A borrowed sister

Lois had always liked summer better than winter, but this year she changed her mind, and thought that nothing could be quite so good as these December days, when the crisp air sent the blood tingling through her veins. The white world, with the dark trees powdered with snow, and in the late afternoons the blood-red sunsets warm and glowing against the cold white, had an especial charm. And into this world, as beautiful as fairy-land, Lois walked hand in hand with Jessie and Ellen; while coasting, sleigh-riding, and skating made a sort of carnival of each day. Now that her fear of the Morgan boys had been cured, there was an added interest in having them of the party. Lois could skate well enough to join the others, and Amyas and Reuben often took her and Jessie, with their sisters, on coasting-parties. Lois had never known before the joys of the “double-runner,” and although she felt she took her life in her hands every time she went down a steep hill, there was a fearful pleasure in the descent, and a thankfulness and surprise each time she reached the bottom safely, that made coasting a pastime of which she never tired.

“I think,” said Jessie, one morning, “that we ought to do something for those poor Donnellys at Christmas. I wish we could have a Christmas tree for them. Couldn’t we, Aunt Elizabeth?”

“It would be a great amount of work,” said Mrs. Page, “and I know that a good deal has been done for the Donnellys already. We have been making some clothes for them in the sewing-circle.”

“I didn’t mean clothes,” said Jessie; “and we’ll do all the work if you will only let us have the tree. There are plenty of hemlocks at Brierfield; I am sure Garrett would cut one down for us. I can see just the way it would look,” she went on eagerly. “We can get a lot of candles, and make lovely decorations out of gold and silver paper, and for very little money we can buy some toys, and the candy can be put in colored candy-horns, which we can make ourselves. There are six Donnellys, four girls and two boys, and their rooms are so forlorn! and we could have the tree in the play-room, where it would not trouble any one, except the Trio Club, and they could be put into the laundry for once. Oh, please, Aunt Elizabeth, mayn’t we have it, if we’ll promise to do all the work, and pay for it ourselves?”

“Oh, mother, dear, it would be so lovely!” said Lois. “I never had a Christmas tree.”

“You never had a Christmas tree!” Jessie exclaimed. “Why, you poor darling, that seems terrible! I’ll have to put something on the tree for you.”

Mrs. Page had learned by experience that Jessie’s ideas were practical ones, and after a little more debating she said that they could have the Christmas tree. Anne and Ellen were asked to join in the scheme, and the children had a secret session one stormy afternoon in the attic at the top of the Morgans’ house. It was a delightful place, with a large table and a tool-chest, and plenty of room to work or play.

“Hullo,” said Amyas, coming in to get some tools, “what are you four up to?”

“It is a secret,” said Ellen solemnly, “and no one is to know anything about it.”

“What a lot of money you’ve got!” he said, looking into Ellen’s lap, where the contents of her bank were gathered together in a heap.

“It isn’t so much as it looks. It’s mostly coppers,” said Ellen in dejected tones. “I thought there would be a lot more. I haven’t got all the presents for the family yet, so I am afraid I can only spare fifteen cents, but Lois is going to give twenty-five and Anne twenty-five, and Jessie a dollar; that makes a dollar and sixty-five cents. Don’t you want to give us some money, Amyas?” she added in her sweetest tones. “It is for a perfectly fine cause.”

“No, I thank you. I don’t go it blind. If you want any money, you’ve got to tell me what it’s for.”

“Why not tell him?” said Anne. “You tell him, Jessie; it is your idea.”

Amyas was far more interested in the plan than they had dared to hope. He not only promised them fifty cents, but, what was far better, he proposed that he and Reuben should go over to Brierfield with them to get the tree. “We’ll go on the Saturday before Christmas,” he decided, “and we’ll have a regular spree. We’ll start in the morning, and we’ll take the double-runner, and when we come to Morse’s hill we’ll coast down it, and we’ll steal one or two rides behind carts, so it won’t be too long a walk. We’ll have luncheon out of doors, and then cut the tree down and bring it home on the sled.”

The four girls were greatly thrilled by this exciting programme.

“Oh dear, I’m so afraid mother won’t let me go!” said Lois.

“Oh, she’ll have to! I’ll make her let you,” said Amyas.

Mrs. Page did not altogether approve of the scheme. She was afraid it would be too much for Lois, and she was sure that some of them would take cold eating out of doors. She weakened after a time, for they were so bitterly disappointed, and finally said they might go, if they would have their luncheon in the house at Brierfield, and take some older person with them. Susan Morgan cheerfully consented to be the older person.

Lois was sure it was going to storm on the Saturday before Christmas. She worked herself up into a fever of anxiety.

“I know it will snow! It is just my luck.”

“And I am sure it will be pleasant; it is just my luck,” said Jessie. “Why not think it is going to be pleasant, and then you will be sure to have that much fun out of it?”

Lois waked early the Saturday before Christmas, and she went to the window and pushed up the curtain. It was not light yet, but there was a dull streak of red in the east.

“Wake up, Jessie, wake up!” she cried, “it is going to be a pleasant day.”

