MRS. RISLEY’S CHRISTMAS DINNER
She was an old, old woman. She was crippled with rheumatism and bent with toil. Her hair was gray,—not that lovely white that softens and beautifies the face, but harsh, grizzled gray. Her shoulders were round, her chest was sunken, her face had many deep wrinkles. Her feet were large and knotty; her hands were large, too, with great hollows running down their backs. And how painfully the cords stood out in her old, withered neck!
For the twentieth time she limped to the window and flattened her face against the pane. It was Christmas day. A violet sky sparkled coldly over the frozen village. The ground was covered with snow; the roofs were white with it. The chimneys looked redder than usual as they emerged from its pure drifts and sent slender curls of electric-blue smoke into the air.
The wind was rising. Now and then it came sweeping down the hill, pushing a great sheet of snow, powdered like dust, before it. The window-sashes did not fit tightly, and some of it sifted into the room and climbed into little cones on the floor. Snow-birds drifted past, like soft, dark shadows; and high overhead wild geese went sculling through the yellow air, their mournful “hawnk-e-hawnk-hawnks” sinking downward like human cries.
As the old woman stood with her face against the window and her weak eyes strained down the street, a neighbor came to the door.
“Has your daughter an’ her fambly come yet, Mis’ Risley?” she asked, entering sociably.
“Not yet,” replied Mrs. Risley, with a good attempt at cheerfulness; but her knees suddenly began shaking, and she sat down.
“Why, she’d ought to ’a’ come on the last train, hadn’t she?”
“Oh, I do’ know. There’s a plenty o’ time. Dinner won’t be ready tell two past.”
“She ain’t b’en to see you fer five year, has she?” said the neighbor. “I reckon you’ll have a right scrumptious set-out fer ’em?”
“I will so,” said Mrs. Risley, ignoring the other question. “Her husband’s comin’.”
“I want to know! Why, he just thinks he’s some punkins, I hear.”
“Well, he’s rich enough to think hisself anything he wants to,” Mrs. Risley’s voice took on a tone of pride.
“I sh’u’d think you’d want to go an’ live with ’em. It’s offul hard fer you to live here all alone, with your rheumatiz.”
Mrs. Risley stooped to lay a stick of wood on the fire.
“I’ve worked nigh onto two weeks over this dinner,” she said, “a-seed’n’ raisins an’ cur’nts, an’ things. I’ve hed to skimp harrable, Mis’ Tomlinson, to get it; but it’s just—perfec’. Roast goose an’ cranberry sass, an’ cel’ry soup, an’ mince an’ punkin pie,—to say nothin’ o’ plum-puddin’! An’ cookies an’ cur’nt-jell tarts fer the children. I’ll hev to wear my old underclo’s all winter to pay fer ’t; but I don’t care.”
“I sh’u’d think your daughter’d keep you more comf’terble, seein’ her husband’s so rich.”
There was a silence. Mrs. Risley’s face grew stern. The gold-colored cat came and arched her back for a caress. “My bread riz beautiful,” Mrs. Risley said then. “I worried so over ’t. An’ my fruit-cake smells that good when I open the stun crock! I put a hull cup o’ brandy in it. Well, I guess you’ll hev to excuse me. I’ve got to set the table.”
When Mrs. Tomlinson was gone, the strained look came back to the old woman’s eyes. She went on setting the table, but at the sound of a wheel, or a step even, she began to tremble and put her hand behind her ear to listen.
“It’s funny they didn’t come on that last train,” she said. “I w’u’dn’t tell her, though. But they’d ort to be here by this time.”
She opened the oven door. The hot, delicious odor of its precious contents gushed out. Did ever goose brown so perfectly before? And how large the liver was! It lay in the gravy in one corner of the big dripping-pan, just beginning to curl at the edges. She tested it carefully with a little three-tined iron fork.
The mince-pie was on the table, waiting to be warmed, and the pumpkin-pie was out on the back porch,—from which the cat had been excluded for the present. The cranberry sauce, the celery in its high, old-fashioned glass, the little bee-hive of hard sauce for the pudding and the thick cream for the coffee, bore the pumpkin-pie company. The currant jelly in the tarts glowed like great red rubies set in circles of old gold; the mashed potatoes were light and white as foam.
For one moment, as she stood there in the savory kitchen, she thought of the thin, worn flannels, and how much better her rheumatism would be with the warm ones which could have been bought with the money spent for this dinner. Then she flushed with self-shame.
“I must be gittin’ childish,” she exclaimed, indignantly; “to begredge a Chris’mas dinner to ’Lizy. ’S if I hedn’t put up with old underclo’s afore now! But I will say there ain’t many women o’ my age thet c’u’d git up a dinner like this ’n’,—rheumatiz an’ all.”
