eat tl
Bewcailtiom
Bellefonte, Pa., December 23, 1927,
ee —————————
Old English Christmas Carol.
Come rejoice all good Christians
And rejoice now, I pray,
For joy our Redeemer
Was born on this day,
In the city of David
And a cottage so poor.
Then rejoice and be merry
We have blessings in store. .
Rejoice and be merry, let Sorrow away,
Christ Jesus, our Saviour, was born on
this day!
Our Lord he was born
Of a virgin most pure,
Within a poor stable
Both safe and secure.
He was guarded most safely
With angels so bright,
Who told these poor shepherds
Those things in the night,
Rejoice and be merry, let sorrow away,
Christ Jesus, our Saviour, was born on
this day! ~
They said, “Be not fearful,
But to Bethlehem go,
Then rejoice and be cheerful
For ’tis certainly so.
For a young son to Joseph
Is in Bethlehem born.”
Then rejoice ail good Christians
And cease for to mourn.
Rejoice and be merry, let sorrow away,
Christ Jesus, our Sayiour, was born on
this day!
THE FAIRY FLUTE.
If it had not been for Mrs. Brown's
sister, it wouldn’t have happened.
That was the way Sophie thought
about it; she had a good many “ifs”
to think about. If Mummie had lived,
there wouldn’t have been the S’ciety,
in the person of the tall, dark young
lady ‘who took them to board with
Mrs. Watkins. If Christmas hadn’t
been coming along, the S’ciety would
not have taken them away from Mrs.
Watkins and brought them into the
city to board with Mrs, Brown; be-
fore Christmas, it seemed, a good
many people thought they would like
to adopt some children, and when
you're needing to be adopted, it’s best
to live in
were very excited and still, when the
S’ciety brought the first lady to see
them; but unfortunately Sophie had
a sniffly cold, and Buddy became so
shy that he stuck out his mouth and
scowled.
“Oh, I think I'd like prettier chil-
dren,” the first lady said. “Haven't
you any with curls?”
There were second and third and
fourth ladies, but none of them seem-
ed to admire Sophie and Buddy.
Sophie knew that she was not pret-
ty; her hair was perfectly ‘straight.
But she did think they might have
liked Buddy, if only he wouldn’t stick
out his mouth and look cross. = If—
another if, and then still another—
if the supply of possible mothers gave
out....It worried her quite a good
deal. ‘
So they were still boarding with
Mrs. Brown when, two days before
Christmas, she got the telegram and
just had to go. Of course, Mrs. Katz,
who lived in the flat upstairs, agreed
to give them their meals and look
out for them, and Sophic assured
Mrs. Brown,
. “Buddy won’t be afraid, with me
here.”
Which was true, for though Buddy
was barely five, Sophie was going-
on-eight.
“T’ll telephone the S’ciety from the
station,” Mrs. Brown said, but she
barely had time to catch her train.
Mrs. Katz meant to be kind, but
Sophie could not understand much
that she said, and Buddy was so
afraid of the way her hair slipped
over to one side of her head that he
just scowled and stuck out his mouth.
The food that she gave them was
strange, too—not even oatmeal for
breakfast. Of course, for nearly a
year now, ever so many things had
been different; but being alone in Mrs.
Brown’s flat, with Christmas Eve here
and all... .
Buddy’s lips were trembling a lit-
tle. Sophie sat in the rocking chair
and dragged him up on her lap.
“Listen, Buddy,” she said. “Do you
remember the trees?”
Buddy noddeed, but his mouth still
quivered.
“Do you remember the daisies we
picked, and the g’raniums on the win-
dow-sill 7”
“Yes,” said Buddy,
interested.
He knew this game; Sophie often
played it with him, because the last
thing Mummie had said to her was,
“Don’t let Buddy forget—" Sophie
didn’t know what it was that he must
rot forget, so she just did the best
she could.
“Do you remember how cookies
smell when they’re cooking? Do you
remember waking up with the sun
01 your face? Do you remember the
snow, Buddy ?”
“I had a sled,” he remembered.
