by Frances Freeling Broderip.
Originally published in St. James's Magazine (W. Kent) vol.3 #1 (Dec 1861).
"And this is Christmas Eve!" muttered Nelly to herself, as she stood at the door of the Ragged School in Blank Street. The noisy multitude forming the population of that establishment (all of whom by their garments amply confirmed the justice of the adjective), were pouring out on their various ways to their homes. Most of them, in honour of the season, had a sort of Christmas merriment in their faces and voices—for could they not feast their eyes, at least, on the rich fare set forth in the glowing shops? Accordingly, they went off in parties of two or three, slapping their thin arms over their threadbare garments, to delude themselves with the idea that they were getting warm. And two little girls were left alone on the school's stone doorsteps, one of them being a pretty, rosy child, in spite of her tattered attire. You could not fail to note, even under the mask of grime and dirt, that the little fat neck and the round dimpled cheeks were fair, or fail to observe that the tangled mass of hair had gleams of sunny gold in it, and would wave in curls if it could. Her companion was a contrast to her—for no amount of dress and curl could have made that homely face pretty. The only things that redeemed the face from positive ugliness were the quiet dark eyes,—not bright like sparkling beads, but calm and deep as a little moonlit brook.
"Yes, and we shan't have any meat or pudding, Nelly," said the little one, fretfully; it is not our Christmas Day; it is only for horrid, wicked, rich people, who won't go to heaven!"
"Hush! hush, Rosie!" answered the elder; "you know it is Christmas Day for every one alike; and, at any rate, we can hear the bells chime as well as all the rest."
"I should like to taste plum-pudding," grumbled Rosie, "Look, Nelly! here's a splendid shop!—such plums and currants,—such lots of sugar,—and oh!—oranges!"
"Don't they look nice?" answered Nelly; "and how pretty the bits of holly are, with red berries! If I could get a piece with plenty of berries on it, I would make you a necklace, Rosie."
This idea delighted the younger one, and beguiled her way home more quickly than usual; so that the two lonely little creatures soon stood on the doorstep of the house where they lived—all that they knew of home. It was still more dreary now; for their mother, who was a charwoman, had met with an accident by falling on the ice one cold night, and was now in the hospital. The poor cannot choose for themselves, or arrange matters as they wish; so the sick mother was only too thankful to be able to provide money sufficient to find a home for another week, and just bread enough to feed her forlorn little ones—who were left in charge of a kind-hearted but ignorant neighbour. This care, cheerfully given, consisted mainly, however, in lighting the miserable scrap of fire, and giving them their small portion of food, and over and above keeping what she called "an eye on 'em." §So that little Rosie (whose hard-working mother never forgot, even after the hardest day's work, to give her children a good hearty wash) looked up with a perfect mask of what the neighbour called "only a little bit o' wholesome dirt," and exhibited a head that Jim, the shoeblack-boy, told her was waiting for a bird to build in it! Poor Nelly tried to be as steady and careful as she could during her mother's absence, but she had not much notion of the way to set about it rightly; and as long as she could put on their thin cloaks and battered bonnets, she was not particular what was beneath.
The kind neighbour, at their request, procured a sprig of dingy holly from the butcher's shop round the corner for them. Then Nelly set to work very busily, by the dim light of a scrap of candle, and the berries, threaded and fastened up, were soon tied necklace-fashion on little Rosie's begrimed neck, who was as proud of them as the Empress of China of her state regalia. Rosie went off, and exhibited her finery in the admiring eyes of the neighbour's five children.