A long, shrill whistle announced the last train from the city. Mrs. Risley started and turned pale. A violent trembling seized her. She could scarcely get to the window, she stumbled so. On the way she stopped at the old walnut bureau to put a lace cap on her white hair and to look anxiously into the mirror.
“Five year!” she whispered. “It’s an offul spell to go without seein’ your only daughter! Everything’ll seem mighty poor an’ shabby to her, I reckon,—her old mother worst o’ all. I never sensed how I’d changed tell now. My! how no-account I’m a gittin’! I’m all of a trimble!”
Then she stumbled on to the window and pressed her cheek against the pane.
“They’d ort to be in sight now,” she said. But the minutes went by, and they did not come.
“Mebbe they’ve stopped to talk, meetin’ folks,” site said, again. “But they’d ort to be in sight now.” She trembled so she had to get a chair and sit down. But still she wrinkled her cheek upon the cold pane and strained her dim eyes down the street.
After a while a boy came whistling down from the corner. There was a letter in his hand. He stopped and rapped, and when she opened the door with a kind of frightened haste, he gave her the letter and went away, whistling again.
A letter! Why should a letter come? Her heart was beating in her throat now,—that poor old heart that had beaten under so many sorrows! She searched in a dazed way for her glasses. Then she fell helplessly into a chair and read it:
“Dear Mother,—I am so sorry we cannot come, after all. We just got word that Robert’s aunt has been expecting us all the time, because we’ve spent every Christmas there. We feel as if we must go there, because she always goes to so much trouble to get up a fine dinner; and we knew you wouldn’t do that. Besides, she is so rich; and one has to think of one’s children, you know. We’ll come, sure, next year. With a merry, merry Christmas from all,
“Eliza.”
It was hard work reading it, she had to spell out so many of the words. After she had finished, she sat for a long, long time motionless, looking at the letter. Finally the cat came and rubbed against her, “myowing” for her dinner. Then she saw that the fire had burned down to a gray, desolate ash.
She no longer trembled, although the room was cold. The wind was blowing steadily now. It was snowing, too. The bleak Christmas afternoon and the long Christmas night stretched before her. Her eyes rested upon the little fir-tree on a table in one corner, with its gilt balls and strings of popcorn and colored candles. She could not bear the sight of it. She got up stiffly.
“Well, kitten,” she said, trying to speak cheerfully, but with a pitiful break in her voice, “let’s go out an’ eat our Christmas dinner.”
BOOKS ON NATURE
BADENOCH (L. N.).—The Romance of the Insect World. By L. N. Badenoch. With Illustrations by Margaret J. D. Badenoch and others. Second Edition. Gilt top, $1.25.
“The volume is fascinating from beginning to end, and there are many hints to be found in the wisdom and thrift shown by the smallest animal creatures.”—Boston Times.
“A splendid book to be put in the hands of any youth who may need an incentive to interest in out-door life or the history of things around him.”—Chicago Times.
BRIGHTWEN.—Inmates of My House and Garden. By Mrs. Brightwen. Illustrated. 12mo, $1.25.
“One of the most charming books of the season, both as to form and substance.”—The Outlook.
“The book fills a delightful place not occupied by any other book that we have ever seen.”—Boston Home Journal.
GAYE.—The Great World’s Farm. Some Account of Nature’s Crops and How They are Grown. By Selina Gaye. With a Preface by G. S. Boulger, F.L.S., and numerous Illustrations. 12mo, $1.50.
The University of California expressly commends this to its affiliated secondary schools for supplementary reading.
“It is a thoroughly well-written and well-illustrated book, divested as much as possible of technicalities, and is admirably adapted to giving young people, for whom it was prepared, a readable account of plants and how they live and grow.”—Public Opinion.
“One of the most delightful semi-scientific books, which everyone enjoys reading and at once wishes to own. Such works present science in the most fascinating and enticing way, and from a cursory glance at paragraphs the reader is insensibly led on to chapters and thence to a thorough reading from cover to cover.... The work is especially well adapted for school purposes in connection with the study of elementary natural science, to which modern authorities are united in giving an early and important place in the school curriculum.”—The Journal of Education.
HUTCHINSON.—The Story of the Hills. A Book about Mountains for General Readers and Supplementary Reading in Schools. By H. N. Hutchinson, author of “The Autobiography of the Earth,” etc. Illustrated. $1.50.
“A book that has long been needed, one that gives a clear account of the geological formation of mountains, and their various methods of origin, in language so clear and untechnical that it will not confuse even the most unscientific.”—Boston Evening Transcript.
