THE LITTLE CHRISTMAS PIES.
BY E. F.
FLORIS shut up her book, and looked at mamma. “Mamma, I wish we could be s’prised Christmas!”
“Surprised.” It was a moment before mamma understood. “It is somewhat difficult,” she said then, “to surprise little girls who feel at liberty to go to mamma’s drawers at any time, and to untie all the packages when the delivery-man comes. In a small house like this people have to help surprise themselves.”
“Who wants to help surprise theirselves!” exclaimed little Katy. “You ought to be cunning, mamma, and hide things; a ‘truly’ hide—you know—and not just in bureau drawers.”
“That’snot what I mean at all, Katy,” said Floris. “Mamma, I mean asurprise, and not our Christmas presents. Of course, Katy and I know what them’ll be, ormostknow. It’ll be our new hats, or some aprons, or something we’d had to have any way, and just one of the every-day Christmas presents besides; a book, or a horn of candy. I most know mine’ll be a silver thimble this year, ’cause I lost my old one, and I heard you tell papa that Katy’d better have a workbox, so’s to s’courage her to learn sewing more. Now, see ’f ’tain’t so.”
Mamma sat before her little daughters, her guilt confessed in her looks.
“Not that we blame you, mamma,” added Floris, kindly. “I’m old ’nough now to know that if Santa Klaus brings us anything, he comes round beforehand, and gets every cent they cost out of papa—great Santa Klaus, that is!”
“But what did you mean by a surprise, Floris?”
“O, I d’no, quite,” answered Floris. “But I thought I sh’d like to have something happen that never had before; something planned for me ’n’ Katy that we didn’t know a breath about, and there was no chance of prying into, so that ’twould honestly s’prise us. I never was s’prised in my life yet, mamma. I always found out some way.”
Mrs. Dewey smiled. She went out to prepare dinner, and nothing more was said; and Miss Floris took up her book with a sigh.
But at night, while she was buttoning the two white night-dresses, Mrs. Dewey returned to the subject. “My little daughters, if you will keep out of the kitchen to-morrow, all day, I think I can promise that something very strange and delightful shall happen on Christmas.”
Four little feet jumped right up and down, two little faces flew up in her own, four little hands caught hold of her, four bright eyes transfixed her—indeed, they came pretty near having the secret right out of her on the spot.
“O, mamma! Whatisit?”
“You must be very anxious to be ‘truly s’prised,’” remarked mamma.
Floris saw the point. She subsided at once. She smiled at mamma with the first elder-daughter smile that had ever crossed the bright child-face.
“I guess Ishallbe ‘truly s’prised’ if weares’prised,” she said, with a funny little grimace, as she laid her head on the pillow.
“Now, remember, it is to be a ‘truly keep-out,’” warned Mrs. Dewey. “You are not to enter the kitchen at all—not once all day to-morrow.”
“Why, surely, mamma Dewey, you are not to do anything towa’ds it before breakfast,” reasoned little Katy.
“I shall at least notice whether I am obeyed.”
“What’ll happen if we don’t?” inquired Katy.
“Nothing’ll happen then,” said mamma, quietly.
The little voices said no more, and mamma went down stairs. They said not a single word more, because the little Deweys were so constructed that had there not been a standing command that they should not speak after mamma closed the door, their little pink tongues would have run all night; but they squeezed each other’s hands very tightly, and also remained awake somewhat longer than usual.
Mrs. Dewey smiled next morning to see her daughters seated at their lessons in that part of the sitting-room furthest from the door that opened into the hall and thus into the kitchen. They never once directly referred to last night’s conversation; but they were extremely civil to her personally, most charmingly civil, obedient, and thoughtful. Indeed, Katy’s little round shingled head would bob out into the hall almost every time mamma’s step was heard. “You must let me bring you anything I can, mamma—anything I can, ’thout going into the kitchen, I mean.”
But, to Katy’s disappointment, mamma wished no assistance. Floris offered to go down town, if mamma needed. But mamma wished nothing that Floris could do. However, to their delight, they saw the delivery-man, when he came, taking down lots of orders in his book. “Would it be w’ong to listen in the hall?” Katy whispered. “’Cause I could hear everything she told him, ’f I was a-mind to.”
