Florimel listened for a long time and finally opened her door to see if she could hear his voice downstairs. But she only heard low words now and then, as if the family might be keeping still to let someone sleep. She even stole a little way down the stairs and listened some more, but evidently Rex was not there, so she crept back up to her room and sat a long time staring out the window at the lonely, strange white world with all those sharp stars up there carrying out this absurd Christmas stuff everybody was so crazy about. What had it ever brought her? It was all a lot of hooey, she decided. At last she got tired and went to bed, wondering and fuming in her heart because Rex didn't come back.
But Rex was in his own old room, kneeling beside his boyhood bed and meeting a God whom he never really had known before. Being searched by God on that Christmas Eve, as he had never been heart-searched before.
Chapter 15
Quite early in the morning, before the world had begun to wake up and realize it was Christmas morning, before even the smallest, most eager boy had realized that Santa Claus might already have visited his home and had stolen forth to investigate, there were stealthy footsteps down in the living room and in the big sunporch where the mammoth Christmas tree had been awaiting its time. Stan and Paul were working silently in the almost dark, with only a tiny light in the far corner of the living room where it was to be set up.
It was an old story, the setting up of that tree, and they had done it so many times that the actual work presented no difficulties. There was a well-made frame with a deep socket that fitted the tree trunk, and it took no time at all to set the tree into the socket. There were accurately measured wires that went around the tree trunk at a certain height and fastened into little hooks well concealed behind pictures, that would steady it and keep it in balance. It was not a great undertaking. But usually there had been three of them to do it. Rex had always been there to help before. Then there were strings of lovely lights ready to wind about among the branches and attach to the socket on the wall. That would take more time because that had always been Rex's special work, but they went silently on with their work.
Suddenly Rex was among them, putting his hand to the work in the old accustomed way.
It was a new Rex, though they didn't know it then. He looked as if he had not slept. They hoped they hadn't wakened him, but they only smiled their welcome in the dim light and were glad he had come. They couldn't see the look of purpose on the strong young face, the look of another kind of assurance from any he had ever had before.
Presently Sylvia came down with Fae just behind, her eyes bright like two morning stars. She helped Sylvia to bring out some boxes from the locker in the sunporch, and together they worked, Fae putting threads of silver icicles straightly on the branches, handing up handfuls now and then to Rex to put on where she could not reach. Sylvia, with long accustomed skill, built a lovely Bethlehem on the mantel, crumpling green tissue paper for hills with little woolly lambs grazing naturally; stone blocks made very realistic flat-roofed houses, with tiny stone stairways leading up to the housetops in the most unexpected way. When it was finished, Paul and Rex hung the great electric star above it all, right over the stone arches where the stable was, with the manger and the cattle and the little figures that represented shepherds and wise men with their camels.
It was wonderful how lovely it all was when it was done, and the brothers and sisters stood for an instant in a group looking it over with the old pleased look in their eyes and the old Christmas thrill in their hearts. Then they whispered, "Merry Christmas!" and stole one by one silently up to their rooms to sleep a little while till the full morning came. But they left behind them all the lights of the tree burning softly under their silver tinsel and all the full blaze of blue light from the great star above the mantel as it shone down on the little town of Bethlehem, reminding of long ago. Somehow not even a new and alien sister-in-law could quite dim the joy in their hearts over this morning of Christmas that had always been to them the best day of all the year.
The stars were still shining, and the silver night still held sway over the white earth when there came a silver sound out of the quietness--soft singing, sweet as angel-song, and growing clearer now from the depths of shadows under the windows below.
Was that only two voices at the start, pure and sweet as angels' trumpets?
Rex, listening from his sleepless bed, thought it sounded like Marcia and Natalie, as they used to sing in their little-girl days:
"This is the winter morn,
Our Savior, Christ, was born,
Who left the realms of endless day,
To take our sins away."
Then other voices, a chorus of them. How had they come so quietly there under the windows in the snow?
"Have ye no carol for the Lord,
To spread His love abroad?
Have ye no carol for the Lord,
To spread His love abroad?"
Then a single voice, ah, that was Natalie's, sweet and tender. It made the tears come to his eyes. A ringing triumphant answer to the chorus:
"Hosanna! Hosanna! Hosanna in the highest!"
And then Marcia:
"Hosanna to our King!"
He did not stir. He dared not creep to the window as he used to do when his friends were below singing. He must not let them know he was listening. He must not let Florimel know. He might just listen and know that his God, his newfound God, was going to help him, was sending all this beauty of sound, this lovely silver night with its promise of eternity, for him, and God must have His way in him.
Silently the singers melted away without much sound of their going. The dawn crept up all gold and rose, and the stars were put out. The silver Christmas Eve was over, but the blessedness still lingered in the air. The colored lights from the tree still gleamed, and the great star blazed out of the living room. They must have shone afar and touched the faces of the singers just outside the window. Rex thought of it as he came downstairs and stopped at the door to look at them. He could see their light touching the faces of those two singers, as he had so often seen it in other years, and he was glad they were there, glad they had seen the star and the tree and the lights and had a part in the Christmas morning celebration. Only one thing had been omitted, and that was the glad "Merry Christmas" that had always rung out from the singers on the lawn in years gone by and had been answered from the house. It left a sadness that it had not been complete. Yet, it would not have been the same. Florimel would not have understood.
