Speaker 1: Alice's Christmas Tree, Chapter one. Alice mc neil had made
the plan of this Christmas tree all by herself and
for herself. She had a due estimate of those manufactured
trees which hard worked Sabbath schools get up for rewards
of merit for the children who have been regular and
at the last moment have saved attendance tickets enough. Nor
did Alice mc neil sit in judgment on these. She
had a due estimate of them. But for her Christmas
Tree she had two plans not included in those more
meritorious buddings and burgeonings of the winter. First she meant
to get it up without any help from anybody. And secondly,
she meant that the boys and girls who had anything
from it should be regular laners and by wayfarers. They
were to have no tickets of respectability. They were not
in any way to buy their way in, but for
this once those were to come into a Christmas tree
who happened to be ragged and in the streets. When
the Christmas Tree was ready, so Alice asked mister Williams,
the Minister, if she could have one of the rooms
in the vestry. When Christmas Eve came, and he, the
good Saint, was only too glad to let her. He
offered gently his assistance in sifting out the dirty boys
and girls, intimating to Alice that there was dirt and dirt,
and that even in those lowest depths which she was
plunging into, there were yet lower depths which she might
find it wise to shun. But here Alice told him
frankly that she would rather try her experiment fairly through.
Perhaps she was wrong, but she would like to see
that she was wrong in her own way. Anyway, on
Christmas Eve, she wanted no distinctions. That part of her
plan went bravely forward. Her main difficulty came on the
other side, that she had too many to help her.
She was not able to carry out the first part
of her plan and make or buy all her presents herself.
For everybody was pleased with this notion of a truly
Catholic or universal tree, and everybody wanted to help. Well,
if anybody would send her a box of dominoes, or
a jackknife, or an open eye, shut eye doll, who
was Alice to say it should not go on the tree.
And when missus Hesperides sent round a box of faile oranges.
Who was Alice to say that the children should not
have oranges? And when mister Gorham Parsons sent in well
nigh a barrel full of Hubbardston none such apples, who
was Alice to say that they should not have apples.
So the tree grew and grew and bore more and
more fruit till it was clear that there would be
more than eighty reliable presents on it, besides apples and oranges,
almonds and raisins galore. Now you see this was a
very great enlargement of Alice's plan, and it brought her
to grief. As you shall see, she had proposed a
cozy little tree for fifteen or twenty children. Well, if
she had held to that, she would have had no
more than she and Lily and mister Williams and mister
Gilmore and John Flagg and I could have managed easily,
particularly if Mamma was there too. There would have been
room enough in the chapel parlor, and it would have been,
as I believe, just the pretty and cheerful Christmas jollity
that Alice meant it should be. But when it came
to eighty presents and a company of eighty of the
unwashed and unticketed. It became quite a different thing. For
now Alice began to fear that there would not be
children enough in the highways and byways. So she started
herself as evening drew on with George the old faithful
Black Major Domo, and she walked through the worst streets
she knew anything of of all those near the chapel,
and whenever she saw a brat particularly dirty, or a
group of brats particularly forlorn, she sailed up gallantly, and
though she was frightened to death, she invited them to
the tree. She gave little admittance cards that said seven
o'clock Christmas Eve, five o seven, Livingstone Avenue, for fear
the children would not remember, and she told mister Flagg
that he and mister Gilmore might take some cards and
walk out toward Williamsburg and do the same thing, only
they were to be sure that they asked the dirtiest
and most forlorn children they saw. There was a friendly
policeman with whom Alice had been brought into communication by
the boys and her father's office, and he also was
permitted to give notice of the tree. But he was
also to be at the street door, armed with the
strong arm of the people of New York, And when
the full quota of eighty had been admitted, he was
to admit no more. Ah Me, My poor Alice issued
her cards only too freely. Better indeed, it seemed had
she held to her original plan. At least she thought so,
and thinks so to this day, But I am not
so certain a hard time she had of it. However,
quarter of seven found the little Arabs in crowds around
the door, with hundreds of others who thought they also
were to find out what a free lunch was. The
faithful officer Perdie was in attendance. Also. He passed in
all who had the cards. He sent away legions, let
me say, who had reason to dread him, but still
assembled a larger and larger throng about the door. Alice
and Lily, and the young gentleman and Missus mc neil
were all at work upstairs, and the tree was a
perfect beauty. At last they lighted up, and nothing could
have been more lovely. Let him in, said John Flagg,
rushing to the door, where expectant knocks had been heard already.
Let him in. The smallest girls first smallest girls. Indeed,
the door swung open, and a tide of boy and girl,
girl and boy boy big to hobbledehoydom and girl big
to young womandom came surging in, wildly, screaming, scolding, pushing
and pulling, omitting the profanity. These are the Christmas carols
that fell on Alice's ear. Out of that? Take that? Then?
Who are you? Hold your jaw? Can't you behave decent?
You lie? Get out of my light? Oh dear, you
killed me? Who's killed God? He see there? I say, ma'am,
gimme that Paris gates shut up? And so on, the
howls being more and more impertinent, as the shepherds who
had come to a door became more and more used
to the position they were in. Young Gilmore, who was
willing to Obligejalice, but was not going to stand any nonsense,
and would have willingly knocked the heads together of any
five couples of this rebel route, mounted on a corner
of the railing, which, by mister Williams's prescients had been
built around the tree, and addressed the riotous assembly. They
stopped to hear him, supposing he was to deliver the
gifts to which they had been summoned. He told them
pretty roundly that if they did not keep the peace
and stop crowding and yelling, they should all be turned
out of doors. That they were to pass the little
girls and boys forward first, and that nobody would have
anything to eat eat till this was done. Some approach
to obedience followed. A few little waifs were found, who,
in decency could be called little girls and boys. But
alas as she looked down from her chair, Alice felt
as if most of her guests looked like shameless, hulking
big boys and big girls, only too well fitted to
grapple with the world, and only too eager to accept
its gifts without grappling. She and Lily tried to forget this.
They kissed a few little girls and saw the faintest
gleam of pleasure on one or two little faces. But
there also the pleasure was almost extinct in fear of
the big boys and big girls howling around. So the
howling began again as the distribution went forward. Gimme that jackknife,
I say, mister, I'm as big as he is. He
had one before, and hid it be down. Tom Mulligan.
Get off that thing so I'll hide you. I don't
want the book. Give me them skates. You shan't have
the skates. I'll have them myself, and so on. John
Flagg finally knocked down Tom Mulligan, who had squeezed round
behind the tree in an effort to steal something, and
had the satisfaction of sending him bellowing from the room
with his face covered with blood from his nose. Gilmore,
meanwhile was rapidly distributing an orange and an apple to each, which,
while the oranges were soked, gave a moment's quiet Alice
and the ladies, badly frightened, were stripping the tree as
fast as they could, and at last announced that it
was all clear, with almost as eager joy as half
an hour before they had announced that it was all full.
There's a candy horn on top. Give me that, Give
me that little apple, Give me the old sheep. Hoo,
hurrah for the old sheep. This of a little lamb,
which had been placed as an approa ornament in front,
then began a howl about oranges. Oh another orange, bill's
got some. I've got none, I say, mister, Give me
an orange. To which mister replied, by opening the window
and speaking into the street, I say, perdie, call for officers,
and come up and clear this room. The room did
not wait for the officers. It cleared itself very soon
on this order, and was left a scene of wreck
and dirt. Orange peel was trampled down on the floor,
cake thrown down and mashed to mud, intermixed with that
which had come in on the boots, and the water
which had been slobbered over from hasty mugs. The sugar
plums which had fallen in scrambles, and little sprays of
green too trodden into the mass, all made an aspect
of filth like a market sidewalk. And poor Alice was
half crying and half laughing. Poor Lily was wholly crying.
Gilmore and Flagg were explaining to each other how gladly
they would have thrashed the whole set. The thought uppermost
in Alice's mind was that she had been a clear,
out and out fool, and that probably is the impression
of the greater part of the readers of her story,
or would have been the impression of any one who
only had her point of view. Chapter two. Perhaps the
reader is willing to take another point of view. As
the group stood there talking over the riot, as Missus
mc neil called it, as John Flagg tried to make
Alice laugh by bringing her a half a piece of
frosted pound cake and proving to her that it had
not been on the floor, as she said, her eyes
streaming with tears. I tell you, John, I am a fool,
and I know I am nobody, but a fool would
have started such a row. As all this happened, Patrick
Crehor came back for his little sister's orange, which he
had wrapped in her handkerchief and left on one of
the book racks in the room. Patrick was alone now,
and therefore sheepish enough and got himself and his orange
out of the room as soon as he well could.
