’I’m so glad to-morrow
is Christmas, because I’m going to have lots
of presents.’
’So am I glad, though I don’t
expect any presents but a pair of mittens.’
‘And so am I; but I shan’t have any presents
at all.’
As the three little girls trudged
home from school they said these things, and as Tilly
spoke, both the others looked at her with pity and
some surprise, for she spoke cheerfully, and they wondered
how she could be happy when she was so poor she could
have no presents on Christmas.
’Don’t you wish you could
find a purse full of money right here in the path?’
said Kate, the child who was going to have ‘lots
of presents.’
‘Oh, don’t I, if I could
keep it honestly!’ and Tilly’s eyes shone
at the very thought.
‘What would you buy?’
asked Bessy, rubbing her cold hands, and longing for
her mittens.
’I’d buy a pair of large,
warm blankets, a load of wood, a shawl for mother,
and a pair of shoes for me; and if there was enough
left, I’d give Bessy a new hat, and then she
needn’t wear Ben’s old felt one,’
answered Tilly.
The girls laughed at that; but Bessy
pulled the funny hat over her ears, and said she was
much obliged but she’d rather have candy.
’Let’s look, and maybe
we can find a purse. People are always
going about with money at Christmas time, and some
one may lose it here,’ said Kate.
So, as they went along the snowy road,
they looked about them, half in earnest, half in fun.
Suddenly Tilly sprang forward, exclaiming, —
‘I see it! I’ve found it!’
The others followed, but all stopped
disappointed; for it wasn’t a purse, it was
only a little bird. It lay upon the snow with
its wings spread and feebly fluttering, as if too
weak to fly. Its little feet were benumbed with
cold; its once bright eyes were dull with pain, and
instead of a blithe song, it could only utter a faint
chirp, now and then, as if crying for help.
‘Nothing but a stupid old robin;
how provoking!’ cried Kate, sitting down to
rest.
’I shan’t touch it.
I found one once, and took care of it, and the ungrateful
thing flew away the minute it was well,’ said
Bessy, creeping under Kate’s shawl, and putting
her hands under her chin to warm them.
’Poor little birdie! How
pitiful he looks, and how glad he must be to see some
one coming to help him! I’ll take him up
gently, and carry him home to mother. Don’t
be frightened, dear, I’m your friend;’
and Tilly knelt down in the snow, stretching her hand
to the bird, with the tenderest pity in her face.
Kate and Bessy laughed.
’Don’t stop for that thing;
it’s getting late and cold: let’s
go on and look for the purse,’ they said moving
away.
‘You wouldn’t leave it
to die!’ cried Tilly. ’I’d rather
have the bird than the money, so I shan’t look
any more. The purse wouldn’t be mine, and
I should only be tempted to keep it; but this poor
thing will thank and love me, and I’m so
glad I came in time.’
Gently lifting the bird, Tilly felt
its tiny cold claws cling to her hand, and saw its
dim eyes brighten as it nestled down with a grateful
chirp.
‘Now I’ve got a Christmas
present after all,’ she said, smiling, as they
walked on. ’I always wanted a bird, and
this one will be such a pretty pet for me.’
’He’ll fly away the first
chance he gets, and die anyhow; so you’d better
not waste your time over him,’ said Bessy.
’He can’t pay you for
taking care of him, and my mother says it isn’t
worth while to help folks that can’t help us,’
added Kate.
’My mother says, “Do as
you’d be done by;” and I’m sure I’d
like any one to help me if I was dying of cold and
hunger. “Love your neighbour as yourself,”
is another of her sayings. This bird is my little
neighbour, and I’ll love him and care for him,
as I often wish our rich neighbour would love and
care for us,’ answered Tilly, breathing her warm
breath over the benumbed bird, who looked up at her
with confiding eyes, quick to feel and know a friend.
‘What a funny girl you are,’
said Kate; ’caring for that silly bird, and
talking about loving your neighbour in that sober way.
Mr. King don’t care a bit for you, and never
will, though he knows how poor you are; so I don’t
think your plan amounts to much.’
’I believe it, though; and shall
do my part, any way. Good-night. I hope
you’ll have a merry Christmas, and lots of pretty
things,’ answered Tilly, as they parted.
Her eyes were full, and she felt so
poor as she went on alone toward the little old house
where she lived. It would have been so pleasant
to know that she was going to have some of the pretty
things all children love to find in their full stockings
on Christmas morning. And pleasanter still to
have been able to give her mother something nice.
So many comforts were needed, and there was no hope
of getting them; for they could barely get food and
fire.
’Never mind, birdie, we’ll
make the best of what we have, and be merry in spite
of every thing. You shall have a happy Christmas,
any way; and I know God won’t forget us if every
one else does.’
She stopped a minute to wipe her eyes,
and lean her cheek against the bird’s soft breast,
finding great comfort in the little creature, though
it could only love her, nothing more.
