“Yours is holly, Daddy, and Mommy’s is a Christmas tree. Susan’s is a wreath, and anybody ought to be able to tell that because it’s round.”
“It could be a ball,” said George. “And what is mine, Dumpling? Is it a tree without any leaves on it?”
“No!” said Dumpling. “It’s a reindeer, George, and those things that look like branches are its horns.”
But nobody could mistake the message on the cards, for each and every one said, I luve yu.
“Darling,” said Mother to Father, “I thought that she consulted you on spelling.”
“She did,” said Father, “but something must have slipped.”
They all agreed, however, that these were the nicest Christmas cards they had ever received and they set them up around the tree where everyone could see them.
When they went down to dinner the children carried a box of candy that Father had got for them to give to Madame Duprés and Germaine. The table was all trimmed with holly, and there were big bunches of mistletoe hanging from the ceiling. One of the students had brought these in from the woods near Paris, where bunches of mistletoe grow on the trees. There was a roast goose, and everybody had brightly colored crackers to pull. Inside the crackers were paper hats, and everybody, even the grown people, put them on and laughed and made jokes.
After dinner some of the foreign students, still wearing their funny paper hats, stood up and sang songs of Christmas in their own native languages. When the singing was finished, Germaine went upstairs with the Ridgeways and they brought some of the scraps of the roast goose as a present to Scat. Then they played games, and whenever anyone won, he or she could go and choose a candy from the Christmas tree.
Dumpling had moved Small Irene and all the doll’s furniture into a snug corner between the couch and the table, and here she was very busy playing. “Now get up from your nap, dearie,” she said, “and make up the bed all nice and neat, and then you can have a tea party on your little table.”
Suddenly Susan stopped in the middle of the game they were playing and whispered something to George. George nodded his head, and they both turned around and looked at Dumpling.
“Dumpling,” Susan said.
“What?” asked Dumpling, looking up.
“Dumpling,” said George and Susan together, “isn’t this nice?”
Dumpling looked at them very seriously for a moment, and then her face crinkled into a smile. “Yes,” she said. “Home is nice, but here is good, too.”
She got up then and stood in the middle of the room as if she were going to make a speech. The light shone on her glasses and made her look very wise. She was thinking hard and beginning to speak out her thoughts just as they came to her. “It’s quite odd,” she said, “but I think home isn’t exactly a house or a place. It’s wherever we all are—all our family together, I mean.”
“Thank you, Dumpling, for putting it so nicely,” Father said. “I was feeling the same thing, but I hadn’t discovered how to say it.”
Then everybody laughed and kissed Dumpling and said “Merry Christmas!” all over again. Even Germaine, who was used to saying, “Joyeux Noël!” said, “Merry Kistmus!” and laughed and kissed Dumpling, too.
Last Page of a Diary
The snow did not last long in Paris, as it does in Midwest City, and soon it had melted away, leaving cool, crisp sunshine. On the first fine day, the children planted the little fir tree in Madame Duprés’s backyard, where it could grow and flourish to remind Germaine of the Ridgeways long after they were back in Midwest City.
“We’ll always have a Christmas tree in France,” the Ridgeways said, “even when we are far away, celebrating Christmas in America.”
Soon after this there came the dreadful day when Susan, George, and Dumpling had to go back again to the school of the Earnest Camel. But now Germaine went with them. All through the holidays, they had been playing with her and trying to make her understand what they were thinking, and it turned out that, without suspecting it, they had been learning a great deal of French at the same time. George was advanced to the second grade and Susan to the third. The Earnest Camel even smiled at them in a bleak sort of way, and nodded her head in approval. It was not as bad as they had expected it to be, although they never loved it. But suddenly they did begin to learn French and speak it freely, and Father was pleased.
On the nineteenth of January, Germaine had a party. The Ridgeways thought, of course, that it was her birthday, but it turned out to be the birthday of Sainte Germaine, after whom she was named. It was a lovely party, and George was filled with enthusiasm for this idea of celebrating one’s saint’s day.
