Speaker 1: The Pea Sag by Juliana Horatia ewing One. Everyone ought
to be happy at Christmas, but there are many things
which ought to be and yet are not, And people
are sometimes sad, even in the Christmas holidays. The captain
and his wife were sad though it was Christmas Eve.
Sad though they were in the prime of life, blessed
with good health, devoted to each other and to their children,
with competent means, a comfortable house on a little freehold,
property of their own, and one might say everything that
heart could desire. Sad though they were good people, whose
peace of mind had a firmer foundation than their earthly
goods alone. Contented people too, with plenty of occupation for
mind and body, sad, and in the nursery this was
held to be past all reason. Though the children were
performing that ancient and most entertaining play or Christmas Mystery,
known as the Peace eg for their benefit and behoof alone.
The play was none the worse that most of the
actors were too young to learn parts, so that there
was very little of the rather tedious dialogue, only plenty
of dress and ribbons, and of fighting with the wooden swords.
But though Robert, the eldest of the five children, looked
bonny enough to warm any father's heart as he marched
up and down with an air learned by watching many
a parade in Barrack Square and drill ground. And though
Nicholas did not cry in spite of falling hard, and Dora,
who took the part of the doctor, treading accidentally on
his little finger and picking him up, still the captain
and his wife sighed nearly as often as they smiled,
and the mother dropped tears as well as pennies into
the cap which tom As, the King of Egypt, brought
round after the performance. Two many many years back. The
captain's wife had been a child herself, and had laughed
to see the village mummers act the peace Egg, and
had been quite happy on Christmas Eve, happy though she
had no mother, Happy though her father was a stern man,
very fond of his only child, but with an obstinate
will that not even she dared thwart. She had lived
to thwart it, and he had never forgiven her. It
was when she married the captain. The old man had
a prejudice against soldiers, which was quite reason enough in
his opinion, for his daughter to sacrifice the happiness of
her future life by giving up the soldier she loved.
At last, he gave her her choice between the captain
and his own favor and money. She chose the captain
and was disowned and disinherited. The captain bore a high
character and was a good and clever officer, but that
went for nothing against the old man's whim. He made
a very good husband, too, But even this did not
move his father in law, who had never held any
intercourse with him or his wife since the day of
their marriage, and who had never seen his own grandchildchildren.
Amid the ups and downs of their wanderings, the discomforts
of shipboard and of stations in the colonies, bad servants,
and unwonted sicknesses, the Captain's tenderness never failed. If the
life was rough, the captain was ready. He had been,
by turns in one straight or another, sick nurse, doctor, carpenter,
nurse maid, and cooked to his family, and had moreover
an idea that nobody filled these offices quite so well
as himself. Withal. His very profession kept him neat, well dressed,
and active in the roughest of their ever changing quarters.
He was a smart man and never changed his manner
from that of the lover of his wife's young days.
As years went and children came, the captain and his
wife grew tired of traveling. New scenes were small comfort
when they heard of the death of old friends. One
foot of the dear old, dull home sky was dearer
after all than miles of the unclouded heavens of the south.
The gray hills and overgrown lanes of her old home
haunted the captain's wife by night and day, and homesickness,
that weariest of all sicknesses, began to take the light
out of her eyes. Before their time. It preyed upon
the captain too now and then he would say, fretfully,
I should like a resting place in our own country,
however small before everybody is dead. But the children's prospects
have to be considered. The continued estrangement from the old
man was an abiding sorrow also, and they had hopes
that if only they could get home, he might be
persuaded to peace and charity. This time, at last they
were sent home, but the hard old father still would
not relent. He returned their letters unopened This bitter disappointment
made the captain's wife so ill that she almost died,
and in one month the captain's hair became iron gray.
He reproached himself for having ever taken the daughter from
her father to kill her at last, as he said,
and thinking of his own children, he even reproached himself
for having robbed the old widower of his only child.
