The Birds' Christmas Carol
by Kate Douglas Wiggin
(continued from yesterday)
Carol, herself knew nothing of her mother's tears nor her father's anxieties. They hid their feelings, knowing their sadness would distress her. So she lived on peacefully in the room where she was born.
It was a beautiful room. You see, Mr. Bird had a great deal of money, and though he felt sometimes as if he wanted to throw it all in the ocean, since it could not buy a strong body for his little girl, he happily spent as much money as he could making Carol's room comfortable and lovely.
This particular December Carol was happier than usual, for her Uncle Jack was coming from Europe to spend the holidays. Dear, funny, jolly, loving, wise Uncle Jack, who came every two or three years, and brought so much joy with him. Carol's joy knew no bounds when the letter came telling the family he was coming. Mr. and Mrs. Bird laughed and kissed each other in delight, and when the boys heard it they whooped for joy, until the Ruggles family, whose back yard joined their garden, gathered at the gate and wondered what was up in the big house.
Uncle Jack came on the twentieth. Donald came too, home from college. One or the other was always at Carol's bedside, for they fancied her paler than she used to be, and they could not bear her out of sight. It was Uncle Jack, though, who sat beside her in the winter twilights. Carol's hand, all too thin and white these days, lay close clasped in Uncle Jack's, and they talked together quietly of many, many things.
"I want to tell you all about my plans for Christmas this year, Uncle Jack," said Carol on the first evening of his visit,"because it will be the loveliest one I ever had. The boys laugh at me for caring so much about it. But it isn't altogether because it is Christmas nor because it is my birthday. Long, long ago, when I first began to be ill, I used to think, the first thing when I waked on Christmas morning, 'Today is Christ's birthday - and mine!' and so I do not quite feel about Christmas as other girls do."
"Now, Uncle Jack dear, I am going to try and make somebody happy every single Christmas that I live, and this year it is to be the 'Ruggleses in the rear.' "
"That large and interesting brood of children in the little house at the end of the back garden?"
"Yes. Isn't it nice o see so many together? We ought to call them the Ruggles children, of course; but Donald began talking of them as the 'Ruggleses in the rear,' and Papa and Mamma took it up, and now we cannot seem to help it.
"When they first moved in, I used to sit in my window and watch them play in their back yard, they are so strong and jolly and good natured - and then, one day, I had a bad headache, and Donald asked them if they would please not scream quite so loud, and they explained that they were having a game of circus, but that they would change and play 'Deaf and Dumb' all the afternoon."
Uncle Jack smiled, "An obliging family, to be sure."
"Yes, we all thought it very kind, and I smiled at them from the window when I was well enough to be up again. Now Sarah Maud comes to her door when the children come home from school, and if Mamma nods her head, 'Yes,' that means I am well, and you ought to hear them yell; but if Mamma shakes her head, they always play at quiet games. Then, one day, my pet canary flew out of her cage and Peter Ruggles caught her and brought her back, and he came up to my room so I could thank him."
"Is Peter the oldest?"
"No. Sarah Maud is oldest, and Peter is next."
"And which is the pretty little red-haired girl?"
"That's Kitty."
"And the fat youngster?"
"Baby Larry."
"And that - most freckled one?"
"Now, don't laugh - that's Peoria."
"Carol, you are joking."
"No," laughed Carol. "The others are Susan, and Clement, and Eily, and Cornelius. They all look pretty much alike except that some have more freckles than the others."
"Now, I'm going to give this whole Christmas to the Ruggleses. And Uncle Jack, I earned part of the money myself."
"You, my bird! How?"
"Well, you see, it could not be my own, own Christmas if Papa gave me all the money, so I talked with Mamma. She came up with the best idea. She wrote down, just as I told her, a description of how a little girl lived in her own room for three years, and what she did to amuse herself. And we sent it to a magazine and got twenty-five dollars for it. Just think!"
"Well, well," cried Uncle Jack. "And what are you going to do with this wonderful 'own' money of yours?"
"I shall give the nine Ruggleses a grand Christmas dinner, here in this very room, and afterward a beautiful Christmas tree, fairly blooming with presents. You see, Mamma and Papa have promised to give me the money they would have spent on my Christmas presents, so I will have enough to buy everything I should like."
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