Three little Trippertrots on their travels

“Merry Christmas!” cried Mary Trippertrot, as she jumped out of bed on Christmas morning.

“Merry, merry Christmas!” shouted Tommy.

“Very merry Christmas!” called Johnny.

“And ten thousand of the finest kinds of Christmas joy to everybody in all the world!” cried the jolly old sailor with the wooden leg, as he stumped down the stairs after the Trippertrot children, to see what was on their tree, and what they had in their stockings. “Ten thousand million of the merriest Christmas joys!” went on the jolly sailorman, as he stumped along, for he couldn’t go quite as fast as could the three children, you know.

But do you suppose that worried him? Not a bit of it! He was just as jolly and happy and contented with his one regular leg, and his other wooden leg, as if he had forty-’leven wooden legs, set with gold and diamonds. So he stumped along.

Pretty soon, from the parlor where the children had gone, he heard shouts and laughter, and the singing of songs, and the blowing on horns and mouth-organs, and the banging on drums, and the playing of a music-box, and then the children called again:

“Merry Christmas to everybody, and to papa and mamma especially, and to Suzette, the nursemaid, and to the jolly sailorman, who brought us home when we were lost!”

“Bless their hearts!” exclaimed the sailorman with the wooden leg, as he stumped toward the parlor. “What a fine thing it is to be a child, and to have Christmas! But there! I’m happy, too, for I have a wooden leg, and it isn’t every one who has that.”

Then he went into the room where the Christmas tree was, all glowing with colored lights, for it was still early morning, you know, and dark yet. And the stockings were hung up, too, close by the fireplace, where Santa Claus didn’t have much trouble to come down and fill them, and they were filled, too, if you will kindly believe me.

And such a sight as the jolly sailor saw! There were the children looking at their toys and picture books, and there stood Suzette, the nursemaid, and Mr. and Mrs. Trippertrot, looking at the children, and smiling to see them so happy.

“Well, what did you get, children?” asked the sailorman.

“Oh, what didn’t we get!” gasped Tommy.

“Such a lovely Christmas!” said Mary, with a happy sigh.

“And such beautiful presents,” murmured Johnny, as he looked at a little train of cars that ran by electricity, and the engine had a real electric light in front, to scare pink or green cows off the track.

And Tommy was beating a drum, and walking around with a toy gun, making believe he was a soldier.

And what do you think Mary was doing? Why, she was looking inside and outside of the nicest doll house you could ever imagine. It had a real chimney on top, and there was a bathtub, into which you could put real water, to give a doll a bath, and there was a kitchen with real dishes in it—only small ones, of course—and there was a parlor, with a tiny piano in it, and a real rug on the floor. Oh, but Mary was the happy girl!

And then, of course, there were presents for papa and mamma, and for Suzette, and—there, if I nearly didn’t forget the jolly sailorman. But Santa Claus didn’t forget him. The night before Christmas, Mary had loaned him one of her stockings, and so had Tommy and Johnny, so there were three stockings hanging up for the jolly sailorman. But he said he ought only to hang up one, for his wooden leg never had a stocking on it. However, they made him hang up all three, and now every one was filled!

There was a nice knife for him, so he could whittle out ships for girls and boys, and there was a warm scarf, to put around his neck, and warm mittens, when he had to sail the ship in the cold, and a warm coat; not all these in the stockings, you understand, of course, but on the floor under them. And then there was some money, so he could buy a new wooden leg when his old one wore out.

“Oh, but this is a fine Christmas!” cried the jolly sailorman, and he danced a jig on one leg nearly as well as Jiggly Jig could on his two legs. And the children laughed, and were happier than ever.

And, let me see, there’s something else I forgot. There were candies, and nuts, and oranges, and white grapes, and figs, and oh! I can’t tell you what else, for there was so much! And the sailorman was glad he had stayed at the Trippertrots’ for Christmas.

“Well, now, after you have seen all your toys,” finally said Mrs. Trippertrot, “you children must get dressed, and have breakfast. Then you may play some more.”

And after breakfast what fun they had with the jolly sailorman! Oh, he was the nicest sailor I have ever known. I wish you could see him, but it’s not allowed, you know, and besides, he might knock some splinters off his wooden leg if he came around to see you all, for there are so many of you children.

