Alice's Christmas Tree, Chapter one. Alice mc neil had made the plan of
this Christmas tree all by herself and for herself. She had a due estimate
of those manufactured trees which hard worked Sabbath schools get up for rewards of merit
for the children who have been regular and at the last moment have saved attendance
tickets enough. Nor did Alice mc neil sit in judgment on these. She
had a due estimate of them. But for her Christmas Tree she had two
plans not included in those more meritorious buddings and burgeonings of the winter. First
she meant to get it up without any help from anybody. And secondly,
she meant that the boys and girls who had anything from it should be regular
laners and by wayfarers. They were to have no tickets of respectability. They
were not in any way to buy their way in, but for this once
those were to come into a Christmas tree who happened to be ragged and in
the streets. When the Christmas Tree was ready, so Alice asked mister Williams,
the Minister, if she could have one of the rooms in the vestry.
When Christmas Eve came, and he, the good Saint, was only
too glad to let her. He offered gently his assistance in sifting out the
dirty boys and girls, intimating to Alice that there was dirt and dirt,
and that even in those lowest depths which she was plunging into, there were
yet lower depths which she might find it wise to shun. But here Alice
told him frankly that she would rather try her experiment fairly through. Perhaps she
was wrong, but she would like to see that she was wrong in her
own way. Anyway, on Christmas Eve, she wanted no distinctions. That
part of her plan went bravely forward. Her main difficulty came on the other
side, that she had too many to help her. She was not able
to carry out the first part of her plan and make or buy all her
presents herself. For everybody was pleased with this notion of a truly Catholic or
universal tree, and everybody wanted to help. Well, if anybody would send
her a box of dominoes, or a jackknife, or an open eye,
shut eye doll, who was Alice to say it should not go on the
tree. And when missus Hesperides sent round a box of faile oranges. Who
was Alice to say that the children should not have oranges? And when mister
Gorham Parsons sent in well nigh a barrel full of Hubbardston none such apples,
who was Alice to say that they should not have apples. So the tree
grew and grew and bore more and more fruit till it was clear that there
would be more than eighty reliable presents on it, besides apples and oranges,
almonds and raisins galore. Now you see this was a very great enlargement of
Alice's plan, and it brought her to grief. As you shall see,
she had proposed a cozy little tree for fifteen or twenty children. Well,
if she had held to that, she would have had no more than she
and Lily and mister Williams and mister Gilmore and John Flagg and I could have
managed easily, particularly if Mamma was there too. There would have been room
enough in the chapel parlor, and it would have been, as I believe,
just the pretty and cheerful Christmas jollity that Alice meant it should be.
But when it came to eighty presents and a company of eighty of the unwashed
and unticketed. It became quite a different thing. For now Alice began to
fear that there would not be children enough in the highways and byways. So
she started herself as evening drew on with George the old faithful Black Major Domo,
and she walked through the worst streets she knew anything of of all those
near the chapel, and whenever she saw a brat particularly dirty, or a
group of brats particularly forlorn, she sailed up gallantly, and though she was
frightened to death, she invited them to the tree. She gave little admittance
cards that said seven o'clock Christmas Eve, five o seven, Livingstone Avenue,
for fear the children would not remember, and she told mister Flagg that he
and mister Gilmore might take some cards and walk out toward Williamsburg and do the
same thing, only they were to be sure that they asked the dirtiest and
most forlorn children they saw. There was a friendly policeman with whom Alice had
been brought into communication by the boys and her father's office, and he also
was permitted to give notice of the tree. But he was also to be
at the street door, armed with the strong arm of the people of New
York, And when the full quota of eighty had been admitted, he was
to admit no more. Ah Me, My poor Alice issued her cards only
too freely. Better indeed, it seemed had she held to her original plan.
At least she thought so, and thinks so to this day, But
I am not so certain a hard time she had of it. However,
quarter of seven found the little Arabs in crowds around the door, with hundreds
of others who thought they also were to find out what a free lunch was.
The faithful officer Perdie was in attendance. Also. He passed in all
who had the cards. He sent away legions, let me say, who
had reason to dread him, but still assembled a larger and larger throng about
the door. Alice and Lily, and the young gentleman and Missus mc neil
were all at work upstairs, and the tree was a perfect beauty. At
last they lighted up, and nothing could have been more lovely. Let him
in, said John Flagg, rushing to the door, where expectant knocks had
been heard already. Let him in. The smallest girls first smallest girls.
