Speaker 1: An Old Fashioned Christmas by Richard marsh An old fashioned Christmas,
A lively family will accept a gentleman as paying guest
to join them in spending an old fashioned Christmas in
the heart of the country. That was the advertisement. It
had its points. I was not sure what in this
case an old fashioned Christmas might happen to mean. I imagine
there were several kinds of old fashioned Christmases, but it
could hardly be worse than a chop in my chambers,
or horror of horrors at the club, or my cousin
Lucy's notion of what she calls the festive season. Festive. Yes,
she and her husband who suffers from melancholia, and all
the other complaints which flesh is heir to. And I
dragging through what I call a patent medicine dinner and
talking of everybody who is dead and gone or else going,
and of nothing else. So I wrote to the advertiser.
The reply was written in a sprawling feminine hand. It
was a little vague. It appeared that the terms would
be five guineas, but there was no mention of the
length of time which that fee would cover I might arrive.
It seemed on Christmas Eve, but there was no hint
as to when I was to go. If ever, the
whole thing was a trifle odd. There was nothing said
about the sort of accommodation which would be provided, nothing
about the kind of establishment which was maintained, or the
table which was kept. No references were offered or asked for.
It was merely stated that we're a very lively family,
and that if you're lively yourself, you'll get on uncommonly well.
The letter was signed Madge Wilson. Now it is a
remarkable thing that I have always had an extraordinary predilection
for the name Madge. I do not know why I
have never known a Madge, and yet from my boyhood
upward I have desired to meet one. Here was an
opportunity offered. She was apparently the careworn mother of a
lively family. Under such circumstances, she was hardly likely to
be lively herself. But her name was Madge, and it
was the accident of a Christian name which decided me
to go. I had no illusions, no doubt the five
guineas were badly wanted. Even a lively family would be
hardly likely to advertise for a perfect stranger to spend
Christmas with them if they were not, I did not
expect the prince entertainment. Still, I felt that it could
hardly be worse than a chop or cousin Lucy. The
subjects of her conversation I never cared about when they
were alive, and I certainly do not want to talk
about them now they are dead. As for the pills
and drops with which her husband doses himself between the courses,
it makes me ill even to think of them. On
Christmas Eve, the weather was abominable All night. It had
been blowing and raining. In the morning, it began to freeze.
By the time the streets were like so many skating rings.
It commenced to snow, and it kept on snowing. That
turned out to be quite a record in the way
of snow storms, hardly the sort of weather to start
for an unknown destination in the heart of the country.
But at the last moment I did not like to
back out. I said I would go, and I meant
to go. I had been idiot enough to load myself
with a lot of Christmas presents without the faintest notion
why I had not given a Christmas present for years
there had been no one to give them to. Lucy
cannot bear such trifling, and her husband's only notion of
a present at any time was a gallant yard of
somebody's stomach. Stirrr. I am no dealer in poisons. I
knew nothing of the people I was going to. The
youngest member of the family might be twenty, or the
oldest ten. No doubt the things I had bought would
be laughed at. Probably I should never venture to offer them. Still,
if you have not tried your hand at that kind
of thing for ever so long, the mere act of
purchasing is a pleasure that a fact. I had never
enjoyed shopping so much since I was a boy. I
felt quite lively myself as I mingled with the Christmas crowd,
looking for things which might not turn out to be
absolutely preposterous. I even bought something for Madge, I mean
missus Wilson. Of course, I knew that I had no
right to do anything of the kind, and was aware
that the chances were a hundred to one against my ever,
presuming to hint at its existence, I was actually as
enough to buy something for her husband. Two things, indeed alternatives,
as it were a box of cigars if it turned
out to be a smoker, and a case of whiskey
if he didn't. I hoped to goodness that he would
not prove to be hypochondriac like Lucy's husband. I would
not give him pills. What the Lively family would think
of a perfect stranger arriving burdened with rubbish, as if
he had known them all their lives, I did not
dare to think, no doubt they would set him down
as a lunatic right away. It was a horrible journey.
