A MONTANA CHRISTMAS[3]
John Clair Minot
Davidand Florence Payson live with their parents on a ranch in Montana. The nearest neighbor is a mile away and the nearest town nearly twenty miles; but that does not mean that they are so much out of the world as city children may imagine.
Most city children—and most country children, too, for that matter—count themselves fortunate to have one Christmas a year; but last year David and Florence Payson had two Christmases, and, moreover, they are planning a double Christmas again this year. The double Christmas came about in a very simple way, and it gave them by far the happiest holiday season that they had ever known.
The first of their two Christmases—and perhaps some of us would call it their real Christmas—came on Christmas Eve. There was a tree before the fireplace in the cheery living room, and it was loaded with good things that Mr. Payson had brought from town a few days before. Flashing tinsel and rippling streamers; bright flags and sprigs of crimsonholly; golden fruit and candy of all kinds and colors; toys, toys, toys; books and pictures; things to wear and things to eat; and then more toys—all these made the tree very beautiful and wonderful to David and Florence when at last the living-room doors were opened and they were free to rush in. What a happy Christmas Eve they had then! In all the wide land there were perhaps no children who had a merrier time round their tree that night than David and Florence Payson had in the big living room of their lonely ranch house.
They took very few of the presents from the tree that evening. It was enough to admire them, and to dance round and round the tree in search of the treasures hidden among the branches. When the next morning came they were shouting “Merry Christmas!” before their parents were awake, and were at the tree as soon as it was light enough to see.
At breakfast David suddenly asked, “Does everyone have Christmas?”
“Everyone?” repeated Mr. Payson. “Well, I’m afraid some have a good deal more Christmas than others.”
David looked thoughtful. “Do you suppose that family in the log cabin over behind the bluff has any Christmas at all?”
“Perhaps not,” admitted Mr. Payson, and Mrs. Payson suddenly had the air of a person who all at once remembers something very important.
David looked hard at his plate, and then he said:
“Perhaps we ought to take Christmas over to them. We have so much that we can spare a little, can’t we?”
“Of course we can, David,” said his mother promptly. “I’ll fill a big basket with good things, and you and your father can carry it right over.”
But before the basket was filled, a very natural thought came to Florence.
“How can it be Christmas to them without a tree?” she asked.
“They shall have a tree,” said Mr. Payson. “Come, David, we’ll get one right now.”
David and his father found an axe and hurried off to a clump of small pines that grew near the river; there Mr. Payson cut down the most shapely one he could find. When they returned with it, Mrs. Payson and Florence had two baskets ready instead of one. Into the first basket they had put food and clothing. Into the second they had put some of the ornaments and holly that had decorated their own tree, and also a generous part of the fruit, candy and toys.
“Now we’ll be Santa Claus & Co.,” said Mr. Payson. “David, you and Florence can ride old Diamond and drag the tree. I’ve tied a rope to it. I’ll go ahead on General with the baskets.”
That was the way the strange procession set out. There was a light snow on the ground, but not enough to make travel hard, and the two miles weresoon crossed. General was faster than Diamond, and a little while before the children reached the cabin they met their father returning.
“I’ve left the baskets on the brow of the hill,” he said. “You can easily drag them down to the door. You two are really Santa Claus & Co., you know.”
So, suddenly and without any warning whatever, Christmas came to the log cabin. The family there had staked out a claim the summer before, and they had little more than the land itself. There were no signs of any holiday celebration anywhere about the shabby little place. It was indeed an amazed man that opened the door to the children’s knock.
“How do you do?” said David. “We’ve brought Christmas!”
“Brought what?” the man said uncertainly.
“We’ve brought Christmas,” repeated David, and he pointed to the tree and to the two big baskets that he and Florence had dragged down the slope to the door.
As he spoke, a woman joined the man at the door; three little children were clinging to her skirts.
“Christmas!” she exclaimed, holding up her hands. “Is this Christmas Day? I declare, we’d lost track of the days altogether! Why, you blessed angels, where did you come from?”
“We’re not blessed angels,” said Florence. “We’re Santa Claus & Co., and we live on the Payson ranch over on the river.”
“Well, well!” said the man. He began to understandwhat it all meant. “Come right in. I’ll tie the horse.”
David and Florence stamped the snow off and went inside, dragging their gifts. The cabin was so small that they had to cut off the top of the tree before they could stand it up in the room. Then they all joined in hanging up the decorations and the gifts. The three children had said scarcely a word at first, but they grew noisy with happiness as the tree slowly began to display its wonderful fruit before their eyes. Perhaps it was the most beautiful Christmas Day that ever came to three little folk who had not even known that itwasChristmas until nearly noon. And when the big parcels of clothing were taken from the tree and opened one by one there were tears of happiness in the grown people’s eyes.
Late that afternoon David and Florence mounted Diamond, waved good-by and rode back to the ranch.
“Which Christmas celebration was the better?” asked their mother, when they had told the story of their visit to the log cabin.
“Both were wonderful,” said David, “but somehow we were even happier there than here.”
“I suppose it was because the first was a getting Christmas and the second was a giving Christmas,” said Florence.
And in that sage remark Florence showed where the richest happiness of the Christmas season lies.
[3]This story was first printed in “Youth’s Companion,” December 12, 1918. Reprinted by permission of the author and “Youth’s Companion.”
[3]This story was first printed in “Youth’s Companion,” December 12, 1918. Reprinted by permission of the author and “Youth’s Companion.”