"Why, mamma," exclaimed Bessie, "won't they have any Christmas gifts?"
"No, darling; I fear many must be without all the good and pleasant things by which we remind one another that our dear Lord's birthday has come round again."
"What, mamma! No toys, no nuts, no candies?"
"None, my child."
"Why, then, how can they wish one another a merry Christmas? I should think they would all have a crying Christmas together. I should think they would feel as though they had no Lord Jesus; as though he only belonged to the rich people. And yet, mamma, he was dreadful poor, and spent the first day of his life in a manger, with cows and things; though, to be sure, he had beautiful presents, those the wise old gentlemen that came from down East brought him, you know."
"Yes, dear, he was very poor, and in remembering him we should not forget the poor around us, and should always be ready to assist, as far as we can, the worthy and honest unfortunates who need our help. But it is your bedtime. You will wish to be up bright and early to-morrow."
Bessie sprang up promptly, and kissed her father good night. At the foot of the stairs she paused, and called him in her pretty imperious way, and he came to her, like the good, obedient papa that he was. Bessie kissed him again, and called him "a dear, handsome old darling," and then, with another last coquettish kiss through the balusters, she bounded laughingly past her mamma, up the stairs, into her little room and behind the door, from which point of vantage she emerged with a terrific "boo!" intended to startle her mamma out of her senses,—but I don't think it did.
Mrs. Raeburn, having heard her daughter repeat her simple prayer, kissed her and returned to the library; and soon after the maid, having seen her nicely in bed, and put everything in order for the morning, left her quite alone. And then the wonderful scheme that had flashed into her brain down stairs was thought over and resolutely arranged, and a famous little plot of mischievous benevolence it was, as you shall see.
Amid all the joyful excitement and merry confusion of Christmas morning, Bessie found time to think over her plan; and she would set her red lips very firmly whenever she felt her courage giving way the least in the world. She would be a heroine for once,—would have a real adventure of her own to relate to a wondering and admiring circle, that very Christmas night.
While mamma and servants were occupied in preparations for a large dinner-party, Bessie found opportunities for packing a little basket with tiny tarts, apples, nuts, and candies; then she put on her pretty winter coat, trimmed with fur, and her new velvet hat, with a long scarlet plume, the pride of her heart, and her warm tippet and soft gloves and high Balmoral boots. Then she took from her drawer a dainty porte-monnaie, well filled with bright new pennies and small silver coin, and containing a little compartment lined with crimson satin, wherein two gold dollars dwelt together in state, like a Mongolian king and queen. Then taking her basket on her arm, and thrusting her hands into her little muff, she stole down stairs on tiptoe, and made her escape from the house, unperceived by any one.