“Christmas!” thought Mary Jane, with a thrill of joy, “Christmas! Why, they do have Christmas in Chicago! I wonder what I’ll get and what I’ll do!”
CHRISTMAS IN CHICAGO
Christmas in Chicago! When Mary Jane heard those words she had her first real pang of homesickness for the home she had left when they moved to Chicago. Would any Christmas anywhere ever be so beautiful as the Christmas in that dear home? She remembered the pine trees in the yard, loaded down with their wealth of snow: the glowing fire on the hearth with its Christmas-y smell from the pine cones that were saved through the year for the Christmas Day fire; the tree in the angle near the fireplace where the afternoon sun touched it into a blaze of glory; the party for the poor children that had been such fun to plan for—would anything in Chicago ever be half the fun of Christmas in the old home? But Mary Jane was soon to discover that Christmas doesn’t need certain houses or fires or trees to make it perfect; that Christmas is made in folks’ hearts and that wherever there is a Christmas heart, there will be a happy day—in village or city, the place makes no difference.
When she went home from school that afternoon and announced that Miss Treavor said Christmas was so very near, she found that mother wasn’t even a little surprised.
“Why to be sure Christmas is coming,” laughed Mrs. Merrill, “and here I’ve been waiting and waiting and waiting for you to talk about it till, actually, I thought I’d had to begin myself, if you didn’t wake up pretty soon.” And then everybody began to talk at once.
“Do they have trees in Chicago?” asked Alice.
“Are there any poor folks who would like parties?” asked Mary Jane.
“Is anybody coming to see us?” demanded Mary Jane.