Just a Little Blue Stocking. II

Just a Little Blue Stocking. BY LELLA. MARLER HOGGAN. III.— Hughie's Christmas Tale. (Continued.) "I reached to open the door, but the door knob was muffled in black. I was too late!" There was a break in his voice, and old Hughie stopped speaking. No one spoke a word. Some of the men shaded their eyes with their hands; that was all. After awhile, Hughie quietlycontinued: "Only God knows what happened then, boys. There ain't no words, you know, to tell things like that." After another silence he said: "When it was all over, we went back to the old place. It didn't seem jest like home to me. On the outside things looked tucked up and sort o' crowded. Nothin' looked fresh and open and free, like it does out here in the Rockies. Didn't look as if things had breathin' space. The things inside the place was changed some, but I guess 1 was changed more'n anything else. Father's big chair was in its old place, and the newspapers and magazines was on the little table jest as they used to be. I noticed my last letter among the others. It looked strange and kind of out o' place. Mother's mending bag hung near the sewin' machine, where I remembered seein' it years before. Some of the same old pictures hung on the wall. And a gray cat purred on the hearth-rug, jest as one did when I went away. Houses stay about the same, even if the years do slip along. But people — they're different. When their hearts change, their looks change to match 'em. Mother was gray, and there was a good many wrinkles on her face I'd never seen before. I wondered how many of 'em I'd

JUST A LITTLE BLUE STOCKING. 203 made. Her eyes had dimmed some, too, as if she might a shed a good many tears. I set in the dinin' room and watched her about her work. She worked about jest as she did when I was a boy. I felt sort o' dazed, as if I was in a dream. It took me days to git used to all the changes the years had made. My brothers and sisters was all married, except little Birdie Lou. She had not left the old nest, but she had grown to be a woman. I felt like an old man. I wondered what I had done with all the years that stood between us. I felt as if I had lived my life alone, and missed all o' the sweet things God had meant me to have. "1 missed father more'n I did the children. His big Bible lay on the centre-table, and his cane stood in the corner. I'd git to feelin1 smothered like in the house, and I'd go outside; but that was even worse. There was the very hedge I had helped him to plant, and the apple tree we had pruned and watered together. I fancied I could see him in the garden bendin' over his work. Some days my heart was so full it felt like it was sure goin' to burst open. Why, boys, I'd gladly a give ten years o' my life if I could jest a took him by the hand ag'in and told him I'd come home to stay — that I wanted to be by him to take care of him, now he was gittin' old. But God never let's us turn the pages back, boys; after we've lived 'em once, they're gone. The folks was all awful tender towards me. They tried not to say things to hurt me. But I knew they felt jest like I did. I heard my aunt a tellin' mother about it one mornin'. ' 'Ain't it a pity,' she said, 'his father couldn't a seen him? If he could jest a looked at Hughie's broad shoulders and his honest face once, he could a died happy. You know how he fretted about Hughie at the last.' " Hughie paused again in his story. In a few moments he said: "On Christmas eve they all come back to the old home and spent a quiet evenin', jest to cheer up mother and me a little. I felt like a stranger among 'em. Mother was the only one that seemed jest like herself. Birdie Lou had several little ones gathered about her. She was a tellin' 'em the Christmas story. Fer a minute I could see a little girl in a red dress, with her fists in her pockets. I remembered a story book out in mv cabin in the

Rockies, and I remembered a little package in my great coat pocket. I stepped into the hall and put my hand into the pocket. I felt the little gold trinket in my fingers, but I drew my handkerchief out instead. No, I couldn't give it to her. It was a child's gift, and she couldn't use it now. It was too late; my little baby sister had growed into a woman. I felt my heartstrings drawin' tighter and tighter. There wasn't no tears, boys. Things like that hurt too much fer tears. It's jest a dry grief that makes your heart swell up 'till it bursts. I knew I'd never see my baby sister again. I could never write another letter to Santa Claus fer her, and I could never tell her another baby story. She was lost to me as much as if she had died. No, I couldn't give her the gift. I couldn't let them all know how the years had been a slidin' through my fingers like the sands o' time, while I was asleep, as it was. Then the other things come back to me, too. I could never do the things fer father I'd been plannin' all the years. Mother was all I had left, and I made up my mind right then and there to stay by her. I was glad when the Christmas was over, fer it only brought me pain. It wasn't like the Christmas at home I'd been plannin' all them years, That Christmas would never come. It was jest a dream." After a little silence, Hughie began again. "The next spring I helped mother to plant a flower-garden. She hadn't had one fer years. I painted the fence and trimmed the hedge, and in the summer evenin's we used to carry the flowers we'd grown, and lay 'em on father's grave. Sometimes, when we was walkin' home, she'd say, 'I think he really knows, Hughie, what is goin' on. He'll be glad you come back to look after me at the last.' "She used to take a great comfort in me. Sometimes she'd take one o' my hands in her little, thin, white ones and say, 'I'm so glad vou come back, Hugh! I'm so glad!' "I tried to make things as happy fer her as I could; 'cause I could see she was failin' fast. When the cold winter set in, she grew weaker and thinner, and I knowed she'd be leavin' soon, too. I used to take her out drivin' and I'd help her in the kitchen with her work. She insisted on doin' some things. She used to say it was the old days comin' back ag'in, when they was jest her and

