Jack and Jill. Louisa May Alcott

the young people was the deep mystery of certain proceedings at the Minot house. No one but Frank, Ralph, and Mamma knew what it was, and the two boys nearly drove the others distracted by the tantalizing way in which they hinted at joys to come, talked strangely about birds, went measuring round with foot-rules, and shut themselves up in the Boys' Den, as a certain large room was called. This seemed to be the centre of operations, but beyond the fact of the promised tree no ray of light was permitted to pass the jealously guarded doors. Strange men with paste-pots and ladders went in, furniture was dragged about, and all sorts of boyish lumber was sent up garret and down cellar. Mrs. Minot was seen pondering over heaps of green stuff, hammering was heard, singular bundles were smuggled upstairs, flowering plants betrayed their presence by whiffs of fragrance when the door was opened, and Mrs. Pecq was caught smiling all by herself in a back bedroom, which usually was shut up in winter.

      “They are going to have a play, after all, and that green stuff was the curtain,” said Molly Loo, as the girls talked it over one day, when they sat with their backs turned to one another, putting last stitches in certain bits of work which had to be concealed from all eyes, though it was found convenient to ask one another's taste as to the color, materials, and sizes of these mysterious articles.

      “I think it is going to be a dance. I heard the boys doing their steps when I went in last evening to find out whether Jack liked blue or yellow best, so I could put the bow on his pen-wiper,” declared Merry, knitting briskly away at the last of the pair of pretty white bed-socks she was making for Jill right under her inquisitive little nose.

      “They wouldn't have a party of that kind without Jack and me. It is only an extra nice tree, you see if it isn't,” answered Jill from behind the pillows which made a temporary screen to hide the toilet mats she was preparing for all her friends.

      “Every one of you is wrong, and you'd better rest easy, for you won't find out the best part of it, try as you may.” And Mrs. Pecq actually chuckled as she, too, worked away at some bits of muslin, with her back turned to the very unsocial-looking group.

      “Well, I don't care, we've got a secret all our own, and won't ever tell, will we?” cried Jill, falling back on the Home Missionary Society, though it was not yet begun.

      “Never!” answered the girls, and all took great comfort in the idea that one mystery would not be cleared up, even at Christmas.

      Jack gave up guessing, in despair, after he had suggested a new dining-room where he could eat with the family, a private school in which his lessons might go on with a tutor, or a theatre for the production of the farces in which he delighted.

      “It is going to be used to keep something in that you are very fond of,” said Mamma, taking pity on him at last.

      “Ducks?” asked Jack, with a half pleased, half puzzled air, not quite seeing where the water was to come from.

      Frank exploded at the idea, and added to the mystification by saying,—

      “There will be one little duck and one great donkey in it.” Then, fearing he had told the secret, he ran off, quacking and braying derisively.

      “It is to be used for creatures that I, too, am fond of, and you know neither donkeys nor ducks are favorites of mine,” said Mamma, with a demure expression, as she sat turning over old clothes for the bundles that always went to poor neighbors, with a little store of goodies, at this time of the year.

      “I know! I know! It is to be a new ward for more sick folks, isn't it, now?” cried Jack, with what he thought a great proof of shrewdness.

      “I don't see how I could attend to many more patients till this one is off my hands,” answered Mamma, with a queer smile, adding quickly, as if she too was afraid of letting the cat out of the bag: “That reminds me of a Christmas I once spent among the hospitals and poor-houses of a great city with a good lady who, for thirty years, had made it her mission to see that these poor little souls had one merry day. We gave away two hundred dolls, several great boxes of candy and toys, besides gay pictures, and new clothes to orphan children, sick babies, and half-grown innocents. Ah, my boy, that was a day to remember all my life, to make me doubly grateful for my blessings, and very glad to serve the helpless and afflicted, as that dear woman did.”

      The look and tone with which the last words were uttered effectually turned Jack's thoughts from the great secret, and started another small one, for he fell to planning what he would buy with his pocket-money to surprise the little Pats and Biddies who were to have no Christmas tree.

      Chapter VI. Surprises

      “Is it pleasant?” was the question Jill asked before she was fairly awake on Christmas morning.

      “Yes, dear; as bright as heart could wish. Now eat a bit, and then I'll make you nice for the day's pleasure. I only hope it won't be too much for you,” answered Mrs. Pecq, bustling about, happy, yet anxious, for Jill was to be carried over to Mrs. Minot's, and it was her first attempt at going out since the accident.

      It seemed as if nine o'clock would never come, and Jill, with wraps all ready, lay waiting in a fever of impatience for the doctor's visit, as he wished to superintend the moving. At last he came, found all promising, and having bundled up his small patient, carried her, with Frank's help, in her chair-bed to the ox-sled, which was drawn to the next door, and Miss Jill landed in the Boys' Den before she had time to get either cold or tired. Mrs. Minot took her things off with a cordial welcome, but Jill never said a word, for, after one exclamation, she lay staring about her, dumb with surprise and delight at what she saw.

      The great room was entirely changed; for now it looked like a garden, or one of the fairy scenes children love, where in-doors and out-of-doors are pleasantly combined. The ceiling was pale blue, like the sky; the walls were covered with a paper like a rustic trellis, up which climbed morning-glories so naturally that the many-colored bells seemed dancing in the wind. Birds and butterflies flew among them, and here and there, through arches in the trellis, one seemed to look into a sunny summer world, contrasting curiously with the wintry landscape lying beyond the real windows, festooned with evergreen garlands, and curtained only by stands of living flowers. A green drugget covered the floor like grass, rustic chairs from the garden stood about, and in the middle of the room a handsome hemlock waited for its pretty burden. A Yule-log blazed on the wide hearth, and over the chimney-piece, framed in holly, shone the words that set all hearts to dancing, “Merry Christmas!”

      “Do you like it, dear? This is our surprise for you and Jack, and here we mean to have good times together,” said Mrs. Minot, who had stood quietly enjoying the effect of her work.

      “Oh, it is so lovely I don't know what to say!” and Jill put up both arms, as words failed her, and grateful kisses were all she had to offer.

      “Can you suggest anything more to add to the pleasantness?” asked the gentle lady, holding the small hands in her own, and feeling well repaid by the child's delight.

      “Only Jack;” and Jill's laugh was good to hear, as she glanced up with merry, yet wistful eyes.

      “You are right. We'll have him in at once, or he will come hopping on one leg;” and away hurried his mother, laughing, too, for whistles, shouts, thumps, and violent demonstrations of all kinds had been heard from the room where Jack was raging with impatience, while he waited for his share of the surprise.

      Jill could hardly lie still when she heard the roll of another chair-bed coming down the hall, its passage enlivened with cries of “Starboard! Port! Easy now! Pull away!” from Ralph and Frank, as they steered the recumbent Columbus on his first voyage of discovery.

      “Well, I call that handsome!” was Jack's exclamation, when the full beauty of the scene burst upon his view. Then he forgot all about it and gave a whoop of pleasure, for there beside the fire was an eager face, two hands beckoning, and Jill's voice crying, joyfully,—

      “I'm here! I'm here! Oh, do come, quick!” Down the long room rattled the chair, Jack cheering all the