“One—two—three—fo’—yes, plenty of them, but we are goin’ to begin with the top one. This is yours, Nancy—this little white one on the vehy tip-top. Gentlemen, this top candle is always reserved for Miss Caarter,” and the lighted taper kindled it into a blaze. “Just like yo’ eyes, my dear, burnin’ steadily and warmin’ everybody,” and he tapped her hand caressingly with his fingers. “And now, where is that darlin’ little Katy’s—she must have a white one, too—here it is. Oh, what a brave little candle! Not a bit of sputterin’ or smoke. See, dearie, what a beautiful blaze! May all your life be as bright and happy. And here is Mr. Klutchem’s right alongside of Katy’s—a fine red one. There he goes, steady and clear and strong. And Fitz—dear old Fitz. Let’s see what kind of a candle Fitz should have. Do you know, Fitz, if I had my way, I’d light the whole tree for you. One candle is absurd for Fitz! There, Fitz, it’s off—another red one! All you millionaires must have red candles! And the Major! Ah, the Major!”—and he held out his hand to me—“Let’s see—yaller? No, that will never do for you, Major. Pink? That’s better. There now, see how fine you look and how evenly you burn—just like yo’ love, my dear boy, that never fails me.”
The circle of the table was now complete; each guest had a candle alight, and each owner was studying the several wicks as if the future could be read in their blaze: Aunt Nancy with a certain seriousness. To her the custom was not new; the memories of her life were interwoven with many just such top candles,—one I knew of myself, that went out long, long ago, and has never been rekindled since.
The Colonel stopped, and for a moment we thought he was about to take his seat, although some wicks were still unlighted—his own among them.
Instantly a chorus of voices went up: “You have forgotten your own, Colonel—let me light this one for you,” etc., etc. Even little Katy had noticed the omission, and was pulling at my sleeve to call attention to the fact: the Colonel’s candle was the only one she really cared for.
“One minute—” cried the Colonel. “Time enough; the absent ones fust”—and he stooped down and peered among the branches—“yes,—that’s just the very one. This candle, Mr. Klutchem, is for our old Mammy Henny, who is at Caarter Hall, carin’ for my property, and who must be pretty lonely to-day—ah, there you go, Mammy!—blazin’ away like one o’ yo’ own fires!”
Each guest had a candle alight.
Three candles now were all that were left unlighted; two of them side by side on the same branch, a brown one and a white one, and below these a yellow one standing all alone.