And then Florimel came down in a bright red dress, with her lips still redder, and looked at him with cold, hard gray eyes and a scornful mouth. Florimel had had no part in his real Christmas. He began to doubt if she ever would. But he must not let the others know this. He had married her, and he must be loyal to her.
Florimel paused in the living room doorway and surveyed the work of the night.
"Mercy!" she said to Stan. "Couldn't you find any ornaments? That tree looks awfully bare!"
Stan gave a gasp, and then with a bright look at his mother he strode up the stairs to his room. His brothers and sisters looked knowingly at one another. All but Rex, in their hearts, knelt before the throne and asked for help and quietness.
But then Florimel's eyes traveled to the star.
"Why on earth didn't you put in red lights?" she asked, looking at Paul. "Blue makes such a horrid, ghastly light. I should think you'd have something bright and festive for a holiday!"
Fae, with her young lips set hard and her eyes stormy, made a sudden dash to the stairs and went up to her room. Paul looked over at Sylvia and grinned, it was so apparent what the children had gone upstairs for. Florimel's quick eyes caught their look and wondered if they were laughing at her. She flashed a look at Sylvia.
"Who built the town?" she asked. "You? Why didn't you put in a few modern houses, and not all those little squat cabins?"
Sylvia tried to smile pleasantly.
"Why, it's Bethlehem, you know. The t
own where Jesus was born. I guess they didn't have any modern houses there."
"Well, guess again. You never went there, did you? Not so long ago, anyway. You don't know what they had there. Why didn't you use a little imagination and bring the thing up to date? If you've got to have Christmas, it ought not to be so far behind the times!"
Just then Mary Garland called them to breakfast, and they went out to the dining room and stood behind their chairs. Only Florimel drew out her chair and flopped down in it. But when she saw that the rest were standing, she got up again and looked around uncertainly. Was this something she hadn't heard of? She never liked to seem to be lacking in society manners nor sophistication.
They could hear the children's doors opening upstairs, and they came running lightly downstairs and took their places behind their chairs. Then Sylvia's sweet voice began and they all joined in singing, with heads bent, while Florimel stood wide-eyed and watched them:
"We thank Thee, Lord, for this our food,
God is love! God is love!
But most of all for Jesus' blood,
God is love! God is love!
These mercies bless and grant that we
May live and feast and reign with Thee.
God is love! God is love!"
Then they all sat down, and everybody said together, "Merry Christmas!"
Everybody except Florimel. She only stared around and kept her lips tightly closed. She had no smiles on her face, nor any holiday air. She was out to be as disagreeable as she could. If the old lady thought she could bring her around by songs and prayers and ceremonies, she would find out her mistake. That was Florimel's attitude. She had resolved during the waking hours of her night that today, Christmas Day, should see some progress made toward getting Rex's fortune back into his possession. If it couldn't be done by one method, it could by another, and she had several plans up her sleeve that she meant to pull off before nightfall. So she ate her nice breakfast unthankfully, and ungainly, and was indignant that the others seemed to look fairly happy in spite of her.
After breakfast they all went into the living room.
Florimel hadn't meant to. She was starting upstairs and expected Rex to follow her, and she intended to give him plenty to pay him for going off last night and staying away all night.
But Rex, with a determined look on his face, took hold of her firmly and propelled her into the living room, giving her a gentle shove down into a comfortable chair.
"Well, I like that!" she said belligerently. "What do you mean? I didn't want to come here!"
But nobody was paying any attention to her, and she subsided because she couldn't quite understand what they were going to do next. Then they broke into song again. Always singing! She couldn't understand it.
"Praise God from whom all blessings flow,
Praise Him all creatures here below,
Praise Him above ye heavenly host,
Praise Father, Son and Holy Ghost."
Before she could get her mind made up to get up and flaunt out, the order changed and each in turn recited a Christmas Bible verse. Florimel didn't know they were Bible verses. She only knew it was something religious, and she looked in wonder from one to the other, as each without being called upon gave a few words. And then to her amazement they all got up and knelt by their chairs. All but herself. She wouldn't kneel. Not she! This would be a good time to slip out, now, while they were all kneeling and wouldn't see her, and when they got up she just wouldn't be there. It would be a good joke on them.
But suddenly Paul began to pray.
Florimel had never heard a young man pray before. She didn't know any of them did. It was quite interesting. He was talking just like a preacher, as if he was talking to God and He was a real person. Florimel was intrigued by it all. And next Sylvia had a brief prayer; that surprised her, too. A girl praying! What did she think she was, anyway? Some kind of a sister, or deaconess or something like they had in charitable associations? But her prayer was short, and Florimel decided that now was her chance to get out before any more religious performances went on. As she edged forward to rise, she heard Rex's voice, quiet, calm, and steady, not in the least embarrassed or upset, just as if he had done a thing like this before. She turned and looked at him in amazement, realizing that all eyes were closed and they could not see her.