After two years at home, his regiment was ordered again
on foreign duty. He failed to effect in exchange, and
they prepared to move once more from Chatham to Calcutta.
Never before had the packing to which she was so
well accustomed been so bitter a task to the captain's wife.
It was at the darkest hour of this gloomy time
that the captain came in, waving above his head a
letter which changed all their plans. Now close by the
old home of the captain's wife there had lived a
man much older than herself, who yet had loved her
with a devotion as great as that of the young captain.
She never knew it, for when he saw that she
had given her heart to his younger rival, he kept silence,
and he never asked for what he knew he might
have had the old man's authority in his favor. So
generous was the affection which he could never conquer, that
he constantly tried to reconcile the father to his children
whilst he lived, And when he died he bequeathed his
house and small estate to the woman he had loved.
It will be a legacy of peace, he thought on
his death bed. The old man cannot hold out when
she and her children are constantly in sight. And it
may please God that I shall know of the reunion
I have not been permitted to see with my eyes.
And thus it came about that the captain's regiment went
to India without him, and that the captain's wife and
her father lived on opposite sides of the same road. Three.
The eldest of the captain's children was a boy. He
was named Robert after his grandfather, and seemed to have
inherited a good deal of the old gentleman's character mixed
with gentler traits. He was a fair fine boy, tall
and stout for his age, with the captain's regular features,
and he flattered himself the Captain's firm step and marshal bearing.
He was apt, like his grandfather to hold his own
will to be other people's law, and happily for the
peace of the nursery. This opinion was devoutly shared by
his brother Nicholas. Though the Captain had left the army,
Robin continued to command an irregular force of volunteers in
the nursery, and never was Colonel more despotic. His brothers
and sisters were, by turn infantry, cavalry, engineers, and artillery.
According to his whim, the captain alone was a match
for his strong willed son. If you please, sir, said
Sarah one morning, flouncing in upon the Captain, just as
he was about to start for the neighboring town. If
you please, sir, I wish you'd speak to Master Robert.
He's past my powers. I've no doubt about it, thought
the captain. But he only said, Well, what's the matter?
Night after night do I put him to bed? Said Sarah?
And night after night does he get up as soon
as I'm out of the room, and says he's orderly
officer for the evening and goes about in his night
shirt and his feet as bare as boards. The captain
fingered his heavy mustache to hide a smile, but he
listened patiently to Sarah's complaints. It ain't so much ham
I should mind, Sir, she continued, But he goes round
the beds and wakes up the other young gentleman and
Miss Dora, one after another. And when I speak to him,
he gives me all the sauce he can lay his
tongue to and says he's going round the guards. The
other night, I tried to put him back in his bed,
but he got away and ran all over the house,
ME hunting him everywhere, and not a sign of him
till he jumps out on me from the garret stairs
and nearly knocks me down. I visited the outposts, Sarah
says he all's well, and off he goes to bed
bowl as brass. Have you spoken to your mistress, asked
the captain. Yes, Sir, said Sarah, and Missus spoke to him,
and he promised not to go round the guards again.
Has he broken his promise? Asked the captain, with a
look of anger and also of surprise. When I opened
the door last night, Sir, continued Sarah in her shrill trouble.
What should I see in the dark? But Master robert
a walking up and down with the carpet brush stuck
in his arm. Who goes there, says he? You are dashes, boy,
says I didn't you promise Erma you'd leave off them tricks.
I'm not going round the guards, says he. I promised not.
But I'm for sentry duty to night and say what
I would to him. All he had for me was
you mustn't speak to a sentry on dirty so I says,
as sure as I lived till morning, I'll go to
your pa, for he pays no more attention to his
mod than to me, nor to any one else. Please
to see that the bed is taken out of my
dressing room, said the captain. I will attend to Master Robert.
