But presently the children discovered that at the far end of the room, beyond all the chairs and sofas and lamps and cushions, there was a Christmas tree. It was a large one, and it was hung with little spun-glass angels and glass birds of all colors with wonderful spun-glass tails. There were little gilt bugles and red-paper drums and tiny glass baskets of fruits and flowers. Except for the tinsel strings and colored balls, the Ridgeways had never seen trimmings like these in their lives. And all over the tree, instead of electric lights, there were small white candles waiting to be lighted.
“Oh!” the Ridgeways said. “Oh!” And the three children stood in front of the tree, looking with all their eyes. “Where did you get it?” they cried. “The one we have is in a pot, like the tulip.”
“Did you wave your magic wand?” asked Dumpling.
“Ah,” said the princess, “it is not really magic that I have. No, better yet, I have an old friend who lives in the country in a place of woods. To him I write a letter at this season of the year, and he goes into his woods and cuts me a tree. ‘My old friend Louisa is like a little child,’ he says. ‘Each year she must have a Christmas tree on which to hang her little treasures.’ Is he not a good friend?”
“Oh yes,” the children said.
“So! Shall we light it?” the princess said.
“Please!” the children cried.
The princess took a long wax taper from the mantelpiece and held it to the fire. When the taper was lighted, she passed it to Professor Ridgeway.
“Dear Herr Professor,” she said, “will you so kindly light the tree for me? It is difficult to do when one is old and with a cane must walk. And to light the Christmas tree, that is always the task of a fine, tall man. It is a thing that little people must never, never do, for the danger of catching fire.”
“When I was a little boy, as young as Dumpling is,” Father said, “we used to have a tree with candles on it. I haven’t seen one since.” He looked very happy, as he began, carefully, to light the candles with the taper.
“Then have you no lights on your Christmas trees in America?” the princess asked.
The children laughed at that, and they all tried to explain at once about the strings of electric lights on the trees at home.
“Ah, electricity!” said the princess. “You are too modern for me. But isn’t my tree prettier?”
The children had to admit that it was.
As Father touched the taper to the wick of each candle, it seemed to burst into golden bloom, like a magical flower. Softly the candle flames flickered and glowed, until the tree was full of brightness. The spun-glass birds and angels shone and turned in the reflected light. Then the princess put a little metal record punched with odd-shaped holes into an old-fashioned music box. She wound up the music box, and it began to play O Tannenbaum! O Tannenbaum!—the old German song about a Christmas tree. At first the music box played the tune very rapidly, but then it began to go more slowly. It played a long, long time, going ever more slowly, until at last it stopped and had to be wound again.
Now the princess rang a little bell that stood on a table at her elbow. A door opened, and in came another small old lady in a maid’s white cap and apron.
“Teresa,” said the princess, “I should like you to meet these little friends of mine who have come from far America.” Teresa made a little curtsy to each of the Ridgeways, as if they too were of royal blood.
“Now,” said the princess, “do you have something good for us, Teresa?”
“Ja,” said Teresa, smiling and nodding her head. She disappeared through the door by which she had come, and presently she whisked back again, this time pushing a little cart that was filled with things to eat. There were mugs of steaming hot chocolate, and on top of the hot chocolate, little islands of whipped cream spread and dissolved. There were plates and baskets of sandwiches and cookies and little frosted cakes, more than even the Ridgeways could eat up, although they tried.
While they were eating and drinking they talked a great deal. There were many things to tell the princess: about the measles and the school and the zoo; about Irene, lost in an oubliette; and about the mice and the little white cat. In her turn the princess told them that the Grand Hotel and So Forth and So Forth was filling up with winter visitors; and that one day on the street she had met Mademoiselle and they had stopped to speak to each other about their friends the Ridgeways.
“She misses you greatly,” said the princess. “She says you are like her own children and she will never forget you. When we parted she said a very strange word to me. Perhaps you know what it means? Ab—ab—”
“Abyssinia!” shouted the children with delight; and Dumpling said, “Dear, darling Mademoiselle!”
By the time they had finished eating, the candles were burning low on the tree, and the music box was silent.
“George,” said the princess, “if you will be so kind as to wind up the music box again, and the Herr Professor, if he will be so kind as to fetch me the three small parcels that under the tree are—then we shall see yet something else.”
So George wound the music box and Father found the three small parcels wrapped in stiff white paper and tied with gilt string. Two of the parcels were very small indeed; the other was somewhat larger, and heavy for its size.
“Come around me, little ones,” said the princess. When the children stood close to her she gave the two tiny packages to Susan and Dumpling and the larger one to George.
“May we open them now?” asked Susan eagerly.
“Why not?” said the princess.
Their fingers flew to untie the gilt string and open the white paper. Susan and Dumpling each had a tiny velvet box, and in each box was a ring. Susan’s ring had a little star made of red garnets, and it just fit the third finger on her right hand. Dumpling’s ring had three turquoises on it like the petals of a flower, and it just fit her middle finger.
