Then Aunt Cyrilla rose to the occasion.
“I’ve got some emergency rations here,” she announced. “There’s plenty for all and we’ll have our Christmas dinner, although a cold one. Breakfast first thing. There’s a sandwich apiece left and we must fill up on what is left of the cookies and doughnuts and save the rest for a real good spread at dinner time. The only thing is, I haven’t any bread.”
“I’ve a box of soda crackers,” said the little mother eagerly.
Nobody in that car will ever forget that Christmas. To begin with, after breakfast they had a concert. The khaki boy gave two recitations, sang three songs, and gave a whistling solo. Lucy Rose gave three recitations and the minister a comic reading. The pale shop girl sang two songs. It was agreed that the khaki boy’s whistling solo was the best number, and Aunt Cyrilla gave him the bouquet of everlastings as a reward of merit.
Then the conductor came in with the cheerful news that the storm was almost over and he thought the track would be cleared in a few hours.
“If we can get to the next station we’ll be all right,” he said. “The branch joins the main line there and the tracks will be clear.”
At noon they had dinner. The train hands were invited in to share it. The minister carved the chicken with the brakeman’s jack-knife and the khaki boy cut up the tongue and the mince pies, while the sealskin lady mixed the raspberry vinegar with its due proportion of water. Bits of paper served as plates. The train furnished a couple of glasses, a tin pint cup was discovered and given to the children, Aunt Cyrilla and Lucy Rose and the sealskin lady drank, turn about, from the latter’s graduated medicine glass, the shop girl and the little mother shared one of the empty bottles, and the khaki boy, the minister, and the train men drank out of the other bottle.
Everybody declared they had never enjoyed a meal more in their lives. Certainly it was a merry one, and Aunt Cyrilla’s cooking was never more appreciated; indeed, the bones of the chicken and the pot of preserves were all that was left. They could not eat the preserves because they had no spoons, so Aunt Cyrilla gave them to the little mother.
When all was over, a hearty vote of thanks was passed to Aunt Cyrilla and her basket. The sealskin lady wanted to know how she made her pound cake, and the khaki boy asked for her receipt for jelly cookies. And when two hours later the conductor came in and said the snowploughs had got along and they’d soon be starting, they all wondered if it could really be less than twenty-four hours since they met.
“I feel as if I’d been campaigning with you all my life,” said the khaki boy.
At the next station they all parted. The little mother and the children had to take the next train back home. The minister stayed there, and the khaki boy and the sealskin lady changed trains. The sealskin lady shook Aunt Cyrilla’s hand. She no longer looked discontented or cross.
“This has been the pleasantest Christmas I have ever spent,” she said heartily. “I shall never forget that wonderful basket of yours. The little shop girl is going home with me. I’ve promised her a place in my husband’s store.”
When Aunt Cyrilla and Lucy Rose reached Pembroke there was nobody to meet them because everyone had given up expecting them. It was not far from the station to Edward’s house and Aunt Cyrilla elected to walk.
“I’ll carry the basket,” said Lucy Rose.
Aunt Cyrilla relinquished it with a smile. Lucy Rose smiled too.
“It’s a blessed old basket,” said the latter, “and I love it. Please forget all the silly things I ever said about it, Aunt C’rilla.”
The Falsoms’ Christmas Dinner
“Well, so it’s all settled,” said Stephen Falsom.
“Yes,” assented Alexina. “Yes, it is,” she repeated, as if somebody had questioned it.
Then Alexina sighed. Whatever “it” was, the fact of its being settled did not seem to bring Alexina any great peace of mind — nor Stephen either, judging from his face, which wore a sort of “suffer and be strong” expression just then. “When do you go?” said Alexina, after a pause, during which she had frowned out of the window and across the Tracy yard. Josephine Tracy and her brother Duncan were strolling about the yard in the pleasant December sunshine, arm in arm, laughing and talking. They appeared to be a nice, harmless pair of people, but the sight of them did not seem to please Alexina.
“Just as soon as we can sell the furniture and move away,” said Stephen moodily. “Heigh-ho! So this is what all our fine ambitions have come to, Lexy, your music and my M.D. A place in a department store for you, and one in a lumber mill for me.”
“I don’t dare to complain,” said Alexina slowly. “We ought to be so thankful to get the positions. I am thankful. And I don’t mind so very much about my music. But I do wish you could have gone to college, Stephen.”
“Never mind me,” said Stephen, brightening up determinedly. “I’m going to go into the lumber business enthusiastically. You don’t know what unsuspected talents I may develop along that line. The worst of it is that we can’t be together. But I’ll keep my eyes open, and perhaps I’ll find a place for you in Lessing.”
Alexina said nothing. Her separation from Stephen was the one point in their fortunes she could not bear to discuss. There were times when Alexina did not see how she was going to exist without Stephen. But she never said so to him. She thought he had enough to worry him without her making matters worse. “Well,” said Stephen, getting up, “I’ll run down to the office. And see here, Lexy. Day after tomorrow is Christmas. Are we going to celebrate it at all? If so I’d better order the turkey.”
Alexina looked thoughtful. “I don’t know, Stephen. We’re short of money, you know, and the fund is dwindling every day. Don’t you think it’s a little extravagant to have a turkey for two people? And somehow I don’t feel a bit Christmassy. I think I’d rather spend it just like any other day and try to forget that it is Christmas. Everything would be so different.”
“That’s true, Lexy. And we must look after the bawbees closely, I’ll admit.” When Stephen had gone out Alexina cried a little, not very much, because she didn’t want her eyes to be red against Stephen’s return. But she had to cry a little. As she had said, everything was so different from what it had been a year ago. Their father had been alive then and they had been very cosy and happy in the little house at the end of the street. There had been no mother there since Alexina’s birth sixteen years ago. Alexina had kept house for her father and Stephen since she was ten. Stephen was a clever boy and intended to study medicine. Alexina had a good voice, and something was to be done about training it. The Tracys lived next door to them. Duncan Tracy was Stephen’s particular chum, and Josephine Tracy was Alexina’s dearest friend. Alexina was never lonely when Josie was near by to laugh and chat and plan with.
Then, all at once, troubles came. In June the firm of which Mr. Falsom was a member failed. There was some stigma attached to the failure, too, although the blame did not rest upon Mr. Falsom, but with his partner. Worry and anxiety aggravated the heart trouble from which he had suffered for some time, and a month later he died. Alexina and Stephen were left alone to face the knowledge that they were penniless, and must look about for some way of supporting themselves. At first they hoped to be able to get something to do in Thorndale, so that they might keep their home. This proved impossible. After much discouragement and disappointment Stephen had secured a position in the lumber mill at Lessing, and Alexina was promised a place in a departmental store in the city.
To make matters worse, Duncan Tracy and Stephen had quarrelled in October. It was only a boyish disagreement over some trifle, but bitter words had passed. Duncan, who was a quick-tempered lad, had twitted Stephen with his father’s failure, and Stephen