Rex's eyes were shut, too, and his hand was up, half sheltering his face. There, right in the chair beside her, Rex, her new husband, was praying!
"Father in heaven, we thank You for this day on which Your Son was born into this world. It is so great to know that He came to take our sins upon Himself and pay the penalty for them with His own precious blood. So, today, we confess that we have sinned--I have sinned, Lord, and I ask forgiveness. I thank You that I know You will forgive it. Bless us all, and help us to walk to please You today. Guide us in the way we ought to go. We ask it in the name of Jesus."
Florimel was weak with astonishment. She could scarcely believe that what she had just heard had been real! Yet there he knelt quietly beside her as if he had done nothing strange. She turned wondering eyes as Stan took up the petition in his clear boyish voice, and then little Fae, asking that she might be forgiven for getting angry.
She scarcely took in the short, lovely prayer of Mary Garland, who put them all in loving care for the day of all days, and then they all arose and there was Florimel yet! She hadn't escaped, and now it was too late to produce the effect she had intended.
"Let's get to work," said Paul, smiling. "It's getting on to time for our dinner guests to arrive. Mother, here's a package for you. You rate first. 'Mother, from her kid daughter.' Open it up, Mother, and let's see what the kid has done for you. I'll bet it's a doily and she made it herself."
Fae's cheeks got rosy red and she looked embarrassed, but she grinned cheerfully.
"It's not a doily," she said. "It's some handkerchiefs, and yes, I made them, every bit. I hemstitched them!"
"Darling child!" said Mary Garland with her arms about Fae and her lips against her round, pink cheek. Florimel, staring, had a brief vision of what it might have been if she had ever had a mother to love her.
Not that it affected Florimel deeply. She curled her lip and felt superior instead of wistful.
Then Paul laid a little package in Florimel's lap, and she looked down at it as if it were something that might bite her.
"Open it up, sister," said Paul in what was evidently an attempt at brotherliness.
Then Florimel stared at him in wonder. Some months ago she had made an attempt to annex Paul to her list of admirers, but Paul carried his head high, only giving her a lofty, impersonal smile, and she soon learned that she had no effect whatever upon him. Therefore she was not in the mood to take him over as a brother-in-law. No, sir! If he wouldn't have her for herself, he needn't think he could get anywhere with her with that brother stuff. He was too proud, anyway. She wanted nothing to do with him.
So she only looked down at the package in her lap, and when Rex leaned over and whispered, "Open it, Florrie," she tossed her head and said, "No! Not now!"
Paul had always had a reputation for tact, and quickly he produced another package.
"Here's one for you, Sylvia. Come on, let's get this thing going. I don't want to hurry you, but we wouldn't want our guests to arrive while we're at this, would we?"
Then there was a package for Rex, and another one for Florimel, and Paul produced them at the same time, delivering them together, as though to make of no account the fact that Florimel had still her unopened package in her lap.
Rex got red over his, with a glance at his mother. He felt sure this was the new shirts she knew he needed.
"You'll have to--excuse--Florimel," he said, "and me," he added. "We didn't really have much time--or money--to get things after we knew we were coming home. At least Florimel didn't. She didn't know any of you yet, either."
"Of course," said Mary Garland sweetly. "We didn't expect you to. Don't think of it
."
"I don't give Christmas presents," said Florimel sharply.
"Oh!" said Fae with a quick catch in her breath. "'Scuse me a minute," and she hurried out and ran upstairs.
Paul looked at his mother and Sylvia with another grin and went on distributing presents. Presently everybody had something, and Fae was back serene again, her small face wreathed in smiles over the beautiful pink dress she had found in one of her packages.
And after a while even Florimel began hesitantly to finger some of her gifts curiously. Rex reached over and helped her untie the strings, and for a few minutes she was intrigued by some of the things she had found in her packages. For they were pretty things, no makeshifts. A lovely little handbag, from Mary Garland, with all the fittings inside. A charming bureau set from Sylvia. Florimel found herself staring at her and wondering why she did it. For she was quite sure that Sylvia didn't like her as a sister-in-law. Did she think she had to do it to keep in right with Rex? She could see that they were all very fond of Rex.
It was growing late in the morning when the great pile of presents was distributed, for some of them had been adorned with pictures and accompanied by original poems that were required to be read aloud, and there was much laughter and fun. Even Florimel smiled once or twice, but for the most part she didn't unbend, and every time Rex got a nice present she looked at it as if she were jealous of it. She didn't want Rex tied down by love to his family. She didn't intend he should be, and she meant to get out and away from here as soon as ever she could. But she meant first to reduce this mother to a place where she would be ready to hand over the last penny that was coming to Rex. So she did not dare to unbend till she had things just where she wanted them.