“Good!” said the princess. “It will give your fingers room to grow. You can wear it for yet a long time. These are the rings that I wore when I was small, as in the portrait you have seen.”
Now everybody looked at George, and he was sitting on the floor, with his present in his hand, gazing at it with astonishment and delight. Finally words came to him, and he shouted, “Boy, oh boy!” For the princess had given him her wonderful agate paperweight.
It was hard to know how to thank the princess, because the gifts were so wonderful.
Dumpling stood on tiptoe and kissed the princess’s withered cheek. “Why are you so good to us, godmother?” she asked.
“I will tell you why,” said the princess. “It is because you were very kind to me. I am an old lady now and often alone. The people I knew best are all gone, and I have no little ones about me. I see only strangers where I go. But being a princess somehow makes strangers either shy and afraid or else too eager to be pleasing. I found that you were neither afraid nor too eager, but very comfortable to be with. And so I have given to each of you a little token of my friendship.”
“Thank you! Thank you!” the children cried.
Now the candles on the Christmas tree were winking out one by one. They had burned just long enough for the whole party. Beyond the windows darkness had fallen. It was Christmas Eve.
“It has been a lovely afternoon,” Mother said. “Something magical has happened to us that we shall never forget. We must go now before we make our gracious hostess tired.”
A taxicab was waiting for them when they went down to the street. Father gave the driver an address which was not the Rue Rollin, but the children were too excited to notice. The girls were busy turning the rings on their fingers and feeling the new feel of them. George was holding tight to his beautiful stone and lecturing everybody.
“It’s quality, not quantity, that counts in a collection, you know,” he said. “It’s not how many rocks you’ve got or how big they are, but how good they are that counts. Daddy, can you get me a book out of the library about stones, so
I can learn all about them and which ones are the best ones?”
“I think I can, son,” Father said.
They crossed the river once and they were on the old, old island where the city of Paris first began to be built. The taxi drew up here, and when they got out they saw that they were in front of the great cathedral of Notre Dame.
“Are we going to church, Daddy?” the children asked.
“Just for a moment,” Father said, “because this is Christmas Eve. The French people will come here tonight for a midnight service, but you will all be in bed at that time, and sound asleep, I hope.”
It was almost dark inside the church—a warm, brown darkness that was different from the blue dark of the streets. There were lighted candles and a spicy smell of incense. The pillars inside the church were like thick tree trunks, and they went up and up, very high, and then they seemed to branch overhead, as trees do.
Some people were already kneeling in the church in front of the lighted altars; others were walking quietly around.
The Ridgeways had never seen such a large church nor such a high one nor one so sweetly mysterious. Very quietly they walked all around in it, feeling its strangeness, which was at the same time a kind of warm familiarity.
Far back in the church there was a blaze of lighted candles, and in an alcove was a Nativity scene. It was like the little Nativity scene they had made at home, except that this one was life-size. There was the smiling baby, Mary and Joseph, the animals in the straw, the shepherds and the wise men.
The children stood and looked at it for a long time, and suddenly this was more like Christmas Eve than any Christmas Eve that they had ever known before.
When they came out of the cathedral, snow had begun to fall. It fell slowly and silently in large white flakes that melted in the dark street but remained white where they came to rest on grass or trees or rooftops.
So the Ridgeways took another taxicab and rode home silently across the other branch of the river, and each one was thinking his own pleasant thoughts.
Dumpling Speaks Her Mind
Although they were late, Madame Duprés had kept supper hot for them, but after the chocolate and cakes the princess had given them the Ridgeways did not spend much time eating supper.
The little cat had to be fed and taken out and everything made neat and ready for the next day. Dumpling was very tired, and Mother helped her to get ready for bed.
“Shall I wear my ring to bed?” Dumpling wondered.
“I’m going to put mine in the little velvet box, and put the box under my pillow, Dumpling,” Susan said.
“Then I will do that, too, Susie,” said Dumpling, yawning.
“Wasn’t it a perfect day, Mother?” Susan asked.
“Just perfect, Susan,” Mother answered.
“Except,” said Dumpling, “that I didn’t have Irene to take with me. All the rest was good. But Irene is still in prison.”
Mother and Susan looked at each other, and their glances seemed to inquire, “And will Small Irene satisfy her?” There was really no way of knowing.
When they closed the bedroom door and went into the other room they found George already bringing out Small Irene’s furniture from his secret hiding places. Mother got Small Irene out of her workbasket and Susan produced the rug, the bedclothes, the tablecloth, and flowerpot. Beside the potted Christmas tree, where Dumpling would see it first thing in the morning, they spread the rug and set out the furniture. They put Small Irene in her chair beside her table. Susan put the tablecloth and the flowerpot on the table, and she thought that there would be room for a tea set, too, but Father hadn’t said anything more about that, and he had gone out somewhere now, so she couldn’t ask him.
“I think it’s pretty cute,” said George.
“I do, too,” said Mother. “If only she can forget the real Irene and love this one, we’ll all have a happy Christmas.”