With this, Sarah had to con herself and she went
back to the nursery. Robert was nowhere to be seen
and made no reply to her summons. On this, the
unwary nursemaid flounced into the bedroom to look for him,
when Robert, who was hidden beneath the table, darted forth
and promptly locked her in. You're under a rest, he
shouted through the keyhole. Let me out, shrieked Sarah. I'll
send a file of the guard to fetch you to
the orderly room, by and by, said Robert, for preferring
frivolous complaints, and he departed to the farm yard to
look at the ducks. That night, when Robert went up
to bed, the captain quietly locked him into his dressing room,
from which the bed had been removed. You're for sentry
duty to night, said the captain. The carpet brushes in
the corner. Good evening. As his father anticipated, Robert was
soon tired of the sentry game in these new circumstances,
and long before the knight had half worn away, he
wished himself safely undressed and in his own comfortable bed.
At half past two o'clock, he felt as if he
could bear it no longer, and knocked at the captain's door.
Who goes there? Said the captain. Mayn't I go to bed, please?
Whined poor Robert. Certainly not, said the captain. You're on duty.
And on duty, poor Robert had to remain, for the
captain had a will as well as his son. So
he rolled himself up in his father's railway rug and
slept on the floor. The next night, he was very
glad to go quietly to bed and remained there. Four
the captain's children sat at breakfast in a large, bright nursery.
It was the room where the old bachelor had died,
and now her children made it merry. This was just
what he would have wished. They all sat around the table,
for it was breakfast time. There were five of them,
and five bowls of boiled bread and milk smoked before them. Sarah,
a foolish gossiping girl who acted as nurse till better
could be found, was waiting on them, and by the
table sat Darky, the black retriever, his long curly back
swaying slightly from the difficulty of holding himself up, and
his solemn hazel eyes fixed very intently on each and
all of the breakfast bowls. He was as silent and
sagacious as Sarah was talkative and empty headed. Though large,
he was unassuming packs The pug, on the contrary, who
came up to the first joint of Darky's legs, stood
defiantly on his dignity and his short stumps. He always
placed himself in front of the bigger dog and made
a point of hustling him in doorways and of going
first downstairs. Robert's tongue was seldom idle, even at meals Sarah,
Who is that tall old gentleman at church in the
seat near the pulpit, he asked. He wears a cloak
like what the blues were, only all blue, and is
tall enough for a lifeguardsman. He stood when we were
kneeling down and said, Almighty and most merciful Father, louder
than anybody. Sarah knew who the old gentleman was, and
knew also that the children did not know, and that
their parents did not see fit to tell them as yet.
But she had a passion for telling and hearing news,
and would rather gossip with the child than not gossip
at all. Never you mind, master Robin, she said, nodding sagaciously.
Little boys aren't to know everything. Ah. Then I know
you don't know, replied Robert. If you did, you'd tell
I do, said Sarah. You don't, said Robin. Your mass
forbid you to contradict, Master Robin, said Sarah, And if
you do, I shall tell her. I know well enough
who the old gentleman is, and perhaps I might tell you.
Only you'd go straight off and tell again. No, No,
I wouldn't, shouted Robin. I can keep a secret. Indeed,
I can pinch my little finger and try. Do do
tell me Sarah, there's a dear Sarah, and then I
shall know you know? And he danced round her, catching
at her skirts. To keep a secret was beyond Sarah's powers.
Do let my dress be, master Robin, she said, you're
ripping out all the gathers, and listen while I whispered,
as sure as your boy, the gentleman's your own grandpapa.
Robin lost his hold on Sarah's dress. His arms fell
by his side, and he stood with his brows knit
for some minutes thinking. Then he said, emphatically, what lies
you do? Tell Sarah? Oh, Robin, cried Nicholas, who had
drawn near his thick curls, standing stark with curiosity. Mamma said,
lies wasn't a proper word, and you promised not to
say it again. I forgot, said Robin. I didn't mean
to break my promise, but she does tell ahem. You
know what, you wicked boy, cried the enraged Sarah. How
dare you say such a thing? And everybody in the
place knows he's your ma's own pa. I'll go and
ask her, said Robin, and he was at the door
in a moment, but Sarah, alarmed by the thought of
getting into a scrape herself, caught him by the arm.
