“That letter is the best present we could have had, anyway,” said Betty as she looked again at the big special-delivery stamp. “It means that mother is out of danger and that we shall be at home in a month.”
A month before that when mother was first taken sick, the twins had been sent to Uncle Ben’s so that their own house should be very, very still. They had played on the big farm, had gone to school in the queer little old schoolhouse and watched for the rural delivery postman to bring them letters from home.
Christmas at home meant days of shopping, treats when Uncle Tom came home from college, parties at the church and at the schoolhouse, and Santa Claus, fat and jolly, ringing his little tinkling bells, ting-a-ling-aling! on the street corners. Besides that, Christmas at home meant planning for weeks ahead a gift that would bring Christmas cheer to some little child that was poor.
“Bobby, do you remember how pleased little Johnny Granger was when you gave him that pair of skates?”
“I guess I do! They were the first skates he had ever had! You gave his little sister a pair of rubber boots the same year. How happy she was with them! She wore them to school all winter whether it rained or not. I wish we could have some kind of a Christmas this year, just to keep from forgetting what day it is. There isn’t even snow,” and Bob looked with disgust at the bare, brown fields that stretched away in front of the little old farmhouse. “At home they’ve all been so worried over mother that probably no one has had time to buy us presents.”
“Well, Bobby, mother is better and that is the best present in all the world for us,” and Betty smiled bravely at her brother.
“I wish we could make a Christmas for somebody else,” said Bobby slowly. “There aren’t any poor people like the Granger family up here. Besides, we couldn’t buy anything anyway, for there aren’t any stores. Isn’t this the strangest Christmas you ever saw?”
“Yes, Bob, it is. No place to spend money; woods full of Christmas trees and no presents to put on them; no one who needs help; no snow or skating or company. We are going to have a fine Christmas dinner, though. Uncle Ben killed a pair of fat chickens yesterday.”
“And I’m going to crack butternuts right now,” said Bobby, and he jumped up and left his twin sister to romp with Buddy, the collie, who ran up to her and thrust his soft nose into her hand, teasing for a game of tag.
“O Buddy, Buddy, I’ll give you a Christmas present,” and Betty ran upstairs and came flying down again with a big blue ribbon in her hand.