JUST A LITTLE BLUE STOCKING. 205 father. I tried to take his place, so she wouldn't miss him so. But when the spring pansies begun to bloc m and the robins come into the garden to sing and to build their nests, she missed him more and more; and she finally left us for a little spell, and went to him to live the old, love-days over ag'in. "Birdie Lou had gone to live with our sister, Ruth, and we locked up the old house. I spent a few weeks among 'em all, but I couldn't stay long. The mountains was a callin' to me. I could smell the sweet grass down in the medder, and hear the brook a laughin' and the birds a singin'. I could seethe hoss-mint and the roses a growin' together in the shade o' the pines and quakin'-asp. And I could feel the cool wind on my cheeks as it blew across the lake from old Sawtell peak. Yes, the wild things was a callin' me, and I had to come. I went down to the two green mounds in the churchyard, and I told Gcd all about it. Then, boys, fer the first time I felt that he understood, and it was all right. I'd stayed away through the years when they was needin' me at home; but, after all, I was the one that had lost. I've been back sense, and I'll go again Sunday, but this is my home now. They need me here more'n the home folks do." Hughie was silent. The boys pushed their chairs back from the fire and prepared to go. "Well, boys," he said, "I'd like to say one thing more 'fore you go. Maybe some of you ain't got no homes to go to; maybe some of you ain't got no one to miss you; if you ain't, then you ought to be gettin' a home of your own. But if there is a home, boys, you need to be there on Christmas. Don't put off goin' back. This year's as good as any. Next year, maybe they won't all be there. Maybe your baby sister will be growed up already. They're jest babies once, and they're jest children once, and if you miss that once you can never bring it back, you know. It's lost in the ages. Now, maybe srme of you have sent letters home, and maybe you've sent money. They'll be glad to git it — to know you think of 'em. But money don't count fer much, boys. It's when you give yourselves that you give joy. That kind o' gifts can't be bought with money; and Christmas is the time fer givin' gifts, you know. That's the reason the fust Christmas gift'll be remembered ferever. God give his Son to the world,

206 IMPRO VEMENT ERA . and Jesus give hisself to the children of men. That was why the angels sung glory to God, and on earth peace, good will to men." IV.— Jim's Letter. The boys went to their own bunks, one bv one. When Jim was alone, he opened his letter. His fingers touched something soft and fluffy. He drew it out. It was a baby's little blue stocking. There was a mended rent in the leg, and a hole neatly darned in the toe. The stocking was slightly soiled. It had not been washed since it was drawn from a chubby, little foot. Jim fancied he could see the little pink toes and the white, plump knee. "Honey-Bird!'' he whispered. "Honey-Bird's stocking!" He pressed it in his hand. Something crumpled in Ihe toe. He drew out a wisp of paper. This, then, was the letter. A baby's fingers had been guided by someone across the page. A comical scrawl, rather hard to decipher, was the result. It ran: Dear Brother Jim: — Come home soon. We need you. Santa Claus is coming soon. I am sending you one of my little blue stockings. You can hang it over the fireplace. Maybe he will think it is mine, and will bring you something beautiful. Be good, Jim. We all love you. I send you four kisses, 'cause I'm four years old. From your little sister, Honey-Bird. Jim folded up the baby-letter and placed it in the toe of the stocking. He was thinking of Birdie Lou. And in his heart he knew that he would tell the Christmas story to Honey-Bird this time. He held the little stocking in his hand, as he watched the embers die in the grate. Just across from him he could see a little woman, with a face all love and tenderness. It was a mental picture, but he knew the face was Nellie's, and he wondered if she had seen the baby-scrawl in the toe of the little blue stocking. The next morning, while the men were getting ready to go into breakfast, Jim stepped into the cabin with the announcement, "Well, boys, I'm going home today." "How's that, Jim?" asked Nelson. They all thought of Hughie's story, but it had touched too deep for them to speak of it lightly.