The trains were late and of course overcrowded. There was
enough luggage in our compartment to have filled it, and
still there was one more passenger than there ought to
have been, an ill conditioned old fellow who wanted my
hat box put into the van because it happened to
tumble off the rack on to his head. I pointed
out to him that the rack was specially constructed for
light luggage, that a hat box was light luggage, and
that if the train jolted, he ought to blame the company,
not me. He was imperious to reason. His wrangling and
jangling so upset me that I went past the station
at which I ought to have changed. Then I had
to wait three quarters of an hour for a train
to take me back again, only to find that I
had missed the one I intended to catch. So I
had to cool my heels for two hours and a
half in a wretched cow shed amidst a bitter, whirling
snow storm. It is some satisfaction for me to be
able to reflect that I made it warm for the officials,
however cold I might have been myself. When the train
did start, some forty minutes after scheduled time, it jolted
along in a laborious fashion at the rate of about
six miles an hour, stopping at every roadside hovel. I
counted seven in a distance I am convinced of less
than twenty miles. When at last I reached crofton my
journey's end, it turned out that the station staff consisted
of a half witted individual who was station master, porter
and clerk combined, and a hulking lad who did whatever
else there was to do. No one had come to
meet me. The village was about half a mile and
Hanger Dean, the house for which my steps were bent,
about four miles by the road. How far it was
across plowed fields. My informant did not mention there was
a trap at the boy and blunderbuss, but that required fetching. Finally,
the hulking lad was despatched. It took him some time,
considering the distance was only about half a mile. When
the trap did appear, it looked to me uncommonly like
an open spring cart. In it, I was deposited with
my luggage. The snow was still descending in whirling clouds.
Never shall I forget the drive in that miserable cart
through the storm and those pitch black country lanes. We
had been jogging along some time before the driver opened
his mouth, be you going to stop with E? Wilson's
I am ah. There was something in the tone of
his eye which wetted my curiosity. Near the end of
my teather though, I was, why do you ask? Ain't
bay about time? If some one were to stay with them?
As wear a bit capable like? I did not know
what he meant. I did not ask. I was beyond it.
I was chilled to the bone, wet, tired, hungry. I
had long been wishing that an old fashioned Christmas had
been completely extinct. Before I had thought of adventuring in
quest of one better cousin Luci's notion of the festive season.
We passed through a gate which I had to get
down to open, along some sort of a Suddenly the
cart pulled up. Here we be that might be so.
It was a pity he did not add where here was?
There was a great shadow, which possibly did duty for
a house. But if so, there was not a light
in any of the windows, and there was nothing visible
in the shape of a door. The whereabouts of this, however,
the driver presently made clear. There be at the door
in front of you. You go up three steps if
you can find em. There's a knocker, if none of
em haven't twisted it off. If they have, there's a
bell on your right, if it isn't broken. There appeared
to be no knocker, though whether it had been twisted
off was more than I could say. But there was
a bell which creaked with rust, though it was not broken.
I heard it tinkle in the distance. No eye answer,
though I allowed a more than decent interval. Better Ring
again suggested the driver hard may be there up to
some of their games, And once rousing was there chuckle
in the fellow's voice. I rang again and again with
all the force I could. The bell reverberated through what
seemed like an empty house. Is there no one in
the place? They're there right enough? Where's another thing? Maybe
on the roof or in the cellar? If they know
you're coming, perhaps they hear and don't choose to answer better.
Ring again, I sounded another peal. Presently, feet were heard
advancing along the passage, several pairs, it seemed, and a
light gleamed through the window over the door. A voice inquired,
who's there, mister Christopher from London? The information was greeted
with what sounded uncommonly like a chorus of laughter. There
was a rush of retreating feet, an expostulating voice, then
darkness again and silence. Who lives here? Are the people?
Mat while thereabouts? Once more I suspected the driver of
a chuckle. My temper was rising. I had not come
all that way and subjected myself to so much discomfort
to be played tricks with, I told the bell again.
After a few seconds interval, the pit pat of what
was obviously one pair of feet came towards the door. Again.
A light gleamed through the pane, a key was turned,
a chain unfastened, bolts withdrawn. It seemed as if some
one had to drag a chair forward before one of
these latter could be reached. After vast amount of unfastening,
the door was opened, and on the threshold there stood
a girl with a lighted candle in her hand. The
storm rushed in. She put up her hand to shield
the light from danger. Can I see missus Wilson, I'm expected.
