Little Gretchen and the Wooden Shoe by Elizabeth Harrison. Once upon a time,
a long time ago, far away across the Great Ocean, in a country
called Germany, there could be seen a small log hut on the edge of
a great forest, whose fir trees extended for miles and miles to the north.
This little house, made of heavy hewn logs, had but one room
in it. A rough pine door gave entrance to this room, and a
small square window admitted the light. At the back of the house was built
an old fashioned stone chimney, out of which in winter curled a thin blue
smoke, showing that there was not very much fire within. Small as the
house was, it was large enough for two people who lived in it.
I want to tell you a story to day about these two people. One
was an old, gray haired woman, so old that the little children of
the village nearly half a mile away often wondered whether she had come into the
world with the huge mountains and the giant fir trees which stood like giants back
of her small hut. Her face was wrinkled all over with deep lines,
which, if the children could only have read aright, would have told them
of many years of cheerful happy self sacrifice, of loving anxious watching beside sick
beds, of quiet, endurance of pain, of many a day of hunger
and cold, and of a thousand deeds of unselfish love for other people.
But of course they could not read this strange handwriting. They only knew that
she was old and wrinkled, and that she stooped as she walked. None
of them seemed to fear her, for her smile was always cheerful, and
she had a kindly word for each of them if they chanced to meet her
on her way to and from the village. With this old old woman lived
a very little girl. So bright and happy was she that the travelers who
passed by the lonesome little house on the edge of the forest often thought of
as Sunbeam as they saw her. These two people were known in the village
as Granny Goodyear and little Gretchen. The winter had come and the frost had
snapped off many of the smaller branches of the pine trees in the forest.
Gretchen and her Grannie were up by daybreak. Each morning. After their simple
breakfast of oatmeal, Gretchen would run to the little closet and fetch Grannie's old
woolen shawl, which seemed almost as old as Grannie herself. Gretchen always claimed
the right to put the shawl over Grannie's head, even though she had to
climb onto the wooden bench to do it. After carefully pinning it under Grannie's
chin, she gave her a good bye kiss, and Grannie started out for
her morning's work in the forest. This work was nothing more nor less than
the gathering up of the twigs and branches which the autumn winds and winter frosts
had thrown upon the ground. These were carefully gathered into a large bundle,
which Grannie tied together with a strong linen band. She then managed to lift
the bundle to her shoulder and trudged off to the village with it. Here
she sold the faggots for kindling wood to the people of the village. Sometimes
she would get only a few pence each day, and sometimes a dozen or
more. But on this money little Gretchen and she managed to live. They
had their home, and the forest kindly furnished the wood for the fire,
which kept them warm in winter. In the summer time, Grannie had a
little garden at the back of the house, where she raised with little Gretchen's
help. If you potato and turnips and onions. These she carefully stored away
for winter use. To this meager supply, the pennies gained by selling the
twigs from the forest added the oatmeal for Gretchen and a little black coffee for
Grannie. Meat was a thing they never thought of having. It cost too
much money. Still, Grannie and Gretchen were very happy because they loved each
other dearly. Sometimes Gretchen would be left alone all day long in the hut
because Grannie would have some work to do in the village after selling her bundle
of sticks and twigs. It was during these long days that little Gretchen had
taught herself to sing the song which the wind sang to the pine branches in
the summer time. She learned the chirp and twitter of the birds, until
her voice might almost be mistaken for a bird's voice. She learned to dance
as the swaying shadows did, and even to talk to the stars which shone
through the little square window when Grannie came home late or too tired to talk.
Sometimes when the weather was fine or her. Grannie had an extra bundle
of knitted stockings to take to the village, she would let Little Gretchen go
along with her. It chanced that one of these trips to the town came
just the week before Christmas, and Gretchen's eyes were delighted by the sight of
the lovely Christmas trees which stood in the window of the village store. It
seemed to her that she would never tire of looking at the knit dolls,
the wooly lambs, the little wooden shops with their queer painted men and women
in them, and all the other fine things. She had never owned a
plaything in her whole life. Therefore, toys which you and I would not
think much of, seemed to her very beautiful. That night, after their
supper of baggag potatoes was over, and little Gretchen had cleared away the dishes
and swept up the heart, because Granadeer was so tired, she brought her
own little wooden stool and placed it very near Grannie's feet and sat down upon
it, folding her hands in her lap. Grannie knew that this meant she
wanted to be told about something, so she smilingly laid away the large Bible
which she had been reading, and took up her knitting, which was as
much as to say, well, Gretchen, dear Grannie is ready to listen,
Grannie, said Gretchen slowly. It's almost Christmas time, isn't it.