Don't you go, Love, it'll only make your ma angry.
There it was all my nonsense. Then it's not true,
said Robin indignantly. What did you tell me so for
it was all my jokes and nonsense, said the unscrupulous Sarah.
But your ma wouldn't like to know I've said such
a thing. And Master Robert wouldn't be so mean as
to tell tales, would he Love. I'm not mean, said
Robin stoutly. And I don't tell tales, but you do,
and you tell you know what. Besides, however, I won't
go this time, but I'll tell you what if you
tell tales of me to Papa any more, I'll tell
him what you said about the old gentleman in the
blue cloak, with which parting threat, Robin strode off to
join his brothers and sisters. Five after Robert left the nursery,
he strolled out of doors, and peeping through the gate
at the end of the drive, he saw a party
of boys going through what looked like a military exercise
with sticks and a good deal of stamping, but instead
of mere words of command, they all spoke by turns,
as in a play. Not being at all shy, he
joined them and asked so many questions that he soon
got to know all about it. They were practicing a
Christmas mumming play called thee Why it was called thus,
they could not tell him, as there was nothing whatever
about eggs in it, and so far from being a
play of peace, it was made up of a series
of battles between certain valiant knights and princes. The rehearsal
being over, Robin went with the boys to the sexton's house.
He was fathered to one of the characters, called the
King of Egypt, where they showed him the dresses they
were to wear. These were made of gay colored materials
and covered with ribbons, except that of the Black Prince
of Paradine, which was black as became his title. The
boys also showed him the book from which they learned
their parts, and which was to be bought at the
post office store. Then are you the mummers who come
around at Christmas and act in people's kitchens and people
give them money that Mamma used to tell us about,
said Robin. The boy hesitated a moment, and then said, well,
I suppose we are, And do you go out in
the snow from one house to another at night? And oh,
don't you enjoy it? Cried Robin. We like it well enough,
the lad admitted. Robin bought a copy of The Peace Egg.
He was resolved to have a nursery performance and to
take the chief part himself. The others were willing for
what he wished. But there were difficulties. In the first place,
there are eight characters in the play, and there were
only five children. They decided among themselves to leave out
the Fool, and Mamma said that another character was not
to be acted by any of them, or indeed mentioned
the little one who comes in at the end. Robin explained.
Mamma had her reasons, and these were always good. She
had not been altogether pleased that Robin had bought the play.
It was a very old thing, she said, and very queer,
not adapted for a child's play. If Mamma thought the
parts not quite fit for the children to learn, they
found them much too long. So in the end she
picked out some bits for each which they learned easily,
and which with a good deal of fighting, made quite
as good a story of it as if they had
done the whole. What may have been wanting otherwise was
made up for by the dresses, which were charming. Robin
was Saint George, Nicholas, the valiant slasher, Dora the doctor,
and the other two Hector and the King of Egypt.
And now we've no black prince, cried Robin in dismay.
Let Darky be the black Prince, said Nicholas. When you
wave your stick, he'll jump for it. Then you can
pretend to fight with him. It's not a stick, it's
a sword, said Robin. However, Darky may be the black Prince.
And what's packs to be, asked Dora, For you know
he will come. If Darky does, and he'll run in
before everybody else too, then he must be the fool,
said Robin. And it will do very well, for the
fool comes in before the rest, and packs can have
his red coat on and the collar with the little bells. Six.
Robin thought that Christmas would never come to the Captain
and his wife. It seemed to come too fast. They
have hoped it might bring reconciliation with the old man,
but it seemed they had hoped in vain. There were
times now that the Captain almost regretted the old bachelor's bequest.
The familiar scenes of her old home sharpened his wife's grief.
To see her father every Sunday in church, with marks
of age and infirmity on him, but with not a
look of tenderness for his only child. This tried her sorely.
