you born? Twenty years,
wasn't it. I remember your father and Ruths were married about the same time.
Every man has a right to his opinions. Major Dick asserted with spirit.
Of course, I've no personal knowledge of the war, but stubbornly the
North was right Fairfax to the corps, thought the Major, in secret admiration.
The boys is father all over again? Well, Dick, he said
mildly. We older men of the South feel a little differently about this war.
But my boy, these post bellum disputes don't pay, particularly when one
participant was born long after the guns were quiet. In my opinion, you
didn't know enough about the war to quarrel over it. Great Scott, quarreling
over the war, Dick, you deserve to be spanked. The jingle of
sleigh bells rang blithely through the silence that followed, and the Major sprang to
his feet. Merciful heavens, he exclaimed, staring at his watch. It's
twelve o'clock. That must be Uncle Neb still waiting, and Grandmother Verney's probably
standing on the church porch. Yet mad as a hornet, he was at
the door now calling wildly to the Negro Uncle Neb, why under the canopy
didn't you call me? The darky? Scratched his head, Messa Edward,
he confessed, I ain't been here. I just drove Missy Ruth over to
Briarwood with Uncle Noah to see Colonel Fairfax. The Major summoned Dick in great
excitement. Dick, he exclaimed, get into your overcoat as fast as you
can and drive over to Briarwood with Uncle Neb. Ruth's gone ahead of you,
and you couldn't have a better deputy short of an angel. Dick wrung
the Major's hand and fled to the waiting sleigh, the color flooding his face,
and Uncle Neb called the Major frantically, hurry back, or grandmother Vernie
will be tramping home in the snow. Rheumatism or no rheumatism. With a
wild jingle of bells that seemed to Dick the hysterical echo of his own heartbeats,
the sleigh was off Chapter six, The Colonel's Christmas at briarwood. The
colonel wrought to a high tension of excitement by the mysterious flood of Christmas prosperity,
of which the latest manifestation had been a fresh newspaper dated the night before,
surmounted by a cigar of no mean label, had been vainly searching for
Uncle Noah, bewildered by the darky's odd vagaries, which had culminated in the
culprit's disappearance. Just as the Colonel had returned to the library, drawn his
favorite chair up to the cheerful blaze of the wood fire, and opened his
favorite volume. A door in the rear of the house shut softly, and
convinced that Uncle Noah had returned, the Colonel closed his book and adjusted his
glasses, determined to have an immediate reckoning with the author of all this Christmas
cheer. A light step sounded behind his chair, and the colonel turned,
quite prime for an altercation. In an instant, however, the old man
was on his feet, bowing grandly in spite of his astonishment. A girl
stood in the doorway, her cloak falling loosely about her figure. Her cheeks
were blazing scarlet from the cold, and the deep gray eyes, fringed in
black, bore something in their warm depths that stirred familiar memories, Colonel,
she said, stretching out a slim white hand. I'm Ruth Vernie, Major
Edward's niece. I've just driven one of your servants rare tact was but one
of the Verney charms over from Fernland's, and I thought you wouldn't mind if
I ran in for an instant to enjoy your fire. Why child, the
colonel cried, forgetting all else in his delight. You must be Walter Verney's
daughter. Ruth smilingly nodded. I knew it, he went on, you
have his eyes. Sit down here. I knew your father well when we
were boys. He and I were inseparable. He paused, and added simply,
that was before the war. The dark lashes veiled for an instant,
a certain excitement in the gray eyes. I'm down for Christmas with Uncle Edward,
Ruth explained, And before the colonel had fully realized that they were chatting
happily together like old friends, suddenly the girl exclaimed, Colonel Fairfax, I
know you'll be glad to hear that dad and the Major are friends again.
Indeed, I am agreed the colonel heartily. In the old days, we
would have laughed at the man who could possibly have suggested a quarrel for the
Verney twins. Nothing but a cruel war could have done it, said the
girl quietly. What does it matter now, she demanded impetuously. If Daddy
did fight for the North and the Major for the South, it's all so
long ago that a quarrel about it is foolish. The colonel cleared his throat.
Yes, it is foolish, she admitted. You see, Ruth leaned
eagerly forward. I met a man who knew the Major, and he praised
him so highly that I lay awake all one night thinking what a pity it
was that two such splendid men as Daddy and his brother should still be enemies
over an old, bygone war. You know, Colonel, they would have
been friends ages ago, only each was too proud to make the first advance.
Wasn't it foolish? The colonel nodded, carefully, shading his eyes from
the fire. They were just wasting precious years of companionship, went on the
girl. That thought came to me as I lay awake in bed and the
very next morning, I wrote to the Major. You see, Colonel Fairfax,
I feel this way. She explained, there's no north and no south.
Daddy and the Major are so citizens of the United States. The Colonel
rose and busied himself about the fire. When he put back the tongs and
re seated himself, his cheeks were hot from its blazing warmth. And that's
what I told Uncle Edward in the letter, and Colonel he wrote me such
a glorious letter back that I had to show it to Daddy. He was
delighted, and he said that any two men who fought over the battles of
a dead war were old fools. Colonel Fairfax winced, so finished the girl
with glowing eyes. Uncle Edward came rushing north in a great state of excitement.
