The Old Woman Who Lived in a Shoe: or, There's No Place Like Home

Within, it was all fragrance and beauty. The plains of the Orient could not have been more odorous in that early dawn. Unconsciously he hummed over two or three lines, —

"Midnight scarcely passed and over,Drawing to this holy morn;Very early, very early —Christ was born."

They went about their simple homely duties, as if some unbidden guest had entered, whose presence filled the space out of which a dear face had vanished.

"Granny is better, I am sure," Dot said, preparing some breakfast for her.

"I am so thankful!"

"Listen to the church-bell! How faintly it comes ploughing through the snow; but oh, how sweet! Hal, I can't help feeling happy. I wonder if it is wrong, when we were so sad last night?"

Something floated through Hal's brain, – "Sorrow may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning." He brushed a tear away from his eye; but it was tenderness rather than sorrow.

While Dot was cooking her dainty breakfast, Hal took a turn at shovelling snow, clearing the old doorstep, and part of the path. It made his cheeks rosy, and the fresh crisp air took the tired look out of his eyes.

"Granny has been asking for you," Dot said, as he came in.

He warmed his hands, and entered the room. Dot lingered by the window, glancing up and down the unbroken road. Not a sound anywhere. It absolutely seemed to her as if a little bird ought to come out of the snowy trees, and sing.

Something attracted her attention, – a man striding along, muffled up to the ears, looking this way and that, as if considering how best to extricate himself from the last plunge, and make another. No, it was not Dr. Meade, – no one for them thus early in the morning.

Still she looked, and smiled a little. The strong, manful tread was good to behold. When he reached the house, he paused, appeared to be considering, then wheeled about.

She laughed this time. He placed his hand on the gate-post, and leaped over. It was such a boyish, agile spring! In the path he stamped off the snow, came straight to the door, and knocked.

Dot started, and opened it. A tall, laughing fellow, with a bronze brown beard and swarthy cheeks, lighted with a healthful glow of crimson. What was there so oddly familiar in the laughing eyes?

For an instant he did not speak. Dot began to color with embarrassment, and half turned to summon Hal.

"Oh, it's Dot, little Dot! And you have forgotten me!"

The rich, ringing voice electrified Hal. He made a rush in a blind, dazed way; for the room swam round, and it seemed almost as if he were dying.

"Oh, it isn't Joe! dear old Joe!"

And then Hal felt the strong arms around him. The glowing cheek was against his, and there were tears and kisses, for Hal was crying like a baby. I've done my best with him, I want you to observe; but I'm afraid he will be a "girl" – boy to the end. But nothing ever was so sweet as that clasp; and Joe's love on this side of the shining river seemed the next best thing to the infinite love beyond.

"Oh, I can't believe it!" he sobbed. "Did God raise you from the sea, Joe? for we heard" —

"Yes," with a great tremble in the tone. "It's just like being raised from the dead. And oh, Hal, God only knows how glad I am to come back to you all!"

Hal hid his face in the curly beard, and tried to stop the tears that would flow in spite of his courageous efforts.

There was a call from the other room, – a wild, tender cry, – and the next instant Joe was hugging Granny to his throbbing, thankful heart. You could hear nothing but the soft sobs that sounded like summer rain, blown about by the south wind. Ah, how sweet, how satisfying! What was poverty and care and trouble and loss, so long as they had Joe back again?

"Oh!" cried Granny, "I'm willing to die now. I've seen him, my darling!"

"Why, Granny, that would be blackest ingratitude. Here I've lived through all my narrow escapes, and they have been enough to kill any ten men, and, by way of welcome, you talk of dying. Why, I'll run back, and jump into the sea!"

"She has been very sick," said Hal.

"But she means to get well now. Dear old Granny! We couldn't keep house without you."

They knew well enough then that it was Joe, and not a Christmas ghost; for no one ever did have such a rich merry voice, such a ringing laugh, and oh, the dear bright eyes, shining like an April sky!

Granny looked him all over. How he had changed! A great strong, splendid fellow, whose smiling face put new hope into one.

"I almost feel as if I could get well," she said weakly.

"Of course you will; for, Granny, I have the silk gown, and we'll have just the jolliest time there has ever been in this little shanty. But where are all the rest?"

"Kit is at work in Salem, and he meant to come home last night; but I suppose the storm prevented."