Indeed, the door swung open, and a tide of boy and girl,
girl and boy boy big to hobbledehoydom and girl big to young womandom came surging
in, wildly, screaming, scolding, pushing and pulling, omitting the profanity.
These are the Christmas carols that fell on Alice's ear. Out of that?
Take that? Then? Who are you? Hold your jaw? Can't
you behave decent? You lie? Get out of my light? Oh dear,
you killed me? Who's killed God? He see there? I say,
ma'am, gimme that Paris gates shut up? And so on, the
howls being more and more impertinent, as the shepherds who had come to a
door became more and more used to the position they were in. Young Gilmore,
who was willing to Obligejalice, but was not going to stand any nonsense,
and would have willingly knocked the heads together of any five couples of this
rebel route, mounted on a corner of the railing, which, by mister
Williams's prescients had been built around the tree, and addressed the riotous assembly.
They stopped to hear him, supposing he was to deliver the gifts to which
they had been summoned. He told them pretty roundly that if they did not
keep the peace and stop crowding and yelling, they should all be turned out
of doors. That they were to pass the little girls and boys forward first,
and that nobody would have anything to eat eat till this was done.
Some approach to obedience followed. A few little waifs were found, who,
in decency could be called little girls and boys. But alas as she looked
down from her chair, Alice felt as if most of her guests looked like
shameless, hulking big boys and big girls, only too well fitted to grapple
with the world, and only too eager to accept its gifts without grappling.
She and Lily tried to forget this. They kissed a few little girls and
saw the faintest gleam of pleasure on one or two little faces. But there
also the pleasure was almost extinct in fear of the big boys and big girls
howling around. So the howling began again as the distribution went forward. Gimme
that jackknife, I say, mister, I'm as big as he is.
He had one before, and hid it be down. Tom Mulligan. Get
off that thing so I'll hide you. I don't want the book. Give
me them skates. You shan't have the skates. I'll have them myself,
and so on. John Flagg finally knocked down Tom Mulligan, who had squeezed
round behind the tree in an effort to steal something, and had the satisfaction
of sending him bellowing from the room with his face covered with blood from his
nose. Gilmore, meanwhile was rapidly distributing an orange and an apple to each,
which, while the oranges were soked, gave a moment's quiet Alice and
the ladies, badly frightened, were stripping the tree as fast as they could,
and at last announced that it was all clear, with almost as eager
joy as half an hour before they had announced that it was all full.
There's a candy horn on top. Give me that, Give me that little
apple, Give me the old sheep. Hoo, hurrah for the old sheep.
This of a little lamb, which had been placed as an approa ornament
in front, then began a howl about oranges. Oh another orange, bill's
got some. I've got none, I say, mister, Give me an
orange. To which mister replied, by opening the window and speaking into the
street, I say, perdie, call for officers, and come up and
clear this room. The room did not wait for the officers. It cleared
itself very soon on this order, and was left a scene of wreck and
dirt. Orange peel was trampled down on the floor, cake thrown down and
mashed to mud, intermixed with that which had come in on the boots,
and the water which had been slobbered over from hasty mugs. The sugar plums
which had fallen in scrambles, and little sprays of green too trodden into the
mass, all made an aspect of filth like a market sidewalk. And poor
Alice was half crying and half laughing. Poor Lily was wholly crying. Gilmore
and Flagg were explaining to each other how gladly they would have thrashed the whole
set. The thought uppermost in Alice's mind was that she had been a clear,
out and out fool, and that probably is the impression of the greater
part of the readers of her story, or would have been the impression of
any one who only had her point of view. Chapter two. Perhaps the
reader is willing to take another point of view. As the group stood there
talking over the riot, as Missus mc neil called it, as John Flagg
tried to make Alice laugh by bringing her a half a piece of frosted pound
cake and proving to her that it had not been on the floor, as
she said, her eyes streaming with tears. I tell you, John,
I am a fool, and I know I am nobody, but a fool
would have started such a row. As all this happened, Patrick Crehor came
back for his little sister's orange, which he had wrapped in her handkerchief and
left on one of the book racks in the room. Patrick was alone now,
and therefore sheepish enough and got himself and his orange out of the room
