ADELE CHESTER had never spent a Christmas in the country before; neither had she ever felt quite so desolate. Mother and father were in Europe, in search of health for the father, and Adele, who had been left in charge of Aunt Martha, had herself decreed that she would go nowhere for Christmas.
“I can’t be happy and frolic when papa is sick,” she said; “and as for the country, if Aunt Martha can live there all her life, I think I can endure one Christmas.” So she had staid; but it must be confessed that the world looked dreary to her that wintry morning, with nothing but snow to be seen from her window. She almost thought she would have been wiser to have joined the Philadelphia cousins. “At least there would have been a chance to spend my Christmas money,” she murmured gloomily, as she tapped on the frosty window pane with restless fingers. “I’m sure I don’t know what I can buy in this little tucked-up place.”
The “tucked-up place” was really a nice town with about five thousand people living in it, but to Adele, whose home was in New York City, it seemed absurd to call it a town. Aunt Martha’s farmhouse was only half a mile from some very good stores, where Adele had found a few things to suit her during the three months she had spent there, and on the whole she had managed to be quite happy. But she did not feel like being suited with anything this morning. Such a queer Christmas for her! She had had her presents, as usual—a new fur cap from Aunt Martha, a writing-desk well furnished from Uncle Peter, a lovely ring with a real diamond in it from mamma, and a new chain for her pretty watch from papa. What more could a reasonable girl want? Truth to tell, she wanted nothing but the dear home, and mamma’s kisses, and papa’s arms around her. The ring and chain were beautiful, but they did not seem like presents from them, when she knew they crossed the ocean weeks ago, and had been lying in Aunt Martha’s bureau drawer waiting for this morning. She valued the letter more which had arrived only the night before, and she drew it from her pocket and kissed it, letting a tear or two fall on the words, “My Darling Child,” as she read them once more. “Papa and I are so sorry to be away from you to-day,” the letter read; “we have tried to find something suitable to send on so long a journey, and planned to reach you on the very day, but have failed; papa has not been well enough to look about much for a few weeks, and I could not go alone. At last we decided to send you a fifty-dollar bank note and bid you go and spend it in the way which would make you happiest.”
“The idea!” said Adele, smiling through her tears, as she refolded the letter, “just as though I could find anything here to buy to make me happy! Mamma must have forgotten for the moment where I was. Yet I want a few things, some Christmas bonbons, at least, if they know the meaning of the word in this little place, and above all, I want a brisk walk in the snow. I shall take ten dollars of my fifty, and go out and spend it; I won’t waste another cent on this old town. I wonder what I can do with ten dollars to make me happy?” She laughed half scornfully. Ten dollars seemed so very little to this girl, who had always spent money as freely as water, and done as little thinking about it as the birds do over the spring cherries.
In a very few minutes she was wrapped in furs and out upon the snowy road. Aunt Martha offered her the sleigh and the driver, and her “leggings” and woollen mittens, but she would have none of them. She was a good walker, and had been used to miles in the city. She hid her nose in her muff, because the wind over this wide stretch of snow was very keen, and sped along “like a snowbird,” Aunt Martha said, watching her from the window. And then she sighed, this dear old auntie whom the country satisfied. She saw the shade on the face of her darling this morning, and was sorry for her, and wished so much that she could do something to brighten her Christmas day.
The little town was reached in due time, and the streets were gay with Christmas finery; the stores were open quite generally, to catch the belated Christmas buyers. In an hour or two they would close for the day; but the custom in this thriving manufacturing town was to give the tardy ones a Christmas morning chance. Adele went from one store to another, dissatisfied, disconsolate. Nothing suited her. The truth is, when a girl does not need an earthly thing, and is yet determined to spend some money, she is sometimes rather difficult to suit. She halted at last before a show window and looked at the bright fineries displayed there. So did little Janey Hooper, who had come out with ten cents to buy a soup bone for the day’s dinner. Adele, turning from the window, jostled against her, and looked down upon the mite. She seemed not more than eight, yet there was a wise, grown-up look in her eyes which held the homesick girl’s attention.
“Are you trying to make Christmas too? What do you see in the window you like?”
“Everything,” said the little girl simply.
“Do you? you are fortunate. Are you going to buy them all?”
“O, no! not a single one. I couldn’t.”