"It was terrible! I've travelled night and day to reach home by Christmas. And last night, when the trains had to go at a snail's pace, or were snowed in, I couldn't stand it, so I took a sleigh; but we lost the road, and twenty other things; and then the horse gave out: it was such fearful, wearing work. And, when I came in sight of Terry's old store, I wouldn't stop, but trudged on afoot; for I wanted you to know, first of all, that I was safe and alive."

"It's just like a dream; and oh, Joe, the merriest Christmas there ever can be!"

"Where's that midget of a Charlie?"

"Ran away! It's very funny;" and Hal smiled, with tears in his eyes.

"But you know where she is?"

"I think she is in New York, – I'm pretty sure; and she has promised to come home."

"Well, that beats my time! Ran away! She threatened to do it, you know. And here I've forgotten all about little Dot! You don't deserve to be kissed nor made much of, you small woman, when you never gave me a word of welcome, but, instead, a cold, unfriendly stare. You don't remember Joe, who broke his delicate constitution carrying you round on his back to keep you from crying."

With that he caught her up, and perched her on the edge of Granny's bed. She was very shy, and turned a brilliant scarlet. This great strange fellow their dear, sweet Joe? She could not believe it!

"And you really were not drowned," said Granny, still anxious.

"Not exactly," with a droll twinkle of the eye.

"We heard" —

"Yes, the brave little 'Argemone' went down, and she was a beauty. But such a frightful storm! You can form no idea of it. Some day I'll tell you all. Our time is too precious for the long story now."

"And you wouldn't get in the boat," said Granny, her pale washed-out eyes alight with pride.

"There were three young fellows of us besides the sick captain, and we had no wives nor babies; so it seemed right that we should give the others the first chance. It was a miracle that they were saved. I never thought they would be. We lashed ourselves to some timbers, and trusted the winds and waves. What those days and nights were I can never tell you! I know now what that brave old soldier and sailor, St. Paul, meant when he said, 'A day and a night have I been in the deep.'"

Hal gave the sun-browned hand a tender squeeze.

"An Arabian trading vessel picked us up at last. We thought Jack was dead, but after a long while he revived. We were all perfectly exhausted. I could send no word, and then I resolved to come home just as soon as I could. I fancied you would hear of the loss. Did that make Granny ill?"

"No, she was sick before."

"But I'll get well now," she rejoined humbly. "I didn't want to, you know. Heaven seemed so much better."

Joe bent over and kissed her, wondering if he ever could repay the tender love.

"Have you ever heard from" —

There was no need of a name.

"She was married more than a year ago. I wrote that to you. There have been no tidings since."

"Are you going to have any breakfast?" asked Dot. "My muffins will be spoiled."

"Yes, indeed! I'm hungry as a bear. Granny, shall I carry you out?"

She laughed in her old cracked, tremulous fashion, good to hear. To Hal it seemed the beginning of a new life.

"I guess I'll lie still and think a bit, for I can't make it true. It's just as if we watched for him last night, Hal, and to-day is a day of great joy."

Dot's coffee and muffins were delightful. Then she broiled over a little of the chicken that had been left from the day before, and they had quite a sumptuous breakfast.

"How odd it seems to have Dot any thing but a baby!" laughed Joe. "It's quite ridiculous for her to set up housekeeping. Small young woman, you can't impose upon me."

"But she is royal at it;" and Hal gave her a fond smile.

"Now tell me all that has happened: I'm crazy to know. I believe I've not heard a word in six or eight months," declared Joe.

So Hal went back to the summer, – losing the school, Charlie's running away, Granny's illness, Kit's going to Salem, the mishap of the flowers, even the vigil of last night, when they believed Granny dying.

"But it will be a merry Christmas," Joe said with a great tremble in his voice. "And you can never guess how glad I am to be safe and alive, to comfort you all. Dear, dear Granny! – the best and bravest heart in the wide world, and the most loving."

CHAPTER XIX

IN THE OLD HOME-NEST AGAIN

They sat over their breakfast, and talked a long while. And then, after another glimpse at Granny, they went up to see the flowers, which had begun to recover rapidly from their misfortune.

"Why, Hal, it's a perfect little green-house, and oh, how fragrant! There are some tuberoses coming out. What an awful shame about that cold night! So you have wrecks on the land as well as on the sea?"

