"Suppose we ask the boys to help us," said Bess, threading her needle, and carefully making a nice little knot.
"Oh, no!" objected Elsie, "let's do it all by ourselves."
"If the boys can help us to do something better than we can do without them, I think we ought to have them," said Dora wisely.
"It will be more fun too," said Louise, whose motto was "The more, the merrier."
"We haven't much time either," Bess continued; "but Aunt Zélie will help us, and you too, won't you, Miss Brown?"
"I'll be glad to do anything I can," replied that lady, looking up from the feather-stitching she was showing Constance.
Christmas was coming. The fact could no longer be overlooked, and as usual everybody was feeling surprised at its nearness.
It was not a bit too near, the children thought, though even they had a great deal to do, and found the days all too short.
Miss Brown was full of suggestions for Christmas gifts, and most patient with awkward fingers, and the M.Ks. were very happy over the things she was helping them to make. Now, on top of all this they had found something else to talk about and work for.
One day when Bess and Louise were in the corner confectionery, the wife of the proprietor, as she handed them their package, held out a small bundle of edging, asking them to take it home and show it to their aunt. It was made, she said, by a young Italian girl who, though a cripple, was trying to support herself and some younger brothers and sisters.
As the trimming was pretty and strong, Mrs. Howard bought some for the children's aprons, and finding the girl worthy, gave her other work, which was carried back and forth by a little sister.
Louise saw this child waiting in the hall one Saturday morning, and went down to talk to her. Tina was pretty, with great black eyes and short dark curls, but Louise found her rather silent, for she was in fact rather awed by her surroundings. The wide hall with its polished floor and soft rugs seemed very grand to her unaccustomed eyes.
"I wish I could sew and embroider like your sister, then I could make some money," said Louise.
Tina wondered why she wanted money, but only answered, "So do I."
"Bess and I have never enough money for Christmas. Is that what you want it for?"
"No; I would give it to my father."
"Why, he wouldn't want it, would he? Hasn't he any money?"
Tina shook her head, and after some questioning she explained that her father was a member of a small string band. He played the harp, she said, and sometimes earned a good deal, but he had been sick, so he lent his harp to a man who promised to keep his place for him and pay him something besides. "But he was a bad man!" she exclaimed vehemently, "for he broke the harp, and then ran away and would not pay to have it mended; and now my father does not want to get well, he is sick with sorrow."
"But can't he get it mended himself, or find the bad man and make him pay for it?"
"It would cost a great deal of money,—fifteen dollars the music man told my sister,—and the man who broke it has gone away to the South."
"I am so sorry," was all Louise could say, for their talk was interrupted; but she ran upstairs immediately to tell Bess.
"Don't you wish we could have it mended for him?" she asked.
"Yes, indeed, but we haven't any money to spare from our Christmas things, and if we used it every bit it would not be enough."
"We might get somebody to help us; still that wouldn't be as nice as doing it ourselves."
"Perhaps we could have a fair, like the one Aunt Zélie had when she was a little girl. Let's ask her," proposed Bess, jumping up.
But their aunt thought it too great an undertaking. "I was several years older than you are," she said, "and we worked for six months to get ready. However," she added, seeing the disappointed faces, "you might do something else, tableaux or charades."
This idea pleased them, and they decided to talk it over at the club that afternoon.
There was no difficulty in interesting the M.Ks. They were all enthusiasm.
"We may not make enough," said Louise, "but that ought not to keep us from trying to help."
"If we could only give them the money for a Christmas gift," said Dora.
"I don't see how you could manage that, but a New Year's gift would be almost as good, would it not?" asked Miss Brown.
"There is Ikey now! I'll call to him to find the other boys and bring them over." Dora rapped on the window-pane with her knitting needle as she spoke.
Ikey, who had just vaulted over a hitching-post on his way down the street, came to a sudden halt.
"Find Carl and Aleck, and bring them here, that's a good boy; we want to consult you about something," she called.
He obeyed with soldierly promptness and was across the street in a second. A few minutes later Louise announced, "Here they come, and Aunt Zélie with them."
"I am one of the boys now, you know," said Mrs. Howard as she entered. "How cosey you look! I believe I should like to join your club too."
"Oh, do! Please do, Mrs. Howard!" came in a chorus from the M.Ks. as she sat down in the midst of them.
"We'll talk about that another time; at present we have something else to discuss. Sit down, boys, and listen while the girls tell you what they want. I already know about it."
