19C2 
THE RURAL NEW-YORKER 
839 
The Women’s Christmas Tree. 
• 
“It seems strange nobody has men¬ 
tioned a Christmas tree at Sunday school 
yet,” said Mrs. Carney, as she stitched 
away at a patch on Freddie’s trousers. 
“Back at Jackson where we came from 
they always started the subject about 
the first of December to allow plenty of 
time to get ready.” 
“We never have Christmas trees,” 
said her neighbor, Mrs. Eastman, who 
was spending the afternoon at the farm¬ 
house. “Land sakes! the children around 
here never saw such a thing. I suppose 
they know what they are from pictures, 
but I’d like to see the folks in this 
neighborhood wasting time on entertain¬ 
ments.” 
“It’s not wasting time to my think¬ 
ing,” answered Mrs. Carney. “No won¬ 
der most of the young people leave 
home as soon as they’re old enough if 
they never have any pleasure. Suppose 
we have a tree and invite all the neigh¬ 
bors. Maybe it’ll wake them up.” 
“We!” gasped her visitor. “What 
could two lone women do?” 
“We’re not lone women. You’ve got 
a husband and three children and so 
have I. My little ones are used to cele¬ 
brating holidays, and I want them to 
have good times while we live here. 
Could we have the tree in the Grange 
hall?” 
“Why, yes, I suppose we- could, but 
we never can fix one up. It’s been years 
since I saw a Christmas tree.” 
“I’ll risk fixing it up. Let’s begin this 
very day. I have a lot of colored paper 
left from last year, and the -children will 
string popcorn and berries for us.” 
“My girls make fairy balls out of milk¬ 
weed silk that would look very pretty on 
a green tree,” said Mrs. Eastman, be¬ 
ginning to be interested. “They’ve got 
a lot of tinfoil that you could wrap 
around buckeyes, and make them look 
like silver balls, too.” 
“The very things. There! You see 
we have studied up lots of things in a 
few minutes. I’m suro we can make a 
success of it.” 
It is not to be supposed that the two 
families were silent about the proposed 
tree when once it was settled that there 
was to be one. Everyone knows that at 
least half the fun in having holidays is 
in planning and working for them, so 
the women tried to enlist helpers in the 
great scheme. The pretty teacher read¬ 
ily took an active hand, and so did the 
minister, but many of the people, while 
willing their children should attend, 
would not help with the “new-fangled 
idea.” Fortunately, ihe children them¬ 
selves needed no urging to lend their 
aid, and soon had a store of bittersweet 
and bright leaves to decorate the bare 
hall for the great occasion. The older 
ones cut out pasteboard letters and cov¬ 
ered them with gilt paper, while one 
and all practiced, daily, songs and reci¬ 
tations appropriate to the holiday. 
“When I was in the store to-day John 
Eastman was buyin’ dolls and toys to 
hang on the Christmas tree them women 
are goin’ to have up to the hall for his 
children,” remarked Charles Ray one 
evening after the children were safely 
tucked in bed. “If he can afford such 
things we might get some for our chil¬ 
dren, too. I’m as well off as Eastman.” 
Mrs. Ray astonished her husband by 
flinging her arms around his neck and 
sobbing out: “O, Charley, I’m so glad to 
hear you say that. Bessie and Carl both 
have such nice little pieces to speak, and 
it just broke my heart to think they 
wouldn’t have a thing on the tree. I felt 
real wicked toward the women for get¬ 
ting it up, but now I won’t have to 
worry any more. Bessie has been hoping 
Santa Claus would hang a doll on the 
tree for her, and Carl wants books.” 
“Why, Mollie, why didn’t you tell me 
MOTHERS.—Be sure to use “Mrs.Wins- 
low’s Soothing Syrup” for your children 
while Teething. It is the Best.— Adv. 
long ago? Mrs. Carney asked if you 
would come up next week to help dec¬ 
orate, but I told her you didn’t care for 
such things. Here is a five-dollar bill. 
Get the children some nice presents, and 
if you can think of any other little folks 
who won’t likely have anything that 
night, buy them something, too. I’m 
ashamed to think my wife was afraid to 
say she wanted to help "the women’s tree 
along.” 
Other influences were at work to rouse 
the neighborhood, but there still re¬ 
mained a number of children who seem¬ 
ed likely to be disappointed when the 
gifts were distributed. Miss Grove turn¬ 
ed this subject over in her mind for per¬ 
haps the hundredth time as she walked 
briskly over the crisp snow after dis¬ 
missing the scholars one Friday even¬ 
ing, but none of her plans seemed plau¬ 
sible. She was so intent on the per¬ 
plexing question that she did not notice 
the sled that drew up beside her till the 
driver said pleasantly: 
“If you will ride in this big sled I’ll 
be glad to take you to your boarding 
place, Miss Grove.” 
In a few minutes she was settled by 
the young man, snugly wrapped in fur 
robes and telling about the Christmas 
plans in response to his question: “How 
is the women’s tree getting along?” 