“Yes. And do you remember how
Santy Claus filled our stockings, and
nuts and raisins, and—"”
“I want some now,” Buddy affirmed,
so that was an unfortunate reminder,
and Sophie kad to think quickiy.
“And the Christiaas tree with lots
of shinies on it? And—and birthday
cakes—
“I want some cake now:”
Oh, dear, she made another mis-
take. “And the way Mummie used
to come to the door—"
There was a howl from Buddy. “I
want my Mummie, £00-0-0-0!”
Something was queer with Sophie’s
throat. Buddy slipped off her lap and
began to pound
all the while howling.
“Oh, dear,” said Sophie, “this won’t
do! This won’t do at all.”
She ran to their bedroom and came
back thrusting her arms into her coat.
She forcibly injected Buddy into his.
“Oh, stop crying, Buddy dear; do
please stop crying. o, keep your
cap on! Say, listen, Buddy—we’re
going out.”
“I don’t want to go out!”
“Yes, you do, too! We're going
out to look for a fairy. Don’t you
beginning to be
the city. Sophie and Buddy | h
her with his fists, | t
remember fairies, Buddy? Oh, don’t
you?”
“Where’s one?”
“I don’t just exactly know, but
there is one. You don’t often see
them, but I think maybe we’ll see one
today.” . >
Buddy was still catching his breath.
“Fairies are shiny,” Sophie said as
she closed the door behind them, “and
ever so teenty-weenty. They can hide
just anywhere.”
“Could they hide in the grass?”
Buddy asked. .
“Oh, dear, yes! Why, they dance in
the grass.”
“Could they hide
ring?”
“Of course.”
“Could they hide in a tree?”
They had turned the corner and
stopped before a line of Christmas
trees leaning against the grocery-
man’s house. Sophie laughed in quite
a superior way.
“Why, they live
They walked on,
Sophie knew so much
some of the. things she knew began
with “once upon a time” and went on
and on, so that Buddy’s eyes grew
rounder and rounder. He wasn’t
scowling or sticking his mouth out;
if only the mothers could have seen
him then! 2
After a time they came to a place
where tliere were rows of barrels sit-
ting along the sidewalk. Some were
full of papers and ashes, and some
were empty. Men were dumping the
trash into a big, big cart and then
rolling the empty barrels across the
sidewalk. The children stopped to
watch the dust fly and the papers go
up like birds and then settle down
again. Suddenly Buddy grasped Sp-
phie’s hand tight as tight.
“Could a fairy hide in a barrel?”
he asked.
“Of course,” she replied. “It could
even hide in an ash can.”
“Look—!” Buddy cried breathless-
ly, and pointed to one of the barrels
of trash still waiting to be emptied.
“Look—that’s shiny! Maybe that is
a—fairy!”
Sophie looked, and then, with a
gasp, made a dart forward. Her hand
went among the papers; when it came
out, it held a bright, slender thing
about a foot long. Her face fell.
“It isn’t a fairy,” she said . “It’s
only an old piece of tin.”
The big, burly ashman was lifting
the barrel. “What you find, sister?”
e asked.
“It’s only an old piece of tin. I
though maybe—"
Perhaps her face trembled a little.
He set the barrel down on the pave-
ment again.
“Why, no, sister! That there’s a
flute, a little tin flute. Must ’a’ got
thrown out o’ the toy store. Here,
let me show you!”
He took the flute, held it up to his
lips, and blew. A soft, sweet sound
came from it, anether and another.
He bent down to show how he made
the sounds.
“See—there’s four holes in it. You
blow into this big one, and you put
your fingers over two of the others.
Like this—see?” The little sound
came—toot. “Then, if you change
your fingers—see—and blow—!"” An.
other sound came—toooot. “And then,
if you change your fingers
And another sound rame, t0-000000t.
“Oh-h!” cried Buddy. “Let me!”
“Sure,” said the man. “Here, I'll
show you.”
He held Buddy’s fingers until the
sounds came, the first three notes of
the scale, toot—toot—toot, Then he
took up the barrel and went on with
his work. The children went on, too,
and the day was quite different.
“I'd rather have this than a fairy,”
said Buddy.
