colonists lovinglyspeak of the land of their birth.
So, though little Vera Everest lived on an African farm, she knew allabout Christmas, and did not forget to hang up both her fat, whitesocks, to find them well filled with presents on Christmas morning; andthere were roast turkey and plum-pudding for dinner, just as you hadlast year.
She was not old enough to ride to the distant village church with herparents, but she amused herself during their absence with singing allthe Christmas carols she knew to Sixpence, her Zulu nurse; and by and byshe heard the tramp of the horse's feet, and ran to the door.
Instead of the cheerful greeting she expected, Mother hardly noticed herlittle girl. She held an open letter in her hand, and was crying--yes,crying on Christmas Day!
Mrs. Everest was indeed in sad grief; the mail had just come in, and shehad a letter to say that her mother was seriously ill, and longing tosee her. A few months ago there would have been no difficulty about thejourney; but the Everests had lost a great deal of money lately, and anexpensive journey was now quite out of the question, and yet it cut herto the heart not to be able to go to her mother when she was ill, andperhaps dying.
Vera was too young to be told all this, but she was not too young to seethat Mother was in trouble.
"I do believe Santa Claus forgot Mammy's stocking," she said to herself:"she has not had a present to-day, and that's why she's crying."
So Vera turned the matter over in her mind, and came to the conclusionthat _she_ must give Mother a present, as Santa Claus had so shamefullyneglected her.
She went to her treasure-box--a tin biscuit-case in which she kept thepretty stones and crystals which she picked up in her walks, and, afterthinking a little, she chose a bright, irregular-shaped stone, and,clasping her hands tightly behind her, she went on to the veranda.
Mother was lying back in a cane chair and gazing with sad eyes over thesea.
"I've brought you a Christmas present, Mother," said Vera. "Don't cryany more, but guess what it is."
Mrs. Everest turned round and smiled lovingly at her child. Certainlylittle Vera made a pleasant picture for a mother's eyes to dwell upon asshe stood there roguishly smiling in her cool white frock and blue sash,and a coral necklace on her fat neck, whilst her golden hair shone likea halo round her head.
"Guess, Mother dear," repeated Vera; then, unable to wait, she jumped onMrs. Everest's lap, and, opening her little pink hands, she displayedthe stone. "It's your Christmas present!" she declared.
Mrs. Everest kissed the child, but did not, so thought Vera, take enoughnotice of her handsome gift.
"It shines, doesn't it, Father?" she said, holding it up for Mr.Everest's inspection as he passed along the veranda.
Mr. Everest stopped, took the stone in his hand, then, turning deadlypale, he walked quickly into the house without saying a word. Vera feltthe world was somewhat disappointing to-day; but in a minute or two herfather reappeared, and hastily encircling both wife and child with hisarm, he said gayly, "There, Sophy! kiss your little daughter, andcongratulate her. She has made your fortune, and you can leave for hometo-morrow, and engage a state cabin if you like."
"O Henry! what do you mean?" said the bewildered Mrs. Everest.
"Just what I say!" he declared. "Vera's gift to you is a diamond; and ifI know anything, it will sell in Capetown for a good round sum. So don'tfret any more, little woman, but pack up your traps and take your cleverdaughter with you, and we will start for Capetown to-night, so as tocatch the first steamer for home."
Vera could not now think that her present was not enough appreciated,for Father would not let it out of his hand until he got to thejeweller's at Capetown, and had sold it for a large sum of money.
Vera and her mother sailed the very next day, and Grandma got betterfrom the hour of their arrival. As for Mother, she was now alwayssmiling; for with Grandma well, and no debts to worry her, she felt sohappy that she seemed hardly to know how to be grateful enough.
Certainly there could not have been a more opportune present than Vera'sChristmas Gift.
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TOMMY TORMENT.
We all called him in private "Tommy Torment;" but his mother called him"My precious darling," and "My sweet, good boy," and spoiled him in atruly dreadful way. Anyhow, he was not a nice boy, and we never saw moreof him than we could help.
