CHAPTER VIIICHRISTMAS AT SCHOOL
WELL, Dot wasn’t hurt, and Mother had her out of the trunk in a jiffy. Dot, between her sobs, managed to remember that it was the end of the play, anyway, and that made her feel better. And after Twaddles had explained that he did not mean to knock so hard, they all went downstairs.
“I think it was worth six pins,” said Bobby slowly, and Mother Blossom laughed and said she thought so, too.
For the first time in weeks the twins did not envy Bobby and Meg when they started off to school the next morning. It had snowed during the night, and great was the excitement of the four little Blossoms who awoke to find a beautiful white world.
“We can play in it, can’t we?” urged Twaddles, bouncing around in his chair and nearlyupsetting Meg’s oatmeal bowl. “Let’s hurry and go out, Dot.”
“I’m glad we don’t have to go to school,” said Dot. “Meg has to go; she can’t play in the snow till this afternoon. And Bobby has to go to school—he can’t play, either.”
“I hate school!” muttered Bobby. “I wish I never had to go near the place.”
Mother Blossom glanced at him in surprise and Father Blossom put down his paper and said if they’d hurry he would take him and Meg to school in the car. Mr. Bennett’s story of the fire was known all over Oak Hill by this time and though his parents guessed that Bobby was not exactly happy under such an accusation, they did not know how much tormenting he had to endure. Mr. Carter managed to keep him and the other boys out of actual fights, but he could not prevent the sly teasing that went on. The lads in the upper grades took special delight in pretending that they heard fire engines whenever Bobby or any of the three boys accused with him of the burning of the carpentershop came near them. Bobby often said gloomily that he would like to run away.
“Well, school closes Friday,” Meg reminded her brother cheerfully. “And it’s almost Christmas. I have to go shopping Saturday.”
“So do I, Meg,” chimed in Dot. “I have to go shopping. Can’t I go with you?”
“I’ll go, too,” said Twaddles placidly. “I have ten cents to spend.”
“I want to go by myself,” declared Meg. “I don’t see why you always have to tag along.”
“I shouldn’t think you’d want to go where you’re not wanted,” said Bobby crossly.
“Well, we do,” retorted Twaddles. “We’re going—you’ll see.”
“Why, this doesn’t sound much like Christmas,” said Father Blossom in surprise. “You’ll be quarreling in a minute, and no one should ever quarrel at Christmas time. If you’re coming with me, Meg and Bobby, get your things on. And, Dot and Twaddles, I thought you were going to play out in the snow?”
The thought of the snow restored Dot and Twaddles to good humor and they ran to gettheir mittens and leggings and coats, while Meg and Bobby rode to school with Sam and Father Blossom.
When they came home at noon, they had news to tell of the last day, before the Christmas vacation began.
“We’re not going to have exercises this year,” reported Meg, “but Miss Wright is going to read us a Christmas story and everybody will sing. And then there is a big Christmas tree and every child brings two presents—not great, big expensive ones, Mother, but little silly ones.”
“What’s a silly present?” demanded Twaddles.
“Mother,” said Meg with dignity, “can’t I ever speak to you without Twaddles listening?”
“I’m not listening,” cried Twaddles, much hurt. “And Dot isn’t listening, either.”
“What do you suppose Uncle Dave and Aunt Miranda will think of children who squabble as you do?” said Mother Blossom. “Bobby, will you bring me the letter that is on the hall table, like my good little son?”
“Is Uncle Dave coming?” asked Meg.
“Yes, dear, he and Aunt Miranda are coming to spend Christmas with us,” replied Mother Blossom. “The letter came this morning. They will get here—let me see, when did uncle write they would get here?”
Mother Blossom opened the letter Bobby brought her and ran over the faint, small handwriting hastily. Uncle Dave was her own uncle, and great-uncle to the four little Blossoms. He was an old man and it was not easy for him to write a letter.
“Uncle Dave writes they will be here Monday, that is the day before Christmas,” said Mother Blossom. “I am so glad they can come; they have never seen Dot and Twaddles, you know.”
“Well, Mother, may Bobby and I go shopping without coming home from school this afternoon?” asked Meg. “We have to get two things apiece, that’s four altogether.”
“Let us go, Mother?” begged Dot. “We can go and meet Meg and Bobby after school.”
“I think Meg and Bobby should have this afternoon alone to buy the presents for theschool Christmas tree,” said Mother Blossom firmly. “Then, Saturday morning, you may all go shopping together. How will that be?”
This seemed to suit everyone, and Mother Blossom gave Bobby an extra kiss as he and Meg hurried back to school. Bobby did not have much to say about school nowadays, and Mother Blossom was sorry he did not feel happier.
“Mother gave me forty cents,” said Meg as they walked along. “We mustn’t buy anything that costs more than ten cents, Miss Wright said.”
“Who do we give ’em to?” asked Bobby curiously.