Sophie looked thoughtful. “Maybe
it was a fairy’s flute,” she said.
in a—napkin
in trees, silly!”
talking of fairies.
about them;
They went on and on, stopping be-
fore shop windows, stopping at crowd-
ed crossings, standing to watch a
Santa Claus ringing his bell, on and
on. Buddy began to go slower, but
whenever they stopped he tooted his
little flute, and people looked and
smiled.
At one of the crossings some one
said, “Why, little boy, you got your
present on Christmas Eve, didn’t
you?”
Sophie remembered again; and only
last Christmas . . And now even
Mrs. Brown was away... ,
After a time they passed the wide-
open door of a church. There were
trees and long gerlands of green on
the steps, people carrying them in,
and from somewhere * inside there
came singing in high boys’ voices:
“Oh come, all ye faithful, joyful and
triumphant,
come ye, oh co-ome ye . , ”
Sophie’s face lighted. = “We know
that song, Buddy!” she cried, and
softly began to sing; but Buddy played
on his flute, and when the hymn was
over, he still played on.
Sophie stared at him, her eyes
wide.
“Buddy!” she exclaimed, clasping
her hands together and jumping up
and down. “Buddy, you're playing
the song! Listen! ‘Too-toot all ye
toooot-ful, toot-ful and tri-yum-
phant!” Buddy! Your little flute
plays it! It plays ‘Oh come’ and
‘faith’ and ‘joy’!” !
Buddy blew and blew, moving his
fingers the way the man showed him,
and Sophie sang. It was quite as she
had said: the notes of the little flute
were the notes of “Oh come” and
“faith” and “joy.” Buddy looked as
Jough he never had scowled in his
ife.
After a while they came to a drug
store where people were crowding be-
fore a long counter; the smell of
coffee and chocolate came out when-
ever the door was opened. They sud-
denly knew they were very hungry,
but Buddy tooted continuously. A
lady, with her hand on the door,
urned.
“What a dear little sound!”
Buddy looked up ecstatically, So-
phie smiled and said, as one woman
to another:
“Yes, isn’t it? I think it’s
flute. It plays ‘Oh come,
fl, joyful and triumphant.’
this—”
She sang the words, while Buddy
lew; and sure enough, the flute play-
ed “Oh come” and “faith” and “joy.”
“Why, so it does!” said the lady.
“You darlings! Wouldn't you like
a fairy
all ye faith-
Like
again—!"” ( p
have to whisper!
some hot chocolate 7”
As it turned out, there was ever so
much more than hot chocolate; they
felt much better when they left the
drug-store.
“You see, it was a fairy flute,” the
lady said when she bade them good-
bye. “And whatever you wish on a
ay flute comes true!”
“I know what I'd wish for,” Sophie
said to herself softly. “I'm going to
wish for it now. I wish for a—.” She
said the word to herself, because she
knew, of course, that it always was
best not to wish out loud. But Bud-
dy, watching her, guessed it. Sophie
knew that he had, because he scowled
and stuck out his mouth.
“I wouldn't!” said he. “I didn’t
like any of ’em. I'd wish for a sled,
and a Christmas tree, and things in
my stockings. And I'd wish for my
ute.”
“You already have that,
told him, and again they walked on.
On and on and on. More and more
people were in the streets, hurrying,
carrying bundles and wreaths and
more bundles. There was a Santa
Claus on almost every corner, only
sometimes it wasn’t Santy himself but
prob’ly his wife. Crossing the streets
became harder; again Buddy began
to go slower.
“I think,” said Sophie, “we’d bet-
ter be getting back.”
Mummie had told her, long,
ago, always to ask a policeman.
she went up to one.
“Would you please tell
asked, “the way to Mrs.
house ?”
The policeman grinned. “That's a
large order,” said he; and then, his
face becoming serious, “You kids
ain’t lost, are you?”
A sudden fear gripped Sophie, made
her feel queer inside. “Oh, no,” she
assured him politely. “Oh, no, we
aren't lost! No, indeed.”
The policeman watched them move
off, but the traffic was heavy . . .
After a time they came to a square.