Well, along in the afternoon of Christmas day, when the Trippertrots had eaten turkey, and cranberry sauce, and lots of good things, they were looking out of the window of their nursery-room, for they were a little tired from playing with all their toys.

“Let’s play our choosing game again,” suggested Mary. “I choose the first thing that comes along.”

“All right,” agreed Tommy and Johnny, and they stuck their little stubby noses close against the window glass, as they could see out better that way.

“And may I play your game, too?” asked the jolly sailorman.

“Of course,” answered Tommy and Johnny, “but we always let Mary have first choice because she’s a girl, and that’s polite, you know.”

“Right you are, my hearties!” cried the sailor. And then Mary, looking from the window, exclaimed:

“Oh, see what I got! I was to choose the first thing that came along, and make-believe it was mine, and look! It’s a boy and a girl!”

And, as truly as I’m telling you, it was. Along down the street they were slowly walking; a boy and a girl, holding hands, and they didn’t look very happy, I’m sorry to say.

Their clothes were rather ragged, and the three little Trippertrots could see that the boy’s shoes had big holes in them, where the snow could come through, for there was snow on the ground, you know. And the girl’s stockings had holes in them, where the wind could blow through, and she had only a thin shawl over her head. And the boy had no overcoat on, only a thin, little jacket.

“Oh, dear!” exclaimed Mary. “I—I don’t think I quite like what I picked out. You—you may have ’em, Tommy. I’ll take next choice, and maybe I’ll get a red automobile, and we can go for a make-believe ride.”

Before Tommy could answer, the sailorman said in a soft sort of voice:

“May I have that little boy and girl?—make-believe, you know; the same as you play.”

“Oh, of course,” answered Mary. “You may have them.”

“But what are you going to do with them?” asked Johnny.

“I—I think I’m going to try to make them happy,” said the jolly sailor, only his voice wasn’t quite so jolly now, though it was very kind. “I don’t think they look very happy, do you? I don’t believe they’ve had any Christmas at all,” and the sailorman’s voice was low and gentle, and he blew his nose very hard, almost like a horn.

“I don’t believe they’ve had any Christmas, either!” exclaimed Mary.

“Nor I! Nor I!” added Tommy and Johnny.

“But I know what I’m going to do!” went on the little Trippertrot girl. “I’m going down and get a whole basketful of good things to eat, and I’m going to take some of my toys, and some of the music-box money, and I’m going to give them to those poor children that I choose. I’m going to make-believe keep ’em,” she said, to the sailorman, “and I’m going to try to make ’em happy!”

“So am I!” cried Tommy. “So am I!” cried Johnny.

“I thought you would!” said the sailorman, and now his voice was as happy again as heart could wish, and he was smiling, as he stumped all around the room on his wooden leg.

And then the Trippertrot children, and the sailorman, filled a fine big basket of good things to eat, and they put in some toys for the girl and boy, and some money, and then they hurried out to give it to them—the sailor stumping along behind, and blowing his nose like a Christmas trumpet.

“Here!” cried Mary, as she handed the basket to the poor boy.

“What—what’s this for?” he asked.

“It’s for you!” exclaimed Mary. “For your Christmas—to make you happy!”

“For our Christmas! To make us happy!” repeated the girl, slowly. “Oh, I—I didn’t think we’d ever have a Christmas—or be happy again.”

“Nor me,” said her brother. “Oh, how kind you are!”

“It was the jolly sailor who thought of it,” said Tommy.

“And we’re going home with you, and make you happier yet,” added Johnny, and then, before the jolly sailorman could stop them, Mary had seen a big red auto coming down the street.

“Here,” she cried, “we’ll all get into this. I know the man will let us.” And, when the auto came rumbling up, Mary said to the man who was steering it:

“Please take us, and this boy and girl, home to their house so we can help them have Christmas.”

“Why, certainly I will,” said the man, kindly. Then he helped Mary and Tommy and Johnny and the poor boy and girl into his auto, and he put in the big basket of good things, and away they all went.

“Here! Here! Come back, if you please!” called the jolly sailor, trying to stump along after them with his wooden leg. “You Trippertrots will be lost again, sure pop!”

But Tommy and Mary and Johnny were so interested in going to make a Christmas for the poor boy and girl, that they forgot the jolly sailor, and never heard him calling to them. And they went on and on, farther and farther away, and what happened when they got to the poor boy’s and girl’s house I shall have to tell you in the next story.