She felt it less abroad, thought the Captain, a home
in which she frets herself. The death is, after all,
no great boon. Christmas Eve came. I'm sure it's quite
Christmas enough now, said Robin. We'll have the peace egg
to night. So as the Captain and his wife sat
sadly over their fire, the door opened and packs ran in,
shaking bells, followed by the nursery mummers. The performance was
most successful. It was by no means pathetic, and yet,
as has been said, the captain's wife shed tears. What
is the matter, mamma, said Robert, abruptly, dropping his sword
and running up to her. Don't tease mamma with questions,
said the captain. She is not very well and rather sad.
We must all be very kind and good to poor
dear Mamma, and the Captain raised his wife's hand to
his lips as he spoke. Robin seized the other hand
and kissed it tenderly. He was very fond of his mother.
At this moment, Pax took a little run and jumped
onto Mamma's lap, where sitting facing the company, he opened
his black mouth and yawned with a ludicrous inappropriateness worthy
of any clown. It made everybody laugh. And now we'll
go act in the kitchen, said Nicholas. Supper at nine o'clock, remember,
shouted the captain, and we are going to have real
frum and tea and yule cakes, such as Mamma used
to tell us of when we were abroad. Hooray, shouted
the mummers, and they ran off packs, leaping from his
seat just in time to hustle the black prints in
the doorway. When the dining room door was shut, Robert
raised his hand and shouted hush. The mummers pricked their ears,
but there was only a distant, harsh and scraping sound
as of stones rubbed together. They're cleaning the passages, Robert
went on, and Sarah told told me they meant to
finish the missiletoe and have everything cleaned up by supper time.
They don't want us, I know. Look here, we'll go
real mumming instead. That will be fun. Nicholas grinned with delight.
But will Mamma let us, he inquired. Oh it will
be all right if we're back by supper time, said
Robert hastily. Only, of course, we must take care not
to catch cold. Come and help me get some wraps.
The old oak chest in which spare shawls, rugs and
coats were kept, was soon ransacked, and the mummers gay
dresses hidden by motley wrappers. But no sooner did Darkian
packs behold the coats, et cetera, than they at once
began to leap and bark, as it was their custom
to do when they saw anyone dressing to go out.
Robin was sorely afraid that this would betray them, But
though the captain and his wife heard the barking, they
did not guess the cause. So the front door being
very gently opened and closed, the nursery mummers stole away. Seven.
It was a very fine night. The snow was well
trodden on the drive, so that it did not wet
their feet, but on the trees and shrubs it hung
soft and white. It's much jollier being out at night
than in the daytime, said Robin, much, responded Nicholas with
intense feeling. We'll go a wastling next week, said Robin.
I know all about it, and perhaps we shall get
a good lot of money, and then we'll buy tin
swords with scabbards for next year. I don't like these sticks,
Oh dear, I wish it wasn't so long between one
Christmas and another. Where shall we go first, asked Nicholas,
as they turned into the high road. This is the
first house, he said. We'll act here and all pressed
in as quickly as possible. Once safe within the grounds,
they shouldered their sticks and marched with composure. You're going
to the front door, said Nicholas. Mummers ought to go
to the back. We don't know where it is, said Robin,
and he rang the front door bell. There was a pause,
then lights shone, steps were heard, and at last a
sound of much unbarring, unbolting, and unlocking. It might in
a prison. Then the door was opened by an elderly,
timid looking woman who held a tallow candle above her head.
Who's there, she said? At this time of night, we're
Christmas mummers, said Robin stoutly. We didn't know the way
to the back door, but and don't you know better
than to come here, said the woman. Be off with
you as fast as you can. You're only the servant,
said Robin. Go and ask your master and mistress if
they wouldn't like to see us act, we'd do it
very well, you impudent boy, Be off with you, repeated
the woman. Master'd no more let you, nor any other
such rubbish set foot in this house. Woman shouted a
voice close behind her, which made her start as if
she had been shot. Who authorizes you to say? What's
your master will or will not do? Before you? Asked them?