“Daddy, wasn’t there a Saint George?”
“Yes,” said Father, “he killed a dragon.”
“Oh, the poor little dragon!” Dumpling said.
“When was his birthday, Daddy?”
“I don’t know, George. Why?”
“Because if I knew, I could celebrate two birthdays every year!” cried George.
But when Father explained that French children do not celebrate their own birthdays, but only their saints’ days, George decided that possibly he had better leave well enough alone and not import this interesting custom into the United States.
Every day after school Germaine went on to a confirmation class at the parish church. At first the Ridgeways were bothered by this, because it meant that they did not have Germaine to play with after school. But then one Thursday afternoon Madame Duprés invited Susan to go with her and Germaine to one of the big department stores across the river to help them select Germaine’s confirmation dress. After that all the Ridgeways were very much interested.
“Oh, Mother,” Susan exclaimed when she had returned from this expedition, “we picked out the loveliest dress. It’s all white with a full skirt that goes down to her feet, like a lady’s dress. And, Mother, there is a beautiful long white veil, like a bride—and little white slippers and white stockings. And when she has been confirmed, her family will have a great feast, and everyone will give her gifts of sugar-coated almonds. It’s very, very exciting!”
When the dress came home from the store in its large white cardboard box, Germaine put it on and came upstairs to show the Ridgeways how it looked. And suddenly they knew who Germaine had always reminded them of.
She stood in the middle of their small salon, looking very pretty with her shy blue eyes and pink cheeks. Her golden hair fell over her shoulders under the delicate white veil. The long white skirt almost covered the small white slippers. Holding the veil in place was a lovely crown of white flowers.
“Why, Germaine,” said Mother, “you are like a little princess.”
“The princess!” Susan cried. “That’s it! That’s who she has always reminded us of. The little princess with golden hair, who was sick abed.”
“But we never saw the princess, Susie,” objected George. “There wasn’t any princess, only the old one. How could she remind us?”
“We saw her in our minds, George,” Dumpling said.
“And here she is!” cried Susan. “Just as we imagined her.”
“And her eyes are blue!” they all exclaimed together. “Yes, her eyes are blue!”
Germaine was puzzled by this talk of a princess, and, although they tried to explain it very carefully, she could not understand. “But I am not a princess,” she said with a frown. “My maman keeps a boarding house because we are not rich. This is only my confirmation dress. I think you are poking fun at me.”
“No, no!” the Ridgeways cried. “We are not poking fun. To us you are a princess, Germaine.”
Still Germaine did not quite understand, but she could see that they were fond of her and were not making fun. She began to smile again. “You must come to my confirmation,” she said, “and the party afterward.”
“When will it be, Germaine?”
“At Eastertime,” said Germaine.
The children looked questioningly at Professor Ridgeway, but he
shook his head. “By that time,” he said, “we shall all be sailing across the ocean on our way home to the United States.”
“But we’ll get you some sugar-coated almonds anyway, Germaine. Won’t we, Daddy?” Susan said.
“Indeed we will,” Father said.
Even if they couldn’t wait for Germaine’s confirmation, they celebrated one exciting day with her. In the middle of the solemn days that come before Easter, the French people love to celebrate a day which they call Mi-Carême, or Mid-Lent. On this day the children wear costumes and masks and run through the parks, laughing and playing games together and trying to guess which of their friends is hidden behind each mask. Father was interested in this because it was an old historical custom, but George and Susan and Dumpling liked it because it was fun.
And now came the time when they must begin to think of packing up and going home. They had all looked forward to this time, and yet, when it came, they felt a little sad.
“We’ll have to leave so many things we like behind us in France,” Susan mourned.
“We’ll have to leave our cat,” said George.
“But Germaine loves her,” Mother said. “She has promised to care for her.”
“We’ll have to leave dear, darling Mademoiselle,” said Dumpling.