On one side were big shops, but across
the way were big houses, and there
were benches. It was mild for the
season, and almost all the benches
were full, but they found one with
only a woman on it. It felt pretty
good to sit down, and after a while
Buddy tooted his flute. The woman
had been sitting quite still, staring
in front of her; but when Buddy had
tooted a while she stirred and pres-
ently looked at them. Sophie smiled
and said in an undertone, as though
confidentially:
“It is a fairy flute. It plays ‘Oh
come, all ye faithful, joyful and
triumphant.’ Listen—”
And under her breath, still quite
confidentially, she sang the hymn, and
chimed in.
face changed. Her
the little flute
The woman's
lips parted, and her breath seemed to
have something the matter with it.
Suddenly she put her hands to her
cheeks, and got up from the bench,
and went off down the path. She
silly,” she
long
So
me,” she
Brown’s
walked as though she didn’t know | d
where she was going. It looked very
queer to Sophie, but sometimes grown
people were like that.
Across the way a young man sat,
his feet stretched out before him.
Sophie smiled up at him and sang the
hymn, and the little flute played _ its!
art.
“It’s a fairy flute,” she told him.
“If you make a wish on a fairy flute,
it comes true.
“I wish I had one,” the young man
said. “Have you made a wish on
yours 7”
“Oh, yes. I wished for a—but I'l
It’s best not to
wish it out loud.”
The young msn bent down, and So-
phie whispered. When he stood up,
his face had changed. It looked rath-
er white.
“That’s the best thing to have,” he
said.
“Haven't you got one?” she asked.
“Yes. But I don’t deserve her.”
“Oh, she wouldnt mind that, Not
at all,” Sophie assured him.
“Oh come” and “faith” and “joy,”
the little flute tocted.
“I'm going to find out,” the young
man said, and went away quickly.
After a while an old gentleman
came and sat on the bench. He had
a fur collar on his coat and rested
his hands on a gold-headed cane. Bud-
dy had fallen asleep, but when he
woke up and hepan to play on his
flute again, the old gentleman stirred
and looked at the children as though
annoyed.
“I hope you don’t mind,” said So-
phie. “You see, it’s a fairy flute. It
plays ‘Oh come, all ye faithful, joy-
ful and triumphant’.”
“H’m,” the old gentleman said, and
frowned across the way at the big,
fine houses.
Sophie sang the words softly, over
and over, and the little flute sang,
too. When she had sung it twice, the
old gentlemen stopped moving so
restlessly. When she had sung it
three times, he said “H’m” again.
When she had sung it six times, he
asked.
“Do you know what ‘faithful’ and
‘joyful’ mean?”
“Why, yes,” said Sophie serenely.
“You sing them at Christmas.”
When she had sung it about ten-
or-lleven times, he stood up.
“Here,” he said, and gave her a
bright new dime, “here’s something
for you.”
“Oh, thank you!” cried Sophie. “Oh,
thank you ever’n ever so much!” and
watched him cross the square to one
of the big fine houses . . .
It began to grow dusky. Buddy was
leaning heavily against her; he played
the flute intermittently.
said,
“I think we’d better be getting back.
Mrs. Katz might get worried.”
So they got off the bench and
crossed to the side of the square
where the shops were, where the
street cars hammered along.
“It’s so far,” Buddy whimpered;
and Sophie, the dime clasped tight in
her hand, had an inspiration,
“I think we had better take the
street car,” she said. “It passes our
street at the corner.”
They had been on a street car only
three or four times; there were no
street cars in the place where the
lived with Mummie. They thought
they would take the biggest one while
ey were about it. It was ever so
crowded; a lady let Buddy sit on her
lap. Everybody had bundles; some-
At last she]
times, when people got off, they said
“Merry Christmas” to the conductor.
After a while there was a whole emp-
ty seat, so Sophie
Buddy. He was sleepy . . .
When she woke up, there were only
two other people in the car, and the
conductor was shaking her by the
shoulder.
“Say, do you kids
going ?” he asked.
“Oh!” said Sophie and rubbed her
eyes. Buddy woke up, too, and began
to play on his flute. “Why, yes. We're
going to Mrs. Brown's.”