‘See, mother, what a nice present
I’ve found,’ she cried, going in with
a cheery face that was like sunshine in the dark room.
’I’m glad of that, dearie;
for I haven’t been able to get my little girl
anything but a rosy apple. Poor bird! Give
it some of your warm bread and milk.’
‘Why, mother, what a big bowlful!
I’m afraid you gave me all the milk,’
said Tilly, smiling over the nice, steaming supper
that stood ready for her.
’I’ve had plenty, dear.
Sit down and dry your wet feet, and put the bird in
my basket on this warm flannel.’
Tilly peeped into the closet and saw
nothing there but dry bread.
’Mother’s given me all
the milk, and is going without her tea, ’cause
she knows I’m hungry. Now I’ll surprise
her, and she shall have a good supper too. She
is going to split wood, and I’ll fix it while
she’s gone.’
So Tilly put down the old tea-pot,
carefully poured out a part of the milk, and from
her pocket produced a great, plummy bun, that one of
the school-children had given her, and she had saved
for her mother. A slice of the dry bread was
nicely toasted, and the bit of butter set by for her
put on it. When her mother came in there was the
table drawn up in a warm place, a hot cup of tea ready,
and Tilly and birdie waiting for her.
Such a poor little supper, and yet
such a happy one; for love, charity, and contentment
were guests there, and that Christmas eve was a blither
one than that up at the great house, where lights shone,
fires blazed, a great tree glittered, and music sounded,
as the children danced and played.
’We must go to bed early, for
we’ve only wood enough to last over to-morrow.
I shall be paid for my work the day after, and then
we can get some,’ said Tilly’s mother,
as they sat by the fire.
’If my bird was only a fairy
bird, and would give us three wishes, how nice it
would be! Poor dear, he can’t give me any
thing; but it’s no matter,’ answered Tilly,
looking at the robin, who lay in the basket with his
head under his wing, a mere little feathery bunch.
’He can give you one thing,
Tilly, — the pleasure of doing good.
That is one of the sweetest things in life; and the
poor can enjoy it as well as the rich.’
As her mother spoke, with her tired
hand softly stroking her little daughter’s hair,
Tilly suddenly started and pointed to the window,
saying, in a frightened whisper, —
’I saw a face, — a
man’s face, looking in! It’s gone
now; but I truly saw it.’
‘Some traveller attracted by
the light perhaps. I’ll go and see.’
And Tilly’s mother went to the door.
No one was there. The wind blew
cold, the stars shone, the snow lay white on field
and wood, and the Christmas moon was glittering in
the sky.
‘What sort of a face was it?’
asked Tilly’s mother, coming back.
’A pleasant sort of face, I
think; but I was so startled I don’t quite know
what it was like. I wish we had a curtain there,’
said Tilly.
’I like to have our light shine
out in the evening, for the road is dark and lonely
just here, and the twinkle of our lamp is pleasant
to people’s eyes as they go by. We can
do so little for our neighbours, I am glad to cheer
the way for them. Now put these poor old shoes
to dry, and go to bed, dearie; I’ll come soon.’
Tilly went, taking her bird with her
to sleep in his basket near by, lest he should be
lonely in the night.
Soon the little house was dark and
still, and no one saw the Christmas spirits at their
work that night.
When Tilly opened the door next morning,
she gave a loud cry, clapped her hands, and then stood
still; quite speechless with wonder and delight.
There, before the door, lay a great pile of wood, all
ready to burn, a big bundle and a basket, with a lovely
nosegay of winter roses, holly, and evergreen tied
to the handle.
‘Oh, mother! did the fairies
do it?’ cried Tilly, pale with her happiness,
as she seized the basket, while her mother took in
the bundle.
’Yes, dear, the best and dearest
fairy in the world, called “Charity.”
She walks abroad at Christmas time, does beautiful
deeds like this, and does not stay to be thanked,’
answered her mother with full eyes, as she undid the
parcel.
There they were, — the warm,
thick blankets, the comfortable shawls, the new shoes,
and, best of all, a pretty winter hat for Bessy.
The basket was full of good things to eat, and on
the flowers lay a paper, saying, —
‘For the little girl who loves her neighbour
as herself.’
’Mother, I really think my bird
is a fairy bird, and all these splendid things come
from him,’ said Tilly, laughing and crying with
joy.
It really did seem so, for as she
spoke, the robin flew to the table, hopped to the
nosegay, and perching among the roses, began to chirp
with all his little might. The sun streamed in
on flowers, bird, and happy child, and no one saw
a shadow glide away from the window; no one ever knew
that Mr. King had seen and heard the little girls the
night before, or dreamed that the rich neighbour had
learned a lesson from the poor neighbour.
And Tilly’s bird was
a fairy bird; for by her love and tenderness to the
helpless thing, she brought good gifts to herself,
happiness to the unknown giver of them, and a faithful
little friend who did not fly away, but stayed with
her till the snow was gone, making summer for her
in the winter-time.