I'm mister Christopher from London. Oh that was all she said.
I looked at her. She at me. The driver's voice
came from the background. I drove him over from the station.
Miss there'd be a lot o luggage. He do say,
he's come to stay with you. Is that you tidy?
I'm afraid I can offer you nothing to drink. We've
lost the key of the cellar and there's nothing out
except water, and I don't think you'd care for that.
I can't say rightly as how I should miss next
time we'll do. Be it all right? The girl continued
to regard me. Perhaps you'd better come inside. I think
I had. I went inside. It was time. Have you
any luggage? I admitted that I had, perhaps it had
better be brought in. Perhaps it had Do you think
that you could manage tidy the mayre? She'll stand still enough,
I should think, I court miss by degrees. My belongings
were borne into the hall, hidden under an envelope of snow.
The girl seemed surprised at the number. The driver was paid,
The car disappeared, the door was shut. The girl and
I were alone together. We didn't expect that you would come,
not expect me, but it was all arranged. I wrote
to say that I would come. Did you not receive
my letter? We thought that you were joking, joking. Why
should you imagine that we were joking? You were? Then?
I am together that I have been made the subject
of a practical joke, and that I'm an intruder here. Well,
it's quite true that we did not think you were
in earnest. You see, it's this way. We're alone alone.
Who are we? Well, it will take a good while
to explain. And you look tired and cold. I am both.
Perhaps you're hungry, I am. I don't know what you
can have to eat unless it's to morrow's dinner. To
morrow's dinner, I stared, Can I see missus Wilson, missus Wilson,
that's mamma. She's dead. I beg your pardon. Can I
see your father? Oh, father's been dead for years? Then
to whom have I the pleasure of speaking? I'm Madge,
I'm mother. Now you are mother. Now the trouble will
be about where you are to sleep, unless it is
with the boys. The rooms are all anyhow, and I'm
sure I don't know where the beds are. I suppose
there are servants in the house. She shook her head. No.
The boys thought that they were nuisances, so we got
rid of them. The last went yesterday. She wouldn't do
any work, so we thought she'd better go under those circumstances.
I think it probable that you were right? Then, am
I to understand that there are children? Rather? As she spoke,
there came a burst to laughter from the other end
of the passage. I spun round. No one was in sight.
She explained, they are waiting round the corner. Perhaps we'd
better have them here. You people, you'd better to come
and let me introduce you to mister Christopher. Her procession
began to pear from round the corner of boys and girls.
In front was a girl of about sixteen. She advanced
with outstretched hand and an air of self possession, which
took me at a disadvantage. I'm Bessie. I'm sorry me
kept you waiting at the door. But the fact is
that we thought it was Eliza's brother who had come
to insult us. Again, pray, don't mention it. I'm glad
that it was not Eliza's brother, so am I. He's
a dreadful man. I shook hands with the rest of them.
There were six more, four boys and two girls. They
formed a considerable congregation as they stood eyeing me with
inquiring glances. Match was the first to speak. I wondered
all along if he would take it as a joke
or not, And you see he hasn't. I thought all
the time that it was a risky thing to do.
I liked that you keep your thoughts to yourself. Then
it was you proposed it. You said you'd been reading
about something of the kindness story, and you voted for
our advertising ourselves for a lark. The speaker was the
biggest boy, a good looking youngster with sallow cheeks and
shrewd black eyes. But rupert I never meant it to
go so far as this, how far did you mean
it to go? Then it was your idea all through.
You sent in the advertisement, you wrote the letters, and
now he's here. If you didn't mean it, why didn't
you stop his coming? Rupert, The girl's cheeks were crimson.
Bessie interposed, The thing is that as he is here,
it's no good worrying about whose fault it is. We
shall simply have to make the best of it. Then
to me, I suppose you really have come to stay.
I confess that I had some notion of the kind
to spend an old fashioned Christmas. At this, there was laughter,
chiefly from the boys. Rupert exclaimed, A nice sort of
old fashioned Christmas, you'll find it will be. You'd be
sorry you came before it's through. I'm not so sure
of that. There appeared to be something in my tone
which caused a touch of silence to descend upon the group.