“Brown’s ?” the conductor repeated.
“Where's that?”
“Oh come ... faith ... joy: ...”
piped the little flute.
One of the other passengers—both
were men—said: “Browns? They live
at Pasquatamy.”
“Sure,” said the second man.
“That where you're going 7” the
conductor asked; and Sophie, with
dignity, repeated, “We are going to
Mrs. Brown’s.”
“Oh, all right,” the conductor said.
“It’s the next to the last stop on the
line. I'll let you know.”
The other passengers got off, and
whenever Buddy woke up, he piped
on his flute. The last time he said,
“I'm dre’ful hungry.”
“Say,” the conductor asked when
he stopped the car and told them they
were at that place with the queer
name, “you kids ain’t lost or anything,
are you?”
Again something inside of Sophie
semed to turn over; besides, it was
Christmas Eve and all, and although
that hot chocolate and sandwich and
cake had been very good . . .
“Oh, no,” she said. “We're not
lost. We are going to Mrs. Brown's.”
Buddy blew a weak little blast on
know where you're
-
his flute. “Oh come”... “faith”. ...
it sang.
“Well, I guess this is your place,
then,” the conductor said.
Christmas!”
They got off the car and watched it
trundle away. Then they looked all
around. It wasn’t like any other
place, not like the one where they
lived with Mummie, nor like where
Mrs. Watkins lived, nor like Mrs.
Brown’s. There was a long, broad
street; they could see quite plainly
in the moonlight. There were houses
set back from the road ; all had lights
in them, and in all the shades were
drawn. “Merry Christmas,” the con-
ductor had said.
“I want some’p’n to eat,” Buddy
whimpered.
“He said Mrs. Brown lived here,”
said Sophie under her breath.
They walked and walked and
walked past the lighted houses, where
Sophie knew Mrs. Brown did not live.
At last Buddy could not go farther;
the houses were farther apart, and
they had come to one, quite a little
one, where there was only one light
in one window. They sat on the door-
step.
“I want some’p’n to eat,” said Bud-
y again; and Sophie,
“I wished and I wished. ...”
Buddy began to cry. She was des-
perate.
“Oh, Buddy,” she said, snuggling
him to her, “play on your flute, Don’t
you remember—‘Oh come—all -
faith-ful, joy-ful and—’”
Buddy played, quaveringly. The
door back of them opened, and a
Fageedy man stood in the lamp-
ight.
“What the ’ell’s all that noise ?” he
demanded.
“Oh!” Sophie jumped up. “It isn’t
“Merry
a noise! It's a fairy flute. It says,
‘Oh come, all ve faithful, joyful and
triumphant!’ ”
drawled, “what
He slammed the door.
a sob rose in Sophie’s throat,
a fairy flute. Play, Buddy,
“Sa-ay,” the man
you givin’ us?”
“Qh,”
“but it is
play!”
Buddy played, and
door opened again.
“Say, what’re you kids doin’ out
there, this time o’ night?” the man
asked.
“I want some’p’n to eat,” Buddy
whimpered.
Only a moment the man waited.
Come on in,” he said rather cross.
y. :
He fed them. Tea, and bread, and
cheese, and apples. They felt a lot
better.
“I'm full,” said Buddy and took up
his flute. Sophie sang softly.
“Say,” said the man, frowning, “who
are you kids? What are vou doin’
out here, this time o’ night? You
ain’t lost, are you?”
Why ‘did every one say that? Again
something came into Sophie’s throat.
“Oh, no,” she said as briskly as she
could. “No. We're living with Mrs.
Brown. Goodness—we are not lost!”
“Brown? That's funny. 1 thought
their kids died.”
Sophie looked at him seriously. She
saw that she’d have to be firm about
it.
“But we do live with Mrs.
We ought to be getting there now.”
“Sure! You got to hang up your
stockings and all! Well, Merry Christ-
mas!” he opened the door for them,
Sophie held out her hand. “Thank
you ever’n ever so much for the sup-
per.”
It was dark as dark outside, for the
presently the
Brown.
moon was under a cloud. The lights |.
had gone out in some of the houses.