The boy is right, you are the servant, and it
is not your business to choose for me whom I
shall or shall not see. I'm int no harm, sir,
I'm sure, said the housekeeper. But I thought you'd never
my good woman, said her master. If I had wanted
somebody to think for me, you're the last person I
should have employed. I hire you to obey orders, not
to think. I'm sure, sir, said the housekeeper, whose only
form of argument was reiteration. I never thought you would
have seen them. Then you were wrong, shouted the master.
I will see them, bring them in. He was a tall,
gaunt old man, and Robin stared at him for some minutes,
wondering where he could have seen somebody very like him.
At last he remembered it was the old gentleman of
the blue cloak. The children threw off their wraps, the
housekeeper helping them and chattering ceaselessly from sheer nervousness. Well
to be sure, said she. Their dresses are pretty too,
and they seem quite a better sort of children. They
talk quite genteel. I might have known they weren't like
common mummers, but I was so flustrated hearing the bell
goes so late. And are the reddies, said the old man,
who stood like a ghost in the dim light of
the flaring tallow candle, grimly watching the proceedings. Yes, sir,
shall I take them to the kitchen, sir, for you
and the other idle hussies to gape in grinette. No,
bring them to the library, he snapped, and then stalked off,
leading the way. The housekeeper accordingly led them to the
library and then withdrew, nearly falling on her face as
she left the room by stumbling over Darky, who slipped
in last like a black shadow. The old man was
seated in a carved oak chair by the fire. I
never said the dogs were to come in, he said,
But we can't do without them. Please, said Robin boldly.
You see, there are eight people in the Peace Egg,
and there are only five of us. So Darky has
to be the Black Prince, and Packs has to be
the fools. So we have to have them. Five and
two make seven, said the old man, with a grim smile.
What do you do for the eighth? Oh that's the
one at the end, said Robin confidently. Mamma said we
weren't to mention him. But I think that's because we're children.
You're grown up, you know. So I'll show you the
book and you can see for yourself. He went on,
drawing the Peace Egg from his pocket. There that's the
picture of him on the last page, black with horns
and a tail. The old man's stern face relaxed into
a broad smile as he examined the grotesque wood cut,
but when he turned to the first page. The smile
vanished into a deep frown, and his eyes shone like
hot coals with anger. He had seen Robin's name. Oh
sent you here, he asked, in a hoarse voice. Speak
and speak the truth. Did your mother send you here?
Robin thought the old man was angry with them for
playing truant, he said slowly. N No, she didn't exactly
send us, but I don't think she'll mind our having
come if we get back in time for supper. Mamma
never forbid our going mumming. You know, I don't suppose
she ever thought of it, Nicholas said, candidly, wagging his
curly head from side to side. She knows we're mummers,
said Robin, for she helped us when we were abroad.
You know. She used to tell us about the mummers
acting at Christmas when she was a little girl. So
we thought we'd be mummers, and so we acted to
Papa and Maman. So we thought we'd act to the maids,
but they were cleaning the passages, so we thought we'd
really go mumming. And we'd got several other houses to
go to before supper time. We'd better begin, I think,
said Robin, and without more ado, he began to march
round and round, raising his sword, and the performance went
off quite as creditably as before. As the children acted,
the old man's anger wore off. He watched them with
an interest he could not repress. When Nicholas took some
hard wax from Robert without flinching, the old man clapped
his hands, and after the encounter was over he said
he would not have had the dogs excluded on any consideration.
It was just at the end, when they were all
marching round and round, holding on by each other's swords
over the shoulder, and singing a mumming we will go,
et cetera, that Nicholas suddenly brought the circle to a
standstill by stopping dead short and staring up at the
wall before him. What are you stopping for, said Robert,
turning indignantly around. Look there, cried Nicholas, pointing to a
little painting which hung above the old man's head. Robin
looked and said, abruptly, it's Dora. What is Dora, asked
the old man in a strange, sharp tone. Here she is,
said Robin and Nicholas in one breath, as they dragged
her forward, she's the doctor, said Robin, and you can't
see her face for her things. Dora, take off your
cap and pull back that hood. There, Oh, it is
like her. It was the portrait of her mother as
a child. But of this the nursery mummers knew nothing.