They regarded each other doubtfully, as if in my words
a reproof was implied. Bessy was again the spokeswoman. Of course,
now that you have come, we mean to be nice
to you. That is as nice as we can, because
the thing is that we are not in a condition
to receive visitors. Do we look as if we were
to be frank? They did not. Even Match was a
little unca while the boys were in what I believe
is the average state of the average boy, and murmured Madge.
Where is mister Christopher to sleep? What is he to eat?
Inquired Bessie. She glanced at my packages. I suppose you've
brought nothing with you. I'm afraid I haven't. I had
hoped to have found something ready for me on my arrival. Again,
they peeped at each other as if ashamed. Midge repeated
her former suggestion, there's to morrow's dinner. Oh hang it,
exclaimed Rupert. It's not so bad as that there's a
ham uncooked. You can cut a stake off or whatever
you call it, and have it broiled. Emil was got
ready in the preparation of which every member of the
family took a hand, and a room was found for me,
in which was a blazing fire and traces of recent
feminine occupation. I suspected that Match had yielded her own
apartment as a shelter for the stranger. By the time
I had washed and changed my clothes, the imprompted dinner
or supper or whatever it was, was ready a curious repast.
It proved to be composed of oddly contrasted dishes, cooked
and sometimes uncooked in original fashion, but hunger that pequant
sauce gave it a relish of its own. At first,
no one seemed disposed to join me. By degrees. However,
one after another found a knife and fork, until all
the eight were seated with me round the board, eating
some of them as if for dear life. The fact
is explained, Rupert. We're a rum lot. We hardly ever
sit down together. We don't have regular meals. But whenever
anyone feels picky, he goes and gets what there is
and cooks it and eats it on his own. It's
not quite so bad as that protested Madge. Though it's
pretty bad. It did seem pretty bad from the conventional
point of view. From their conversation, which was candor itself,
a gleaned details which threw light upon the peculiar position
of affairs. It seemed that their father had been dead
some seven years. Their mother, who had been always delicate,
had allowed them to run nearly wild since she died
some ten months back. They appeared to have run quite wild.
The house, with some six hundred acres of land, was theirs,
and an income, as to whose exact amount no one
seemed quite clear. It's about eight hundred a year, said Rupert.
I don't think it's quite so much, doubted Madge. I'm
sure it's more, declared Bessie. I believe we're being robbed.
I thought it extremely probable. They must have had peculiar parents.
Their father had left everything absolutely to their mother, and
the mother, in her turn everything in trust to Madge,
to be shared equally among them all. Madge was an
odd trustee. In her hands, the household had become a
republic in which every one did exactly as he or
she pleased. The result was chaos. No one wanted to
go to school, so no one went. The servants, finding
themselves provided with eight masters and mistresses, followed their example
and did as they liked. Consequently, after sundry battles, royal
lively episodes, some of them had evidently been one after
the other had been got rid of. Until now not
one remained. Plainly, the house must be going to rack
and ruin. But have you no relations, I inquired. Rupert answered,
We've got some cousins or uncles or something of the
kind in Australia, where so far as I am concerned,
I hope they'll stop. When I was in my room,
which I feared was madgs, I told myself that it
was a queer establishment on which I had lighted. Yet
I could not honestly affirm that I was sorry I
had come. I had lived such an uneventful and such
a solitary life, and had so often longed for some
one in whom to take an interest, who would not
talk medicine chest that to be plunged all at once
into the center of this troop of boys and girls
was an accident which, if only because of its novelty,
I found a musing. And then it was so odd
that I should have come across a match. At last,
in the morning, I was roused by noises, the cause
of which at first I could not understand. By degrees
the explanation dawned on me. The family was putting the
house to rights, a somewhat noisy process. It seemed some
one was singing, someone else was shouting, and two or
three others were engaged in a heated argument. In such
loud tones. Was it conducted that the gist of the
matter traveled up to me. How do you think I'm
going to get this fire to burn? If you beastly
kids keep messing it about, It's no good banging at
it with a poker till it's a light. The voice
was unmistakably Rupert's. There was the sound of a scuffle,
cries of indignation, then a girlish voice pouring oil upon
the troubled waters. Presently there was a rattle and clatter,
as if someone had fallen from the top of the
house to the bottom. I rushed to my bedroom door.