And then Nelly, knowing that her sister was quite safe, once more put on the ragged bonnet and threadbare cloak, and trotted out again into the streets, now bright with light; and as she wandered by the great plate-glass windows, glittering in the radiance of countless lamps and filled with every thing that was tempting and beautiful, her little lonely heart murmured—"This is Christmas Eve; and what is it to such poor people as we?" Then far better thoughts dawned on her, and she remembered her suffering mother on her bed of pain, and her longings for selfish pleasures faded away; and in the untaught neglected mind sprang up a confused tangle of better thoughts. She longed to have plenty of money, Alas! poor child!—her early training in the stern school of want had taught her in grim practical earnest that the only true fairy-wand in the world is money—hard, cold
money!—hardly earned and hardly parted with! At this moment she paused, as her eyes fell on a glittering window ranged with all the wonderful world of toys that was laid open to rich child purchasers. It was pure fairy-land to her—a beautiful vision to be gazed at and dreamed of afterwards;—the lovely waxen babies, clad in flannel and silk—the miniature doll's house, with its tables, chairs, and pots and kettles! To children in another station these were all coveted things, to be obtained, most of them, through the mediation of kind grandmammas or aunts, or bought out of long-saved gift shillings; but to her, poor little thinly-clad child, who had never known the luxury of one copper coin to call her own! they gleamed and shone, a visible embodiment of the ideal beauty and grace of that childhood of which she knew only the rags and dirt.
As she stood gazing into the window, too far off in her ignorance even to look wistful, a plain dark-green carriage stopped at the door, and a lady alighted with a little girl. It was a cold night for any child to be out in, at that time; but poor Nelly was too much absorbed in the wonders before her to heed the warning numbness of her fingers and toes, and the little newcomer was wrapt in cloth and fur, and veiled thickly from the night air.
Nelly's reverie was abruptly broken by the displacing of the choicest doll in the window, which was mysteriously abstracted, as well as a huge doll-mansion, which, with its bright green door and brass knocker vanished into the interior of the shop, leaving a blank space through which Nelly could now peep freely. She saw the little lady examine carefully into the interior economy of the doll's house, and supply several fancied requisites from a large box on the counter. All being satisfactorily finished, the great purchase was carried out and safely ensconced in the carriage, the little girl following her mother with the superb baby-doll in her arms. Nelly drew nearer to gaze longingly for the last time on that pretty waxen face and the delicate raiment, for to her was now lost the crowning charm of that brilliant window.
As the little lady stepped daintily out of the shop, a gentleman, passing hastily by, ran against her, and the precious doll was thrown on the muddy ground, which had been well saturated with passing showers. It was a terrible mischance, and everybody crowded round to sympathise with the disconsolate little owner—the author of the mischief being one of the most concerned.
"My dear," he said, "as I have been the unlucky cause of your doll's mishap, I must try and remedy the mischief. I don't know whether her personal hurts are beyond medical help; if not, her garments can be easily replaced by the doll milliner here!"
The little girl smiled through her troubles at the stranger's quaint words, and replied simply, "Oh, never mind! I dare say she is not hurt herself, and most of her clothes will wash or clean!"
"You are a very good-tempered little girl," replied the stranger, cordially, "to bear the accident so cheerfully. But as I unluckily upset Miss Dolly's balance, and gave her an unnecessary mud-bath, I hope your mamma will allow me to make a peace-offering to her in the shape of a warm mantle and hood to cover all her soiled finery?"
This, mamma would not hear of; politely assuring the stranger that her little daughter was not so silly as to make troubles of what could be easily remedied at home.
"At least," replied the gentleman, "pray allow me to inquire into Dolly's personal condition? I am a doctor, and can ascertain whether any serious injury has happened to her limbs, and the minor question of the garments can be settled afterwards."
The little girl laughingly assured him that she was sound and uninjured, even to her fair, curling hair, "though she has certainly dropped her bonnet," added she. A little dirty hand held up the missing article just at her elbow at this minute; and turning round, she beheld our poor Nelly, shy and shaking at her temerity, but ready to dare all in her deep admiration for the beautiful wax model baby she had admired so long.
"Oh, thank you!" said the little lady, merrily; "here it is, and mamma's maid will soon do up all her clothes for me, so that I shall be able to have her on Christmas Day, after all!"
"Thank you, my little girl!" interposed the lady, gently. "It was very good and careful of you to find it and bring it in to us; and as it is Christmas time, and you have rendered my daughter a service, I will give you something for a Christmas-box. Here is a half-crown for you—but you must first tell me how you will spend it. Shall you buy a doll, or something more useful?"
