Little Maid Marian

by Amy Ella Blanchard

Mrs. Hunt shook her head. "Wrong guess," she said laughing. "Stand right there and shut your eyes while I count ten, then see if you can make a better guess."

Marian did as she was told, squeezing her eyes tight together lest she should be tempted to peep at the tree. As "ten" fell from Mrs. Hunt's lips her eyes opened, not upon the tree, for between her and it stood the figure of a tall man who held out his arms to her. Marian stood stock still in amazed wonder, gazing at him fixedly, then in a voice that rang through the room she cried: "Papa! Papa!" and in an instant his arms were around her and she was fairly sobbing on his breast.

"It's almost more than the child can bear," murmured Mrs. Hunt wiping her eyes. "I don't know that it was right to surprise her so. Maybe it would have been better to prepare her." But Marian was herself in a little while, ready to hear how this wonderful thing happened.

"It was all on account of that little book of photographs," her father told her. "My longing to see my dear little daughter grew stronger and stronger as I turned over the pages, and when I came to the last picture I simply could not stand it. I rushed out, looked up the next sailing, and found I could make a steamer sailing from Bremen the next morning, and before night I was on my way to that city. I found I had a couple of hours to spare in Bremen, and I remembered that my little girl had said that she had never had a Christmas tree, so I went up town, bought a jumble of Christmas toys, and took them to the steamer with me. I reached here last night, and my dear old friend Mrs. Hunt took me in. Between us all we set up the Christmas tree, and arranged the surprise. I felt as if I could not spend another Christmas day away from my dear little daughter when she wanted me so much. Do you think they will let me in at the brick house, Marian?" he asked holding her close.

"I am sure they will," she answered with conviction. "I've found out that nobody is as cross inside as they seem outside. Even Heppy is just like a bear sometimes, but she has the most kind thinkings when you get at them."

It was hard to leave the beautiful tree, but even that was not so great and splendid a thing as this home-coming of Marian's father, and when the churchgoers had all gone by, the two went up street together, hand in hand. At the door of the brick house they paused.

"Tell them I am here and ask them if I may come in, Marian," said her father, as he stood on the steps.

Marian went in, and entered the sitting-room. Her grandmother was taking off her bonnet. "It was a good sermon, my dear," she was saying to her husband. "Peace and good-will to all men, not to some, but to all, our own first." She smoothed out her gloves thoughtfully. "Eight years," she murmured, "eight years."

Marian stood in the doorway. "Papa has come," she said simply. "He is on the door-step, but he won't come in till you say he may."

With a trembling little cry her grandmother ran to the door. Mr. Otway grasped the back of the chair behind which he was standing. His head was bowed and he was white to the lips. "Tell him to come in," he said.