Bess then told the story of the broken harp, and explained how anxious they were to earn money enough to have it mended.
"We intend to give an entertainment, and we want you to help," said Dora.
"What are you going to have?" Carl asked cautiously.
"We want you to help us to decide."
"We can help in one way, can't we?" Ikey exclaimed ecstatically, whereupon the other boys looked daggers at him, for the basket-making was kept a profound secret.
"I didn't tell anything, did I?" he inquired in an aggrieved tone.
"What does he mean, Aunt Zélie?" asked Louise.
"It is something we are not ready to tell just yet, but I have a plan to propose. I shall need all of you to help carry it out, and if you are willing to do a little work I am sure we can have a charming entertainment."
Profound interest reigned in Miss Brown's sitting-room for the next half hour, as Aunt Zélie unfolded her plan and explained what she wanted of each one. "And in the meantime you must not breathe a word about what we are to have, but excite every body's curiosity as much as possible," she said in conclusion.
"Won't it be lovely!" cried Elsie, clapping her hands.
"A great deal better than a fair, and more fun," said Louise.
In the pretty room which belonged to Bess and Louise sat a busy group one afternoon. Its owners were occupied with a tall scrap basket that was intended for Uncle William and Aunt Marcia. Aunt Zélie had donated the ribbons to trim it, and they were anxious to have it as handsome as possible. Helen and Carl were there too, the one making a bonnet for her doll, the other pasting in his scrap-book, sitting on the floor with a newspaper spread out before him. Dora had received a warm welcome when she came in with her work, as she often did. They all agreed in thinking that she could not come too often, and to Dora life in that house was a sort of enchantment. It seemed brighter, roomier, pleasanter there than anywhere else.
Her young friends did not dream of the cares already resting on her shoulders: the effort to cheer her mother, who was fast becoming an invalid, the life in the large boarding-house that neither of them liked.
"Do you think it will be pretty?" Bess asked, holding her basket at arm's length to see the effect of the golden-brown ribbon she was weaving in and out through the straw.
"It is a beauty," answered Dora admiringly.
"Yes, it is pretty, really," said Louise, whose fingers were trying to fashion what she called a stylish bow.
"Girls are funny, always sticking bows on things," observed Carl.
"If it is funny to like to make things look pretty, I am glad I am funny," said Dora severely.
"Dear me! Of course, I was not objecting in the least," replied the young gentleman, who rather enjoyed being taken to task by Dora.
"I am sorry to break up this pleasant party, but I am afraid I must," Aunt Zélie said, coming in.
"Why, Auntie?" asked Louise, looking up with three little wrinkles between her eyes, for the stylish bow would not be quite as she wanted it.
"Because I am in danger of losing my roses," answered her aunt, pinching Bess's cheek. "Yesterday they had no fresh air worth mentioning."
"Oh, please don't make us go!" cried Bess in a tone that was almost a wail. "We have so much to do!"
"I must finish my bow," Louise said positively.
"I shall not make you, but Joanna is going to Aunt Marcia's with a note, and I want you to go too because you need the air. I am sure Dora will take the walk with you, and on the way back suppose you stop and ask Mrs. Warner to let her stay to dinner. So fly now and get ready." She spoke so energetically that Dora began at once to roll up her work, and Bess dropped her scissors with a sigh of relief, but Louise held on to her bow desperately.
"I will finish it," she said to herself.
"Louise," her aunt said gently, "the reason you cannot make the bow to please you is because you are tired. Now, which will you do, put it away till to-morrow—when I am sure you will not have any trouble with it—and go to walk with the others, or stay here and grow more and more tired and cross, till you are not fit to come to dinner with the rest of us?"
She had a struggle with herself before she answered in a choked voice, "I guess I'll go, but I did want to finish it."
"Of course, but you will be glad by and by that you chose to do what was right, instead of what you wanted to do," and Aunt Zélie sent her off with a kiss.
The walk to Aunt Marcia's was not such a hardship after all, and when they reached home there was at least an hour for studying lessons before dinner, and that was followed by a grand frolic with Carie, lasting till it was time for Dora to go.
"I am sorry I was cross this afternoon," Louise said when she came for her good-night kiss.
"It was because you were tired, dear, I know. You and Bess must take care not to be too much occupied with Christmas. It will not do to neglect every-day duties even for that," replied her aunt.
