Speaker 1: The Boy with the Box by Mary Griggs van Voorhee's.
It was an ideal Christmas day. The sun shone brightly,
but the air was crisp and cold, and snow and
ice lay sparkling everywhere. A light wind the night before
had swept the blue ice bound river clean of scattering snow,
and by two o'clock in the afternoon the broad bend
near Creighton's Mill was fairly alive with skaters, the girls
in gay caps and scarves, the boys in sweaters and
mackinaws of every conceivable hue, with here and there a plump,
matronly figure in a plush coat or a tiny fellow
in scarlet, made a picture of life and brilliancy worthy
of an artist's finest skill. Tom Reynolds moved in and
out among the happy throng with swift, easy strokes, his
cap on the back of his curly head, and his
brown eyes shining with excitement. Now and again he glanced
down with pardonable pride at the brand new skates that
twinkled beneath his feet. Jolly ramblers, sure enough, Jolly ramblers
they were. Ever since Ralph Evans had remarked with a
tantalizing toss of his handsome head that no game fellow
would try to skate on anything but jolly ramblers. Tom
had yearned with an inexpressible longing for a pair of
these wonderful skates, and now they were his, and the
ice was fine, and the Christmas sun was shining. Tom
was rounding the Big Bend for the fiftieth time when
he saw, skimming gracefully toward him through the merry crowd,
a tall boy in a fur trimmed coat, his handsome
head proudly erect. That's Ralph Evans, now, said Tom to himself.
Just wait till you see these gates, old boy, and
maybe you won't feel so smart. And with slow, cautious strokes,
he made his way through laughing boys and girls to
a place just in front of the tall skater coming
toward him down the broad white Way. When Ralph was
almost upon him, Tom paused, and, in conspicuous silence, looked
down at his shining skates. Hello, said Ralph, good naturedly,
seizing Tom's arm and swinging around. Then taking in the
situation with a careless glance, he added, get a new
pair of skates for Christmas. Jolly Ramblers, said Tom, impressively,
the best Jolly ramblers on the market. Ralph was a
full half head the taller, but as Tom delivered himself
of this speech, with his head held high, he felt
every inch as tall as the boy before him. If
Ralph was deeply impressed, he failed to show it, as
he answered carelessly, Huh, that's so pretty good little skates.
They are the Jolly Ramblers. You said, no game fellow
would use any other make, said Tom hotly. Oh bet
that was nearly a year ago, said Ralph. I got
a new pair of skates for Christmas too, he added,
as if it had just occurred to him, club House
skates something new in the market just this season. Just
look at the curve of that skate, will you, he added,
lifting a foot for inspection, and that clamp that you
couldn't shake off if you had to. They're guaranteed for
a year two and if anything gives out, you get
a new pair for nothing three and a half they
cost at mister Harrison's hardware store. I gave my Jolly
Ramblers to a kid about your size. A mighty good
little skate they are, and with a long, graceful stroke
Ralph Evans skated away, and it seemed to Tom Reynolds
that all his Christmas joy went skimming away behind him.
The sun still shone, the ice still gleamed, the skaters
laughed and sang, but Tom moved slowly on with listless,
heavy strokes. The jolly ramblers still twinkled beneath his feet,
but he looked down at them no more. What was
the use of jolly ramblers when Ralph Evans had a
pair of club house skates that cost a dollar more,
had a graceful curve than a faultless clamp, and were
guaranteed for a year. It was only four o'clock when
Tom slipped his new skates carelessly over his shoulder and
started up the bank for home. He was slouching down
the the main street, head down, hands thrust deep into
his pockets, when, on turning a corner, he ran plump
into a full moon. Now I know it is rather
unusual for full moons to be walking about the streets
by daylight, but that is the only adequate description of
the round, freckled face that beamed at Tom from behind
a great box held by two sturdy arms that came
pretty near being a collision, said the owner of the
Full Moon, still beaming as he set down the box
and leaned against a building to rest a moment nobody heard.
I guess, said Tom. Been down to the ice, asked
the boy eagerly. I could see the skaters from Patten's store. Oh,
I see you got some new skates for Christmas? Ain't
they beauties? Now? And he beamed on the despised John
Ramblers with his heart in his little blue eyes. A
pretty good little pair of skates, said Tom, in Ralph's
condescending tone. Good well, I should guess, yes, and Christmas
Ice just made a purpose. In spite of his ill humor,
Tom could not help responding to the warm interest of
the shabby boy at his side. He knew him to
be Harvey mc ginnis, the son of a poor Irish
widow who worked at Patten's department store out of school hours.
Looking at the great box with an awakening interest, he
remarked kindly, what you been doin with yourself on Christmas Day?