The old man looked as the peaked cap and hood
fell away from Dora's face and fair curls, and then
he uttered a sharp cry and buried his head upon
his hands. The boy stood stupefied, but Dora ran up
to him, and, putting her little hands on his arms, said,
in childish pitying tones, Oh, I am so sorry. Have
you got a headache? May Robin put the shovel in
the fire for you. Mamma has hot shovels for her
head aches. And though the old man did not speak
or move, she went on coaxing him and stroking his head,
on which the hair was white. At this moment, Pax
took one of his unexpected runs and jumped onto the
old man's knee in his own particular fashion, and then
yawned at the company. The old man was startled and
lifted his face. Suddenly it was wet with tears. Why
you're crying, exclaimed the children with one breath. It's very odd,
said Robin fretfully. I can't think what's the matter tonight.
Mamma was crying too when we were acting, and Papa
said we weren't to tease her with questions, and he
kissed her hand, and I kissed her hand too, and
Papa said we must all be very good and kind
to dear poor mamma, and so I mean to be.
She's so good, and I think we'd better go home,
or perhaps she'll be frightened. Robin added. She's so good,
is she? Asked the old man. He had put packs
off his knee and taken Dora on to it. Oh,
isn't she said Nicholas, swaying his curly head from side
to side. As usual. She is always good, said Robin emphatically.
And so's Papa. But I'm always doing something I oughtn't to,
he added slowly. But then you know I don't pretend
to obey Sarah. I don't care a fig for Sarah,
and I won't obey any woman. But mamma, who's Sarah?
Asked grandfather. She's our nurse, said Robin, And she tells
I mustn't say what she tells, but it's not the truth.
She told one about you the other day, he added,
about me, said the old man, she said that you
were our grandpapa. So then I knew she was telling you.
Know what? How did you know it wasn't true? The
old man asked why? Of course, said Robin. If you
were our mamma's father, you'd know her and be very
fond of her and come to see her, And then
you'd be our grandfather too, and you'd have us to
see you, and perhaps give us Christmas boxes. I wish
you were, Robin added, with a sigh. It would be
very nice, would you like it, asked the old man
of Dora. And Dora, who was half asleep and very comfortable,
put her little arms about his neck, as she was
wont to put them around the captain's, and said very much.
He put her down at last, very tenderly, almost unwill willingly,
and left the children alone. By and by He returned
dressed in the blue cloak, and took Dora up again.
I will see you home, he said. The children had
not been missed. The clock had only just struck nine
when there came a knock in the door of the
dining room, where the captain and his wife still sat
by the yule log. She said, come in, wearily, thinking
it was the frum and ty in the Christmas cakes.
But it was her father and her child in his arms. Eight.
The captain had many friends who knew of the sad
estrangement between his wife and her father. Some of them
were in church the next day, which was Christmas Day,
when the captain's wife came in. They would have hid
their faces but for the startling sight that met the
gaze of the congregation. The old grandfather walked into church
abreast of the captain. They've met in the porch, whispered
one under the shelter of his hat. They can't quarrel
publicly in a place of worship, said another, turning pale.
She has gone into his seat, cried a girl in
a sh whisper, and the children after her, added her
sister incautiously aloud. There was now no doubt about the matter.
The old man, in his blue cloak, stood for a
few moments, politely disputing the question of precedence with his
handsome son in law. Then the captain bowed and passed in,
and the old man followed him. By the time the
service was ended, everybody knew of the happy peacemaking and
was glad. One old friend after another came up with
blessings and good wishes. This was a proper Christmas. Indeed,
they said there was a general rejoicing, but only the
grandfather and his children knew that. It was hatched from
the piece egg and of the peace egg by Juliana
Horatia Ewing