One Saturday afternoon, about three weeks before Christmas, the boys marched triumphantly into Miss Brown's sitting-room with a large tissue-paper parcel. When this was undone, before the eager eyes of the M.Ks., there were four beautiful fragrant little baskets with tops of bright-colored silk.
"How pretty!"—"How lovely!"—"Where did you get them?"—"Surely you did not make them?"—"What are you going to do with them?"
"Why didn't we make them, I'd like to know?" asked Ikey proudly.
Certainly the boys had reason to be satisfied at the praise their work received.
"I know you did not sew on the silk," said Dora, examining one closely.
"Oh, well, Aunt Zélie and Cousin Helen did the sewing, of course, but we did all the rest," said Carl.
"And what do you mean to do with them?" asked Elsie.
"Sell them and give the money to the harp man."
They were so pretty there proved to be no trouble in disposing of them. Aunt Marcia, who was superintending a Christmas bazaar, offered to put them on one of her tables, where they sold the first evening for a dollar and a half apiece.
After this the meetings of the G.N. club had to give way to rehearsals for what Cousin Helen called "The Harp Man's Benefit," which was to occur on New Year's eve. In the meantime Uncle William had interested himself in the matter, and, through a friend who was a music dealer, a harp was lent to Mr. Finnelli till his own could be repaired.
"So we feel more comfortable about it now," said Louise, "and we think we'll make at least ten dollars at our entertainment."
Late in the afternoon of the day before Christmas Aunt Zélie sat alone in the library taking a moment's rest.
The sound of happy voices came through the open door. It was a custom in the family to decorate the hall on Christmas eve, and the children had been making wreaths and festoons of cedar, and having any amount of fun. They were now having a merry time over Ikey's suggestion to hang a holly wreath above the Big Front Door. From the top of the ladder Carl began:
and the others chimed in:
A moment later Aunt Zélie's quiet was invaded.
"Nothing makes me feel more like Christmas than that old rhyme," she said, as the laughing children gathered around her.
"Talk to us about Christmas, Auntie, please," said Louise.
"Could you possibly talk about anything else?" she asked. "What is it that makes this such a happy time?"
"Why," answered Carl, "it is because it is such fun to give presents to people, and know you are sure to get a lot yourself."
"Yes, it is because every one tries to make some one else happy. Why do we keep Christ's birthday in this way?"
"Because he came to make us happy, I suppose," said Bess.
"Don't you wish you could have heard the angels sing? I like that part of the story best where the shepherds are out in the fields," said Louise.
"I like the wise men seeing the star and bringing gifts," said Carl.
"It is beautiful from beginning to end, and it is a true story, that is what makes it so dear to us," Aunt Zélie said, looking into the fire.
"I wish it came oftener, a whole year is so long to wait," sighed Bess.
"Dear me," laughed her aunt, "I don't. It would take all my time to get ready. I have ever so many things to do after you are snugly tucked in bed."
"I think I'll not go to bed to-night," remarked Carl.
Even he was tired, however, after they had helped their father and Uncle William trim the hall. So many small fingers were sometimes a hindrance, but then it was "such fun."
"Christmas belongs to the children, so let them have a good time in their own way," said their uncle.
To the older people the season was full of memories of those who used to take part in the happy festival, but were there no longer; for the children's sake, however, no difference was made in the old customs.
All was done at last, even to fastening the mistletoe in the chandelier, and it only remained to hang the stockings beside the nursery fireplace. Carie's was already there and she herself safe in dreamland.
"I just can't wait till morning," said Bess, as she put up her own.
"It is nice to know it is coming, I think," and Louise twirled around on her toes and dropped her stocking into the grate.
"What will Santa Claus put your things in now?" laughed Carl.
"It is only scorched," she said, snatching it from the fire, which was fortunately low.
After some laughing and whispering over a plan for waking before any one else, they separated and were soon so soundly asleep that even Christmas was forgotten.
It was beginning to be light next morning when Louise opened her eyes to find Carl standing beside her.
"How hard you are to wake," he said. "It is daylight, and everybody will be up directly."
They aroused Bess, and the three ran first to their father's door, then to Aunt Zélie's, giving half a dozen hearty raps, and calling "Merry Christmas" at the tops of their voices.
When Mrs. Howard opened her door she saw three airily attired figures flying up the third-story stairs.