And that's how I came to be down here over Christmas. In her
impetuous criticism of the wartime quarrel that had separated the Verney twins for more than
forty years and the expression of her broad, impulsive patriotism, Colonel Fairfax had
listened to certain truths which had long been subconsciously germinating in his own mind.
Before he could recover from the surprise of finding that he agreed with her.
Ruth, touched by the lines of care, graven upon his fine old face,
had caught her breath with a little sob slipped from her place by the
fire, and was kneeling beside his chair, her eyes starry with light,
her lovely face glorified with its tender appeal. Colonel. She cried a catch
in her voice, I'm going to marry Dick. It was he who praised
Uncle Edward, so the colonel's face grew scarlet. Then he laid a trembling
hand upon the girl's bowed head. Child, He said, you you.
Tears blinded his eyes, and he stopped. In the silence that followed,
came the sharp sound of a quick footfall. The colonel looked up. Dick
Fairfax stood in the doorway, his eyes burning strangely in the white misery of
his face. The father rose and straightened himself with something of his old stern
dignity, but at a warm, girlish touch. He gulped. Dick,
he said, queerly, holding out a trembling hand. We're we're both citizens
of the United States, and it's Christmas Day. Almost before he had finished,
the boy had bounded across the floor and wrung the outstretched hand, his
face radiant with delight by the fire. Ruth cried softly, and the Colonel
gently patted her dark head, his eyes full of tenderness, then taking refuge
from the sharp pain of his emotion. In austere command, Dick, he
said, sternly, go to your mother. When Uncle Noah, in a
state of beatification impossible to describe, summoned the four to the wonderful Christmas dinner,
Colonel Fairfax was eagerly listening to the tales of Dick's success as told by
Ruth, and Dick was gently patting his mother's gray hair, a halo of
silver crowning a face radiant with happiness, a Christmas quartet whose reconciliation. Uncle
Noah could as yet but imperfectly comprehend that he had been the unconscious instrument of
it all. The gray eyed lady had already told him, but Uncle Noah,
busy with numberless culinary problems in the kitchen, had not as yet had
time to ferret it out. At four o'clock, Major Verney, who had
been restrained from dashing over to Briarwood hours before only by the necessity of soothing
the ruffled feelings of his irate mother after her long wait for a belated sleigh
on the porch of the Coatsville Church, blustered in, with the aggrieved old
lady upon his arm. We've come to supper, announced the Major no Dick,
as the Colonel rose, sit down. I know all about it,
and to night you're all going back to Fernland's with me to celebrate the betrothal
of these two youngsters. It has been a day of mystery, as the
Colonel said, but will someone please tell me what Uncle Noah was doing over
at Fernland's this morning when he was needed here? A silence fell over the
little group. The subject was one whose delicacy forbade the ghost of a blunder.
It was the Major who at last drew his old friend into the deep
window recess, where but the night before he had watched Uncle Noah pursuing the
elusive job, and told him the story of the faithful old Negro's Christmas Eve.
The Colonel listened intently, the snowy landscape outside growing blurred and misty,
as the record of the old man's devotion gradually unfolded. Before the Major had
finished. The Colonel's hand had crept to the bell at his side, and
as the darky shuffling footsteps echoed along the corridor, he turned again and stared
with unseeing eyes at the outline of the old barn. Dick shifted the log
and a crimson glow irradiated the old library, making a halo of soft fire
about the figure of the old darky as he paused before his master, Uncle
Noah said the colonel brokenly. I but his voice failed him, and he
wrung the old man's hand in silence. The Major bent and whispered a few
swift words to the startled darky, and a great light illumined the brown face.
Don't you go for to thank me, massa Dick, he crooned,
patting the colonel's hand with reverent devotion. I ain't worth it all I need,
sir, is just a good kick for disobeying orders specks. I don't
understand it all, but I does know, sir, that the lady with
the gray eyes what's at Major Verney's is is a good fairy. Sir,
and Colonel Desmas Supper am ready joyously. They filed out, Dick lingering in
the firelight for a word with Ruth. Grandmother Verney, in high good humor,
went out on the Colonel's arm. The grievance of the morning's belated sleigh
quite forgotten in the genial warmth of the Fairfax hospitality. And what, Uncle
Noah asked the Colonel of the Old Darky? As usual? Have we to
night for supper? Well, Sir, beamed Uncle Noah. We has ham
and turkey and cranberry sauce and celert and baked apples and mince pie and fruit
cake. Am An lows A massy massa, I's tooker flustrated to recommember any
more. We'll have them all, cried the Colonel. A terrific gobbling arose
beneath the dining room window, and the major rose and stared out in astonishment.
Merciful goodness, Dickie demanded, what is that horrible racket? Lows A
massy Massa, cried the Old Darky. It's job I let him out.
Awhile back, Sir an I done forgot to put him to roost. I
reckon he's come to remind me. And beaming happily at the radiant Christmas party,
Uncle Noah flung up the window and in a terrible voice, commanded the
tyrant to be silent. End of Uncle Noah's Christmas Inspiration by Leona Dalrymple