as soon as he well could. But he was sharp enough to note the
whole position, and keen enough to catch Alice's words as she spoke to mister
Flagg. Indeed, the general look of disappointment and chagrin in the room,
and the contrast between this filthy ruin and the pretty elegance of half an hour
ago, were distinct enough to be observed by a much more stupid boy than
Patrek Crehor. He went downstairs and found Bridget waiting, and walked home with
the little toddler, meditating rather more than was his wont on Alice's phrase,
I tell you I am a fool, meditating on it. He hailed Bridget
up five flights of stairs and broke in on the little room, where a
table spread with a plentiful supply of tea, baker's bread, butter, cheese,
and cabbage waited their return. Jerry Crahor his father sat smoking, and
his mother was tidying up the room, and had ye a good time,
me, darlin. And you brought home your orange and a doll too,
and mittens too, And what did you have, pat? So? Pat
explained, almost sulkily that he had a checkerboard and a set of checkermen,
which he produced, but he put them by as if he hated the sight
of them, and for a minute dropped the subject while he helped little biddy
to cabbage. He ate something himself, drank some tea, and then delivered
his rage with much unction, a little profanity great incoherency. But to his
own relief, it's a mean thing, it is, all of it,
said he. I'll be hanged, but it is. I didnt know who
that lady is, but we made her cry bad. I know that.
Then the boys acted like nick. They knew that as well as I do.
The man there had to knock one of the fellows down bedad and served
him right too. I say, the fellows fought and hollered and stole,
and sure you'd thought you was drivin pigs down the eighth Avenue. And I
was as bad as the worst of em. That's what the boys did when
a lady asked him to Christmas. That was a mean thing to do,
said Jerry, taking his pipe from his mouth for a longer speech than he
had ever been known to make. While smoking. Missus Crehor stopped in her
dish wiping, sat down and gave her opinion. She did not know what
a Christmas tree was, having never seed one nor heard a one, but
she did know that those who went to see a lady should show manners and
behave like gentlemen, or not go at all. She expressed her conviction that
Tom Mulligan was rightly served, and her regret that he had not two black
eyes instead of one. She would have been glad. Indeed, if certain
Floyd's and Sullivan's and Flahertys, with whose names of baptism she was better acquainted
than I am had shared a similar fate. This oration and the oracle of
his father still more appeased Pat somewhat, And when his supper was finished,
after long silence, he said, we'll give her a Christmas present. We
will Tom Mulligan and Bill Floyd, and I'll give it. The others shan't
know. I know what will give her. I'll tell Bill Floyd that we
made her cry. Chapter three. After supper, accordingly, Pat Crehor repaired
to certain rendezvous of the younger life of the neighborhood known to him, in
search of Bill Lloyd. Bill was not at the first nor at the second,
there being indeed no rule or principle known to men, or even to
archangels, by which Bill's presence at any particular spot, at any particular time
could be definitely stated. But Bill, also, in his proud free will,
obeyed certain general laws, and accordingly Pat found him inspecting, as a
volunteer officer of police, the hauling out and oiling of certain hose at the
house of a neighboring hose company. Come here, Bill, I got something
to show you. Bill had already carried home and put in safe keeping a
copy of Routledge's Robinson Crusoe, which had been given to him. He left
the hose inspection willingly and hurried along with Pat, passed many attractive groups,
not even stopping where a brewer's horse had fallen on the ground, till Pat
brought him in triumph to the gaudy window of a shoe shop, lighted up
gaily and full of the wares by which even shoe shops lure in customers for
Christmas. See there, said Pat, nearly breathless, and he pointed to
the very center of the display a pair of slippers made from bronze gilt,
kid and displaying a hideous blue silk bow upon the gilding. For what class
of dancers or of maskers these slippers may have been made, or by what
canon of beauty? I know, not, only they were the center of
decoration in the shoe shop window. Pat looked at them with admiration, as
he had often done, and said again to Bill Floyd, See there ain't
them handsome? Golly, said Bill, I guess so Bill, let's buy
them little shoes and give em to her. Give'em to who, said
Bell, from whose mind the Christmas tree had for the moment faded under the
rivalry of the hose company, the brewer's horse and the shop window. Give
him to who? Why her? I don't know who she is? The
gal that made the what do you call it? The tree? You know?