JUST A LITTLE BLUE STOCKING. 207 "My sister says they need me," replied Jim quietly. And drawing the little stocking from the envelope he held it up to their gaze. "Who sent it, Jim?1' asked the mail-driver, as usual acting as mouthpiece for the crowd. "It's from my baby sister, Honey-Bird." He then spread the baby-letter out before them, and they, too, enjoyed the awkward scrawl. There was something very tender in their hearts that morning. Several of the beys were going home for Christmas. The Yule-log was burning in grates beyond the valley. Christmas bells were calling to them from over the purple mountains. Mayhap baby stockings were hanging by their own mantels waiting to be filled. After breakfast, they spoke quietly of their home-going and their work in the valley. Some of the boys had no homes to claim them, and they could not be prevailed upon to accompany those who had. On one thing they all agreed, however — Hughie must be remembered. But what could it be? It must be a love gift, a token from heart to heart — something that would bring warmth and sunshine with it, and make the Christmas season more sweet to him. V. — The Christmas Present, and the Parting. "The boys tell me you're goin',Jim; they've sent fer yon," said Hughie quietly, as he walked into the cabin a little later. "Yes, Hughie; they want me to come home for Christmas and I think I ought to go," Jim answered, as he kept on shaving. The old man sat down and waited. Presently Jim passed him the little square envelope- "There's the letter," he said. "Did Nellie write it?" asked the old man unconcernedly. "No," said Jim, "my baby sister did." "Nellie held her hand, like enough," mused Hughie quietly. "Like enough," repeated Jim. In his heart he was praying that the old man's conjecture might be true.

Hughie opened the envelop and drew out the little blue stocking. He sat very quiet for several minutes looking at the little stocking. Then he said simply, "And the letter, Jim?" "Is in the toe of the stocking." "I might 'a known," he said, "the things we wanted the most was alius last— alius right in the toe of the stocking." He opened the tiny letter, and with his great hand smoothed it across his knee. He read it slowly twice. Then he drew out his great blue handkerchief and wiped his eyes. He folded the letter again and placed it in the toe of the stocking. He smoothed the little stocking out across his knee, and stroked it tenderly as if it were some live, gentle thing. Finally he put it in the envelope and passed it back to Jim. "Give my love to Nellie, Jim, and to the old folks," he said quietly. "And here, Jim, you can give this to Honey-Bird. I never felt I could give it away before. I'd like her to have it." Jim took the tiny parcel and placed it carefully on the table. "You've had it a long time, haven't you, Hughie? See, the wrapper has told me; it is yellow with age." "Yes, Jim; it's the trinket I bought for my baby sister before I went home, you know. But she wasn't a baby when I got there. I was too late!" Taking the tiny blue stocking from the envelope, Jim removed the little letter and placed Hughie's gift in the toe. "The best always comes last," he said. "I shall tell her that Uncle Hughie sent it to her by Santa Claus." Then a sudden light crossed Jim's face. "You'll go home with me, Hughie. You shall give it to her yourself. " "No," answered Hughie decidedly. "Couldn't do it! Why it wouldn't seem like Christmas to the Bensen children and the Joneses, if I wasn't there to tell 'em the Christmas stories. Besides, I've promised to call on Widow Sloan and her little boy, and old man Brunt will be lookin' fer me. They'll both need some wood or flour or suthin', like enough. Anyway, it's too cold fer 'em to keep the paths open these days, and it won't take me no time to shovel 'em out, you know. No, Jim, I'll stay right here and go about my regular work. But I have a long ride before me