Poor Nelly! Her glistening eyes wandered over the gay shop and its assemblage of toys, the dolls and tea-sets, and all the rest of the tempting things; and then she said, gravely, with a little sigh, "No, I'm afraid I oughtn't to. I should like a doll, and so would Rosie; but mother's in the hospital, and mayn't have much wittles for Christmas Day. I should like to get some tea and bread for her, and some plum-pudden for Rosie, and a pair of warm socks for her, and a shawl for mother; and then, perhaps—if there was a penny left—I might get a Dutch doll."
"But your half-crown will not buy all this," said the gentleman, who had been looking and listening, amused at the whole affair.
"Won't it, Sir?" said Nelly, staring with astonishment—for to her two shillings and sixpence, given to herself, seemed a perfect Golconda.
"No, indeed," said the lady, smiling; "but as you are such a thoughtful little girl, and seem to remember others before yourself, we will see what we can do." So saying, she put her young daughter into the warm carriage with all her toys, and told Nelly to follow her.
"May I take the liberty of stopping you one minute?" said the gentleman, bowing. "And as I doubt not your kindness will secure as much as possible of necessaries through the half-crown, will you allow me to add a doll for the little thing herself?"
The lady cheerfully consented; and Nelly was told to choose a doll among some selected for her, sensibly suited to her age and station—and she gazed in wondering admiration on the fair rosy cheeks and vacant blue orbs of the beautiful waxen figures before her. One that to her mind recalled her darling Rosie, reminded her of that spoiled little one, and she said, looking up awkwardly and shyly, "If you please, I would rather have a tea-set for Rosie and a Dutch doll for me!"
Her wishes were granted, by the present of a box of stout wooden tea-cups, and a large wooden painted doll, to which her kind-hearted friend added a twopenny hat with a long cock's feather to assist in the doll wardrobe. He then inquired into her family history, and gleaned from her incoherent rambling answers that her mother was at a hospital hard by, of which he was one of the surgeons.
"I will inquire into your mother's case, my little girl," said he; "and if I find she is a deserving woman, I dare say I can help her; at any rate I shall see her to-morrow, and can tell her all about you!"
"Oh, then, perhaps, Sir, you would take the pudden and the tea to her?" said thoughtless Nelly.
The doctor laughed outright. "No, my dear," he replied, "that would be somewhat against the rules of the hospital—her case might not admit of such fare. And the report I shall take of her loving little girl's remembrance of her will be as good as the best plum-pudding in the world to her, I do not doubt." But seeing the look of blank disappointment on Nelly's expressive face, he added, "If you like to send her a few simple biscuits, and this kind lady will allow you to lay out fourpence of her promised gift in this way, I will put them in my pocket for her, and give them to her as a Christmas-box from you!"
To Nelly's great joy the kind lady consented, and they all sallied out on their mission, At the draper's, next door, the lady purchased a pair of stout coarse socks for Rosie, and a warm shawl for mother, to which our friend the doctor added a comforter for Nelly herself.
"I hope," said he to the lady, "that at this general season of comfort and home happiness, I may not seem rude and presumptuous in thrusting myself thus on your benevolent purpose, but Christmas time always does somehow interfere with ceremony."
"And quite rightly, so far," replied the lady, gently: "if we do not feel an interest in all human joys and sorrows then, the common link of Christianity which ought to bind us all together would seem to be of small avail!"
We have not space to follow Nelly and her kind friends to the grocer's for tea and sugar, and the baker's for bread and biscuits. Suffice it, that, the shopping ended, the kind lady wrote down their address in her note-book, and promised to call on them some day; and Nelly at last stood at their own door, weary and breathless, with her pinafore full of bread, tea and sugar, socks and shawl—all of which she had, by dint of immense ingenuity, prevented from popping through the holes in the aforesaid ragged garment. On the top of the heap, in the safest place, and feeding Nelly's nose by its mingled odour all the way home, lay a paper containing a couple of bountiful slices of cold boiled beef, and two huge hunches of cold pudding, the parting-gift of her friend the doctor.
