“Christmas tree,” said Freckles.
“Of all things!” Frank dropped on a chair. A Christmas tree! In a small-sized tub set on the middle of the floor, full of clothes and anything that might help support, stood a broom, brush in the air. It was ornamented with scraps of colored tissue paper, while from the top stood a bit of candle, burning sweetly and brightly. The girl with the black curls reached up and put it out, to save candle, no doubt. And yet Frank felt in no laughing mood for the moment. His heart was touched, and touched deeply.
“What’s that?” asked Maggie, tallest of the girls, as she pointed to the basket.
“That? Oh, I guess I’m Santa Claus this time, all right. Is your mama away?”
“She’s workin’,” vouchsafed the boy, number two for size, and scared at his own boldness, withdrew behind his sister.
“You don’t say. Where’s your freckles?” asked Frank as he snatched at the hiding boy. “Well, never mind, time’ll mend that. You’ll get them. I thought you were all singing?”
“Christmas songs,” was the answer.
“Good. Round the tree? Let’s have another.” And in a moment Frank with the five children of assorted shades and sizes, and in that doubtful shade of cleanness children will sometimes put on, was marching and dancing around the tree, hand in hand. Before they knew it they were all together singing a Christmas song, and shouting with glee, all forgetful of the basket. Frank, laughing and out of breath, had just picked up the smallest child, and they had begun to march around the room, shouting in chorus, when a loud sound broke upon their ears.
Bim, bam, boom! How the big cathedral bell sounds out over the city! Above the noise and clatter of the street, over the passing crowd, in and out among the tall buildings and little cottages that snuggle between, up and down the alleys and avenues, the mighty ringing goes forth. Above the very mist and smoke that bedims the air rises the tall spire with its heavily buttressed tower. Have you ever climbed the tall ladders far up into the belfry? Far down below, the men pull the ropes, and out from the huge latticed windows rolls forth the volume of sound. Three bells there are that chime out upon the fading day. So strong are they and vibrant with melody that the tower trembles. Even the cement walks and asphalt pavements seem to quiver under the heavy strokes of the bell.
As Frank opened the window the children with him crowded about. Over the gravelled roofs and dusty housetops came the welling music. It beat about the trembling stones, rolled in great billows over the house, searched out every nook and cranny that promised entrance. About the doors it gathered and quivered as tho ready to shake them from their hinges. Who could think that thin glass could have withstood such onslaught.