"Don't you want to put something in the box?" John held out a quarter to the little girl.
Her eyes sparkled with pleasure. Then she shook hands with the small Chinese maidens, and she felt almost as if she had been to a foreign country.
If Mrs. Reed had been present she would have marched Charles home in short order. She did not believe in praising children, or anybody else for that matter. Everybody, in her opinion, needed a strict hand. She hardly approved of the singing-school, and if she had really understood that Charles would stand out alone facing the audience, and then be applauded for what he had done, and go into the fair and be praised and "treated," she would have been horrified and put him on the strictest sort of discipline for the next month.
Charles had endeavored to persuade his mother to go, but she wanted to get the turkey ready for the Christmas dinner, and had no time for such trifling things. No woman had who did her duty by her house and her family. The harder and stonier and more rigid the discipline was, the more virtue it contained, she thought. There was no especial end in view with her; it was the way all along that one had to be careful about and make as rough as possible.
Mr. Reed was secretly proud of his boy. He had a misgiving that all this praise and attention was not a good thing, but the boy looked so happy, and it was Christmas Eve, with the general feeling of joy in the air. He was curiously moved himself. Perhaps happiness wasn't such a weak and sinful thing after all. It did not seem to ruin the Underhill family.
But he said to Charles as they were nearing home: "I wouldn't make much fuss about the evening. Your mother thinks such things rather foolish."
They all returned in a crowd, laughing and talking and saying merry good-nights. Martha had the key of the basement and they trooped in. Indeed, Martha was so much one of the family that Dr. Hoffman paid her a deal of respect.
Father was up-stairs in the sitting-room reading his paper. He glanced up and nodded.
"Oh!" cried Hanny, "where's mother? The house looks so dark and dull and not a bit Christmassy. It was all so splendid, and oh, Father! Charles sung like an angel, didn't he, Margaret? They made him sing over again, and he looked really beautiful. And there were two Chinese girls at the fair, such queer little things," she flushed, for the word recalled Lily Ludlow. "Their hands were as soft as silk, and when they talked—well, you can't imagine it! It sounded like knocking little blocks all around and making the corners click. But where is mother?"
"Mother is going to stay up to Steve's all night. They wanted her to help them."