And give us the oranges where old Perdy was. I say, Bill,
it was a mean, dirty shame to make such a row there when
we was bid to a party. And I want to make the gal a
present for I see her cryin' dell cryin' cause it was such a row.
Again. I omit certain profane expressions which did not add any real energy to
this declaration. They is handsome, said Bill meditatingly. Ain't the blue ones
handsomest? No, said Pat, who saw that he had gained his lodgment
and that carrying his point was now only a matter of time. The gold
ones is the ones for me. We'll give em to the gal for a
Christmas present, you and I and Tom Mulligan. Bill Floyd did not dissent,
being indeed in the habit of going as he was led, as were
most of the rebel route, with whom he had an hour ago been acting.
He assented entirely to Pat's proposal. By Christmas, both parties understood that
the present was to be made before twelfth night, not necessarily on Christmas Day.
Neither of them had a penny, but both of them knew perfectly well
that whenever they chose to get a little money, they could do so.
They soon solved their first question as to the cost of the coveted slippers.
True, they knew, of course, that they would be ejected from the
decent shop if they went in to inquire, But by lying in wait,
they soon discovered Delia Sullivan, a decent looking girl they knew passing by,
and having made her their confidant so far that she was sure she was not
fooled, they sent her in to inquire. The girl returned to announce,
to the astonishment of all parties that the shoes cost six dollars. Hugh cried,
Pat six dollars for them? Are I bought my mother's new overshoes for
one? But not the least did he bait of his determination, and he
and Bill Floyd went in search of Tom Mulligan. Tom was as easily found
as Bill, but it was not so easy to enlist him. Tom was
in a regular corner liquor store with men who were sitting smoking, drinking,
and telling dirty stories. Either of the other boys would have been whipped at
home if he had been known to be seen sitting in this place, and
the punishment would have been well bestowed. But Tom Mulligan had had nobody to
thrash him for many a day until John Flagg had struck out so smartly from
the shoulder. Perhaps had there been some thrashing as discriminating as Jerry Flaherty's,
it had been better for Tom Mulligan. The boys found him easily enough,
but as I said, had some difficulty in getting him away. With many
assurances, however, that they had something to tell him and something to show
him, they lured him from the shadow of the comfortable stove into the night.
Pat Crehor, who had more of the tact of oratory than he knew,
then boldly told Tom Mulligan the story of the Christmas Tree as it passed.
After Tom's ejection. Tom was sour at first, but soon warmed to
the narrative and even showed indignation at the behavior of boys who had seemed to
carry themselves less obnoxiously than he did. All the boys agreed that but for
certain others who had never been asked to come and ought to be ashamed to
be there with them as were, there would have been no row. They
all agreed that, on some suitable occasion, unknown to me and to this
story, they would take vengeance on these Tids and Sullivan's. When Pat Crehor
wound up his statement by telling how he saw the ladies crying and all the
pretty room looking like a pig's, Tom Mulligan was as loud as he was
in saying that it was all wrong, and that nobody but blackguards would have
joined in it, in particular such blagguards as the Tids and Sullivans above alluded
to. Then, to Tom's sympathizing ear was confided the project of the gold
shoes, as the slippers were always called in this honorable company, and Tom
completely approved. He even approved the price. He explained to the others that
it would be mean to give to a lady anything of less price. This
was exactly the sum which recommended itself to his better judgment. And so the
boys went home, agreeing to meet Christmas morning as a committee of ways and
means to the discussions of this committee, I need not admit you many plans
were proposed, one that they should serve through the holidays at certain ten pin
alleys known to them. One that they should buy off Fogerty from his newspaper
route for a few days. But the decision was that Pat, the most
decent in appearance, should dress up in a certain Sunday suit he had and
offer the services of himself and two unknown friends of his as extra cork boys
at Bernabaum's Brewery, where Tom Mulligan reported they were working nights that they might
fill an extra order. This device succeeded. Pat and his friends were put
on duty for trial on the night of the twenty sixth, and the foremen
of the corking room being satisfied, they retained their engagement till New Year's Eve,
when they were paid three dollars each and resigned their positions. Let's buy
her three shoes, said Bell in enthusiasm at their success, but this proposal