Yes, dearie, said Grannie. Only five days more now, And then
she sighed. But little Gretchen was so happy that she did not notice Grannie's
sigh. What do you think, Grannie, I'll get this Christmas, said
she, looking up eagerly into Grannie's face. Ah, child child, said
Grannie, shaking her head. You'll have no Christmas this year. We are
too poor for that. Oh, but Grannie interrupted little Gretchen. Think of
all the beautiful toys we saw in the village to day. Surely Santa Claus
has sent enough for every little child. Ah, dear, those toys are
for people who can pay for them, and we have no money to spend
for Christmas toys. Well, Grannie, said Gretchen. Perhaps some of the
little children who live in the great House on the hill at the other end
of the village will be willing to share some of their toys with me.
They will be glad to give some to a little girl who has none,
dear child, Dear child, said Grannie, leaning forward and stroking the soft
shiny hair of the little girl. Your heart is full of love. You
would be glad to bring a Christmas to every child, But their heads are
so full of what they are going to get that they forget all about anybody
else but themselves. Then she sighed and shook her head. Well, Grannie,
said Gretchen, her bright happy of voice growing a little less joyous.
Perhaps the dear Santa Claus will show some of the village children how to make
presents that do not cost money, and some of them may surprise me Christmas
morning with the present. And Grannie dear added she, springing up from her
low stool. Can't I gather some of the pine branches and take them to
the old sick man who lives in the house by the mill, so that
he can have the sweet smell of our forests in his room on Christmas Day?
Yes, dearie, said Grannie. You may do what you can to
make the Christmas bright and happy, but you must not expect any present yourself.
Oh but, Grannie, said little Gretchen, her face brightening, you
forgot all about the shining Christmas angels who came down to earth and sang them
their wonderful song the night the beautiful christ Child was born. They are so
loving and good that they will not forget any little child. I shall ask
my dear stars to night to tell them of us, you know, she
added, with a look of relief. The stars are so very high that
they must know the angels quite well as they come and go with their messages
from the loving God. Grannie sighed as she half whispered, poor child,
poor child. But Gretchen threw her arm around Grannie's neck and gave her a
hearty kiss, saying as she did so, Oh Grannie, Grannie, you
don't talk to the stars often enough, as you would not be said at
Christmas time. Then she danced all around the room, whirling her little skirts
about her to show Grannie how the wind had made the snow dance that day.
She looked so droll and funny that Grannie forgot her cares and worries and
loved with little Gretchen over her new snow dance. The days passed on,
and the morning before Christmas Eve came Gretchen, having tied it up the little
room for Grannie had taught her to be a careful little housewife, was off
to the forest, singing a birdlike song, almost as happy and free as
the birds themselves. She was very busy that day preparing a surprise for Grannie.
First, however, she gathered the most beautiful of the fir branches within
her reach to take the next morning to the old sick man who lived by
the mill. The day was all too short for the happily little girl.
When Grannie came trudging wearily home that night, she found the frame of the
doorway covered with green pine branches. It is to welcome you, Grannie,
It is to welcome you, cried Gretchen, our dear old home wanted to
give you a Christmas welcome. Don't you see the branches of the evergreen naked,
look as if it were smiling all over, And it is trying to
say a happy Christmas to you, Grannie. Grannie laughed and kissed the little
girl as they opened the door and went in together. Here was a new
surprise for Grannie. The four posts of the wooden bed which stood in one
corner of the room had been trimmed by the busy little fingers with smaller and
more flexible branches of the pine trees. A small bouquet of red mountain ash
berries stood at each side of the fireplace, and these, together with the
trimmed posts of the bed, gave the plain old room quite a festive look.
Gretchen laughed and clapped her hands and danced about until the house seemed full
of music to poor tired Grannie, whose heart had been sad as she turned
toward their home that night, thinking of the disappointment that must come to loving
little Gretchen. The next morning, after supper was over, little Gretchen drew
her stool up to Grannie's side, and, laying her soft little hands on
Grannie's knee, asked to be told once again the story of the coming of
the Christ Child, how the night that he was born, the beautiful angels
had sung their wonderful song, and how the whole sky had become bright with
a strange and glorious light never seen by the people of earth before. Gretchen
had heard the story many many times before, but she never grew tired of
it, and now that Christmas Eve had come again, the happy little child
wanted to hear it once more. When Grannie had finished telling it. The
two sat quiet and silent for a little while thinking it over. Then Grannie
rose and said that it was time for her to go to bed. She
slowly took off her heavy wooden shoes, such as are worn in that country,
and placed them beside the hearth. Gretchy looked thoughtfully at them for a
minute or two, and then she said, Grannie, don't you think that
somebody in all this wild world will think of us to night? Nay,
Gretchen, I do not think any one will. Well, then, Grannie
said, Gretchen, the Christmas angels will, I know. So I am
going to take one of your wooden shoes and put it on the window sill
outside, so that they may see it as they pass by. I am
sure the stars will tell the Christmas angels where the shoe is. Ah,
you foolish, foolish child, said Grannie. You are only getting ready for
a disappointment to morrow morning. There will be nothing whatever in the shoe.
