A Christmas Child: A Sketch of a Boy-Life

by Mrs. Molesworth

And at last, thanks no doubt to these energetic efforts in great part, the packing was all done; the last evening, then the last night came, and the excited children went to sleep to wake ever so much earlier than usual to the delights of thinking the day had come!

It was a long and rather tiring railway journey, and when it came to an end there was a very long drive in an open carriage, and by degrees all houses and what Ted's father called "traces of civilisation,"—which puzzled Cissy a good deal—were left behind.

"We must be getting close to the moors," said he, at which the children were delighted, for it was on the edge of these great moors that stood the lonely farm-house that was to be their home for some months. But just as their father said this, the carriage stopped, and they were told they must all get down—they were at the entrance to a wood through which there was no cart or carriage road, only a footpath, and the farm-house stood in a glen some little way on the other side of this wood. It was nearly dark outside the wood, inside it was of course still more so, so dark indeed that it took some care and management to find one's way at all. The children walked on quietly, Ted really enjoying the queerness and the mystery of this adventure, but little Narcissa, though she said nothing, pressed closer to her mother, feeling rather "eerie," and some weeks after she said one day, "I don't want ever to go home again because of passing through that dark wood."

But once arrived, the pleasant look of everything at the farm-house, and the hearty welcome they received from their host and hostess, the farmer and his wife, made every one feel it had all been worth the journey and the trouble. And the next morning, when the children woke to a sunny summer day in the quaint old house, and looked out on all sides on the lovely meadows and leafy trees, with here and there a peep of the gleaming river a little farther down the glen, and when, near at hand, they heard the clucking of the hens and the mooing of the calves and the barking of the dogs, and all the delightful sounds of real farm-life, I think, children, you will not need me to try to tell you how happy our children felt. The next few days were a sort of bewilderment of interests and pleasures and surprises—everything was so nice and new—even the funny old-fashioned stoneware plates and dishes seemed to Ted and Cissy to make the dinners and teas taste better than anything they had ever eaten before. And very soon they were as much at home in and about the farm-house as if they had lived there all their lives,—feeding the calves and pigs, hunting for eggs, carrying in wood for Mrs. Crosby to help her little niece Polly, a small person not much older than Cissy, but already very useful in house and farm work. One day, when they were busy at this wood-carrying, a brilliant idea struck them.

"Wouldn't it be fun," said Ted, "to go to the wood—just the beginning of it, you know—and gather a lot of these nice little dry branches; they are so beautiful for lighting fires with?"

Cissy agreed that it would be great fun, and Polly, who was with them at the time, thought, too, that it would be very nice indeed; and then a still better idea struck Ted. "Suppose," he said, "that we were to go to-morrow morning, and take our luncheon with us. Wouldn't that be nice? We could pack it in a basket and take it on the little truck that we get the wood in, and then we could bring back the little truck full of the dry branches."

The proposal was thought charming, and mother was consulted; and the next morning Mrs. Crosby was busy betimes, hunting up what she could give to her "honeys" for their picnic, and soon the three set off, pulling the truck behind them, and on the truck a basket carefully packed with a large bottle of fresh milk, a good provision of bread and butter, a fine cut of home-made cake, and three splendid apple turnovers. Could anything be nicer? The sun was shining, as it was right he should shine on so happy a little party, as they made their way up the sloping field, through a little white gate opening on to a narrow path skirting the foot of the hill, where the bracken grew in wild luxuriance, and the tall trees overhead made a pleasant shade down to the little beck, whose chatter could be faintly heard. And so peaceful and sheltered was the place, that, as the children passed along, bright-eyed rabbits stopped to peep at them ere they scudded away, and the birds hopped fearlessly across the path, nay, the squirrels even, sitting comfortably among the branches, glanced down at the three little figures without disturbing themselves, and an old owl blinked at them patronisingly from his hole in an ancient tree-trunk. And by and by as the path grew more rugged, Polly was deputed to carry the basket, for fear of accidents, for Cissy pulling in front and Ted pushing and guiding behind, found it as much as they could do to get the truck along. How they meant to bring it back when loaded with branches I don't know, and as things turned out, the question did not arise. The truck and the basket and the children reached their destination safely; they chose a nice little grassy corner under a tree very near the entrance to the big wood, and after a very short interval of rest from the fatigues of their journey, it was suggested by one and agreed to by all that even if it were rather too early for real luncheon or dinner time, there was no reason why, if they felt hungry, they should not unpack the basket and eat! No sooner said than done.

"We shall work at gathering wood all the better after we've had some refreshment," observed Ted sagely, and the little girls were quite of his opinion. And the rabbits and the owls and the squirrels must, I think, have been much amused at the quaint little party, the spice cake and apple-turnover collation that took place under the old tree, and at the merry words and ringing laughter that echoed through the forest.

An hour or so later, the children's mother, with an after-thought of possible risk to them from the damp ground, made her way along the path and soon discovered the little group. She had brought with her a large waterproof cloak big enough for them all to sit on together, but it was too late, for the refection was over; the basket, containing only the three plates and the three tin mugs, propped up between Ted and Cissy, toppled over with the start the children gave at the sound of their mother's voice, and a regular "Jack and Jill" clatter down the slope was the result. The children screamed with delight and excitement as they raced after the truant mugs and plates, and their mother, thinking that her staying longer might cause a little constraint in the merriment, turned to go, just saying cheerfully, "Children, I have brought my big waterproof cloak for you to sit on, but as your feast is over I suppose you won't need it. What are you going to do next?"

"O mother, we're just going to set to work," Ted's voice replied; "we're having such fun."