But he was sharp enough to note the whole position,
and keen enough to catch Alice's words as she spoke
to mister Flagg. Indeed, the general look of disappointment and
chagrin in the room, and the contrast between this filthy
ruin and the pretty elegance of half an hour ago,
were distinct enough to be observed by a much more
stupid boy than Patrek Crehor. He went downstairs and found
Bridget waiting, and walked home with the little toddler, meditating
rather more than was his wont on Alice's phrase, I
tell you I am a fool, meditating on it. He
hailed Bridget up five flights of stairs and broke in
on the little room, where a table spread with a
plentiful supply of tea, baker's bread, butter, cheese, and cabbage
waited their return. Jerry Crahor his father sat smoking, and
his mother was tidying up the room, and had ye
a good time, me, darlin. And you brought home your
orange and a doll too, and mittens too, And what
did you have, pat? So? Pat explained, almost sulkily that
he had a checkerboard and a set of checkermen, which
he produced, but he put them by as if he
hated the sight of them, and for a minute dropped
the subject while he helped little biddy to cabbage. He
ate something himself, drank some tea, and then delivered his
rage with much unction, a little profanity great incoherency. But
to his own relief, it's a mean thing, it is,
all of it, said he. I'll be hanged, but it is.
I didnt know who that lady is, but we made
her cry bad. I know that. Then the boys acted
like nick. They knew that as well as I do.
The man there had to knock one of the fellows
down bedad and served him right too. I say, the
fellows fought and hollered and stole, and sure you'd thought
you was drivin pigs down the eighth Avenue. And I
was as bad as the worst of em. That's what
the boys did when a lady asked him to Christmas.
That was a mean thing to do, said Jerry, taking
his pipe from his mouth for a longer speech than
he had ever been known to make. While smoking. Missus
Crehor stopped in her dish wiping, sat down and gave
her opinion. She did not know what a Christmas tree was,
having never seed one nor heard a one, but she
did know that those who went to see a lady
should show manners and behave like gentlemen, or not go
at all. She expressed her conviction that Tom Mulligan was
rightly served, and her regret that he had not two
black eyes instead of one. She would have been glad. Indeed,
if certain Floyd's and Sullivan's and Flahertys, with whose names
of baptism she was better acquainted than I am had
shared a similar fate. This oration and the oracle of
his father still more appeased Pat somewhat, And when his
supper was finished, after long silence, he said, we'll give
her a Christmas present. We will Tom Mulligan and Bill Floyd,
and I'll give it. The others shan't know. I know
what will give her. I'll tell Bill Floyd that we
made her cry. Chapter three. After supper, accordingly, Pat Crehor
repaired to certain rendezvous of the younger life of the
neighborhood known to him, in search of Bill Lloyd. Bill
was not at the first nor at the second, there
being indeed no rule or principle known to men, or
even to archangels, by which Bill's presence at any particular spot,
at any particular time could be definitely stated. But Bill, also,
in his proud free will, obeyed certain general laws, and
accordingly Pat found him inspecting, as a volunteer officer of police,
the hauling out and oiling of certain hose at the
house of a neighboring hose company. Come here, Bill, I
got something to show you. Bill had already carried home
and put in safe keeping a copy of Routledge's Robinson Crusoe,
which had been given to him. He left the hose
inspection willingly and hurried along with Pat, passed many attractive groups,
not even stopping where a brewer's horse had fallen on
the ground, till Pat brought him in triumph to the
gaudy window of a shoe shop, lighted up gaily and
full of the wares by which even shoe shops lure
in customers for Christmas. See there, said Pat, nearly breathless,
and he pointed to the very center of the display
a pair of slippers made from bronze gilt, kid and
displaying a hideous blue silk bow upon the gilding. For
what class of dancers or of maskers these slippers may
have been made, or by what canon of beauty? I know, not,
only they were the center of decoration in the shoe
shop window. Pat looked at them with admiration, as he
had often done, and said again to Bill Floyd, See
there ain't them handsome? Golly, said Bill, I guess so Bill,
let's buy them little shoes and give em to her.
Give 'em to who, said Bell, from whose mind the
Christmas tree had for the moment faded under the rivalry
of the hose company, the brewer's horse and the shop window.