was rejected. Each of the other boys had a private plan for an extra
present to her. By this time, the sacred six dollars was folded up
in a bit of straw paper from the brewery, and the young gentlemen went
home to make their toilettes, a process they had had no chance to go
through on Christmas Eve. After this, there was really no difficulty about their
going into the shoe shop, and none about consummating the purchase. To the
utter astonishment of the dealer, the gold shoes were bought, rolled up in
paper, and ready for delivery. Bill Floyd had meanwhile learned by inquiry at
the chapel where she lived. Though there were doubts whether any of them knew
her name, The others rejected his proposals that they should take street cars,
and they boldly pushed a foot up to Clinton Avenue and rang not without terror
at the door. Terror did not diminish when Black George appeared, whose acquaintance
they had made at the tree. But fortunately George did not recognize them in
their apparel of elegance. When they asked for the lady that gave the tree,
he bade them wait a minute, and in less than a minute,
Alice came running out to meet them. To the boy's great delight, she
was not crying. Now, if you please, ma'am, said Tom,
who had been commissioned as spokesman, if you please, them's our Christmas present
to you, ma'am. Them's gold shoes. And please, ma'am, we're
very sorry that there was such a row at the Christmas ma'am. It was
mean, ma'am. Good bye, ma'am. Alice's eyes were opening wider and
wider. Nor at this moment did she understand gold shoes and row at the
Christmas stuck by her, however, and she understood there was a present,
So of course she said the right thing by accident, and did the right
thing, being a lady through and through. No, you must not go
away. Come in, boys, come in. I did not know you,
you know, And how could she come in and sit down? Can't
you take off your hat? Said Tom in an aside pat who had neglected
this reverence as he entered. And Tom was thus a little established in his
own esteem. And Alice opened the parcel and had her presence of mind by
this time, and amazed as she was at the gold shoes, showed no
amazement, nay even slipped off her own slipper and showed that the gold shoe
fitted, to the delight of Tom, who was trying to explain that the
man would change them if they were too small. She found an apple for
each boy, thanked and praised each one separately, and the interview would have
been perfect had she not innocently asked Tom what was the matter with his eye?
Tom's eye, Well, it was the black eye, John Flagg gave
him. I am sorry to say, Bill Floyd snickered. But Pat came
to the front this time and said the man heard him. Then Alice produced
some mittens which had been left and asked whose those were. But the boys
did not know. I say, fellows, I'm going down to the writing
school at the Union, said Pat. When they got into the street,
all of them being in the mood that conceals emotion, I say, let's
all go to this. They agreed. I say I went there last week
Monday with Meg MacManus. I say, fellows, it's real good fun.
The other fellows, having on the unfamiliar best rig were well aware that they
must not descend to their familiar haunts, and all consented to the amazement of
the teacher. These three hulking boys allied themselves to the side of order,
took their places as they were bidden, turned the public opinion of the class,
and made the Botany Bay of the school to be its quietest class that
night. To his amazement, the same result followed the next night, and
to his greater amazement the next. To Alice's amazement, she received on twelfth
night a gilt Valentine envelope, within which, on heavily ruled paper were announced
these truths, marm The mittens were Nora Kilpatrick's she lives in Water Street place
behind the Lagger Brewery, yours to command, William Floyd, Thomas Mulligan,
Patrick Crehore. The names, which they could copy from signs were correctly spelled.
To Pat's amazement, Tom Mulligan held on at the writing school all winter.
When it ended, he wrote the best hand of any of them.
To my amazement, one evening, when I looked in at Longman's two years
to the day after Alice's Tree, a bright, black eyed young man who
had tied up for me the copy of Masson's Milton, which I had given
myself for a Christmas present, said, you don't remember me. I owned
innocence. My name is Mulligan. Thomas Mulligan. Would you thank mister John
Flagg if you meet him for a Christmas present? He gave me two years
ago at Miss Alice mac neil's Christmas Tree. It was the best present I
ever had, and the only one I ever deserved, and I said I
would do so. I told Alice afterward never to think she was going to
catch all the fish there were in any school. I told her to whiten
the water with ground bait enough for all, and to thank God if her
heavenly fishing were skillful enough to save one end of Alice's Christmas Tree by Edward Everett Hale