Want to know? Sure enough, said Harvey mysteriously, his round
face beaming more brightly than ever. Well, I've been doin
the santy Claus Act. Down at Patten's store about a
week ago, he went on, leaning back eave against the
tall building and thrusting his hands down deep into his
well worn pockets. About a week ago, as I was
cleaning out the storeroom, I came on three big boxes
with broken dolls in 'em. Beauties. They were, I can
tell you, the Lady Jane in a blue silk dress,
the Lady Clara belle and pink, and the Lady Matilda
and shimmer and white. Nothing wrong with them either, only
broken rubbers that put their giants out of whack and
set their heads a roll in this way. And that
they could be fixed in no time, I says to myself,
And what a prize they'd be for the kids, to
be sure. For Mom and me had racked our brains
considerable how we'd scrape together the money for Christmas things
for the girls. So I went to the boss and
I asked him right out what he'd charge me for
the three ladies just as they was. And he says, Jimmy,
he says, I've told him me name a dozen times,
but he all has caused me. Jimmy, Jimmy, he says,
if you'll come down on Christmas Day, and help me
take down the fixin's and fix up the store for
regular trade. I'll give you the dolls for nothin, he says.
So I explained to the kids that Sandy'd be late
to our house this year, with so many to see after,
it wouldn't be strange. And went down to the store
early this morning and finished me work and fixed up
the ladies as good as new. Would you like to
be seein em now, he added, turning to the great
box with a look of pride. Sure I'd like to
see em, said Tom, with careful, almost reverent touch. Harvey
untied the string and opened the large box, disclosing three
smaller boxes, one above the other. Opening the first box,
he revealed a really handsome doll in a blue silk dress,
with large, dark eyes that opened up and shut, and dark,
curling locks of real hair. This is the Lady Jane,
he said, smoothing her gay frock with gentle fingers. We're
going to give her to Kitty. Kitty's hair is pretty
and curly, but she hates it cause it's red, and
she thinks black hair is the prettiest kind in the world.
Ain't it funny how all of us will be wantin
what we don't have ourselves. Tom did not reply to
this bit of philosophy, but he laid a repentant hand
on the jolly Ramblers, as if he knew he had
wronged them in his heart. That's as handsome a doll
as ever I saw, and no mistake, he said. Pleased
with this praise, Harvey opened the second box and disclosed
the Lady Matilda, with fair golden curls and a dress
of shimmer and white. The lady Matilda goes to Josephine,
said Harvey. Josephine has black hair straight as a string,
and won't she laugh though to see them fetchin yellow curls.
She surely ought to be glad, said Tom. The Lady
Clara Belle was another fair haired lady in a gown
of the brightest pink. This here, beauty's for the baby,
said Harvey, his eyes glowing. She don't care if the
hair's black or yellow, but won't that stunnin dress make
her eyes pop out? They'll surely believe in sandy when
they see those beauties, said Tom. That's just what I
was sayin to Mom this morning, said Harvey. Kitty's had
some doubts. She's almost nine, but when she sees those
fine ladies, she'll be dead. Sure, Mom, and I didn't
buy em. If I had a Sandy clawsuit, i'd dress
up an hand em out myself. Tom's face lighted with
a bright idea. My brother Bob's got a Santa Claus
suit that he used in a show last Christmas, he said, Say,
let me dress up and play Santa for you. The
girls would never guess who I was, wouldn't they stare, though,
said Harvey delightedly. But do you think you'd want to
take time? He asked apologetically, And you with a new
pair of skates and the ice like this, Of course
I want to. If you'll let me, said Tom, I'll
skate down the river and meet you anywhere. You say,
out in our back yard. Then at seven o'clock, said Harvey,
all right, I'll be there, and with head up and
skates clinking, Tom hurried away. It was a flushed, excited
boy who burst into the Reynolds quiet sitting room a
few minutes later, with his skates still hanging on his
shoulder and his cap in his hand. Say, mother, he cried,
Can I have Bob's Santa Claus suit this evening. Please,
I'm going to play Santa Claus for Harvey mc ginnis.
Play Santa Claus for Harvey mc ginnis. What do you mean, child?
You know missus mc ginnis mother, that poor woman who
lives in the little house by the river. Her husband
got killed on the railroad last winter. You know, well,
Harvey her boy, has fixed up some grand looking dolls
for his sisters, and he wants me to come out
and play Santa tonight. And Tom launched out into a
long story about Harvey and his good fortune. He must
be a splendid boy, said Missus Reynolds heartily. And I
am sure I shall be glad to have you go.
And another thing, mother, said Tom, hesitating a little. Do
you think Grandma would care if I spent part of
that five dollars she gave me for a pair of
skates for Harvey. He hasn't any skates at all, and
I know he just loved to have some. It is
generous of you to think of it, said his mother,
much pleased. And you would still have two and a
half for that little trip down to Grandma's. But I'd
like to get him some clubhouse skates, said Tom, they're
a new kind that costs three dollars and a half.