“It seems almost too cold to go,” said Mrs. Page, after breakfast, as she looked at the thermometer; “it is only nine above zero, and there is a wind.”

“But, mother, you will let us go,” begged Lois.

“Of course, dear, if the others go, but I am afraid you will not get very much pleasure out of it.”

Not get very much pleasure out of it! Jessie and Lois expected to enjoy the day as they had never enjoyed anything in their whole lives!

At ten o’clock the Morgans appeared,—such a merry, lively company in their gay tam-o’-shanters and sweaters, that Mrs. Page changed her mind, and decided that they were going to have a good time in spite of the weather.

“Poor mother,” said Lois, “I hope you won’t be lonely. I wish you were coming too.”

“Do come along, Mrs. Page,” Amyas said; “you can get on the double-runner whenever you are tired.”

But Mrs. Page was very busy over some Christmas presents, and she was glad to have a quiet day to herself.

Every one they passed, as they went along the village street, glanced at the children with interest.

“We look as if we were going coasting,” said Ellen. “No one will imagine what else we are going to do.”

The first person to speak to them was Captain Taft. “Going coasting?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“Well, I should say there was too cold a wind, but young folks don’t mind. I suppose I wouldn’t have minded myself, once.”

And the next was Mrs. Robertson. “Are you going coasting?” she inquired in disapproving tones. “It is much too cold. I wouldn’t let Dora go.”

And the third was Joel Carpenter. “Are you going coasting?” he said joyfully. “I’ll come along too.”

They were not particularly anxious to have him share their secret, but they did not know how to get rid of him, and so he joined them.

They had a glorious coast down Morse’s hill. Lois was on the forward sled, and it was very exciting to fly past the vanishing trees and then sweep around the curve near the bottom. She had certainly thought they would tip over that time. Presently there came along an empty cart bound for the woods.

“Let’s steal a ride,” whispered Amyas. He hitched the sled on behind, and they all got on silently with stealthy tread like conspirators. A little later the driver turned his head.

“Good-morning,” he said genially. “Won’t you all get into my cart?”

His cordiality was something of a shock, and took the zest out of the stolen ride.

The lunch at Brierfield was one of the pleasantest parts of the day, for some huge logs were burning in the hall fireplace, and they all sat in a semi-circle around the cheerful blaze. Susan and Jessie unpacked the lunch, and they had a merry meal. If it was not quite so romantic eating their sandwiches and cake before the fire as it would have been under the pine-trees, it was certainly more comfortable.

Best of all was the walk in the afternoon and the choosing a hemlock-tree. It was very cold and still in the woods, and the snow was as white as if it had fallen that very day. The mayflowers were hidden now, and the birches and maples lifted bare branches to the sky. Everything was different from what it had been on the April day when Lois was so glad that icy winter was far away, except the pines and hemlocks, that were as green as if they had forgotten it was not spring. A red-headed woodpecker, that had perched on a neighboring branch, flew away at their approach into the heart of the woods.

“Oh, how beautiful it is!” said Lois. “What a pity that everybody can’t have such a good time!”

“Every one can have out of doors if they want it,” said Jessie.

“Amyas, do see what a nice tree this is! Let’s cut this one down,” said Ellen.

“What, that scrubby thing?” Reuben asked. “That’s too lop-sided.”

“Let’s each choose a tree,” said Anne, and they scattered like a covey of birds.

Lois and Jessie kept together, and they found a tree, almost perfect in its symmetry, tall and yet not too tall. The moment they saw it they felt it must be the tree. Even Ellen was forced to acknowledge the wisdom of their choice, and the boys soon felled it and strapped it to the double-runner.

The journey back in the afternoon was not so delightful as the morning trip.

“I wish that hills could be tipped the other way, like a teeter,” said Ellen, when they came to Morse’s hill. “It is perfectly horrid to have that long, steep climb.”

Lois was beginning to feel very tired, but she tried to look as if she liked to climb hills.

“You are tired out, Lois,” said Susan Morgan kindly.

“I’m not much tired.”

Reuben began untying the tree.

“What are you doing?” Amyas asked. “The tree is all right.”

“I am going to carry it awhile,” said Reuben, “and then Lois and Jessie can get on the sled, and you and Joel can pull them up the hill.”

“I am not a bit tired,” said Jessie, and she looked so fresh that Lois felt ashamed to have given out.

“I’d like to ride,” said Ellen.

Reuben gave a scornful laugh. “You? You are as well able to pull Amyas up the hill as he is to pull you. You’re just lazy.”

“Why isn’t Lois lazy?”

“She is tired.”

“I am sorry to give you so much trouble,” said Lois, as she got on the sled. She wondered why the boys were so good to her, when in their heart of hearts they must think her so poor-spirited to get tired. She wished she were as strong as Jessie and Ellen.

“We had a splendid time, mother,” said Lois, when they reached home.

“It was great,” said Jessie.

“I had a successful day, too,” said Mrs. Page. “I got Grandmother Lois’s Christmas box packed, and I finished your present and Jessie’s.”

“How exciting that sounds, mother! I wish we knew what they were.”