JUST A LITTLE BLUE STOCKING. 209 tcday, and I won't get back in time to see any of you off. So I'll say good-by now." His big hand clasped Jim's firmly. "God bless you!" was all he said. Then he sprang into the saddle and cantered up the trail. VI. — Jim's Welcome Home. In Jim's heart was a song of joy. The years had been folded together. All the sad things were blotted out; for a little blue stocking had reached across the lonely waste and brought him back to the loved ones in the old home. Only a few short days now until he would see them face to face, and hear their voices, and feel their warm hand-clasp. Hughie would not be back until they had gone. He had taken a long ride purposely, because he did not want to see them leave. The boys had several hours in which to devise some gift for him. It was a happy crowd of men who boarded the train at the station that night. Some of them would reach home the day before Christmas, and some of them would not meet their dear ones until Christmas day. As they dropped off one by one at the various stations, a shower of good wishes followed them. When Jim alighted at the little station in his home town he found only a few stragglers lounging about. It was only a short walk to the little brown residence on the corner. As he looked out across the town lights, it seemed to him only a few days since he was there before. Then he remembered the home folks again, and he wondered if all was well with them. A sudden desire came upon him to see them face to face. He began walking very rapidly. The plank walk creaked under his feet. A sort of wild fear filled his heart. What if some of them were ill or absent! or — he dared not finish the thought. But there was the little brown house now. The light streamed from the windows across the lawn to meet him. He stepped softly onto the porch, and looked in through the sash-door. No one had heard him. His mother was sitting in a low rocker with her knitting in her lap. A little girl was tumbling with a kitten on a rug at her feet. That must be Honey-Bird. Another woman was sitting opposite his mother, but

her back was turned. He fancied her hair looked like Nellie's. His father sat at the table with the family Bible open before him. He was reading in a clear, distinct voice. Jim could hear the words. He paused at the door and listened. He had heard the same words many times before. His father continued: ''And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host, praising God ani saying, 'Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men.' ' From the door Jim could see a little blue stocking hanging by the mantel. His father closed the Bible, his mother folded up her knitting, and the little girl arose and pushed back her tangled curls. Jim knew it was time for evening prayer. He rapped gently on the door. "Well, if it isn't Jim! Come in, boy, come in! Welcome home, welcome home!" exclaimed his father, as he opened the door. His mother was almost overcome. When she could speak she said falteringly, "Why, Jim, God could not have sent us a Christmas present that would have brought us more joy! I'm so glad you've come!" Little Honey-Bird cuddled up close to mamma. She felt half afraid of the big, strange man. "Haven't you a kiss for Brother Jim?" asked mamma. "Thatain't my brutha Jim," she declared. "It's a big man." "You little traitor!" laughed Jim. "I am your big 'brutha,' and I'll prove it shortly." He had no time for proof just then, for there stood Nellie, just as sweet and beautiful as she was the night she had sent him away. She was smiling across the years at him. She was glad that he had come back. For one moment he held her hand in his, and all the world was new again. "I've come back to stay, Nellie," he said. "I'm so glad!" she replied honestly. Honey-Bird was already tossing her curls at him, as if challenging him to a flirtation. Her little face beamed with anticipation.

JUST A LITTLE BLUE STOCKING. 211 "You young truant!" laughed Jim, taking her into his arms by main force. "So you disown me, do you? Who was it sent me a little blue stacking, I wonder?" questioned he, taking it out of his pocket and holding it up to view. "And who was it that wrote me a little letter signed Honey-Bird?" "That's my baby-stockin' I used to wear," she said defiantly, determined not to be outwitted. "And Nellie held my hand to write the letter," she concluded triumphantly. "Like enough," said Jim. There was a mist in his eyes, so he did not see Nellie's blushes. "But come on now, Honey-Bird, and give me a kiss, if you want to hear that Christmas story I've been saving for you." The bribe was too tempting to withstand, so she submitted to the big brother's kisses and listened to his pretty story. Soon little eyelids began to droop. "It's time for my little girl to be in bed," said mamma. "Oh, we must hang the stockings first, mamma," smiled Jim. "I've come two hundred miles to hang this little blue stocking alongside of the other one," he remarked seriously, as he fastened it to the mantel. That was a long, pleasant evening. Half of mother's wrinkles were hidden in smiles. And the gray veil that had hung about father's face was rent asunder. His countenance beamed with wholesome joy. Even Nellie's smile was sweeter, and Jim was a veritable big beam of happiness. He felt as if the music of the spheres was vibrating for him and his. "Why, Jim, the trip's done you a world of good!" said his father. "You look like a different man!" "I feel like a different man, too, father," he replied. "I begin to see what life means now." That night they knelt in family prayer together. To Jim it was a glad omen of the joy that was awaiting him just ahead. His heart-strings drew tightly together, when his father thanked God for his return, and prayed for special gifts to be bestowed upon dear old Hughie. After the prayer, mother said they would let Jim and Nellie fill the stockings tonight, just for old time's sake. For the love-