“And the Princess Adelaide Louisa,” said Susan.
“And the zoo,” said George.
“And Big Irene in an oubliette in a castle,” said Dumpling. It was the first time she had mentioned the lost Irene since she had received Small Irene. Everyone looked at Dumpling, and they saw that tears were shining behind her shining glasses. She had been happy with Small Irene, but she had never quite forgotten Big Irene either.
“Well, well,” said Father, clearing his throat, “I’m off to the American Express Company now to get our tickets. Cheer up, everybody. I thought you wanted to go home and see our house with the tower and George’s pets and the children up and down the street and the football stadium and—”
“We do, we do, Daddy!” the children cried. “Only now we love France, too.”
“Be sure to ask for the mail, dear,” Mother said. “This will probably be the last mail we’ll get in France.”
“Maybe we’ll have a steamer letter from Mademoiselle, Dumpling,” Susan said. “I wrote her a letter to tell her the name of our boat and when it would sail.”
“That would be nice,” Dumpling said, “so be sure and ask for the mail, Daddy.”
When Professor Ridgeway returned, he had tickets for the train and the steamship and a few letters. But there was no letter from Mademoiselle. However, he did have a package, and packages are always exciting. This one was very battered, and the address was smudged.
“I think it must have been wandering around for some time,” Father said. “But the lady in the mail department at the American Express office thinks it belongs to us.”
The Ridgeways all crowded around the package and looked at it. The address, through all the smudges, looked something like this:
MLLE. DOM LING RIDEWAY
AMERICAN EXPRESS, PARIS
“Rideway?” The children laughed. “That’s not us.”
“Try putting a ‘g’ before the ‘e’, “ said Father.
“Sure enough,” said Mother, “that makes Ridgeway. But who in the world is Dom Ling?”
“Dumpling!” cried Susan. “Mother, it’s for Dumpling!”
“Well, well,” said Dumpling in surprise.
“For goodness’ sake, open it, honey!” the others shouted.
The string and paper practically fell off by themselves because the package was so battered. But Dumpling would not be hurried. She rolled up the string and folded the paper before she lifted the lid off the box. It was almost as if she were afraid of what she might—or might not—find.
But finally she took the battered cover off the box and looked inside. There, staring up at her with painted eyes, was her long-lost child, Irene. There was a brief moment when Dumpling and Irene just looked at each other. Then Dumpling snatched Irene out of the box and clasped her to her breast.
The others all cried, “Irene! Imagine! You’ve got her back, Dumpling! What do you say to that?”
“I guess they cleaned the oubliette,” said Dumpling calmly. But everybody knew by the sparkle on her glasses that she was really happy.
Now the Ridgeways crammed all their things into trunks and boxes and bags, and they began to feel excited about going home to the United States.
The day came when they fed Scat her last sardine and put her into Germaine’s arms. Then, all in their hats and coats, with their bags surrounding them, the Ridgeways shook hands with Madame Duprés and Germaine and the foreign students, who had become their friends.
“Au revoir! Au revoir!” they called, because to say “Until we meet again” is more hopeful than to say “Good-bye.” Of course George said, “Oh reservoir!” and also, “Abyssinia.” That made them all remember Mademoiselle and the fact that they had not had a farewell letter from her. But they were too excited to be sad.
They took a taxicab to the railway station and a train to Cherbourg, where they would get on board the great ocean liner. At Cherbourg they had dinner in the big station and had their baggage inspected by the Customs’ officials. Each one of their many pieces of luggage had to have a sticker or a tag on it to show that it had been inspected and was free to go home with them to the United States. Even Irene, who might so well have been left behind to become a permanent citizen of France—even Irene had a tag tied around her neck to say that she was free to go home to Midwest City in the United States.