There was only one man in the street;
he passed them just as the door closed
behind them, carrying a traveling-
bag, walking not very fast and as
though he was thinking and thinking
and thinking. It was ‘better to be
near some one than out in the road
alone; hands tightly clasped, they fol-
owed him.
Past a bend in the road was a big,
white house. The moon had come
out; they could see it plainly. Up-
stairs was all dark, but one room
downstairs was brilliantly lighted.
The man stopped, and the children
stopped, too. They could see the
shadow of a lady moving across the
drawn shades; then, as they looked,
she came to the windows and raised
them. It was all the children could
do not to cry out, for there in the
middle of the room was a Christmas
tree, a big and wonderful Christmas
tree, shining and twinkling and gleam-
y | ing.
Perhaps the lady had heard his step
on the porch, or perhaps she had seen
him from the window. The front door
was flung open. The porch was a
broad one; she met him half-way.
could sit beside
Their arms were about each other.
“Oh Betty, my darling,” they heard
him say, “why did you, why did you 7”
She was crying. “I had to, Bob, oh,
I just had to! I can’t have them
gone. They'll never be gone from my
heart! I had to make ristmas for
them—I can’t let them be gone!”
They went in together, and the chil-
n crept up on the porch, close to
the window, where they could look at
the tree. The man and the woman
came into the room, and again their
arms were about each other. She
was crying, and while he stroked her
hair he looked at the tree as though
it were something so sad... .Present-
ly she raised her head, and the chil-
dren could see they were talking; the
lady was very lovely, almost as pret-
ty as Mummie. Suddenly Buddy be-
gan to cry.
Sophie felt that way, too. She
hugged him up tight.
“Oh, don’t Buddy, don’t! Please
don’t cry! Oh, Buddy, I just can’t
stand it if you cry! Wheres your
Huts) Buddy? Play on your little
ute!”
His breath came in sobs, but he
tried to play. There was something
in Sophie's throat, but she tried to
sing.
“Oh, come, all ye faithful, joyful
and tri-yum-phant, Oh come ve, oh
co-ome-ye—"’
They sang it through twice. They
were staring at the tree; they did not
see the lady start and grasp her hus-
band; they did not see them look at
each other almost in terror. But they
saw when the door was flung open
again, because suddenly there was
bright light on the porch.
“Betty—" the man cried. “My God,
Betty! Come here!”
Buddy—so frightened now—began
to howl. The lady looked at them
only an instant; she seemed to fly
across the porch until she had Buddy
in her arms, lighted up close to her
breast, murmuring to him; and Bud-
dy, his flute dropped and forgotten,
wound his arms about her neck. She
carried him into the house,
picked up the flute, looked at the
man. Her lips were twisting and
trembling, but she smiled,
“It’s a fairy flute,” she told him.
“It plays ‘Oh come, all ye faithful,
joyful and trumphant.’” Then she,
too, began to cry.
But when she began to stop crying,
they were all sitting on a sofa in the
room with the tree; the man’s arms
were about as comfortable as any-
thing she had ever felt, and Buddy
was on the lady’s lap sound asleep,
and the lady had been crying and
was holding her cheek against Bud-
dy’s hair.
“Betty,” the man said
though he were begging for ‘some-
thing. “Betty, my darling—”
“It was God,” the lady said. “But
ho are they? Where did they come
rom ?”
Sophie
softly, as
They asked Sophie a good many
questions, and presently had the story
of the day and much more. Sophie
told them about all the “ifs,” and
about all the things she remembered,
geraniums and snow and sleds and
cookies, and saying her prayers, and
new brown shoes, and. the way Mum-
mie danced with them—oh, even how
dy was sick so long, even’ about
Mrs. Katz’s hair. And that just re-
minded her.
“Oh, dear!
be going. We
Brown's.
ried.”
“You have found Mrs.
I s’pose we ought to
were looking for Mrs,
Mrs. Katz might get wor-
Brown’s,”
i said the lady, with one of Sophie’s
| hands warm in hers, “and—let Mrs.