And so, after all, Nelly enjoyed her Christmas Day; for, inspirited and emboldened by this bright prosperity, she actually accomplished the feat of washing Rosie and herself clean in all.visible particulars, and in combing out the elf-locks into a semblance of decency. Then they put on their scanty garments and went to church and to school, unconsciously, in their poor little hungry hearts, putting a newer and brighter interpretation on the "good tidings of great joy," and feeling more closely related to their fellow-creatures of the rest of the world. So that, returning home, Rosie speculated quite cheerfully on the destinies of various handsome carriages full of merry well-clothed children; and Nelly remarked sagely, "And so you see, Rosie, all rich people are not so very wicked, though they do ride in carriages sometimes!"
And Rosie heartily agreed—with a mental eye to the beef and pudding. And what a feast these two children had! It would have done their kind friends' hearts good to have seen them—Rosie with the holly-berry necklace looking positively pretty on her clean neck, and Nelly with her comforter tied round her waist sash-wise in honour of the day.
The kind neighbour had lighted a very cozy little fire for them, and they set to work vigorously with a few stray scraps of evergreen they had picked up in the street, and decorated the room after their own queer fashion, making it look tolerably cheerful nevertheless; and in Nelly's heart the enjoyment and unusual comfort unconsciously awakened a spring of happiness, and thought for others, like a mountain rill once more supplied by the bountiful rain, that overflows its narrow boundary and feeds the freshening green young grass along its course. She searched out the poor half-starved cat, the common property of the numerous lodgers in the house, that fared ill enough on the collected scraps of all their joint scanty food, and generally roamed about wild and gaunt, a very wolf of grimalkins! But Christmas Day for once was to be a feast-day for her; so that, after her unwonted revel on the relics of the cold beef, Pussy actually purred herself to sleep before the fire! Then Nelly opened the window and scraped away the deep snow, spreading a plentiful store of crumbs for the sparrows.
The great event of dinner—and such a dinner!—being over, the two happy children took out their treasures of toys, and the rest of the day was passed in one endless Barmecide's feast in the wooden tea-things. Had it been real tea and literal cake consumed thus liberally, the consequences next day would have been terrible; but the nectar and ambrosia of fancy—the "making believe" of these visionary dainties—were too ethereal to be unwholesome. The doll, attired carefully in an old silk neck-kerchief for a dress, and crowned with the hat and cock's feather, bore no bad resemblance to her Majesty the Queen of the Cannibal Islands, whose court suit consists of a bonnet and a postage stamp! But in the children's eyes their first doll possessed all the charm of Baby No. 1 in a partial mother's imagination. Nelly and Rosie had never rung the changes through all the doll tribe of wood, wax, or leather, like richer children, and therefore experienced all the delightful wonder and admiration in their first freshness. The young princess whose wax baby is modelled from life, and robed in real lace and filmy cambric, has no special faculty of enjoyment beyond this.
When evening closed in, and the children, weary, for the first time, with a long day's enjoyment, went to their hard bed, the cherished doll (her finery laid aside) was attired in a newspaper night-gown, and tenderly hugged to sleep between them. And the delights of the day still mingled in their dreams in a sort of curious chaos of toys and feasts, dolls and plum puddings! What a world of hitherto unknown comforts and joys did these two poor little souls obtain from the chance bounty of a stranger, at the cost of a few shillings!
And the poor sick mother, on her hospital bed, cheered by her kind doctor's comforting words, and her children's thought of her, took such a turn for the better, that on New Year's Day she was sitting at home propped up in her chair, languidly combing out and plaiting poor Rosie's tangled mat, who did not appreciate the comfort much, any more than the wholesome bath administered vigorously by Nelly under the mother's superintendence.
And so the kind lady found them when she called that day—Rosie with a face shining like a looking-glass, and almost skinned with rubbing; and Nelly demurely sitting by the fire cobbling up a rent in her torn frock in what her mother called "dreadful gobble-stitches." Heartfelt tears were in the poor, weak invalid's eyes, as she thanked her benevolent friend for all she had done, including the kind surgeon's name in her blessings.
"I assure you," said the lady, smiling, ‘that my husband and I are thankful for the chance that brought us acquainted with Dr. Brown, and my little girl declares her doll is richer by a cloak and bonnet than she would otherwise have been."
"And, oh!" said little Nelly, in a low voice, "I shall never forget this Christmas Day as long as I live!"