Hurrying into her dressing-gown, she followed. She found them in the star chamber with the window wide open, shouting themselves hoarse at Ikey, who had been awakened by the telephone bell.
"You crazy children, you will take cold! Put the window down at once."
"Oh, Auntie, it was such fun! Ikey was so surprised!" they cried.
"I should imagine so," severely.
"You needn't pretend to look cross, Aunt Zélie, for you just can't," laughed Carl.
"Now for our stockings!" cried Bess, and there was a rush for the nursery.
Such laughing, such squeals of delight, such cries of admiration, as were to be heard there for the next half hour!
Carie in her long night-gown pranced wildly around a wonderful white bear, which moved its head and growled in a most natural manner when Carl wound it up. Helen hugged in one arm the beautiful doll Cousin Helen had dressed for her, while she dived into the toe of her stocking. Bess and Louise sat on their new sled and turned the pages of a story-book. Carie brought matters to a climax by backing into her bath-tub, which Aunt Sukey had just brought in and placed by the fire. She was rescued, dripping and somewhat aggrieved, amid great laughter. Such an every-day matter as breakfast was hardly worth thinking of, there was so much else in prospect. All the uncles and aunts and cousins were coming to dinner, and after that the tree! There was enough to keep them in a gale of excitement.
Bess and Louise had a plan of their own which no one else knew about, and after breakfast they stole off together.
Going into her little study not long after, Aunt Zélie found them there. Bess stood on a chair holding a vase which she had just filled with white roses; Louise stood beside her with some others in her hand.
"Oh, Auntie!" they both exclaimed, "we didn't want you to come till it was all done."
"Shall I go away?" she asked, smiling.
"We'll tell you about it now, shan't we, Bess?" said Louise. "You know," she continued, as her sister nodded approval, "we thought perhaps Uncle Carl would be glad if we remembered him on Christmas, and we couldn't think of anything but flowers."
Bess had placed the vase on a bracket beneath her uncle's portrait, and now came down from the chair, adding anxiously, "You like it, don't you, Aunt Zélie?"
"The vase wouldn't hold them all, so you must wear the rest," and Louise put them into her hand.
Aunt Zélie silently kissed them both.
There was something about this kiss that for a moment clouded the brightness of the day for Bess. "I wish people did not die," she exclaimed with almost a sob, as they went downstairs.
"What makes you look so sober, I should like to know?" demanded Uncle William, who, with Aunt Marcia, was the first of the guests to arrive.
"I was just thinking," she replied, and then, as Aunt Zélie came in with her usual bright face and the roses on her breast, she felt reassured and danced away to be as merry as anybody.
Dora and Ikey were the only outsiders invited to the tree, which was much like other trees, and so does not need to be described. It was perfectly satisfactory, however, and they all had exactly what they wanted. Dora was amazed at the number of things that fell to her share, most of all at a small gold bracelet with a daisy on the clasp, from Aunt Marcia.
"You may be sure she likes you after that," whispered Aleck.
"Let's go over and wish Miss Brown a Merry Christmas," proposed Carl, when the candles began to burn low.
"We will storm Nottingham castle!" cried Ikey. "Come on!"
They received a cordial welcome. "What good children you are to think of me to-day!" she said, laying down her book.
"We have had such a beautiful time we thought we would finish it by coming to see you," said Dora.
"And thank you for our work-bags," added Bess.
"You need not think you have had all the Christmas on your side of the street," said Miss Brown, pointing to a rose-bush in bloom in the window and to some new books on her table. "And I should like to know," she continued, "how five little girls happened to guess what would please me most."
The M.Ks., after much discussion about their gift to Miss Brown, had accepted Aunt Zélie's advice and had themselves photographed in a group.
"I shall never be lonely again with these bright faces to look at," she said, lifting the picture from the floor beside her sofa.
"Did you have Christmas trees when you were a little girl, Miss Brown?" Louise asked.
"No, my grandmother used to celebrate New Year's day as the great holiday; we had gifts then, but not a tree."
"I haven't had one since I was a very little girl," said Dora; and Ikey added, "And neither have I."
"Did you have one when you were a little girl, Ikey?" asked Aleck gravely, making everybody laugh.
After they were gone Miss Brown sat alone in the firelight, thinking that of all the blessings the year had brought her, not the least was the friendship of these girls and boys.
