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Page 2
A bump on the library door, as from an opposing knee, did duty for a knock.
"Bring the box in here, Norah," said Miss Terry, holding open the door for
her servant, who was gasping under the weight of a packing-case. "Set it
down on the rug by the fire-place. I am going to look it over and burn up
the rubbish this evening."
She glanced once more at the letter in her hand, then with a sniff tossed
it upon the fire.
"Yes'm," said Norah, as she set down the box with a thump. She stooped once
more to pick up something which had fallen out when the cover was jarred
open. It was a pink papier-m�ch� angel, such as are often hung from the top
of Christmas trees as a crowning symbol. Norah stood holding it between
thumb and finger, staring amazedly. Who would think to find such a bit of
frivolity in the house of Miss Terry!
Her mistress looked up from the fire, where the bit of writing was writhing
painfully, and caught the expression of Norah's face.
"What have you there?" she asked, frowning, as she took the object into her
own hands. "The Christmas Angel!" she exclaimed under her breath. "I had
quite forgotten it." Then as if it burned her fingers she thrust the little
image back into the box and turned to Norah brusquely. "There, that's all.
You can go now, Norah," she said.
"Yes'm," answered the maid. She hesitated. "If you please'm, it's Christmas
Eve."
"Well, I believe so," snapped Miss Terry, who seemed to be in a
particularly bad humor this evening. "What do you want?"
Norah flushed; but she was hardened to her mistress's manner. "Only to ask
if I may go out for a little while to see the decorations and hear the
singing."
"Decorations? Singing? Fiddlestick!" retorted Miss Terry, poker in hand.
"What decorations? What singing?"
"Why, all the windows along the street are full of candles," answered
Norah; "rows of candles in every house, to light the Christ Child on his
way when he comes through the city to-night."
"Fiddlestick!" again snarled her mistress.
"And choir-boys are going about the streets, they say, singing carols in
front of the lighted houses," continued Norah enthusiastically. "It must
sound so pretty!"
"They had much better be at home in bed. I believe people are losing their
minds!"
"Please'm, may I go?" asked Norah again.
Norah had no puritanic traditions to her account. Moreover she was young
and warm and enthusiastic. Sometimes the spell of Miss Terry's sombre house
threatened her to the point of desperation. It was so this Christmas Eve;
but she made her request with apparent calmness.
"Yes, go along," assented her mistress ungraciously.
"Thank you, 'm," said the servant demurely, but with a brightening of her
blue eyes. And presently the area door banged behind her quick-retreating
footsteps.
"H'm! Didn't take her long to get ready!" muttered Miss Terry, giving the
fire a vicious poke. She was alone in the house, on Christmas Eve, and not
a man, woman, or child in the world cared. Well, it was what she wanted. It
was of her own doing. If she had wished--
She sat back in her chair, with thin, long hands lying along the arms of
it, gazing into the fire. A bit of paper there was crumbling into ashes.
Alone on Christmas Eve! Even Norah had some relation with the world
outside. Was there not a stalwart officer waiting for her on the nearest
corner? Even Norah could feel a simple childish pleasure in candles and
carols and merriment, and the old, old superstition.
"Stuff and nonsense!" mused Miss Terry scornfully. "What is our Christmas,
anyway? A time for shopkeepers to sell and for foolish folks to kill
themselves in buying. Christmas spirit? No! It is all humbug,--all
selfishness, and worry; an unwholesome season of unnatural activities. I am
glad I am out of it. I am glad no one expects anything of me,--nor I of any
one. I am quite independent; blessedly independent of the whole foolish
business. It is a good time to begin clearing up for the new year. I'm glad
I thought of it. I've long threatened to get rid of the stuff that has
been accumulating in that corner of the attic. Now I will begin."
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