He did not go to school even, for this seven-year-old boy was thoughttoo delicate, and was taught at home by a governess with sandy curls,who brought books in a needlework bag that we all used to laugh at--I amsure I don't know why; but her teaching could not have amounted to much,for I went into the schoolroom one day, and found Tommy riding defiantlyon the rocking-horse, while poor Miss Feechim stood by him with an A B Cin one hand and a long pointer in the other, with which she showed himthe letters. When he said them correctly, Miss Feechim gave him asugar-plum out of the bag on her arm, but when he refused to look atthem, which he did as often as not, she only said, "Oh, Tommy!" andshook her curls, and never attempted to make him mind her; and then helaughed and called her names, and rocked his horse so violently up anddown that his poor mother came rushing up-stairs white with anxiety toknow what was the matter.
You can imagine after this we were not overjoyed when we heard fromMother that Lady Mary was so ill her mother had taken possession of her,and that we were to have the pleasure of Tommy Torment's company at theseaside. Mother said she was very sorry, but she could not help it. Thedoctor said Lady Mary must have complete rest, and no worries; and LadyMary had said she could not trust her precious treasure to any one elsebut Mother. So, when we set off on our annual holiday, Tommy was stuckinto a corner of the omnibus.
Well, at first, and under Mother's eye, we really did think we had beenrather hard on Tommy Torment, he seemed so like other boys; butpresently, when the novelty had worn off, and he had become tired ofbeing good, the real Tommy appeared, and for at least a week we hadreally what Nurse calls a "regular time of it." There was not a trick hedid not know; and the worst of it was that our boys became tricky too,and we really did not know how to bear the rough usage we all received,for we never had a moment's pleasure or peace of our lives; and whatwith sand in our hair, wet star-fish down our backs, and seeing ourdolls shipwrecked in their best clothes off the steepest possible rocks,we never felt secure for a moment, and we actually began to wishourselves back in the city, when Nurse fortunately rose to the occasion,and, taking the law into her own hands, escorted the whole party up toMother, which brought matters to a climax; for our boys were so ashamedof their cruelty and ungentlemanly behavior when Mother explained tothem what their tricks really meant, that they became their own trueselves, and we had the first good play together of the season the nextmorning on the shore, though Tommy did his best to bother us, and todraw off the boys again by promising to show them quite a new way ofmanaging a shipwreck.
But the boys would not join Tommy, and so he went off alone, and we sawhim five minutes after with Yellowboy, the sandy kitten, tied to themast of his ship, doing his very best to drown the poor little thing,pretending he was rescuing it from the perils of the ocean.
I could fill pages were I to go on telling you only of Tommy's tricks;but as that cannot be, I am just going to let you know how we cured him.We simply let him alone. Mother only scolded him, or rather talked tohim, once, and that seemed to have no effect on him at all, thoughMother's "talkings" usually soften the hardest heart; so finally we allagreed to go our own ways just as if he were not there, Nurse promisingto put all our toys and pets out of his reach, and to see that he cameto no real harm.
He actually bore a whole week of it before he repented. We used to watchhim from the corners of our eyes moping all by himself, and looking atthe toes of his boots, or at his ship, which he really could not sailwithout our help, and felt so sorry for him. We longed to break ourresolution; but Mother and Nurse helped us to keep firm, and one Mondaymorning Tommy came up to me and
said, "Why won't you play with me,Hilda?"
"Because you are cruel and ungentlemanly," I said seriously, "andbecause you are selfish. We tried our best to be pleasant to you, thoughwe never wanted you here, and in return you made the boys horrid to us,and never allowed us five minutes' peace. You spoiled a whole week ofour precious holidays, and we can't afford to waste any more time overyou. We can do without you perfectly well, and so please go away."
"But I am truly sorry, Hilda," he said, looking down. "I've been'flecting" (he meant reflecting). "I'd much rather be agreeable andnice, and I won't be selfish if you'd not look away from me and forgetme any more. If I'd your mother I'd be good perhaps, but I really thinkmy mother doesn't understand