Of all the young people invited to Uncle William's party, no one was in such a flutter of delight as Dora. Affairs of this kind were new to her, and as the Hazeltines had talked so much about it, it was no wonder she felt eager and excited as she dressed next evening.
"I suppose Elsie wouldn't go if she had to wear such plain things as mine," she thought as she took out her white dress. "Louise said they were going to wear white. Oh, dear! I should like to have nice clothes, but I can't bother mamma about it." Dora sighed, for she liked pretty things as much as anybody.
All trace of anything like discontent had disappeared when she stood before her mother to have her sash tied.
"You should have had a new dress, poor child," Mrs. Warner said sadly.
"No, Mamma dear," was the cheerful answer, "you must not mind. It does not matter what I wear; I shall have a good time."
"How fortunate it is that Dora cares so little about dress!" her mother thought as her daughter kissed her and ran down to the parlor, where Carl was waiting with a bunch of roses which he presented with much grace. The girls were in the carriage outside, and the drive through the streets, where the electric lights were just appearing, was no small part of the pleasure. Helen said it was like grown people going to a party. "But it is more fun to be children, I think," said Dora, burying her face in her flowers.
It was not quite like a grown-up party, for Uncle William's guests were invited to come at the sensible hour of six o'clock, but the beautiful house was all thrown open for their entertainment.
Dora forgot her dress as they went up the steps and were ushered into the brilliantly lighted hall.
They were the first arrivals, for the Hazeltine children were to assist in receiving the others, so when they came downstairs there were only Aunt Marcia, handsome and stately as usual, and Cousin Helen, looking exceedingly pretty in her pale-blue gown. The next comer was a tall gentleman whom Bess and Louise seemed to know very well. They called him Mr. Caruth, and were evidently delighted to see him.
"I am glad you came home in time for the party," Louise said to him; and Carl with an eye to business added, "You must come to our entertainment on New Year's eve, Mr. Caruth."
"What do you charge for reserved seats?" asked the gentleman, laughing.
"Suppose we give him an arm-chair and make him pay a dollar for it," suggested Miss Hazeltine.
"He is a very nice man," Bess whispered to Dora. "We wish he would marry Cousin Helen, for then he would be related to us."
"Upon my word!" Miss Hazeltine exclaimed, so suddenly that Bess gave a guilty start, "I have forgotten my office; come here and be decorated before any more arrive." From a basket she took a handful of badges.
"What are these for?" Louise asked as her cousin pinned one on her shoulder.
"You will find out by and by," said Uncle William, coming in with a red rose in his buttonhole.
And now the fun began. The children came in so rapidly that Cousin Helen had to have an assistant to fasten on the badges, and Mr. Hazeltine was here, there, and everywhere, seeing that no one was left out of the good time. They played games and danced, grown people and all, and later in the evening Mr. Frank Hazeltine actually induced Aunt Marcia to take part in "Tucker," to the delight of her young relatives.
It was particularly exciting when Uncle William was "Tucker." They came through the grand right and left positively breathless, and everybody was glad of a few minutes' rest before supper.
"Isn't it strange that Dora does not have prettier dresses?" Elsie Morris whispered to the girl next her. "I like her ever so much, but she wears the plainest clothes."
As she spoke Dora passed to join Bess, who was beckoning to her from the other side of the room. She heard enough of what was said to make her color deepen as she went straight on.
"Elsie, she knew you were talking about her," cried Constance Myer.
"No, she didn't," Elsie insisted, feeling very much ashamed.
"She won't have any use for you after this," remarked Jim Carter, who was standing near. He found that he was mistaken, however. When they were decorating themselves with the tissue-paper caps and favors found in the bonbons, Elsie, who was a most fastidious little mortal, exclaimed, "I wish my cap was not green. I can't wear it with a blue dress."
"I'll change with you, for mine is blue and I like green quite as well."
It was Dora who stood beside her, holding out the cap. Poor Elsie was greatly abashed and couldn't say a word, but Dora insisted.
"Please take it; I want you to have it, you will look so pretty in it."
She was exceedingly surprised when Elsie put her arms around her neck and kissed her, saying:
"You are the best girl in the world."
It was a small thing, for Dora had spoken truly when she said that she liked one as well as the other, but it made a deep impression upon two people. Elsie began from that moment to be more careful and kind in her criticisms, and Jim rather reluctantly came to the conclusion that this was better and finer than showing resentment.
When supper was over the company was pervaded by a feeling that something interesting was about to happen.