Give him to who? Why her? I don't know who
she is? The gal that made the what do you
call it? The tree? You know? And give us the
oranges where old Perdy was. I say, Bill, it was
a mean, dirty shame to make such a row there
when we was bid to a party. And I want
to make the gal a present for I see her
cryin' dell cryin' cause it was such a row. Again.
I omit certain profane expressions which did not add any
real energy to this declaration. They is handsome, said Bill meditatingly.
Ain't the blue ones handsomest? No, said Pat, who saw
that he had gained his lodgment and that carrying his
point was now only a matter of time. The gold
ones is the ones for me. We'll give em to
the gal for a Christmas present, you and I and
Tom Mulligan. Bill Floyd did not dissent, being indeed in
the habit of going as he was led, as were
most of the rebel route, with whom he had an
hour ago been acting. He assented entirely to Pat's proposal.
By Christmas, both parties understood that the present was to
be made before twelfth night, not necessarily on Christmas Day.
Neither of them had a penny, but both of them
knew perfectly well that whenever they chose to get a
little money, they could do so. They soon solved their
first question as to the cost of the coveted slippers. True,
they knew, of course, that they would be ejected from
the decent shop if they went in to inquire, But
by lying in wait, they soon discovered Delia Sullivan, a
decent looking girl they knew passing by, and having made
her their confidant so far that she was sure she
was not fooled, they sent her in to inquire. The
girl returned to announce, to the astonishment of all parties
that the shoes cost six dollars. Hugh cried, Pat six
dollars for them? Are I bought my mother's new overshoes
for one? But not the least did he bait of
his determination, and he and Bill Floyd went in search
of Tom Mulligan. Tom was as easily found as Bill,
but it was not so easy to enlist him. Tom
was in a regular corner liquor store with men who
were sitting smoking, drinking, and telling dirty stories. Either of
the other boys would have been whipped at home if
he had been known to be seen sitting in this place,
and the punishment would have been well bestowed. But Tom
Mulligan had had nobody to thrash him for many a
day until John Flagg had struck out so smartly from
the shoulder. Perhaps had there been some thrashing as discriminating
as Jerry Flaherty's, it had been better for Tom Mulligan.
The boys found him easily enough, but as I said,
had some difficulty in getting him away. With many assurances, however,
that they had something to tell him and something to
show him, they lured him from the shadow of the
comfortable stove into the night. Pat Crehor, who had more
of the tact of oratory than he knew, then boldly
told Tom Mulligan the story of the Christmas Tree as
it passed. After Tom's ejection. Tom was sour at first,
but soon warmed to the narrative and even showed indignation
at the behavior of boys who had seemed to carry
themselves less obnoxiously than he did. All the boys agreed
that but for certain others who had never been asked
to come and ought to be ashamed to be there
with them as were, there would have been no row.
They all agreed that, on some suitable occasion, unknown to
me and to this story, they would take vengeance on
these Tids and Sullivan's. When Pat Crehor wound up his
statement by telling how he saw the ladies crying and
all the pretty room looking like a pig's, Tom Mulligan
was as loud as he was in saying that it
was all wrong, and that nobody but blackguards would have
joined in it, in particular such blagguards as the Tids
and Sullivans above alluded to. Then, to Tom's sympathizing ear
was confided the project of the gold shoes, as the
slippers were always called in this honorable company, and Tom
completely approved. He even approved the price. He explained to
the others that it would be mean to give to
a lady anything of less price. This was exactly the
sum which recommended itself to his better judgment. And so
the boys went home, agreeing to meet Christmas morning as
a committee of ways and means to the discussions of
this committee, I need not admit you many plans were proposed,
one that they should serve through the holidays at certain
ten pin alleys known to them. One that they should
buy off Fogerty from his newspaper route for a few days.
But the decision was that Pat, the most decent in appearance,
should dress up in a certain Sunday suit he had
and offer the services of himself and two unknown friends
of his as extra cork boys at Bernabaum's Brewery, where
Tom Mulligan reported they were working nights that they might
fill an extra order. This device succeeded. Pat and his
friends were put on duty for trial on the night
of the twenty sixth, and the foremen of the corking
room being satisfied, they retained their engagement till New Year's Eve,
when they were paid three dollars each and resigned their positions.