, Katz be worried!”
| The man laughed. He had a nice,
burry laugh. “How fierce we are!
Still, I suppose I had better call up
the police. Too late tonight for the
Society.”
Sophie looked knowing and nodded.
Sammie said always to ask the po-
ice.”
“The dear” little old-fashioned
mite!” Mrs. Brown cried.
Mr. Brown came back from the
telephone. Sophie felt shy. She did
not know what to say next and it
seemed as though she ought to say
something. She still held the little
[ tin flute in her hand; she showed it
i to them.
“It’s a fairy flute,” she informed
them. “We found it in an ash bar-
rel. If you make a wish on it, itl
come true.”
“Did you make a wish on it, sweet-
heart?” Mrs. Brown asked.
“Well, yes, I did,” Sophie admitted.
“But it was a pretty hard wish to
come true. I wished for a—a—moth-
er.
Mrs. Brown gasped and hu
Buddy closer, pressing her chee
his hair.
“There are plenty of mothers,” she
said, with a catch in her voice, “but
oh—so few little children.”
Sophie was staring into the depths
of the tree. She shook her hezad.
“Well, I don’t know,” she objected.
“You see, mothers don’t want little
boys that stick out their mouths and
scowl, and of course my hair isn’t
goldy and curly, and if the mothers
were to give out before we—before
the fairy had time to—" She swal-
lowed. “So you see—”
Her lip quivered a little. Outside
the window, from down the street,
there came a sound of music, rhyth-
mic and sweet on the night air,
Said Mr. Brown, his voice quite
husky, but still quite—quite comforty,
“But whatever you wish on a fairy
flute is bound to come true.”
Sophie thought about that very
hard for a moment. Now the music
was outside the window; the words
seemed a part of all that was inside
the room.
“Oh come, all ye faith-ful, joyful and
triumphant,
Oh come ye, oh co-ome ye to Be-eth-
lehem!
Come and a-dore Him, born—”
Sophie looked into Mr. Brown's face
and into Mrs. Brown’s face. Because
there were tears on Mrs. Brown's
cheeks, her own tears overflowed.
“Then I wish, oh—I do wish—for a
mother!” she cried. ;
And suddenly, warmly, miraculous-
ly, there was room on Mrs. Brown’s
lap, room in Mrs. Brown's arms, for
herself and Buddy, too! :
And after a while, a very nice while,
a little glass icicle fell from the tree
and broke, tinkling, on the floor be-
ged
on
neath. It sounded like fairy laughter.
family,
Some mothers may
is such a task!”
is so expensive!”
ure.
In fact, with
on the children’s
Strings of both col
suspended by wires
certainly go far in
mentation.
mas scrap pictures
home-made “sweets”
will enjoy so much
colors or covered
bright spots to the
swer for the more
balls. These same
ily made into
pensive gifts,
With a sheet of
paper dolls can be
light the hearts of
Candy canes may
the boys and
est branches.
or ribbon
tree.
cookies,
bread men, will be
mental and are not
hearts, stars, ete,
eat,” when the tree
Small red apples
Christmas or lady
orange,
individual taste, as
etbook; but if one
stand or table, a s
purchased and
giving almost
much
If the expense
be kept as low as
the
pail may be used
pail nearly full of
moist the tree will
the danger of fire,
In trimming a t
for this avoids
and
ornaments or branc
from this cause:
If you have ever
received which you
have to
did want,
To a woman who
in the house for a
go withou
Christmas morning
one person in
of this? Hardly.
sort of gift-buying
goes on,
other,
from the
other people.
reminders
Just
brought in three
the same china,
tray cloth; and
Day itself comes,
sam
you are
valid try to find a
so different as to m
the whole day.
granulated sugar,
water and half
cream-of-tartar. B
from the
of vanilla extract.
oughly coated. The
on parafine paper.
raisins, half
shelled nuts,
pound
Put fruit
chopper,
sistency
put throug
Shape
the mixture
wrap in wax paper
use. If the mixtur
may be moistened
ange juice.