"I don't mind now. Your return makes up for all the misfortunes. We will have enough for some bouquets to-day;" and Hal's face was one grateful smile.

"And what will we have for dinner?" asked Dot. "It ought to be a feast. I wonder if Kit will get home in time? Oh, I'll tell you! we will not have our dinner until about three."

"Sensible to the last, Dot. Why, it is almost ten now; and our breakfasts have just been swallowed."

"We will have some chickens," exclaimed Hal.

"And a cranberry pie."

"Who is to make it, – you, or Hal?" laughed Joe. "He used to be my very dear Mrs. Betty. I don't know how we should ever have lived without him. Hal, I must confess that there's some rare good fortune in store for me. I had to stop a while in New York; and to think I should stumble over one of the very men who was last to leave 'The Argemone.' And he tells such a marvellous story! I suppose every thing looked different out there in the storm and darkness and night, with death staring us in the face; for, after all, I only did my duty, and our poor captain lying sick too! I don't mean ever to go very far away while – while Granny lives; but there's nothing like the sea for me!"

"Oh!" exclaimed Hal, with a soft little sigh.

"Well, the upshot of it was, that they, the owners, and this Mr. Parker, made me take a little gift, – five hundred dollars. I know where I can get enough more to build a real green-house. You see, the fall off the hay-wagon did for you; and you'll never be a great hulking fellow like me, fit to take the rough and tumble of life."

Hal clasped the arm that was thrown protectingly around him.

"No, you'll never be very strong; and you shall have the green-house. That will set you up for old age even."

"Dear, noble Joe!"

"Not half as noble as you. I often used to think of you, Hal, out there, miles and miles away, amid all manner of strange sights; and it was my one comfort that you'd always stand by Granny. What comrades you have been! And after this, you see, I shall be able to do my share."

Hal winked away some tears.

"Here's where we used to sleep. Oh! did you dream then that I'd be so tall I should have to go round, bowing my head to every doorway, just as if I believed in Chinese idols? And here's the old garret, where we dreamed our dreams. Hal, my darling, I'm glad to see every old board and crack and crevice in this blessed place!"

They went down presently. Joe stole off to Granny again, while Hal and Dot went about their household affairs. Hal soon had a couple of chickens for roasting. Dot made some savory dressing, stirred up her fire, baked her pie first, and then put the chickens in the oven. Hal shovelled away the snow, and took out two beautiful heads of celery, crisp and creamy.

Dr. Meade dropped in. You may imagine his rejoicing. They made him promise over and over again, that he would not tell a single soul in Madison. They wanted this dear Christmas Day to themselves.

"He's a hero to be proud of, Granny," exclaimed the doctor delightedly. "Such a great stalwart fellow, with a beard like a Turk, and a voice like an organ! Why, he overtops us all! Dot, if I were in your place, I should give his pockets a wide berth; for he could stow away such a weeny thing before your disconsolate friends would miss you."

Dot laughed, as if she wasn't much afraid.

"The excitement has not hurt Granny?" queried Hal.

"No, indeed! It's better than quarts of my tonics, and gallons of port wine. She only wanted a good strong motive to give the blood a rush through her veins."

"I was quite afraid last night."

"She'll weather it through, and come out in the spring like a lark. O Hal, my dear boy, God is wonderful! 'And so He bringeth them to the haven where they would be.'"

"Yes. I've been thinking of it all the morning."

"Merry Christmas, everybody. Not a word will I say."

Joe was still watching by the window, when another sleigh stopped, and a brisk little figure sprang out, running up the walk. He opened the door.

"Hillo!" he cried. "Here comes Kit, scalp-lock, fiddle, and all."

"Oh!" in the utmost wonder and amazement, glancing around as if suddenly bereft of his senses. "Oh, it isn't Joe, raised out of the sea! It can't be!"

"Pity the poor fishes," said Joe comically. "Think of the banquet to which they might have asked all their relations."

And then Kit was in his arms, crying and laughing; and, if Joe's head had not been securely fastened, it never could have stood the pressure.

"Oh, dear darling old Joe! How were you saved? What did Granny say?"

And then the little goose had to go and cry over Granny.

"You have really achieved a fiddle," exclaimed Joe at length. "Kit, my dear, you are on the high road to fame."

"Not very high," returned Kit. "But it's splendid to have. Hal gave it to me, and I can play quite well."