Let's buy her three shoes, said Bell in enthusiasm at
their success, but this proposal was rejected. Each of the
other boys had a private plan for an extra present
to her. By this time, the sacred six dollars was
folded up in a bit of straw paper from the brewery,
and the young gentlemen went home to make their toilettes,
a process they had had no chance to go through
on Christmas Eve. After this, there was really no difficulty
about their going into the shoe shop, and none about
consummating the purchase. To the utter astonishment of the dealer,
the gold shoes were bought, rolled up in paper, and
ready for delivery. Bill Floyd had meanwhile learned by inquiry
at the chapel where she lived. Though there were doubts
whether any of them knew her name, The others rejected
his proposals that they should take street cars, and they
boldly pushed a foot up to Clinton Avenue and rang
not without terror at the door. Terror did not diminish
when Black George appeared, whose acquaintance they had made at
the tree. But fortunately George did not recognize them in
their apparel of elegance. When they asked for the lady
that gave the tree, he bade them wait a minute,
and in less than a minute, Alice came running out
to meet them. To the boy's great delight, she was
not crying. Now, if you please, ma'am, said Tom, who
had been commissioned as spokesman, if you please, them's our
Christmas present to you, ma'am. Them's gold shoes. And please, ma'am,
we're very sorry that there was such a row at
the Christmas ma'am. It was mean, ma'am. Good bye, ma'am.
Alice's eyes were opening wider and wider. Nor at this
moment did she understand gold shoes and row at the
Christmas stuck by her, however, and she understood there was
a present, So of course she said the right thing
by accident, and did the right thing, being a lady
through and through. No, you must not go away. Come in, boys,
come in. I did not know you, you know, And
how could she come in and sit down? Can't you
take off your hat? Said Tom in an aside pat
who had neglected this reverence as he entered. And Tom
was thus a little established in his own esteem. And
Alice opened the parcel and had her presence of mind
by this time, and amazed as she was at the
gold shoes, showed no amazement, nay even slipped off her
own slipper and showed that the gold shoe fitted, to
the delight of Tom, who was trying to explain that
the man would change them if they were too small.
She found an apple for each boy, thanked and praised
each one separately, and the interview would have been perfect
had she not innocently asked Tom what was the matter
with his eye? Tom's eye, Well, it was the black eye,
John Flagg gave him. I am sorry to say, Bill
Floyd snickered. But Pat came to the front this time
and said the man heard him. Then Alice produced some
mittens which had been left and asked whose those were.
But the boys did not know. I say, fellows, I'm
going down to the writing school at the Union, said Pat.
When they got into the street, all of them being
in the mood that conceals emotion, I say, let's all
go to this. They agreed. I say I went there
last week Monday with Meg MacManus. I say, fellows, it's
real good fun. The other fellows, having on the unfamiliar
best rig were well aware that they must not descend
to their familiar haunts, and all consented to the amazement
of the teacher. These three hulking boys allied themselves to
the side of order, took their places as they were bidden,
turned the public opinion of the class, and made the
Botany Bay of the school to be its quietest class
that night. To his amazement, the same result followed the
next night, and to his greater amazement the next. To
Alice's amazement, she received on twelfth night a gilt Valentine envelope,
within which, on heavily ruled paper were announced these truths,
marm The mittens were Nora Kilpatrick's she lives in Water
Street place behind the Lagger Brewery, yours to command, William Floyd,
Thomas Mulligan, Patrick Crehore. The names, which they could copy
from signs were correctly spelled. To Pat's amazement, Tom Mulligan
held on at the writing school all winter. When it ended,
he wrote the best hand of any of them. To
my amazement, one evening, when I looked in at Longman's
two years to the day after Alice's Tree, a bright,
black eyed young man who had tied up for me
the copy of Masson's Milton, which I had given myself
for a Christmas present, said, you don't remember me. I
owned innocence. My name is Mulligan. Thomas Mulligan. Would you
thank mister John Flagg if you meet him for a
Christmas present? He gave me two years ago at Miss
Alice mac neil's Christmas Tree. It was the best present
I ever had, and the only one I ever deserved,
and I said I would do so. I told Alice
afterward never to think she was going to catch all
the fish there were in any school. I told her
to whiten the water with ground bait enough for all,
and to thank God if her heavenly fishing were skillful
enough to save one end of Alice's Christmas Tree by
Edward Everett Hale