It was almost night when the Ridgeways went with many other people aboard one of the small steamers that took passengers out to the large ocean liner. The great ship Queen Elizabeth stood offshore, waiting for them. As they steamed out of the harbor of Cherbourg on the small boat the Ridgeways could see the many lights of the Queen Elizabeth. The sea and sky were twilight blue, and the ship was like a sparkling jewel between the two. As they came nearer and nearer, the ship seemed to grow larger and larger, until finally it loomed above them like a great, floating city, sparkling with lights.
“How are we ever going to get up on it?” Dumpling wanted to know.
“Easy as pie,” said George. “They’ll have a gangplank out from one of the lower decks, and we’ll just walk across it and into the Queen Elizabeth.” George knew almost as much about boats and steamships as he knew about animals. He was quite right. It was very easy to walk from one ship to the other.
Inside the big ship there were many strange faces. Other passengers who had come aboard earlier stood by to watch as the last of the passengers from France arrived.
“I wish we knew someone,” Susan said. Just as she said it, a little thrill of surprise went through her, for someone in the crowd of people ahead seemed to be beckoning or waving to her. Could it be possible? She rubbed her eyes and looked again. What she saw was a familiar black hat perched perilously on top of a familiar head, which nodded to them. A familiar pair of earrings bobbed and trembled with agitation, while a nervous pair of spectacles danced precariously on the bridge of a dear, familiar nose.
“Mademoiselle!” the children cried. “Mademoiselle Beauregard! However did you get here?”
“Dear, darling Mademoiselle!” cried Dumpling, throwing herself into Mademoiselle’s arms.
Susan looked at Mother and Father to see if they had had anything to do with this. But they were as surprised as anyone.
“You see,” said Mademoiselle, “it is my poor, dear, kind uncle whom I have never seen. Alas, he has gone to his last rest, but to me, his unworthy niece, he leave his savings and his house for me to live in.”
“In Ohioway?” asked the children.
“In Ioway,” said Mademoiselle.
“Iowa?” said Mother. “Why, that is not very far from Midwest City! You can come to see us, Mademoiselle!”
“But how did you happen to be on our ve
ry boat, dear, darling Mademoiselle?” asked Dumpling.
“Ah,” said Mademoiselle, “zat is so easy. Suzanne have tell me in her last letter what boat you sail—and I, oh, how happy I, zat I can sail it, too!”
The Ridgeways were all delighted to find Mademoiselle again. It made a perfect ending to the sabbatical adventure.
Even Father was pleased. “Why, Mademoiselle,” he said, “you really meant it when you said ‘Abyssinia,’ didn’t you?”
Then the great whistle of the ship blew with a sound of farewell to France that one could feel all the way down his spine and to the end of his toes. Susan went to the stateroom with Mother to help her unpack, and Dumpling and the two Irenes went to Mademoiselle’s stateroom to help Mademoiselle unpack.
George and Father went up on deck to watch the steamer start for America, and later they would go down to the engine room to see that everything was working properly there. The Ridgeways were on their way home.
That night, as she sat on her bunk, looking over her diary, Susan saw that she had come to the last page. She chewed the end of her pencil for a moment, and then she wrote:
Our adventure is nearly over. It has been educashunal and improving. At least I think so. Anyway, everything has turned out for the best and it was fun.
The End.
Under the last words she drew a heart surrounded by flowers. And then she closed the book.
FAMILY STORIES: FURTHER READING
By Nancy Pearl
Little Women BY LOUISA MAY ALCOTT
Best Friends BY MARY BARD
Al Capone Does My Shirts AND SEQUELS
BY GENNIFER CHOLDENKO
Ellen Tebbits; Beezus and Ramona AND SEQUELS;
Henry Huggins AND SEQUELS BY BEVERLY CLEARY
The Moffats AND SEQUELS BY ELEANOR ESTES
The Saturdays AND SEQUELS BY ELIZABETH ENRIGHT
All-of-a-Kind-Family AND SEQUELS BY SYDNEY TAYLOR
Ludell BY BRENDA WILKINSON