CHRISTMAS! Everything told it. The feeling of it was in the air. The snow which lay lightly and deeply upon ground and trees, the icicles which hung in long glittering pendants, the clear, bright blue sky, the brisk, lively, sunshiny cold,—all told of Christmas. The air was the Christmas air, stirring the heart-beats. The sounds were Christmas sounds,—the merry calling out of Christmas greetings, the glad ringing of the church bells.
The Christmas Makers’ Club was all ready to enjoy Christmas day to the utmost. Mysterious packages for the Christmas-tree had arrived at Mrs. Danforth’s house all day Thursday and had been taken charge of by Cummings, the maid, who seemed suddenly to have forgotten her stiffness and to have become more like other people. The Club had held an important business meeting at Miss Ruth Warren’s house Thursday afternoon and had made everything ready for the visit to the Convalescent Home on Christmas morning. The twenty-four dolls which the Club had dressed and the twelve rag dolls of Mrs. Holt’s making—which even Betty, who had scorned rag dolls, declared were full prettier than the others—had been carefully placed in a large, flat basket. The paper dolls and the tin soldiers were in boxes by themselves, and the twelve tops which Ben had made were also ready to be given to the Convalescent children.
Elsa Danforth had told the Club that her Uncle Ned was very anxious to go to the Convalescent Home with them, and it had been decided that there would be plenty of room for him, also, in Ben’s large double sleigh, as he could sit on the front seat with Ben and little Alice, while Miss Ruth, Betty and Elsa occupied the back seat.
Best of all, at this business meeting, the children had delivered to their Club president, Miss Ruth, the united sum of five dollars and sixty cents which they had earned, in the past two weeks, to give to the managers of the Convalescent Home. There was one dollar and forty cents from Betty White, who had earned five cents a day for emptying waste paper baskets in her own home and for blacking her father’s shoes—never were shoes better blacked, Mr. White declared, boastfully; there were two dollars from Elsa, whose Uncle Ned had paid her just as he promised he would for writing two letters each week, although he had been in Berkeley the past week, and who had also paid her a dollar for copying a long piece of writing for him; there were seventy cents from little Alice, earned by washing dishes for her mother; and, lastly, Ben, who had entered heartily in this plan for earning money, had given a dollar and a half as his share, earned by shovelling snow and doing errands for the neighbours. After considerable thinking, Ben had decided to give to his mother the whole amount of the three dollars and a half which Mr. Danforth had paid him for seven hours’ help; and on Christmas morning Mrs. Holt had been deeply touched by the gift of money from her devoted little son.
Betty’s dollar and forty cents, Elsa’s two dollars, Alice’s seventy cents, and Ben’s dollar and a half, made the good round sum of five dollars and sixty cents which the Club had earned for the Convalescent Home; and when the boy of the Club had handed the full amount in silver to the president, the Club members had felt well repaid for all their work by seeing her great surprise and delight.
“Nothing which you could have done would have pleased me more than this, children,” Miss Ruth said warmly. “I know that the money will be a most welcome gift to the Convalescent Home and be ever so much help.”
“Will the Club have its name printed?” Betty inquired anxiously.
“Yes, I am sure the managers of the Home will want to mention the name of the Club and the gift in their annual report,” Miss Ruth answered.
“How will it sound, please?” Alice asked.