The Middletown Seminary had closed for the Christmas holidays as usual; but Janice had been very busy at home finishing her Christmas presents, and sending off belated packages to absent friends. Of course, the Christmas package for Daddy had gone weeks before. The mail service to the mine in Mexico was very irregular.
On this day when the clouds began to hover so close above the mountain tops before noon, Janice decided that she would not risk putting off until Christmas Eve a visit that she must make. She packed an old box-sled of Marty’s full of little packages, all named and numbered, and pulled a coasting cap down over her ears in preparation for departure.
“You’d oughter take Marty with you, Janice,” her aunt told her. “B-r-r-r! It’s colder than a frog’s toes outside.”
“I don’t know how cold a frog’s toes are this time of year,” laughed Janice; “but mine are warm as toast in these fleece-lined boots. Don’t worry about me, Aunt ’Mira. No knowing where Mart is, unless he’s in school. But I think his classes are not being held to-day. I’ll toddle along; don’t worry if I am not home at supper time, for I have another call to make on my way back.”
She did not go by the road, for there was a short-cut over the mountain, and the snow crust was hard. It was directly after dinner when she set out. The first flakes of the promised storm had not fallen when she turned off the highway into the narrow drive that led past the Trimmins’ cabin.
It was to the squatters’ poor home she was bound. Christmas cheer was there ahead of her, however. Janice had not seen Jinny and her folks lately, but she knew that the whole family had been extremely busy making holly wreaths; while “Pappy” had been cutting Christmas trees for Elder Concannon and helping ship them at the Middletown station.
Odd wreaths bedecked the walls of the main room of the house, while in the corner farthest from the fire was a handsome young tree that touched the rafters. It was already strung with popcorn and tinsel balls, while colored candles were ready to be lighted on Christmas Eve—now little more than twenty-four hours away.
Janice had made herself the friend of every small member of the Trimmins brood ere this, if she had not made much headway with the older ones. The red-haired boy was still antagonistic; but Jinny kept him well in leash.
Now the black-haired girl helped Janice smuggle the little packages into the house, for they were only to be tied upon the tree the next evening. There was a present for every member of the Trimmins family, and making these gifts had given Janice more pleasure than most of her Christmas activities. She knew that all would be delighted with the presents—even Tom, the red-haired, for she had bought for him such a complicated pocketknife as no boy on earth could resist.
Little Buddy Trimmins would sit in nobody’s lap but hers when Janice was in the house. His mother could not refuse to admire Janice when the baby showed the visitor such partiality. Janice had spent a pleasant hour when Tom thrust his head in the doorway and broke the news of the rising storm by saying: