Various - Happy Days for Boys and Girls

Harris soon came back, and told his master what he had learned about the circumstances of the family; and he added, —

“Everybody calls the oldest girl Sweetie, and they do say she’s as good as gold.”

Mr. Rogers went out, and, before night, had bought the little corner store, for which Sweetie had longed. Then, calling his servants together, he related what he had overheard the children say, and told them how anxious he was to grant Sweetie’s wish, and let her take her mother to her new home on Christmas Day.

“But I cannot do it,” said Mr. Rogers, “unless you are willing to help me work on Christmas Eve, for there is a great deal to be done.”

No one could refuse to aid in so good a cause; and besides, Mr. Rogers was always so considerate of his servants that they were glad to oblige him. They all went to work with a will, and soon the little house and store were put in perfect order.

There were ribbons, laces, buttons, needles, pins, tapes, and, indeed, all sorts of useful things in the store. In the cellar were coal and wood, two whole hams, a pair of chickens, and a turkey. The kitchen pantry was stocked with sugar and flour. There was one barrel of potatoes, and another of the reddest apples. Up stairs the closets and bureaus were bursting with nice things to wear, not quite made into garments, but ready to be made, as soon as Sweetie and her mother got time.

So rapidly and so completely was everything arranged, that it seemed as if one of those good fairies, of whom Sweetie had so often told the children, had been at work.

“The money this has cost me,” thought Mr. Rogers, “will make a family of six happy, and do them good all the rest of their lives. I am glad the thought has come to my heart to celebrate Christ’s birthday in so pleasant a way.”

Late in the afternoon he picked his way through the dull, dirty alley to the old gray house where Sweetie lived. As he went up the worn and dusty stairway, he heard the children singing their Christmas songs.

“Poor little things!” said he; and the tears stood in his eyes. “Happy even in this miserable place, while I know so many surfeited with luxuries, and yet pining and discontented!”

Harry jumped to open the door as he knocked; and Mr. Rogers, entering, apologized to the children’s mother for his intrusion by saying he had come to ask a favor.

“It is but little we can do for any one, sir,” replied Mrs. Lawson; “but anything in our power will be cheerfully done.”

“Even if I propose to carry off this little girl of yours for a while?” he asked; but, seeing the troubled look in the other children’s faces, he hastened to explain.

“The truth is,” said he, “having no little folks of my own, I thought I’d try and make other people’s happy to-day; so I set out to get up a Christmas tree; but I find I don’t know how to go to work exactly, and I want Sweetie to help me.”

He spoke so sadly when he said he had no children of his own, that Sweetie could not refuse to go.

“O, yes, sir,” said she; “I’ll go; that is, if I may come back this evening – for I couldn’t disappoint Freddy and all of them, you know!”

“They shan’t be disappointed, I promise you,” said Mr. Rogers, as he took her down stairs.

“Why, I never was in a carriage in all my life,” said Sweetie, as he lifted her into his beautiful clarence, and sat down beside her.

“I shouldn’t wonder if you should ride in a carriage pretty often now,” said Mr. Rogers, “for your ship’s coming in.”

Sweetie couldn’t tell whether she was in a dream or not. Half crying, half laughing, her face flushed with surprise, she asked, —

“How did you know?”

“Know what?” said her friend, enjoying her bewilderment.

“Why,” she answered, “about the way I keep up the children’s spirits, and make them forget they are hungry and cold, while I tell them about my ship coming in?”

“A little bird told me,” said he, and then was quiet.

Sweetie did not like to ask any more; so she sat quite still, leaning back in one corner of the carriage, among the soft, crimson cushions, and watched the people in the street, thinking how happy she was, and how strange it was that little Katie Lawson should be riding with a grand gentleman in a splendid carriage!

Suddenly, with a whirl and a turn, they stopped before a house. Mr. Rogers lifted her out, and led her up the broad steps; and she found he was taking her into the beautiful white house, under the windows of which she had sat with Willie and Fred the day before.

“Now,” said Mr. Rogers, rolling a comfortable arm-chair for Sweetie in front of a glowing fire, “while you are getting warm, and eating your dinner, I am going to tell you about my Christmas tree, and how your ship came in.”

A little table was brought in, and set between them, filled with so many delicacies, that Sweetie’s head grew dizzy at the sight. She thought of her little hungry brothers and sister, and would rather not have eaten, but Mr. Rogers made her.

“My little girl,” said he, finally, “never forget this: God always rewards a faithful heart. If he seems to be a long time without caring for his children, he never forgets or forsakes them.”

Then he told her that he had overheard her conversation with her brothers under his window, and that God had suddenly put it into his heart to take care of some of the poor and fatherless in that great city. “And I am going to begin with Sweetie,” said he, very tenderly; “and this is the way her ship shall come in. She shall have a new home to give to her mother for a Christmas present, and the boys shall sing their Christmas hymns to-night in the bright little parlor of the corner store, instead of the dingy old garret; and here are the deeds made out in Katie Lawson’s own name, and nobody can take it away from her. But come, little woman,” he added, – for Sweetie was sobbing for joy, and could not thank him, – “go and wash your face, for the horses are tired of standing in the cold, and we must go and fetch the boys, or I shall never get my Christmas tree set up.”

An old lady, with a face beaming with kindness, – it was Mr. Rogers’s housekeeper, – then took Sweetie, and not only washed her tear-stained cheeks, but curled her soft brown hair, and put on her the loveliest blue dress, with boots to match. All the time she was dressing her, Sweetie, who could not believe her senses, kept murmuring, —

“It’s only a dream; it’s too good to be true; the boys won’t believe it, I know; it’s just like a fairy story, and, of course, it’s only pretending.”

“No, indeed,” said the old lady; “it’s really true, my dear, and I hope you’ll be so grateful and kind to Mr. Rogers that he won’t be so lonely as he has been without his own dear little children.”

Sweetie could hardly realize her own good fortune; and, when she went down into the parlor, she burst into tears again, saying, —

“O, sir, I can’t believe it. I am so happy!”

“So am I, Sweetie,” said Mr. Rogers; and really it was hard to tell which was the happier – it is always so much more blessed to give than to receive. Together they rode to the new home, and laughed and cried together as they went all over it. After they had been up stairs, and down stairs, and in my lady’s chamber, as Mr. Rogers said, he put her into the carriage again.

“James,” said he to the coachman, “you are under this young lady’s orders to-night, and must drive carefully.”

Then, kissing Sweetie, he put the key of her new home into her hand, and, telling her he should want her help to-morrow about his Christmas tree, he bade her good night.

James drove Sweetie home, for the last time, to the dilapidated old house. She ran up stairs, Freddy said afterwards, “just as Harry always did when he’d had a good day.” “Mother and children,” said she, “Mr. Rogers, the kind gentleman who was here, has sent me back in his carriage to take you all to see something beautiful he has been showing me. Harry, you be the gentleman of the house, and hand mother and Jennie to the carriage, and I’ll come right along.” She stopped long enough – this good child, who, even in her own good fortune, did not forget the misfortunes of others – to run into the next room, where an old woman lived, who was a cripple, and whose daughter supported her by sewing.