“It is as interesting as a story, and full of the most instructive information, which is given in a style that everyone can comprehend....”—Journal of Education.
INGERSOLL.—Wild Neighbors. A Book about Animals. By Ernest Ingersoll. Illustrated. 16mo, Cloth. In Press.
JAPP (A. H.).—Hours in My Garden, and Other Nature-Sketches. With 138 Illustrations, $1.75.
“It is not a book to be described, but to be read in the spirit in which it is written—carefully and lovingly.”—Mail and Express.
“It is a book to be read and enjoyed by both young and old.”—Public Opinion.
POTTS (W.).—From a New England Hillside. Notes from Underledge. By William Potts. Macmillan’s Miniature Series. 18mo, 75 cents.
“But the attraction of Mr. Potts’ book is not merely in its record of the natural year. He has been building a house, and we have the humors and the satisfactions, and hopes deferred, that usually attend that business. He has been digging a well, and the truth which he has found at the bottom of that he has duly set forth.... Then, too, his village is Farmington, Conn., and there Miss Porter has her famous schools, and her young ladies flit across his page and lend their brightness to the scene. And, moreover, he sometimes comes back to the city, and he writes pleasantly of his New York club, the Century. Last, but not least, there are lucubrations on a great many personal and social topics, in which the touch is light and graceful and the philosophy is sound and sweet.”—Brooklyn Standard-Union.
WEED.—Life Histories of American Insects. By Prof. Clarence M. Weed, New Hampshire College of Agriculture and Mechanical Arts. Fully Illustrated. Cloth. In Press.
“AN IDEAL BOOK ON NATURE STUDY.”
CITIZEN BIRD
Scenes from Bird Life in Plain English for Beginners. By Mabel Osgood Wright and Elliott Coues. With One Hundred and Eleven Illustrations by Louis Agassiz Fuertes. 12mo, Cloth, $1.50 net.
This first issue of The Heart of Nature Series—Citizen Bird—is in every way a remarkable book. It is the story of the Bird-People told for the House-People, especially the young House-People, being dedicated “To all Boys and Girls who Love Birds and Wish to Protect Them.”
It is not a mere sympathetic plea for protection. It shows how Citizen Bird “works for his own living as well as ours, pays his rent and taxes, and gives free concerts daily”; is scientifically accurate in description of anatomy, dress, and habits; and is illustrated by over one hundred engravings in half tone, together with descriptive diagrams, and has a valuable index of some one hundred and fifty-four American birds.
It is a question when one becomes too old to enjoy such a delightful and entertaining book.
TOMMY-ANNE
AND
THE THREE HEARTS
By Mabel Osgood Wright. With many Illustrations by Albert D. Blashfield. 12mo, Cloth, Colored Edges, $1.50.
“This book is calculated to interest children in nature, and grown folks, too, will find themselves catching the author’s enthusiasm. As for Tommy-Anne herself, she is bound to make friends wherever she is known. The more of such books as these, the better for the children. One Tommy-Anne is worth a whole shelf of the average juvenile Literature.”—Critic.
“Her book is altogether out of the commonplace. It will be immensely entertaining to all children who have a touch of imagination, and it is instructive and attractive to older readers as well.”—Outlook.
“The work is probably the most charming nature-book for children published this year.”—Dial.
FIRST BOOK IN PHYSICAL GEOGRAPHY
By Ralph Stockman Tarr, B.S., F.G.S.A., Professor of Dynamic Geology and Physical Geography at Cornell University. 12mo, Half Leather, $1.10 net.
The striking success of Tarr’s Elementary Physical Geography in high schools has led to the preparation of this First Book, which is designed for use in public and private schools requiring a somewhat shorter course than is given in the Elementary Physical Geography. Its claim to attention lies in its presentation of physical geography in its modern aspect. The main emphasis is laid upon physiography, and all the features that have contributed to the rapid introduction of the earlier books are retained in simpler form.
ELEMENTARY PHYSICAL GEOGRAPHY
By R. S. Tarr. 12mo, Half Leather, $1.40 net.
The widespread and increasing use of Tarr’s Elementary Physical Geography, due originally to the recent and general change in methods of teaching the subject, has received a renewed impetus during the present year from the enthusiastic commendations of the teachers in the public schools of Chicago, Brooklyn, Philadelphia, Kansas City, and many other important centers.
ELEMENTARY GEOLOGY
By R. S. Tarr. 12mo, Half Leather, $1.40 net.
This book, published in February, 1897, is now generally recognized as the most attractive and scientific presentation of the subject for high schools. Many important schools have already adopted it.
THE MACMILLAN COMPANY
66 Fifth Avenue, New York