“Everybody calls it the ‘women’s 
Christmas tree,’ so I guess I’ll have to. 
By the way, can you advise me what to 
buy for the Bayard children? Their 
parents have kept house for me ever 
since Mother died, and they are first- 
ciass tenants. I got an extra price for 
my cattle to-day and want to give the 
little chaps a fine time if I can, but I 
don’t know what to buy.” 
“That ought to be an easy task, Mr. 
Hostner. The stores are full of pretty 
things, and the only difficulty lies in 
trying to pick the nicest thing when the 
articles are so numerous. You have 
taken a great weight off my mind for 
I was so afraid the Bayard boys might 
be slighted, and they are such nice chil¬ 
dren.” 
“Whenever I go into a store I lose my 
few wits,” confessed the young man with 
a comical look of despair that made Miss 
Grove burst out laughing. 
“I’ve always wondered why men dread 
to go shopping,” she said. “Is it because 
you are afraid of the clerks?” 
“I can’t explain why they stammer 
and buy the first thing a clerk hands 
out, but they do and I’m glad I’m not 
the only one who fears to enter. I’ll 
persuade Mrs. Carney and Mrs. Eastman 
to go with us to Johnstown to-morrow 
—that is, if you care to do that—and 
we’ll buy gifts for all the children who 
will be missed at the tree, and you can 
sleep in peace. I won’t have to mort¬ 
gage my farm to do that, and I’d like to 
help you ladies out of your difficulties.” 
“Mrs. Eastman, have you plenty of 
candy for your tree?” asked Mr. Hosmer 
the next day when, with his bodyguard, 
he selected dolls and toys enough for a 
small orphan’s home. “Christmas never 
was Christmas when I was a youngster 
without plenty of sweets.” 
“John, you’re spending too much 
money. We do need candy but you must 
not buy it.” 
“But I want to. I feel like buying 
gifts for all the poor children you can 
find,” and his eyes rested proudly on 
Miss Grove, who was examining pocket 
knives for the Bayard beys at another 
counter. 
A sudden thought struck Mrs. East¬ 
man and she shook the young man’s 
hand heartily. “I don’t wonder you feel 
like celebrating. She’s a lovely girl and 
she’ll make you a good wife, but I’m 
sorry the directors will have to hire an¬ 
other teacher.” 
The tree was a complete success, 
though many of the lathers and moth¬ 
ers did not enjoy the first part of the 
evening in the least. The graceful 
branches drooped under the weight of 
pretty things, but the airy drapery re¬ 
lieved it of the slightly crowded look it 
had. The women who had worked so 
hard to find enough gifts to give it a 
fruitful appearance thought it perfect, 
and so did the children, who cared noth¬ 
ing for artistic effect so long as a whole 
family of dolls and lots of toys weighed 
it down. In the mellow light it looked 
like a scene from fairyland to the poor 
little ones whose careless parents con¬ 
sidered it a waste of time to celebrate 
holidays. As the singing and speaking 
went on a great wave of shame and pity 
swept over the hearts of people who saw 
their little ones beaming on the wonder¬ 
ful tree and speculating on which of the 
gifts would come to them. 
“If we had only bought some dolls like 
them on the tree for Katie and Dorie,” 
half groaned a young father, as the au¬ 
dience loudly applauded his little daugh¬ 
ter who had recited a pretty Christmas 
poem. “Do you s’pose I could get in the 
store to-night yet?” 
“It’s too late,” said his wife, wiping 
away the tears. “Them letters up there 
say ‘Merry Christmas,’ but it won’t be 
that kind of a day for our poor little 
girls.” 
But the very first name Miss Grove 
read out was Miss Katie Sloan, and a 
beautiful doll with real shoes and flaxen 
curls was laid in the little maiden’s 
arms. Mrs. Sloan’s tears changed to 
smiles instantly and suddenly the bright 
letters above the tree shone out and 
meant what they said to this relieved 
mother. Not a single child was missed, 
and amid general rejoicing the tree was 
stripped of its gay load and the last can¬ 
dle flickered out in its socket. Mr. Hos¬ 
mer was more than repaid for the money 
it cost him when he saw the look of per¬ 
fect delight on Miss Grove’s fair face, as 
she read out the names of her little pu¬ 
pils, every one of whom had a share in 
the pretty presents. Such a happy time 
as it was! Even the people who had 
called entertainments a “pack of non¬ 
sense” could not wholly miss the enjoy¬ 
ment of the hour, while those who had 
worked to make the evening one to be 
remembered by all were radiantly happy, 
an of course the children were. 
As the little folks trooped forward 
flushed and smiling to sing the closing 
song a man in the back part of the room 
rose and said: “Let’s give three cheers 
for the women and their Christmas 
tree.” 
Perhaps it was not exactly appropriate 
to the occasion but they were given with 
hearty good will, and from that time till 
this, Page’s Corners has had Christmas 
trees. hilda Richmond. 
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