“Why, didn’t you hear Miss Wright when she was talking this morning in assembly?” asked Meg, surprised. “She said she’ll have a basket in her office tomorrow, two baskets I mean, one for boys’ presents and one for the girls. And we wrap our things up and drop them in, one for a boy and one for a girl; then Miss Wright puts the names on and no one knows what the presents are, not even Miss Wright or Mr. Carter.”
As soon as school was out that afternoon Bobby and Meg started for the stores. It had stopped snowing soon after noon, and the walks were wet and slippery. Some of the children had their sleds out but there was not enough snow for good sledding or coasting.
“We’ll go to the five-and-ten-cent store,” planned Meg. “Isn’t it fun to buy four things!”
She and Bobby spent over an hour, looking at everything on the long counters, and finally Meg bought a chain of blue beads for a girl and a little red-covered address book for a boy. Bobby chose a little pin tray for a girl and for his boy’s present he selected a key-ring.
The twins were nearly beside themselves with eagerness to see the presents, and they insisted on helping tie them up, and Dot wanted to take them to the school and put them in the baskets that night.
“You don’t believe in wasting time, do you, Dot?” teased Father Blossom. “However, I think tomorrow morning will be better. Meg says the tree will not be trimmed till Friday.”
The next day was Thursday, and Meg andBobby took their tissue-paper wrapped parcels to school and dropped them into the two large baskets which stood in the vice-principal’s office. There was a buzz of excitement in every classroom and Miss Lee, Bobby’s teacher, said that school might as well close then and there for all the work that was being done.
“Tim Roon, if I see you whispering once more,” Miss Lee scolded, “you will have to stay after school an hour tomorrow night. What are you and Charlie Black giggling over?”
Tim Roon merely stopped whispering, but did not explain.
“I wish we could go see the tree,” said Twaddles wistfully Thursday night. “Meg and Bobby have all the fun.”
“Why, Twaddles!” said Mother Blossom. “You and Dot are going shopping Saturday morning, you know you are. And Norah and I need you tomorrow to help us get ready for Uncle Dave and Aunt Miranda.”
So Twaddles cheered up and decided that he was important, after all.
Friday morning, Meg and Bobby pattered away to school for the one session which always featured the last day before the close of a term or the beginning of a holiday. They found the building bright with wreaths and ropes of Christmas greens.
“Have you seen the tree?” asked Palmer Davis excitedly, meeting Bobby in the hall. “It’s a great big one, almost as high as the ceiling. And all the presents are tied on. They did it last night.”
The pupils filed into the assembly hall as usual, but it is doubtful whether any of them heard the Bible reading or knew which song they were singing. All eyes were fastened on the beautiful big tree which towered nearly to the ceiling. It was sprinkled with tissue-paper packages and looked as mysterious as though Santa Claus had trimmed it himself.
There was an hour or so of work in the classrooms, putting the desks in order for the holiday recess, and making sure that no loose papers were left in the books, and then the gong sounded again and the whole four gradesmarched back to the assembly hall for the exercises.
Bobby’s class sat directly across the aisle from Meg’s and she saw him and smiled. Miss Wright read them a Christmas story that made everyone think of Christmas Eve and stockings to be filled and all the fun of Christmas morning; then the school sang two Christmas carols and then, andthenit was time to distribute the presents. Mr. Carter came in to do that. He had spent half the morning at the grammar school exercises.
It was great fun and there was so much talk and laughter—for Mr. Carter himself said that they should talk as much as they pleased—that even the janitor peeped in to see what the racket was about. The pupils were told to unwrap their presents as soon as they received them and such a collection you never saw! There were tin whistles and small horns, and these, of course, the boys simply had to test at once, and ribbons and little dolls and candy and paint boxes, and indeed about everything you could hope to mention.
Meg had a tiny painting set (which she planned to give to Dot) and a doll’s fan for her gifts, and she looked about for Bobby to show them to him as soon as she had unwrapped them. She found him in one corner of the room with Palmer Davis, Bertrand and Fred. Bobby looked very angry.
“I think it’s mean,” Fred was saying as Meg came up.
“If I knew who did it,” began Bobby hotly, but Miss Mason approached him smilingly before he could finish what he meant to say.
“Let me see what you have, Bobby,” she said pleasantly.
Bobby put his hands behind his back and looked obstinate.
“Bobby, I asked you to let me see your Christmas presents,” said Miss Mason, beginning to look severe.
“I—I won’t!” blurted Bobby, trying to get behind Fred Baldwin.
“Bobby Blossom, how dare you speak to me like that!” exclaimed Miss Mason, losing her temper, while Meg wished she wouldn’t scoldBobby in such a loud tone. All the children were listening. “Mr. Carter, what do you think of a boy who flatly refuses to obey?”
Mr. Carter turned when Miss Mason raised her voice. He said nothing, but Bobby knew that he was looking at him. He could not bear to have the principal think he was stubborn and he was dreadfully afraid he was going to cry. He jerked his hand up and threw what he held directly at the astonished Miss Mason.
“Why, it’s a piece of coal!” said Meg aloud.