"We shall have to give a party some day, – a golden wedding for Granny."

"Or a golden Christmas. O Joe! I can't believe it a bit. I was awfully disappointed last night when it stormed, and they said I shouldn't come home. I thought how lonely Dot and Hal would be this morning."

The two smiled at each other, remembering the Christmas hymns in the gray dawn.

Dot's dinner began to diffuse its aroma around the room. What with boiling and baking, she had her hands full.

"Let us put both tables together," she said to Hal "It will give us so much more room. And it's to be a regular feast."

"Over the prodigal son," rejoined Joe. "Kit, here, who spends his substance in fiddles and riotous living."

"No: it is Dot who does the latter."

Dot laughed. "You will not complain, when I ask you to share the riotous living," she said.

The tables were set out, and Dot hunted up the best cloth. White enough it was too. Then the plates: how many were there? For somehow her wits seemed to have gone wool-gathering, and she had a misgiving lest some of them might disappear.

"Oh!"

Kit gave a great cry, dashed open the door, and flew down the walk, his scalp-lock flying, until he went head first into a snowbank.

"Kit's demented, and there's a girl at the bottom of it," said Joe. "O Kit! you've gone the way of mankind early."

"It's Charlie!" almost screamed Dot, following as if she had been shot out of a seventy-four pounder.

"Charlie! Oh, what a blessed, blessed Christmas!"

They dragged Charlie in, – not by the hair of her head, for that was hardly long enough. Charlie, in a pretty brown dress and cloak, a squirrel collar and muff, a jaunty hat with green velvet bands and a green feather. She was quite tall, and not so thin; and a winter of good care had completed the bleaching process commenced at the mill. She was many shades fairer, with a soft bloom on her cheek, while her mouth no longer threatened to make the top of her head an island.

"O Hal! and where's Granny? And" —

She paused before Joe.

"Why, Charlie, you're grown so handsome that you really don't know your poor relations."

"It's Joe! What a great giant! Oh! when did he come?"

"And we thought him drowned," said Dot, half crying. "We heard it ever so long ago! It was so splendid to have him come back!"

"Shut the door," exclaimed Hal.

"Why, I thought it was dreadful cold," said Kit, glancing round at the wide open door.

"Cold isn't any word for it! If we had a cast-iron dog we should have to tie him to the stove-leg to keep his hair from freezing off. It's lucky I wear a wig."

"You're the same old Joe," said Charlie, laughing.

"But where have you been, Charlie?"

"In New York. I've such lots and lots to tell you. But oh, I must see Granny!"

So Granny had to be hugged and kissed, and everybody went to look. They all talked and laughed and cried in the same breath; and nobody knew what was said, only they were all there together again, and Granny was alive.

"I intended to come home yesterday, but it stormed so fearfully; and to-day there were so many detentions, that I began almost to despair. But I had some Christmas for darling Granny, and I couldn't wait. See here," – and Charlie began to search her pockets energetically. "Fifty dollars, Granny; and I earned it all my own self, besides ever so much more. And I'm going to be a – a" —

"Genius," said Kit. "Hooray for Charlie!"

"It's all about the pictures. Mr. Darol sold some designs for me, and I wanted Granny to have the money; but I never dreamed that she had been sick. And did you miss me much? I never told Mr. Darol about it until yesterday. I suppose it wasn't right. And oh! Granny, I'm sorry if I've given you the least mite of pain; but all the time I've been as happy as Joe's big sunflower."

"We shall set Granny crazy," said thoughtful Hal.

"Oh, my dinner!" and Dot flew to the stove-oven like the "moon-eyed herald of dismay."

There was no damage done. The chickens were browned to a turn. She took them out on a dish, and made her gravy, and then Hal came to help with the vegetables. Potatoes, onions, carrots stewed with milk dressing, cranberry sauce, celery, – altogether a fit repast for anybody's Christmas dinner.

"If Granny could only come?"

"I've been thinking that we might take her up a little while at dessert. She asked to sit up before Charlie came. What a day of excitement!"

"O Hal! it's all lovely. And I can't help thinking how good God was not to let her die in the night, when we were to have such a happy day. He saw it, with the angels keeping Christmas around him; didn't he, Hal?" said little Dot.

"Yes, my darling."