“Mother,” Susan said, “do you remember how Dumpling said she wished Irene could write her a letter? Irene can’t write, but we could write for her. Do you think Dumpling would like that—or would she feel it was bad of us to make up words for Irene?”
Mother thought for a bit. “Well,” she said, “Dumpling knows that there is no real Santa Claus. She knows that he is only the spirit and symbol of Christmas; yet she likes to pretend that he comes down the chimney just the same. Perhaps she would not mind pretending that the letter came from Irene.”
“In the letter,” George said, “we could maybe explain something about Small Irene, so she would understand.”
“Mother, will you write the letter?” Susan asked.
“Yes,” Mother said, “if you will both help me.”
It didn’t take very long because they knew Irene so well and what she would want to say. Then George and Susan went to bed, and Susan put her ring that had belonged to a princess under her pillow. George put his agate paperweight under his pillow, too, but in the night he kept dreaming that he was sleeping on very hard rocks, and in the morning, when he woke up, he found that he had carefully transferred the paperweight to the floor beside his bed.
There was a strange gray-white light in the room when they awoke, and, looking out of the window, the children saw that this was because the snow was still falling, and that even the streets were white now.
“It’s just like Midwest City at Christmas, isn’t it?” Susan said.
And then George really remembered what day it was and began shouting, “Merry Christmas!” to everybody at the top of his voice.
George and Susan thought that they had stayed up long enough the night before to see everything that there was to see. Apparently this was not so. Besides the trimmings they had made, the tree had suddenly blossomed out with many candies and bonbons wrapped in colored papers that hung all over the branches to be picked and eaten later in the day. Under the tree were several mysterious packages which had certainly not been there the night before, and on Small Irene’s table was the tiny gilt tea set!
“Oh!” said Susan happily.
“Boy, oh boy!” said George.
Dumpling didn’t say a thing, but she went quite close and looked at Small Irene, and her eyes were round and surprised. Everybody was watching her, and at last she said in a small voice, “What is this?”
“Look, there’s a letter, Dumpling,” Susan said. “It’s addressed to you.”
“To me?” said Dumpling.
“It’s from Irene, Dumpling,” said George, who had kept all his secrets as long as he could.
Dumpling looked bewildered and almost ready to cry. “Read it, Mommy,” she said.
Mrs. Ridgeway took the letter, and everybody listened as she read. Susan and George forgot that they had helped to write it, and, as Mother read, it was as if the letter really had come from Irene.
“Dear Dumpling,
I send you my love from the castle where I am staying. You know I would be with you if I could, for you are my favorite person in all this world. However, I am not uncomfortable here, and I expect to be in your arms again someday when fate allows. In the meantime I hope you will welcome Small Irene, who has come to take my place. She will be easier to carry when you are traveling than I was, and I think you will enjoy helping her keep house with all her tiny things. Do not forget me, dear Dumpling, but be happy without me, and know that I shall always love you. With many felicitations and a thousand vows of undying gratitude and goodwill, I remain,
Your devoted doll,
Irene.”
There was silence for a moment after the letter was read. A single tear slid slowly down Dumpling’s cheek. Then she said in a quiet little voice, “I think you wrote it for her, Mommy.”
“Darling,” Mother said, “Susan and George helped. We tried to think what she would say to you if she could.”
“It’s all right,” Dumpling said, “that she didn’t write it herself, because, you see, I know it’s what she wants to say. That’s the important thing.”
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p; Then she began to look at Small Irene and all her things. “A little tea set,” she said, “with real cups and saucers! And a little rug, and a bed where she can sleep!”
She put her finger out and touched the new doll. Then she took the doll out of her chair and held her carefully while she looked her all over. “Small Irene,” she said softly to herself, as if she were thinking. Her eyes were very bright and her cheeks pink. Then she said to the doll, “Would you like your breakfast, honey? You can have it now on your own little table. I’ll give you coffee in a little cup and pancakes and bacon on your plate. And, if you’re very good, maybe later I’ll give you ice cream before you take your nap in the little tiny bed.”
Well, it was a very nice day. Susan and George hadn’t expected a thing, but each one of them got a wonderful game. Susan’s game was on a board, and it had a dice box and counters that you moved on the board according to the numbers on the dice. George’s game was with cards and was something like Authors, only it was all about animals, birds, and reptiles. It was quite a relief to have something new to play instead of the old game about Henry Wads-of-Gum Tallfellow, Barbara Itchy, and all the rest.
There was Grandma Ridgeway’s box to be opened, too, and it contained a book for Susan and a wind-up toy for Dumpling and a box of tiddlywinks for George. There were warm new mittens for all of them that Grandma had knitted in the proper sizes. And nothing was broken. It was only the tiddlywinks that had rattled.
Dumpling’s secret came out last of all. She had made Christmas cards for every member of the family. Each card had a picture on it, and each picture was different. At least Dumpling said each one was different, and, if you didn’t recognize exactly what your picture was, Dumpling could tell you.