I can tell you that now. But little Gretchen would not listen. She
only shook her head and cried, ah, Grannie, you do not talk
enough to the stars. With this, she seized the shoe, and opening
the door, hurried out to place it on the window sill. It was
very dark without, and something soft and cold seemed to gently kiss her hair
and face. Gretchy knew by this that it was snowing, and she looked
up to the sky, anxious to see if the stars were inside. But
a strong wind was tumbling the dark, heavy snow clouds about and had shut
away all else. Never mind, said Gretchen softly to herself. The stars
are up there, even if I can't see them, and the Christmas Angels
do not mind snow storms. Just then a rough wind went sweeping by the
little girl, whispering something to her which she could not understand. And then
it made a sudden rush up to the snow clouds and parted them so that
the deep, mysterious sky appeared beyond, and shining down out of the midst
of it was Gretchen's favorite star. Ah, a little star, little star,
said the child, laughing anout. I knew you were there, though
I could not see you. Will you whisper to the Christmas Angels as they
come by that little Gretchen wants so very much to have a Christmas gift tomorrow
morning if they have one to spare, and that she has put one of
Grannie's shoes upon the window sill for it. A moment more, and the
little girl, standing on tiptoe, had reached the window sill and placed the
shoe upon it, and was back again the house beside Grannie and the warm
fire. The two went quietly to bed, and that night, as little
Gretchen knelt to pray to the heavenly Father, she thanked him for having sent
the christ Child into the world to teach all mankind to be loving and unselfish,
And in a few minutes she was sleeping, dreaming of the Christmas Angels.
The next morning, very early, even before the sun was up,
Little Gretchen was awakened by the sound of sweet music coming from the village.
She listened for a moment, and then she knew that the choir boys were
singing the Christmas carols in the open air of the village street. She sprang
up out of bed and began to dress herself as quickly as possible, singing
as she dressed, while Grannie was slowly putting on her clothes. Little Gretchen,
having finished dressing herself, unfastened the door and hurried out to see what
the Christmas angels had left in the old wooden shoe. The white snow covered
everything, trees, stumps, roads and pastures, until the whole world looked
like a fairy land. Gretchen climbed up on a large stone which was beneath
the window, and carefully lifted down the wooden shoe. The snow tumbled off
of it in a shower over the little girl's hands, but she did not
heed that. She ran hurriedly back into the house, putting her hand into
the toe of the shoe as she ran. Oh, Grannie, Grannie,
she exclaimed, She did not believe the Christmas angels would think about us,
But see they have they have. Here is a dear little bird nestled down
in the toe of your shoe. Oh isn't he beautiful? Grannie came forward
and looked at what the child was holding lovingly in her hand. There she
saw a tiny chickadee, whose wing was evidently broken by the rough and boisterous
winds of the night before, and who had taken shelter in the safe,
dry toe of the old wooden shoe. She gently took the little bird out
of Gretchen's hands and skillfully bound his broken wing to his side so that he
need not hurt himself trying to fly with it. Then she showed Gretchen how
to make a nice warm nest for the little stranger close beside the fire,
and when their breakfast was ready, she let Gretchen feed the little bird with
a few moist crumbs. Later in the day, Gretchen carried the fresh green
boughs to the old sick man by the mill, and on her way home,
stopped to enjoy the Christmas toys of some other children that she knew,
never once wishing they were hers. When she reached home, she found that
the little bird had gone to sleep. Soon, however, he opened his
eyes and stretched his head up, saying, just as plain as the bird
can say, Now, my new friends, if you want to give me
something more to eat, Gretchen gladly fed him again, and then holding him
in her lap, she softly and gently stroked his gray feathers until the little
creature seemed to lose all fear of her. That evening, Grannie taught her
at Christmas hymn and told her another beautiful Christmas story. Then Gretchen made up
a funny little story to tell the Birdye, he winked his eyes and turned
his head from side to side in such a droll fashion that Gretchen laughed until
the tears came. As Grannie and she got ready for bed that night,
Gretchen put her arms softly around Grannie's neck and whispered, what a beautiful Christmas
we have had to day, Grannie? Is there anything more lovely in all
the world than Christmas? Nay, child, Nay, said Grannie, not
to such loving hearts as yours, and off Litle Gretchen and the Wooden Shoe
by Elizabeth Harrison