One of the handsomest evergreens in the Townsend woods was chopped off close by the roots, and dragged to Camp Comfort by Preston Gray and James Hunnicut. The Old Bluff children had thought and dreamed of nothing else for three weeks but that mysterious Christmas Tree. If it were to be placed in a church they would have shrunk from approaching it, for they were afraid of churches, and none of the Pancakes, except Pecielena, and none of the Pecks, except Charlie, had as yet been drawn inside a Sunday school. Or if the Tree were to be in some elegant house at Laurel Grove, in a cold parlor with high walls and solemn marble fireplaces, where rich children congregate, what would these little savages have cared for it then?
But this Tree, their Tree, was to be at Camp Comfort, a place they knew all about; and the doorkeeper, Mr. Hunnicut, was to let in every child big enough to walk. As for the grown people, they would be let in also, but merely that they might take care of the children; for that is all that is wanted of grown people at Christmas time!
Mary Gray, Ethel, Blanche Jones, and Fanny Townsend watched the clouds for the whole three weeks. At one time it rained, and there were fears of “a green Christmas;” then it grew cold, and the first snow came; but before there was much time to be glad of the snow, the wind hastened along and heaped it into drifts.
“It isn’t likely they’ll have a Tree if it keeps on drifting like this,” said Dora, who was apt to grow melancholy when she baked for “two days running;” and surely the turkeys, pies, puddings, and cakes that had gone through her hands were enough to drag her spirits very low. Mary did not know then of her own new piano that was to be given her on Christmas, and Dora’s prediction seemed to spoil all her holiday joy; but her father reassured her.
“Why, my child, we’ll have the Tree if the drifts are as high as your head.”
Ethel said there were to be “three Christmases this year; one at Laurel Grove, one at Rosewood, and one at Old Bluff.” Yes, and the wind held its breath, and the sun and moon shone for every one of the three!
When the night came for “Old Bluff Christmas,” a rose-blue sky bent above the white splendor of the world. The Pecks, Browns, and Pancakes arrived in wild haste at Camp Comfort before Mr. Hunnicut was ready to let them in. They would have thought him very unfeeling if they had known that he was finishing his turkey supper while they waited in the entry.
But they did not wait long. There was a loud jingling of sleigh-bells, the blowing of a cornet, and the eight campers and lame Sadie Stockwell appeared in a boat-sleigh drawn by two horses adorned with about twenty strings of bells. Behind this imposing equipage glided the modest sleighs containing meek parents and friends.
Then the warm, cheerful parlor was thrown open at last, with its dozen lamps, blazing and twinkling as if they knew it was Christmas; and the beautiful tree was seen shining like all the stars in the sky. Aloft, on the topmost part, stood a little waxen image called the Christ-child; and if it had been alive it could hardly have smiled more benignly.