"What is on hand, Louise, do you know?" Aleck asked, and at that moment Uncle William was heard making an announcement. He had had an interview with Santa Claus, he said, as the old gentleman was passing through the city in a hurry to get home, and after some persuasion he had prevailed upon him to wait over and receive any of the young people present who cared to call on him.
This occasioned great applause, and all were eager to pay their respects to jolly St. Nicholas.
Half a dozen at a time, according to the numbers on their badges, were conducted to a curtained doorway and told to enter. They all seemed to enjoy the interview, for they came out with smiling faces, and not empty-handed either.
The children of the family were, of course, the last to go in, and Dora waited for them.
The room was one which Uncle William called his den, and the figure in the arm-chair would have been recognized anywhere by his rosy countenance and long white beard. He wore his fur great-coat, and his cap and gloves lay on the table.
He gave them a friendly greeting, saying, "So you are the last? It is a fortunate thing, for if I wait much longer I shall miss my train."
"I did not know you travelled in that way," said Carl mischievously.
"Dear me, boy! How could I manage with a sleigh and reindeer in this mud? I save those for colder climates. Now, before I am off, I think I have something left in my bag."
Opening a large satchel, he brought out half a dozen packages, and then taking up his cap and gloves and wishing them a Happy New Year, he was off before they could say "Jack Robinson."
"He is a fine old fellow," said Carl, examining the gun he had been wishing for.
"Indeed he is!" echoed Dora, taking a peep at the beautiful illustrated copy of "Little Women," and then she was called to lead in the closing Virginia reel with Uncle William.
"Well, how did you like the party?" Carl asked her as they drove home.
"I have had the best time I ever had in my life," she answered with a happy laugh.
"Where is my wig?"
"I have lost my banner!"
"Tell Ikey to hurry, he has to go on first. Do you think that chimney will stand?"
There was such confusion behind the scenes on New Year's eve that Cousin Helen put her hands over her ears when she came in.
"It is time to begin," she said. "Ikey and Helen are first."
The performers had advertised their entertainment very thoroughly, and as a result a large and interested audience of young people had assembled before eight o'clock.
When at length the curtain rose in response to vigorous clapping, it brought to view a fine stage, on which was a cottage with a window and door and a lifelike chimney, and everything was covered with glistening snow. After the audience had had time to admire this scene sufficiently, a boy and girl entered, dressed in outdoor costume. They looked sad, and the girl took her handkerchief from her muff and held it to her eyes. Her companion begged her not to cry, for Father Time would surely help them. Then he knocked at the door of the cottage. It opened at once and out came a veritable Father Time, leaning on his staff. His long white beard, his scythe and hourglass, all proved his identity. Looking at the children he asked:
The little girl replied:
And the boy added:
In great astonishment Father Time exclaimed:
He rapped on the ground with his staff and a small page appeared, wearing a pointed cap and carrying a tin horn. Bowing low before Father Time, he was instructed to call the Holidays together. He withdrew and was heard blowing his horn in the distance. Presently music sounded, and the eight Holidays came marching in, with banners, singing:
After marching twice around the stage they took their stand in a semicircle before Father Time and the children.
Father Time: "These children have come to me in deep distress, because their teacher (a most singular person) says there are too many Holidays, and one of them must be given up. I have sent for you to reassure them; speak for yourselves."
The Holidays looked at each other in dismay, and exclaimed:
Boy and girl (clapping their hands): "Oh, dear Holidays, we are so glad! But are you sure she can't send any of you away?"
New Year's day now stepped forward. It was Jim Carter, whose suit of cotton batting, decorated with tinsel and cedar, was most becoming. Banner in hand he recited:
Both children:
Next came Elsie, looking exceedingly like a valentine in her gauzy dress, her fair hair waving over her shoulders. In her own airy way she recited:
Both children:
The next Holiday excited great laughter and applause as he came forward. It was Aleck, in powdered wig, velvet coat, knee breeches, silk stockings, and shining shoe-buckles. In one hand he carried a small hatchet. The occasion was almost too much for him, and he spoke his lines with difficulty:
Girl and boy:
Washington's Birthday was of course followed by April Fool's Day. This part was taken by Fred Ames, in a suit of figured chintz, with cap and bells. He recited:
The children:
Next came Constance, with a garland of roses on her head, and her white dress trimmed with flowers. She recited: