Weak hands rubbing swollen eyes. Tousled heads rearing from pillows. Necks craned toward nearest windows.
“Merry Christmas yourself.” “Snow.” “Oh, SNOW!”
“Merry Christmas!” Nurse’s clear, crisp voice rose above the others. “What chance does an amateur Santa Claus have with all you girls already wide awake? I was outside in the hall hanging the last bangles on your tree when ‘there arose such a clatter, I sprang to the DOOR to see what was the matter’!”
“Our tree?” came the chorus.
“Yes, your tree. You don’t think I’m mean enough to make you stay in bed and feast on orange juice instead of plum pudding without doing something for you?”
“May I come in?” It was Mrs. Cole in a fresh blouse and newly pressed skirt. She looked sweeter than Mimi had ever seen her. “Merry Christmas, girls. If you’ll help me, Nurse, we’ll roll the tree in.”
It was not a large tree; a living evergreen growing in a wooden tub and riding into the sick room on a rolling white hospital cart-table. Mimi had passed it by the steps many times scarcely noticing but today, decked so gayly and glittering so magnificently, it was as new as the snow. As they pushed the tree along the ornaments made an elfin jingle.
Yesterday Mimi had wished her bed were at one end of the ward or the other so that she could lie on one side with her back to illness and forget it. Now she was glad that she was in the center of the room because the tree, placed in the middle of the room, was at the foot of her bed. If nurse had not made up the bed with tight square corners she could wriggle her toes free and touch it.
“There!”
Nurse and Mrs. Cole stood one to either side admiring their handiwork.