Dodgeville chronicle. [volume] (Dodgeville, Wis.) 1862-current, 1874-12-18

| ~
Now, if the little maid had delivered a
shorter speech, the lady would have made,
fear, snappish reply, for that was her first
impulse; but the alusion to children turned
her thoughts adittle,s and she said, not un
kindly: Very well; go and enjoy yourself
Alas my days of happiness are over" With
that the.little maid, trembling at her own au.
i daclty, said:s" If you please, ma'am, it would
do you good to- see the children, and they
would be proud to have you come" But the
ady waved her hand and sank into an arm
chair. overcome with the mere idea; and
when she lifted her face from her black
edged cambric handkerchief the little maid
was gone.
The lady couldn't really enjoy her grief I'm.
less everything was in order about her; so the
first thing she di6s%rftor preahfasJs was Go
make the bed and orange the chamber with
! her own hands. Size had not done so for a
long time, though she was a capital house
| keeper and there was nothing about house
keeping, from garnet to kitchen, that she did
not understand. This morning she was quite
surprised at herself to find how much salts
faction it gave her to do something. "Mak-
| ing ones own bed is a real pleasure" said
she to herself and then felt quite guilty that
she had thought of pleasure-she, whose days
of happiness were over. But the mischief
| was done, and without really knowing what
moved her she dressed herself with more
than usual care, and in less gloomy way
1 Instead of her heavy Grape and bombazine
| she put on lustrous black silk dress, and
| left off her ugly widows cap. Then she seated
| herself again in the armchair, and was all
| ready to mediate; but her thoughts kept
running on the little maid and her family.
81 wonder how many there are" thought
| she. "How strange that have never asked
her a word about them! Her father and
mother are dead, ii, seems to me. That's all l
can remember of her affairs. [ wish l had
sent those children some Christmas gifts
| They are poor, no doubt, or their sister
would not be going out to service"
Just then there came knock at the door
and, there being no maid to drive away the
visitor, the lady was obliged to go herself.
But she had only half crossed the parlor
| when the door flew open, and on the threshold
| stood Child.
"What do you want" said the lady. "You
must have made mistake" The Child said
nothing at first, but stepped swiftly and light
| ly across the room, and before she could divine
| what it would do it had thrown back the cur
| tains and flung open the blinds. The sun
| glanced brightly from snowy roof opposite,
above which glowed the pure blue sky; but
| the lady noticed nothing of the beauty out
| side, she was so amazed at the appearance of
| the Child in whose golden hair she seemed to
| see the sun, and in its eyes the azure heavens.
Such deep, calm, clear, solemn, laughing, In
nocent, brave blue eyes were never seen.
| Above them the bright locks flowed back from
the fair forehead as though stirred by per-
petual breeze; beneath them the sweet mouth
wore the gladness Of infancy, blent with the
gravity of age.
Then at last the Child spoke in musical
voice, at once confidmg and commanding:
"No, have not made a mistake I want you.
Comc!" And down into the shining, frosty
world it pointed.
Strangely led by power she could not re-
sist the lady wrapped herself in shawl and
| furs, and, drawing thick veil over her face,
| followed down the stairs. But at the bottom
the Child, with sudden, gentle force, tore away
the veil, saying only Not today" And so
| they went into the street. But in front of the
house the Child paused again and, pointing
at the lower floor, said, "Who lives down
stairs" GA shoemaker, believe, And
sician. hear him practicing sometimes"
"What did you give them for Christmas"
persisted the whimsical Child. Me? why,
nothing. don't know them. I never spoke
to them in my life. Why should have any
thing to do with them?" 81 suppose you
sent your Christmas presents by the little
"No," said the lady, sadly, II am all alone in
the world; give no presents to anybody, and
nobody gives any to me-"
" Wait" said the Child; then quickly
sped up the stairs like a bright arrow,
to the musicians door, and burst in
|
sitting with his head in his hands,
feeling more miserable than ever; for
he had a vacation that day, and he didn't
know what to do with it. Hewas just thinking
that even giving lessons and playing trashy
music was better than this, when the dazzling
Child broke in upon him, out OF breath and
smiling, with a bewitching nod and greet
ing, and the words: Merry Christmas! The
lady begs the honor Of your company" 1t
was really remarkable that nobody could OBJ
iect to ANYTHING that Child saidi In two Sec
onds more the wondering musician was on his
| way downstairs; and at the front door stood
the lady, to whom he made splendid bow
(for he knew what belonged to good man
ners), and said: "The compliments of the sea-
son, madam I am proud and happy to wait
upon you"
Meanwhile the brave Child had invaded the
dngy shop of the shoemaker. There sat Old
Pegs in his best clothes, but hammering away
at his work He had dressed himself up in
honor of the day; but he couldn't stand the
idleness, and so finally he had said to him
self: g What's the odds? it isn't Sunday, any
how; and there's nothing for an old hunks
like me to do but to keep peggingp' He was
justputting the last touches to a pair of chill
dren's shoes when the wondrous visitor came
, in "Ah!" said the Child, with happy
laugh, "you had to work this morning to ge
them done, didn't you? Well, it's better late
than never; and there's still time to take
them there. So hurry along; the lady sends
Merry Christmas, and the lady is waiting
for YOU"
Just as the lady and the musician were be
ginning to get a little embarrassed, having
already agreed that it was fine day, and tha
they were both pretty well, l thank you, the
child made its appearance, more radiant thar
ever, bearing the shoes triumphantly IN ont
hand and followed by the shoemaker him
self. Pretty business for Ola Pegs! ne muI
| q Gov. Il mi a. W
make good job of it. None of your half
, soled work for mel" st.1 33
Thus il came to pass that of the three sci
, fish and unhappy neighbors the shoemake
J was the first to speak frankly. These crust.
people are apt to be hardest on the outside
and very juicy within; and Old Pegs was
after all, one of that kind, though nothing
had broken through his crust for years
Now he came out of his den, and, nodding t.
the others, said cheerily:
GA Merry Christmas, neighbors; i suppos
YOU are good friends, and / am an old heath
en- to live so long in the same house with yol
: and never pass kindly word with either Q
you I don't know how much longer Nigh
have done it, though, if it hadn't been TO
your pretty, Child, ma'am. Bless you, tn
: Child thought l was making shoes for
Christmas present to somebody!-and so
was-stingy old sinner!-only don't exacu
: know who it is J"
e There was no time to reply, for the Chill
+ took the shoemaker's hand and led the wa
t swiftly down the street. Past many happ
d homes they went, and heard shouts ar
: songs and laughter from within. AT las
S they stopped before poor and rickety dwell
}, ing, and the Child tapped softly at the door
II 1t was opened by the lady's maid, with
/ glad smile of recognition for the Child, and
O Hook of amazement for the rest. 81 am yer
S glad to see you, ma'am," said the little mai(
n | q and yOu oentlemen-n
l. Here the situation was perplexing; for th
il ad,r did nj knnu either of the Gentlemen b