What on earth has happened? A small boy was outside, Peter.
He explained, Oh, it's only the broom and Daspan gone
tobogganing down the stairs. It's Bassy's fault. She shouldn't leave
them on the landing. Bessy, appearing from a room opposite,
disclaimed responsibility. I told you to look out where you
were going, but you never do. I'd only put em
down for a second while I went into empty jug
o water. On to Jack, who won't get out of bed,
and there are all the boats for him to clean.
Injured tones came through the open portal. You wait, that's all.
I'll soak your bed to night. I'll drone it. I
don't want to clean your dirty boats. I'm not a
shoe black. The breakfast was a failure to begin with.
It was inordinately late. It seemed that the bath was
not obtainable. I had been promised some hot water, but
as I waited and waited and none arrived, I proceeded
to break the eyes in my jug. It was a
bitterly cold morning, nice old fashioned weather, and to wash
in the half frozen contents. As I am not accustomed
to perform my ablutions in partially dissolved eyes, I feared
that the process did not improve my temper. It was
past eleven when I got down, feeling not exactly in
a Christmasy frame of mind. Everything and everyone seemed at
sixties and sevens. It was afternoon when the breakfast appeared.
The principal dish consisted of eggs and bacon, but as
the bacon was fried to cinders and the eggs all broken,
it was not so popular as it might have been.
Much was moved to melancholy. Something will have to be done.
We can't go on like this. We must have some
one in to help us. Bessy was sarcastic. You might
give Eliza another trial. She told you if you didn't
like the way she burned the bacon, to burn it yourself.
And as you've followed her advice, she might be able
to give you other useful hints on similar lines. Rupert
indulged himself in the same vein. Then there's Eliza's brother.
He threatened to knock your blooming head off for saying
Eliza was dishonest, just because she collared everything she laid
her hands on. He might turn out a useful sort
of creature to have about the place. It's all very
well for you to laugh, but it's beyond a jest.
I don't know how we're going to cook the dinner.
Can I be of any assistance? I inquired? First of all,
what is there to cook? It seemed that there were
a good many things to cook. A turkey, a goose, beef,
plum pudding, mince pies, custard, sardine's. It seemed that Molly
the third Girl, as she phrased it, could live on Sardine's,
And esteemed no dinner, a decent dinner at which they
did not appear together with a list of et ceteras.
Half as long as my arm. One thing is clear,
you can't cook all those things. To day, we can't
cook anything. This was Rupert. He was tilting his chair
back and had his face turned towards the ceiling. Why not,
because there's no coal. No coal, there's about half a
scuttleful of dust. If you can make it burn, you'll
be clever. What Rupert said was correct. Madge confessed with
Crimson Cheeks that she had meant over and over again
to order some coal, but had continually forgotten it, until
finally Christmas Day had found them with an empty cellar.
There was plenty of wood, but it was not so
dry as it might have been, and anyhow, the grate
was not constructed to burnwood. You might try smoked beef,
suggested Rupert. When that wood goes at all, it smokes
like one o'clock. If you hung the beef up over it,
it would be smoked enough for any one. By the
time that it was done. I began to rub my chin,
considering the breakfast we had had. From my point of view,
the situation commenced for the first time to look really grave.
I wondered if it would not be possible to take
the whole eighth somewhere where something really eatable could be got.
But when I broached the subject, I learned that the
thing could not be done. The nearest hostelry was the
Boy and Lunderbuss, and it was certain that nothing eatable
could be had there, even if accommodation could be found
for us. All, nothing in the shape of a possible
house of public entertainment was to be found closer than
the market town eight miles off. It was unlikely that
even there a Christmas dinner for nine could be provided
at a moment's notice. Evidently, the only thing to do
was to make the best of things. When the meeting
broke up, Madge came and said a few words to
me alone. I really think you had better not stay.
Does that mean that you had rather I went, No,
not exactly that, then nearly that. No, not a bit
that only you must see for yourself, how awfully uncomfortable
you'd be here, And what a horrid house this is,
my dear Madge. Everybody called her Madge, so I did,
even if I wanted to go, which I don't, and
I would remind you that you contracted to give me
an old fashioned Christmas. I don't see where there is
that I could go. Of course there's that I don't
see either, So I suppose you'll have to stay. But
I hope you won't think that I meant you to
come to place like this. Really, you know, I'm sorry
I had hoped you had. That's not what I mean.