Where there are children
a Christmas without the his--
toric tree is not to be thought of..
showing girls’ and boys’
board, colored tissue paper, tinsel and’
ribbon, a bewildering assortment of
Fancy cutters in many
may now be purchased at
furnishing stores and gayly decorated:
other decorative feature,
sessing the charm of being “good to-
customary stand may be
with and an ordinary wooden. water-
green for some time,
the shedding of needles
fires from Christmas
and probably remember
a sevére disappointment
one holiday season after
and the invalid can’t get away:
Glace Nuts.—Take
half a cupful of
a teaspoonful
crack stage (300 degrees),
fire and add a teaspoonfyl
one-fourth
ized sugar (if desired).
and nuts through food
and if not of smooth con-
FOR AND ABOUT WOMEN.
in the:
exclaim: “Qh, it.
and others, “But it
) Still one feels well’
repaid for both the trouble and the-
outlay in the children’s joy and pleas- -
a little co-operation
! part, the outlay for -
dressing the tree need not be great, .
ored
cranberries are most effective; while
simple home-made candies wrapped in
the old-fashioned “motto papers” and
and ribbons will!
the way of orna--
Cornucopias of glazed or gold pa--
per may be made by the dozen for
a few cents and decorated with Christ-
or illustrations
cut from old Christmas cards. These
will furnish ideal receptacles for the:
’ that the children:
to make as part.
of the Christmas Preparation.
English walnuts bronzed in various
with tinfoil add’
tree and will an-
expensive tinsel’
shells can be eas-
dainty thimble cases:
that will answer admirably as inex--
scrap pictures, .
heads, card-
fashioned to de--
the kiddies.
be purchased for
attached to the stout-
Still another receptacle for nuts, ,
candy, popcorn or raisins can be made
from different colored
the form of Christmas stockings. Af-
ter filling with the dainties mentioned,
draw up the tops with bits of worsted!
and attach them to
nettings, cut in
the:
The fancifully frosted cakes and’
not forgetting the
ginger--
found very orna--
difficult to make..
odd designs:
most house--
will add still an--
besides pos--
is dismantled.
(sometimes called”
apples) are also:
very effective on account of their vivid’
coloring; while further i he
‘| branches very small tangerines may-
be suspended, adding a bit of bright:
in on
In the selection of the tree itself.
the housewife will of course suit her:
well as her pock--
has a low, firm:
mall tree may be:
placed upon it, thus
same effect as a
taller and larger one.
of the tree must
possible, even the
dispensed’
instead. Fill the
damp, wet sand.
Fit the top of the pail with the head’
of a barrel, through which a hole is-
cut, sufficiently large to admit the
end of the tree and if
the sand is kept
remain fresh and’
thus avoiding”
and lessening;
hatever arrangement is decided
upon for holding the tree, be sure that
it stands firmly before proceeding to
adjust the decorations.
tree is always to be preferred.
A bushy, full
ree, it is best to
commence at the top and work down,,
knocking off the trim-.
mings by hitting the laden branches,
very careful
used for lighting to have them fixed’
so that they are clear
if candles are
of’ overhanging
Res, as nearly all’
trees: aniginate:
a
Crm?
had a long sick-
ness you know all about the gifts you
didn’t really want,
clearly what
it was to
t the things you
especially at Christmastime.
has: been shut up
year or two it is:
almost the last straw to find om
that her dear
friends have sent her a knitted shawl).
a pair of crochetted
some religious books.
What an invalid needs is
frivolous; something to make her for.
get that she is a shut-in.
a hundred stop to think
bed slippers or:
something"
But does:
e same old
or gift-making-
an-
that she isn’t like:
think how monot--
onous it must be to have a tray
times a day, with
e glassware, same
then, when Christmas:
same old gifts!
Keep this in mind this year, and when
getting something for an in-
gift that will be
ake the hours for
meals about the happiest hours in
two cupfuls of
of
oil to the hard-
remove
Take the nuts to
be dipped on a long pin, dip into the
syrup and be sure that they are thor-
n place to harden
Raisin Delights. Half pound seeded
figs, half pound
cup pulver-
h a second time.
into a cylindrical
roll about two inches in diameter,
until ready for
e is quite dry it
slightly with or-
}