Read Online A Merry Christmas by Louisa May Alcott - Free Book Online Page B

not be disappointed.
    But in spite of the magical moonlight, the broken branch, with its scanty supply of fruit, looked pathetically poor, and one pair of eyes filled slowly with tears, while the other pair lost their happy look as if a cloud had covered the moonbeams.
    â€œAre you crying, Dolly?”
    â€œNot much, Grace.”
    â€œWhat makes you sad, dear?”
    â€œI didn’t know how poor we were till I saw the tree, and then I couldn’t help it,” sobbed the elder sister, for at twelve she already knew something of the cares of poverty and missed the happiness that seemed to vanish out of all their lives when Father died.
    â€œIt’s dreadful! I never thought we’d have to earn our tree and only be able to get a broken branch, after all, with nothing on it but three sticks of candy, two squeaking dogs, a red cow, and an ugly bird with one feather in its tail.” Overcome by a sudden sense of destitution, Grace sobbed even more despairingly than Dolly.
    â€œHush, dear. We must cry softly, or Mother will hear and come up; and then we shall have to tell. You know we said we wouldn’t mind not having any Christmas, she seemed so sorry about it.”
    â€œI
must
cry, but I’ll be quiet about it.”
    So the two heads went under the pillow for a few minutes and not a sound betrayed them as the sisters cried softly in one another’s arms, lest Mother should discover that they were no longer careless children, but brave young creatures trying to bear their share of poverty cheerfully.
    When the shower was over, the faces came out shining like roses after rain, and the voices went on again as before.
    â€œDon’t you wish there really was a Santa Claus who knew what we wanted and would come and put two silver half dollars in our stockings, so we could go to see
Puss ’n’ Boots
at the theatre tomorrow afternoon?”
    â€œYes, indeed; but we didn’t hang up any stockings anyway, you know, because Mother had nothing to put in them. It does seem as if rich people might think of the poor now and then. Such small considerations would help us feel remembered, and it couldn’t be much trouble to take two small girls to the play.”
    â€œ
I
shall remember to do something when I’m rich, like Mr. Chrome and Miss Kent. I shall go ’round every Christmas with a big basket of goodies and give all the poor children some.”
    â€œPerhaps if we sew ever so many flannel shirts we may be rich by-and-by. I should give Mother a new bonnet first of all, for I heard Miss Kent say no lady would wear such a shabby one. Mrs. Smith said fine bonnets didn’t make real ladies, though. I like her best, but I do want a locket like Miss Kent’s.”
    â€œI should give Mother some new rain shoes, and then I should buy a white apron with frills like Miss Kent’s and bring home nice bunches of grapes and good things to eat, as Mr. Chrome does. I often smell them, but he never gives me any. He only says, ‘Hullo, little chick,’ and I’d rather have oranges anytime.”
    â€œIt will take us a long while to get rich, I’m afraid. It makes me tired to think of it. I guess we’d better go to sleep now, dear.”
    â€œGood night, Dolly.”
    â€œGood night, Grace.”
    They kissed each other softly, a nestling sound followed, and presently the little sisters lay fast asleep cheek against cheek on the pillow wet with their tears, never dreaming of what was going to happen to them tomorrow.
    Now Miss Kent’s room was next to theirs, and as she sat sewing she could hear the children’s talk, for they had soon forgotten to whisper. At first she smiled, then she looked sober, and when the prattle ceased, she said to herself, as she glanced about her pleasant chamber: “Poor little things! They think I’m rich and envy me when I’m only a ladies’ hatmaker earning my living. I ought to have taken more