“Merry Christmas! Merry Christmas, Fräulein!”
The Fräulein stirred in her bed. Then another shout, louder than the first, and she sat bolt upright.
The gas in the hall had been lighted, and stole in through the transom sufficiently to give the ghost-like look the girls sought; but even with this, she was slow in comprehending what was happening.
One more shout, and she sprang out of bed, catching the one nearest to her, and giving her a good, hard shaking. “Der Christtag! Der Christtag! Fröhlich Weinacht! Fröhlich; I wishes you ’arpy Christtag! What you call it?”
“Merry Christmas!” shouted the girls.
“Ah, Ja! Ja! Merrie Christmas! one Merrie Christmas, a t’ousand Merrie Christmas. Now you 190 go dress! Miss Ashton say, ‘Fräulein, the young ladies tak cough.’ You catched me, I catched you to-nacht. You see! gute nacht! gute nacht!”
And like a very small queen, in her pretty nightdress, she waved the girls away, then locked her door; if they had come back only a few minutes later, they would have heard the same musical sounds coming from her bed.
But when the day had fairly dawned, it would have been difficult to find a more wide-awake, alert teacher than the Fräulein, or one that could have given a truer and pleasanter Christmas day and night.