But I thought you said the Jolly Ramblers were the
best skates made. Missus Reynolds looked somewhat hurt as she
glanced from Tom to the skates on his shoulder, and
back to Tom again. They are, mother, They're just dandies,
said Tom, blushing with shame that he could ever have
despised his mother's gift. But these clubhouse skates are just
the kind for Harvey. You see, Harvey's shoes are old
and worn, and these clubhouse skates have clamps that you
can't shake loose if you have to. Then if anything
happens to them before the year's up, you get a
new pair free. And Harvey, you know, wouldn't have any
money to be fixing skates. Well, do as you like,
said Missus Reynolds, pleased with Tom's eagerness for such a
spell of generosity was something new in her selfish younger son.
But remember you will have to wait awhile for your
visit to Grandma. All right, and thank you, mother, said Tom.
You can buy the skates down at Harrison's. And I'm
going over and asked mister Harrison. If he won't open
up the store and get a pair for me for
a special time like this, I'm most sure he will.
And away he flew that evening. At seven, as the
moon was rising over the eastern hills, a short, portly
Santa Claus stepped out of the dry reeds by the
river bank and walked with wonderfully nimble feet right into
the mc ginnis's little back yard. As he neared the
small back porch, a dark figure rose to greet him,
one and held up in warning, the other, holding at
arm's length a bulky grainsack full to the brim. Here's
your pack, Santie, he whispered, gleefully. They're all waitin in
the front room. Yonder. I'll slip in the back way
whilst you go round and give a good thump at
the front door, and Mamma let you in. Trembling with eagerness,
Tom tiptoed round the house, managing to slip an oblong
package into the capacious depths of the big sack. As
he did so, thump, thump, how his knock re echoed
in the frosty air. The door swung wide, and Missus
mc ginnis's gaunt figure stood before him. Good evening, Santie,
come right in, she said. Tom had always thought what
a homely woman Harvey's mother was when he happened to
meet her at the grocery, with her thin red hair
drawn severely back from her face and a black shawl
over her head. But as he looked up into her big,
kind face, so full of Christmas sunshine, he wondered he
could ever have thought her anything but lovely. The room
was small and bare, but wonderfully gay, with pine and
bits of red and green crepe paper saved from the
fixens at the store, and on a large bed in
the corner sat the three little girls, Kitty with her
bright curls bobbing, Josephine with her black braid sticking straight out,
and the baby with tiny blue eyes that twinkled and
shone like Harvey's. The fine speech that Tom had been
saying over to himself for the past two hours seemed
to vanish into thin air before this excited little audience,
But in faltering, stammering tones which everyone was too excited
to notice, he managed to say something about merry Christmas
and good children, and then proceeded to open the magic sack,
Miss Kitty mc ginnis, he called, in deep gruff tones.
Kitty took the box he offered, with shy embarrassment, slowly
drew back the lid and gave a cry of amazement
and delight. A doll O, the loveliest doll that ever was,
she cried. Then, turning to her brother, she whispered as
softly as excitement would permit. Oh, Harvey, I'm a feared
you paid too much. Ah go on, said Harvey, his
face more like a full moon than ever. Don't you
know that Sandy can do whatever he wants to the
other dolls were received with raptures. Josephine stroking the golden
curls of the Lady Matilda with wondering fingers, and the
baby dancing round and round, waving the pink robed Lady
Clara Belle above her head. Mister Harvey mc ginnis came
the gruff tones of Santa Claus, and Harvey smiled over
to his mother as he drew out a pair of
stout cloth gloves. Missus mc ginnis, and that good lady
smiled back as she shook out a dainty white apron
with a coarse embroidery ruffle. I reckon, Sandy wanted you
to wear that of a Sunday afternoon, said Harvey awkwardly.
And I'll be proud to do it, said his mother.
Little sacks of candy were next produced, and everyone settled
down to enjoy it, thinking that the bottom of the
big sack must be reached when Santa called out in
tones that trembled beneath the gruffness, another package for mister
Harvey mc ginnis for me. Wha what, said Harvey, taking
the heavy, oblong bundle. Then as the sparkling club house
skates met his view, his face lit up with a
glory that Tom never forgot. The glory lasted but a moment.
Then he turned a troubled face toward the bulky Old Saint.
You never ought to a done it, he said. These
must have cost a lot. Aw go on was the reply,
in a distinctly boyish tone. Don't you know that Sandy
can do whatever he wants to? And with a prodigious bow,
Old Santa was gone. A few minutes later, a slender
boy with a bundle under his arm was skating swiftly
down the shining river in the moonlight as he rounded
the bend, A tall figure in a fur trimmed coat
came skimming slowly toward him, and a voice called out,
in Ralph Evans's condescending tones, well how are the jolly
ramblers doing tonight? But the answer this time was clear
and glad and triumphant. The best in the world, said Tom.
And isn't this the glorious night for skating? End of
The Boy with the Box by Mary Griggs van Vorhees