36
A Pleasant Surprise
“I have concluded that it will be best not to allow any of you to go home to spend the Christmas holidays; but we will try to make a pleasant and enjoyable time for all.” Thus spoke the superintendent to the boys and girls gathered in the chapel one morning just before Christmas. Looks of displeasure settled upon more than one fair face at this announcement.
Carrie Raymond, who never could be satisfied with any one thing long at a time, did not at all like this arrangement. She wanted to go home, and she was determined, if possible, to do so. She therefore wrote to her father, saying, “Dr. Mayhews says that he will not let any of us go home to spend Christmas this year, but if you will come for me, I think he can he persuaded to change his mind.” Having dispatched this letter, she awaited the result.
“Why do we not have morning prayers in the chapel, as usual?” asked Cleo Benton, in surprise, as the pupils were directed to go to their respective schoolrooms without the usual chapel exercises the day before Christmas. “I presume the heaters are out of order, and the room is too cold for us,” replied the person addressed. That theory was accepted as the correct one. But this morning the teachers seemed to have lost all interest in their work, and every now and then would leave their pupils for a few minutes at a time, on one pretext or another, until an idea that something unusual was going on in the chapel began to dawn upon the minds of the more thoughtful and observant among the pupils. As soon as a teacher would leave his schoolroom, and the pupils found themselves alone, down would go books and slate pencils, and arms began to toss wildly about and nimble fingers to convey words of surmise or inquiry, while the play of expression upon the various faces was remarkable. By quick, noiseless signs, or swiftly spelled words, thoughts continued to be conveyed from one to another until the sudden reappearance of the teacher put a stop to it. In one instance, a teacher returning to and entering his schoolroom very unexpectedly found nearly all of his pupils engaged in animated conversation, some of them laughing merrily. Whereupon he quoted, half slyly, half reproachfully, “When the cat is away, the mice will play.”
About ten o’clock Carrie was summoned to the library, where she found her father, who had come to take her home to spend the holidays. A few minutes after he came, Dr. Mayhews entered the room, and Mr. Raymond asked permission to take Carrie home; but nothing would induce him to depart from the rule he had laid down. So, at last, Mr. Raymond promised Carrie some nice presents if she would be content to stay, and as Dr. Mayhews gave her permission to go to the city with her father and select the presents, she prepared to do so.
About noon Carrie returned, having just parted with her father at the gates. Going up to her room, she flung down her bundles containing numberless Christmas presents and burst into a torrent of tears. She did not go down to dinner.
After dinner—it being Wednesday, the day on which she had to assist in ironing—one of the girls came to summon her to the ironing room. Now ironing was a task that Carrie very much disliked, and it was not pleasant to think of being obliged to stand almost all the afternoon at a table trying to smooth every wrinkle from dozens of shirts. So she peremptorily refused to go down on the plea that she was tired and did not feel very well. The girl then went away, but Carrie almost feared that someone else would come to summon her—perhaps the woman who had charge of the ironing department. Carrie knew she would speak harshly to her if she should come. Fortunately no one came to disturb her again.
After a while the storm of grief caused by her disappointment in not being allowed to go home subsided, and she began to feel more cheerful. Then she reexamined her presents. There was a nice new shawl, a new dress, and a number of little packages containing candies, nuts, apples, etc. These she placed safely in her trunk and went downstairs and confided the story of her disappointment to Cleo Benton and a few other friends. She said, turning to Cleo, “Will you keep a secret?” “Yes,” Cleo answered. So, gathering up the corners of Cleo’s apron with one hand, Carrie thrust the other hand into the hiding place thus made for it, and, while Cleo looked into the apron through the small opening left for the purpose, Carrie spelled out her secret. That it was a pleasant secret was evident from the smile with which Cleo received it and the “that is good” which followed the smile.
Carrie seemed determined to believe that Christmas at the institution could not be nearly as pleasant as Christmas at home. In spite of this notion, however, she really enjoyed the day very much.
Some suspicions were entertained that a new program of amusements had been arranged for the day. These suspicions had been awakened by the mysterious movements observed on the previous day. But the hours, one by one, passed, and nothing unusual occurred, till it was thought that these surmisings were unfounded.
Twilight shadows at length spread their mantle over the white-robed earth. The moon, apparently feeling too rich and happy to be selfish, showered its wealth of silvery light upon every object it could reach. But its rays could not penetrate the strong stone walls of the building or light up its inner rooms; so the gas jets were lighted.
Early in the evening all the pupils were ordered to form in line and march to the chapel. Eagerly and expectantly they hastened to obey, chatting and laughing gaily the while. As they filed into the spacious hall, now brilliantly lighted, their bright eyes lit up with surprise and joy as they beheld an immense Christmas tree reaching nearly to the ceiling and loaded from top to bottom with numberless presents. Bright-colored gauze bags filled with bonbons and popcorn formed a background for this tree with its strange fruit; on each side of it was a large basket filled with apples.
In a few minutes the superintendent, who was standing near the tree, put his finger to his ear, assumed a listening attitude, and said, “I think I hear the jingle of bells.” A moment later there entered, apparently somewhat hesitatingly, an old man, with long, white hair flowing over his shoulders and a long, white beard reaching nearly to his waist. He was dressed as if prepared to brave the fierce winter blasts, and there were traces of snow on his heavy coat. The assembly gazed at him in mute surprise and amusement. A few among them gave vent to their delight by clapping and waving their hands.
The old man was so well bred that he did not seem to notice this breach of good manners. He bowed, and bowed again. Mounting the platform, he made a speech of jingling rhymes in which he informed the assembly now gazing silently at him that he “had come from the realms of the winter king, over the ice and over the snow, to make them all happy that night.” As he made this address in the sign language, the pupils began to suspect that he, like themselves, must be deaf and dumb. When it was finished, he came down from the platform, advanced to the tree, and informed the eager assembly of boys and girls now intently watching his every movement that he was going to give each one of them a present from the tree. With the assistance of the teachers and officers, the presents, procured with money appropriated by the state for the purpose, were distributed.
The names of the few who had accidentally been overlooked were written down, with the promise that they should soon receive a present.
At the close, prayer was offered to the kind Father in heaven, through whom all the blessings enjoyed that day had been received. The apples were distributed as the pupils filed out of the chapel, and a pleasant social party was enjoyed.
When the hour for retiring came, Carrie was compelled to acknowledge that she had enjoyed an unusually pleasant Christmas time.