story in mother's heart had not grown old, and she knew the sweetest story must be told alone. VII. —The Reconciliation. When they were alone Jim took Nellie's hands in his, and looked long and earnestly into her eyes. "You have waited, little girl, haven't you?" "Yes, James; I knew you would come back." "We can walk the path together now, Nellie, for I have found God." "It will be a glad, sweet journey, I know," she whispered. "It will be heaven," he replied solemnly. "For we shall live and love and work together always. Perhaps the old dream will come true," he added. "Perhaps," she whispered. A sacred joy overspread their faces, a glad thanksgiving filled their hearts. VIII. — Hughie's Christmas Gift. In a little cabin, up in the heart of the purple mountains, knelt an old man wrapt in prayer. Long years ago he had sacrificed his life to human love and its purposes. The sweet incense of his generous, brotherly work had been ascending to heaven in all the years that had followed; but not until tonight did he know that God had accepted his sacrificial offering. He knew tonight that the years had not been wasted, for he had been doing God's work; his life's purpose was being fulfiled. One day, during the Christmas holidays, the mail-driver came into the cabin, carrying a large, flat crate and a letter. "Here's a letter for you, Hughie," hejsaid, "and here's something the boys sent up." Hughie came over slowly and examined the crate. "Why, it's a picture," he said. "I wonder who'd send me such a big one?" Nelson helped him to remove the slats, and then lifted the picture onto the table. Hughie stood back and gazed at it in silence. It was done in

JUST A LITTLE BLUE STOCKING. 213 oils. It was a picture of Sawtell Peak. It took in the lake and the bit of landscape where the dark pines and the old cabin stood. A rift of sunshine lay across the old summit of eternal snow. It glinted the purple walls beyond, and shed a glory on the dark pines. It kissed the ripples on the lake's surface and lighted up the little window panes of the old cabin. It was a long time before Hughie spoke. His eyes were full of love-light. Presently a glad smile lighted up his face. "The boys sent it," he said. "They must 'a' got it of Brandon. He made it last summer, you know. Don't you know how he used to set out there in the old boat-house and work by the hour? I didn't think he'd sell it. It must 'a' cost a heap." After another long loving look he continued: "I guess Brandon knew the old mountain 'bout as well as I do. I see he's caught the cove and the gully and that little rip to the west there, where we had the snow-slide six years ago. It's like it, boys! It's mighty like it!" Then his eyes caught a small card fastened to the frame. He read the inscription: "For our dear Hughie, from the Boys. Just because we love him. We thank God that Hughie sent us home in time." His voice trembled a little when he spoke again. "I guess God knows where we b'long better'n we do," he mused. "And he puts us right where we kin do the thing he meant fer us to do. Now Sawtell Peak there wouldn't be o' no use at all in York State. That's why God put it out here amongst the lakes and the forests and the wild things. He knew we needed it." His hand touched the big frame lovingly. "I didn't think they'd do it!" he said hoarsely. Then he walked out of the cabin. He did not remember his letter until later in the day. It was from Honey-Bird. When she had drawn the gold trinket from the toe of her stocking on Christmas morning, her joy was unbounded. She tore off the yellow wrapper excitedly and slipped a little gold bracelet onto her plump, white arm. "Uncle Hughie sent it to you by Santa Claus," explained Jim. "Uncle Hughie once had a little sister, but she grew into a big lady, so he thought maybe you'd like to be his little sister and wear the pretty bracelet. Would you?' ' "Oh, yes, I'll be Hughie's sister, and I'll write him a letter. Nellie can hold my hand."

And so, after several trials, the chubby fingers, guided byNellie's hind, finally traced the following scrawl across the paper: Dear Uncle Hughie: — Santa Claus brought me the pretty bracelet and I like it awful much; thank you. I'll be your little sister. I'll pray for you most every night, like I used to pray for my big brutha Jim. Jim come home for Christmas. We hung the little blue stockings up togetha. Nellie is holding my hand so I can write to you. Be good. We all love you. Your little sister, Honey-Bird. Hughie read the letter over several times, and 'chough his eyes were moist, they twinkled. A peaceful smile spread across the kind old face. "I'm goin' to see my little sister Honey-Bird," he promised himself. "I'm goin' to see her 'fore she grows up." Then a happy determination sprang up in his heart. "God willing," he whispered softly to himself, "I'm goin' to help Honey-Bird hang the little blue stocking over the fireplace next Christmas." Lewisville. Idaho. (the end. ) Photo bv Da\ id B. Anderson One of the old guns of the Revolutionary War, Fort McHenry, Md., where the battle was fought that inspired The StarSpangled Banner.