"And I'm so full of joy! I can't help crying every other minute! And to think of that magnificent Charlie earning fifty dollars!"

Hal went to summon the "children," and explain to Granny, that if she would be very quiet, and take a good rest, she might get up when the dessert was brought on. The old woebegone look had vanished from her face, and the faded eyes held in their depths a tender brightness.

She assented rather unwillingly to the proposal, for she could hardly bear them out of her sight an instant. Hal closed the door between, but she begged him to open it again.

"I'd like to hear you talk. I'll lie still, and never say a word."

A happy group they were, gathered round the table. Dot was perched up at the head, and Hal took the opposite end, to do the carving. They had time, then, to look round and see how pretty Charlie was growing. The contact with refinement, and, in a certain sense, society, had improved her very much. If any thing, she had grown still farther out of the Wilcox sphere.

Then she had to tell her story.

"You really don't mean Mary Jane Wilcox?" interrupted Joe. "Why, we used to go to school together!"

"I never thought of them," said Hal, "when I was considering where I could write. Then Granny was taken sick, and the bad news about Joe, – and somehow I had a fancy that you were safe."

"Mrs. Wilcox has been like a mother. She is good, and I do like her; but, somehow, she is not our kind, after all. But oh, if you could only see Mr. Darol! I am going to stay a whole week, and he is coming out here. I told them all about you, Hal."

Hal colored a little.

"I'm glad I went, and made a beginning. There is ever so much hard work before me; but it is what I like. I am actually studying wood engraving. And Miss Charteris found me some work to do in my leisure time. She is as lovely as she can be, and a real artist. Think of her getting five hundred dollars for a picture!"

"And if you should ever do that!" said Kit admiringly.

"No: I haven't that kind of genius. But they all do say that my talent for designing is remarkable; and I shall be able to earn a good deal of money, even if I do not get as much at one time. I'm so glad, and so thankful!"

They all looked at brave Charlie; and, somehow, it didn't seem as if she were the little harum-scarum, who never had a whole dress for six consecutive hours, who ran around bare-headed and bare-footed, and was the tint of a copper-colored Indian. Why, she was almost as elegant as Flossy, but with a nobler grace. There was nothing weak about her. You felt that she would make a good fight to the end, and never go astray in paths of meanness, deceit, or petty pride.

Then they had to tell what had happened to them. She had all the rejoicing over Joe, without any of the pain and anguish. For, now that he was here, she could not imagine the bitter tears which had been the portion of the household.

How gay they were! There was no china on the table, no silver forks, no cut-glass goblets; but the dinner was none the less enjoyable. There never were such roasted chickens, nor such cranberry sauce, nor such celery! And certainly never such glad and loving hearts. The sorrows and successes drew them the more closely together.

What if Granny had let them stray off years ago, to forget and grow cold! Ah! she had her reward now. Every year after this it would pour in a golden harvest.

"We will have our dessert in style," said Hal.

"Kit, please help take off the dishes, for I know Dot must be tired."

"I will too," responded Charlie promptly.

They gathered up the fragments, and carried them in the pantry, took away the dishes, brushed off the cloth, and then came the crowning glories. First, two beautiful bouquets, with a setting of crisp, fragrant geranium leaves; then a dish of apples, rosy-cheeked and tempting.

"It is fortunate that I made a good large pie," said Dot with much complacency.

Hal bundled Granny in a shawl; but, before he could help her out of bed, Joe's strong arms had borne her to the kitchen. Hal brought the rocking-chair, and they made her comfortable with pillows.

They all, I think, saw a strange beauty in her on this Christmas Day. The little silvery curls, – they always would curl; the pale, wrinkled face; the faded eyes, with their youth and glory a thing of the past; the feeble, cracked voice; the trembling hands, – all beautiful in their sight. For the hands had toiled, the voice had comforted, the lips had kissed away pains and griefs. Every furrow in the face was sacred. What watching and anxiety and unfaltering labor they bespoke!

Dot poured her a cup of tea: then she proceeded to cut the pie.

"Dot, you are a royal cook!" exclaimed Joe. "We have discovered your special genius."

It was very delightful. Granny had a little slice, and added her praises to the rest so lavishly bestowed.

"There never was but one such Christmas. If I were a boy, I should pronounce it 'red-hot,'" laughed Joe. "I'm almost sorry to outgrow the boyish tricks and slang."