Floris told her it would be very wrong.
The elder little girl studied, and played, and sang, and amused her doll all the morning, and refused to listen to any pleasant sound she heard from the kitchen. She shut her little nose, also, against a sudden whiff of deliciousness as some door opened. She even went to the well, and brought hard water for her room, because the rain water would have taken her near the forbidden regions.
But little Katy was as restless as a bee. She had a thousand errands through the hall. When Floris reprimanded her, she said she didn’t ’tend to go a-near the kitchen door. Floris looked out often; but, at last, the little one settled on the hall stairs with her paint-box, and the elder sister felt at rest.
But even to her it finally grew a long forenoon. Before ten o’clock she found herself infected with the same restlessness. Then the various sounds which she heard distracted her, such busy sounds—she would, at last, have given almost anything to know what was going on out there.
The mantel clock was just striking eleven when the hall door unclosed, and Katy’s plump little person partially appeared.
“Come here, quick, quick! or she’ll be back.I’ve found out, Flory!”
“O,haveyou—Why, Katy Dewey!” Floris over-turned the music-stool as she ran. Katy, her head turned listeningly toward the kitchen door, blindly crowded a spoonful of something into her mouth.
“There! isn’t that ’licious good? O, Floris, such things as I have seen out there!—the box of raisins is down on the table, and all her extrach Lubin bottles. I couldn’t stay to look much; but, Floris, there’s twelve of the most beautiful mince patties—O, the most beautiful! all iced, and ‘Merry Christmas,’ in pink sand, on every one, and there’s twelve more in the iron ready to fill—wasn’tthat I gave youcrammedwith raisins!”
Floris’s eyes danced. “Kit Dewey, I’ll bet we’re going to have a Christmas party—a party of little boys and girls! What else was there, do tell me!”
“O, I d’no; there was heaps of raisins—and,mebbe, there was ice cream;” suddenly remembering Floris’s fondness for that delectable.
Floris knew better than that; but still her eyes danced. Suddenly they heard the back kitchen door, and, as suddenly, Floris turned white. “The mince-spoon, Katy! You’ve brought the mince-spoon! Mamma’ll know!”
Katy’s little mouth dropped open.
“Quick! She’s coming this way!”
Floris softly got into the sitting-room, so did Katy.
“Where is the spoon?” hurriedly whispered the elder girl.
“I stuffed it under the stair carpet, where that rod was up.”
They could hear mamma coming through the hall. But she came only part way. After a pause, she returned to the kitchen.
“Katy, what if she’s found it?”
“She couldn’t.”
They stole out into the hall. The spoon was gone!
“O, Katy! I’ll bet you left it sticking out!” said Floris, and burst into tears. Katy did the same. With one accord they ascended the stairs to their room.
When, with red eyes, they came down to dinner, they found mamma in the dining-room as placid as usual. The kitchen door was wide open. After dinner Floris was requested to wipe the dishes. Her work took her into every part of the kitchen domains, and her red eyes peered about sharply; but nothing unusual was to be seen—not one trace of the beautiful patties, not a raisin-stem, even!
Christmas day came and went. Floris had her silver thimble, and Katy her work-box. The dinner table was in the usual holiday trim. But the little frosted pies, with the pink greetings, were not brought forward—no, and not one word was said concerning them, not even by mamma’s eyes.
At night they cried softly in their little white bed, after mamma had gone down. “And, Floris, I ’member now, there was something else, under a white cloth, like a plate of kisses, I thought,” sobbed Katy, her wet little face pressed into the pillows; “and I shall always think she was going to make fruitcake, for there was citron all cut up, and there was almonds—”
“Don’t, Katy! I don’t want to hear it! Ican’thear it!” said Floris, in a thick voice; “and don’t let us disobey mamma more by talking.”
But what did become of the beautiful, frosted, pink-lettered little pies—would you like to know?
Floris and Katy cannot tell you; for never yet have mamma and her little daughters exchanged a word upon the subject—but I thinkIcan. At least I was told that a factory-weaver’s family, where there were several little girls, had the most lovely of patties, and kisses, and sugar-plums sent them for their Christmas dinner last year.