I mean that if I had thought that you were coming,
I would have seen that things were different, how different?
I assure you that things as they are have a
charm of their own. That's what you say. You don't
suppose that I'm so silly as not to know your
laughing at me. But as I was the whole cause
of your coming, I hope you won't hate the others
because of me. She marched off, brushing back with an
impatient gesture some rebellious locks which had strayed upon her forehead.
That Christmas dinner was a success, positively of a kind.
Let that be clearly understood. I am not inferring that
it was a success from the point of view of
a chef to cousin, not at all. How could it
be quite the other way by dint of ransacking all
the rooms, and emptying all the scuttles, we collected a
certain amount of coal, with which, after adding a fair
proportion of wood, we managed, not brilliantly, but after a fashion.
I can only say personally, I had not enjoyed myself
so much for years. I really felt as if I
were young again. I'm not sure that I'm not younger
than I thought I was. I must look the matter up.
And after all, even if one be save forty, one
need not be absolutely an ancient Madge herself said that
I had been like a right hand to her. She
did not know what she would have done without me.
Looking back, I cannot but think that if we had
attempted to prepare fewer dishes, something might have been properly cooked.
It was a mistake to stuff the turkey with sage
and onions, but as Bessy did not discover that she
had been manipulating the wrong bird until the process of
stuffing had been completed, it was felt that it might
be just as well to let it rest. Unfortunately, it
turned out that some time parsley mint and other things
had got mixed up with the sage, which gave the
creature quite a peculiar flavor. But as it came to
table nearly raw and as tough as he ery, it
really did not matter. My experience of that day teaches
me that it is not easy to roast a large
goose on a small oil stove. The dropping fat caused
the flame to give out a strong smelling and a
most unpleasant smoke. Rupert, who had charge of the operation,
affirmed that it would be all right in the end,
But by the time the thing was served it was
as black as my hat. Rupert said that it was
merely brown, but the brown was of a sou to ee,
and it reeked of paraffin. We had to have it
deposited in the ashpin. I dare say that the beef
would not have been bad if some one had occasionally
turned it, and if the fire would have burnt clear.
As it was, it was charred on one side and
raw on the other, and smoked all over. The way
in which the odor and taste of smoke meated everything
was amazing. The plum pudding came to the table in
the form of soup, and the mince pies were nauseous.
Something had got into the crust or mincemeat or something
which there at any rate was out of place. Luckily,
we came upon a tin of corned beef in a cupboard,
and with the aid of some bread and cheese and
other odds and ends, we made a sort of picnic.
Incredible though it may seem, I enjoyed it. If there
was anywhere a merrier party than we were, I should
like to know where it was to be found. It
must have been a merry one. When I produced the
presence in which a happy inspiration had urged me to invest,
the enthusiasm reached a climax. I believe that is the
proper form of words which I ought to use. As
I watched the pleasure of those youngsters, I felt as
if I were myself a boy again. That was my
first introduction to a lively family. They came up to
the description they had given of themselves. I speak from knowledge,
for they have been my acquaintances now some time, more
than acquaintances, friends, the dearest friends I have. At their request,
I took their affairs in hand Madge informally passing her
trusteeship on to me. Things are very different with them now.
The house is speak and span. There is an excellent
staff of servants, Hangar Dean is as comfortable a home
as there is in England. I have spent many happy
Christmas under its hospitable roof. Since then. The boys are
out in the world, after passing with honor through school
and college. The girls are going out into the world. Also.
Bessie is actually married. Madge is married too. She is
missus Christopher. That is the part of it all which
I find is hardest understand. To have told myself my
whole life long, that the name of my ideal woman
would be Madge, and to have won that woman for
my own at last, that is greater fortune than falls
to the lot of most men. I thought that I
was beyond that kind of thing, that I was too old,
But Madge seemed to think that I was young enough,
and she thinks so still. And now there is a
little Madge who is big enough to play havoc with
the sheets of paper on which I have been scribbling,
to whom one day this tale will have to be told.
End of an Old Fashioned Christmas by Richard marsh