A Merry Christmas by Louisa May Alcott

Author:Louisa May Alcott
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Penguin Group, USA
Published: 2014-09-24T04:00:00+00:00

What Love Can Do

THE SMALL ROOM HAD NOTHING IN IT BUT A bed, two chairs, and a big chest. A few little gowns hung on the wall, and the only picture was the wintry sky, sparkling with stars, framed by the uncurtained window. But the moon, pausing to peep, saw something touching and heard something pleasant. Two heads in little, round nightcaps lay on one pillow, two pairs of wide-awake blue eyes stared up at the light, and two tongues were going like bell clappers.

“I’m so glad we finished our shirts in time! It seemed as though we never should, and I don’t think six cents is half enough for a great, red flannel shirt with four buttonholes, do you?” said one voice rather wearily.

“No, but then we each made four, and fifty cents is a good deal of money. Are you sorry we didn’t keep our quarters for ourselves?” asked the other voice with an undertone of regret.

“Yes, I am, till I think how pleased the children will be with our tree, for they don’t expect anything at all and will be so surprised. I wish we had more toys to put on it, for it looks so small and mean with only three or four things hanging from it.”

“Oh, it won’t hold anymore, so I wouldn’t worry about it. The toys are very red and yellow, and I guess the babies won’t know how cheap they are but like them as much as if they cost heaps of money.”

With that brave, cheery reply, the four blue eyes turned toward the chest under the window, and the kind moon did her best to light up the tiny tree standing there. A very pitiful little tree it was—only a branch of hemlock in an old flowerpot propped up with bits of coal and hung with a few penny toys earned by the patient fingers of the elder sisters that the younger ones should not be disappointed.

But in spite of the magical moonlight, the broken branch, with its scanty supply of fruit, looked pathetically poor, and one pair of eyes filled slowly with tears, while the other pair lost their happy look as if a cloud had covered the moonbeams.

“Are you crying, Dolly?”

“Not much, Grace.”

“What makes you sad, dear?”

“I didn’t know how poor we were till I saw the tree, and then I couldn’t help it,” sobbed the elder sister, for at twelve she already knew something of the cares of poverty and missed the happiness that seemed to vanish out of all their lives when Father died.

“It’s dreadful! I never thought we’d have to earn our tree and only be able to get a broken branch, after all, with nothing on it but three sticks of candy, two squeaking dogs, a red cow, and an ugly bird with one feather in its tail.” Overcome by a sudden sense of destitution, Grace sobbed even more despairingly than Dolly.

“Hush, dear. We must cry softly, or Mother will hear and come up; and then we shall have to tell.

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