What fun it was opening those bundles! The girls made a long business of it, taking out but one at a time, exclaiming, admiring, and exhibiting to Rose, before they began upon another. They laughed, they joked, but I do not think it would have taken much to make either of them cry. It was almost too tender a pleasure, these proofs of loving remembrance from the little one; and each separate article seemed full of the very look and feel of home.
“What can this be?” said Katy, as she unrolled a paper and disclosed a pretty round box. She opened. Nothing was visible but pink cotton wool. Katy peeped beneath, and gave a cry.
“O Clovy! Such a lovely thing! It’s from papa,—of course it’s from papa. How could he? It’s a great deal too pretty.”
The “lovely thing” was a long slender chain for Katy’s watch, worked in fine yellow gold. Clover admired it extremely; and her joy knew no bounds when farther search revealed another box with a precisely similar chain for herself. It was too much. The girls fairly cried with pleasure.
“There never was such a papa in the world!” they said.
“Yes, there is. Mine is just as good,” declared Rose, twinkling away a little tear-drop from her own eyes. “Now don’t cry, honeys. Your papa’s an angel, there’s no doubt about it. I never saw such pretty chains in my life,—never. As for the children, they’re little ducks. You certainly are a wonderful family. Katy, I’m dying to know what is in the blue parcel.”
The blue parcel was from Cecy, and contained a pretty blue ribbon for Clover. There was a pink one also, with a pink ribbon for Katy. Everybody had thought of the girls. Old Mary sent them each a yard measure; Miss Finch, a thread-case, stocked with differently colored cottons. Alexander had cracked a bag full of hickory nuts.
“Did you ever?” said, Rose, when this last was produced. “What a thing it is to be popular! Mrs. Hall? Who’s Mrs. Hall?” as Clover unwrapped a tiny carved easel.
“She’s Cecy’s mother,” explained Clover. “Wasn’t she kind to send me this, Katy? And here’s Cecy’s photograph in a little frame for you.”
Never was such a wonderful box. It appeared to have no bottom whatever. Under the presents were parcels of figs, prunes, almonds, raisins, candy; under those, apples and pears. There seemed no end to the surprises.
At last all were out.
“Now,” said Katy, “let’s throw back the apples and pears, and then I want you to help divide the other things, and make some packages for the girls. They are all disappointed not to have their boxes. I should like to have them share ours. Wouldn’t you, Clover?”
“Yes, indeed. I was just going to propose it.”
So Clover cut twenty-nine squares of white paper, Rose and Katy sorted and divided, and pretty soon ginger-snaps and almonds and sugar-plums were walking down all the entries, and a gladsome crunching showed that the girls had found pleasant employment. None of the snowed-up boxes got through till Monday, so except for Katy and Clover the school would have had no Christmas treat at all.
They carried Mrs. Nipson a large slice of cake, and a basket full of the beautiful red apples. All the teachers were remembered, and the servants. The S. S. U. C. was convened and feasted; and as for Rose, Louisa, and other special cronies, dainties were heaped upon them with such unsparing hand that they finally remonstrated.
“You’re giving everything away. You’ll have none left for yourselves.”
“Yes, we shall,—plenty,” said Clover. “O Rosy! here’s such a splendid pear! You must have this.”
“No! no!” protested Rose; but Clover forced it into her pocket. “The Carrs’ Box” was always quoted in the Nunnery afterward, as an example of what papas and mammas could accomplish, when they were of the right sort, and really wanted to make school-girls happy. Distributing their treasures kept Katy and Clover so busy that it was not until after dinner that they found time to open the smaller box. When they did so, they were sorry for the delay. The box was full of flowers, roses, geranium-leaves, heliotrope, beautiful red and white carnations, all so bedded in cotton that the frost had not touched them. But they looked chilled, and Katy hastened to put them in warm water, which she had been told was the best way to revive drooping flowers.
Cousin Helen had sent them; and underneath, sewed to the box, that they might not shake about and do mischief, were two flat parcels wrapped in tissue paper, and tied with white ribbon, in Cousin Helen’s, dainty way. They were glove-cases, of quilted silk, delicately scented, one white, and one lilac; and to each was pinned a loving note, wishing the girls a Merry Christmas.
“How awfully good people are!” said Clover. “I do think we ought to be the best girls in the world.”
Last of all, Katy made a choice little selection from her stores, a splendid apple, a couple of fine pears, and handful of raisins and figs, and, with a few of the freshest flowers in a wine-glass, she went down the Row and tapped at Miss Jane’s door.
Miss Jane was sitting up for the first time, wrapped in a shawl, and looking very thin and pale. Katy, who had almost ceased to be afraid of her, went in cheerily.
“We’ve had a delicious box from home, Miss Jane, full of all sorts of things. It has been such fun unpacking it! I’ve brought you an apple, some pears, and this little bunch of flowers. Wasn’t it a nice Christmas for us?”
“Yes,” said Miss Jane, “very nice indeed. I heard some one saying in the entry that you had a box. Thank you,” as Katy set the basket and glass on the table. “Those flowers are very sweet. I wish you a Merry Christmas, I’m sure.”
This was much from Miss Jane, who couldn’t help speaking shortly, even when she was pleased. Katy withdrew in high glee.
But that night, just before bed-time, something happened so surprising that Katy, telling Clover of it afterward, said she half fancied that she must have dreamed it all. It was about eight o’clock in the evening: she was passing down Quaker Row, and Miss Jane called and asked her to come in. Miss Jane’s cheeks were flushed, and she spoke fast, as if she had resolved to say something, and thought the sooner it was over the better.
“Miss Carr,” she began, “I wish to tell you that I made up my mind some time since that we did you an injustice last term. It is not your attentions to me during my illness which have changed my opinion,— that was done before I fell ill. It is your general conduct, and the good influence which I have seen you exert over other girls, which convinced me that we must have been wrong about you. That is all. I thought you might like to hear me say this, and I shall say the same to Mrs. Nipson.”
“Thank you,” said Katy, “you don’t know how glad I am!” She half thought she would kiss Miss Jane, but somehow it didn’t seem possible; so she shook hands very heartily instead, and flew to her room, feeling as if her feet were wings.
“It seems too good to be true. I want to cry, I am so happy,” she told Clover. “What a lovely day this has been!”
And of all that she had received, I think Katy considered this explanation with Miss Jane as her very best Christmas box.
Chapter XII.
Waiting for Spring
School was a much happier place after this. Mrs. Nipson never alluded to the matter, but her manner altered. Katy