Speaker 1: 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 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