Christmas Stories of Louisa May Alcott, The. Louisa May Alcott

shoulders the way she does," cried conscious-stricken Bob, who had just heard a sad little paragraph about her crooked figure and learned that it came from lugging heavy babies at the orphanage.

      "I cuffed 'em both for it, and I have always liked Patty," said Harry, in a moral tone, which moved Ned to say—

      "You'd be a selfish little rascal if you didn't, when she slaves so for you and gets no thanks for it. Now that I know how it tires her poor little back to carry wood and water, I shall do it myself, of course. If she'd only told me, I'd have done it all the time."

      And so it went until the letters were done and they knew Patty as she was. Each felt sorry that he or she had not found her out before. Aunt Jane freed her mind on the subject, but the others continued to discuss it until quite an enthusiastic state of feeling set in, and Patty was in danger of being killed with kindness.

      It is astonishing how generous and clever people are when once awakened to duty, a charity, or a wrong. Now everyone was eager to repair past neglect, and if Aunt Jane had not wisely restrained them, the young folks would have done something absurd.

      They laid many nice little plans to surprise Patty, and each privately resolved not only to give her a Christmas gift but also to do the better thing by turning over a new leaf for the new year.

      All the way home, they talked over their various projects, and the boys kept bouncing into the seat with Aunt Jane to ask advice about their funny ideas.

      "It must have been rather lonesome for the poor little soul all day. I declare, I wish we'd taken her along!" said Mrs. Murray, as they approached the house through the softly falling snow.

      "She's got a jolly good fire all ready for us, and that's a mercy, for I'm half frozen," said Harry, hopping up the step.

      "Don't you think if I touch up my blue merino, it would fit Patty and make a nice dress along with one of my white aprons?" whispered Ella, as she helped Aunt Jane out of the sleigh.

      "I hope the child isn't sick or scared. It's two hours later than I expected to be home," added Mr. Murray, stepping up to peep in at the kitchen window, for no one came to open the door and no light but the blaze of the fire shone out.

      "Come softly and look in," he whispered, beckoning to the rest. "It's a pretty little sight even if it is in a kitchen.''

      Quietly creeping to the two low windows, they all looked in, and no one said a word, for the lonely little figure was both pretty and pathetic when they remembered the letters lately read. Patty lay flat on the old rug, fast asleep with one arm pillowed under her head. In the other arm lay Puss in a cozy bunch, as if she had crept there to be sociable since there was no one else to share Patty's long vigil. A row of slippers, large and small, stood warming on the hearth, two little nightgowns hung over a chair, the teapot stood in a warm nook, and through the open door, they could see the lamp burning brightly in the sitting room, the table ready, and all things in order.

      "Faithful little creature! She's thought of every blessed thing, and I'll go right in and wake her with a good kiss!" cried Mrs. Murray, darting for the door.

      But Aunt Jane drew her back, begging her not to frighten the child by any sudden, unexpected demonstrations of affection. So they all went softly in—so softly that tired Patty did not wake, even though Puss pricked up her ears and opened her moony eyes with a lazy purr.

      "Look here!" whispered Bob, pointing to the poor little gifts half tumbling out of Patty's apron. She had been pinning names on them when she fell asleep, and now her secret was known too soon.

      No one laughed at the presents, and with a look of tender pity, Ella covered the few humble treasures in Patty's box. As she laid back, she remembered what she had once called "rubbish," how full her own boxes were with the pretty things girls love, and how easy it would have been to add to Patty's pitiful store.

      No one exactly knew how to awaken the sleeper, for she was something more than a servant in their eyes now. Aunt Jane settled the matter by stooping down and taking Patty in her arms. The big eyes opened at once and stared up at the face above. Then a smile so bright, so glad, shone all over the child's face as she clung to Aunt Jane, crying joyously—

      "Is it really you? I was so afraid you wouldn't come that I cried myself to sleep."

      Never before had any of them seen such love and happiness in Patty's face, heard such a glad, tender sound in her voice, or guessed what an ardent soul dwelt in her quiet body.

      She was herself again in a minute, and jumping up, slipped away to see that everything was ready should anyone want supper after the cold drive.

      Soon the family went off to bed, and there was no time to let out the secret. Patty was surprised by the kind good nights everyone sent her way, but she thought no more of it than to feel that Miss Jane brought a warmer atmosphere to the home.

      Patty's surprise began early the next day, for the first thing she saw upon opening her eyes was a pair of new stockings crammed full of gifts hanging at the foot of her bed and several parcels lying on the table.

      What a good time she had opening the delightful bundles. She laughed and cried at the droll things the boys gave and the comfortable and pretty things the elders sent. Such a happy child was she that when she tried to say her prayers, she couldn't find words beautiful enough to express her gratitude for so much kindness!

      A new Patty went downstairs that morning—a bright-faced girl with smiles on the mouth that used to be so sad and silent, confidence in the timid eyes, and the magic of the heartiest goodwill to make her step light, her hand skillful, her labor a joy, and service no burden.

      They do care for me, after all, and I never will complain again, she thought with a glad flutter at her heart and sudden color in her cheeks as everyone welcomed her with a friendly, "Merry Christmas, Patty!"

      It was the merriest Christmas ever, and when the bountiful dinner was spread and Patty stood ready to wait, you can imagine her feelings as Mr. Murray pointed to a seat near Miss Jane and said in a fatherly tone that made his gruff voice sweet—

      "Sit down and enjoy it with us, my girl; nobody has more right to it, and we are all one family today."

      Patty could not eat much, her heart was so full, but it was a splendid feast to her, and when toasts were drunk she was overwhelmed by the honor Harry did her, for he bounced up and exclaimed: "Now we must drink to 'Our Patty'—long life and good luck to her!"

      That really was too much, and she fairly ran away to hide her blushes in the kitchen and work off her excitement washing dishes.

      More surprises came that evening. When she went to put on her clean calico smock, she found the pretty blue dress and white apron laid ready on her bed along with a note that read, "With Ella's love."

      "It's like a fairy story that keeps getting nicer and nicer since the godmother came," whispered Patty, as she glanced shyly at Aunt Jane.

      "Christmas is the time for all sorts of pleasant miracles," answered Aunt Jane, smiling back at her little maiden, who looked so neat and blithe in her new dress and happy face.

      Patty thought nothing further in the way of bliss could happen to her that night, but it did when Ned, anxious to atone for his past neglect, pranced up to her as a final dance was forming and said heartily—

      "Come, Patty, everyone is to dance this one, even Harry and the cat!" And before she could collect her wits enough to say "No," she was leading off and flying down the middle with the young master, in great style.

      That was the crowning honor, for she was a girl with all a girl's innocent hopes, fears, desires, and delights, and it had been rather hard to stand by while all the young neighbors were frolicking together.

      When everyone was gone, the tired children asleep, and the elders on their way up to bed, Mrs. Murray suddenly remembered she had not covered the kitchen fire. Aunt Jane said she would do it, and went down so softly that she did not disturb faithful Patty, who