Part 9 (1/2)
At the one end of the table, close to the candle (they could only afford one), sat Mrs. Turner and Lizzie, busily st.i.tching away, anxious to do as much work as they possibly could, as it was intended to celebrate the next day as an entire rest and holiday. On the floor was Sally Grimes stoning some raisins into a basin for the plum-pudding, and by her side, at Nora's feet, sat Pollie, helping her trusty friend in her important work.
Mrs. Flanagan was standing at the other end of the table, busily mixing the various ingredients requisite for this crowning dish of the unwonted feast, and there also was Mrs. Grimes (Sally's mother) chopping up the seasoning for a goose, which Mrs. Flanagan's employers had given her as a Christmas gift, and on which they were all to dine.
Mrs. Smith had also contributed something to this festival in the shape of oranges and nuts, and had also given Pollie a few sprigs of holly with which to deck their room.
Seated on a low chair, her lap filled with holly leaves and bright berries, sat Nora, and her slender fingers were busy twining them into little garlands to brighten up their poor abode. Very pale and fragile looked the girl, almost too fragile to struggle with the world, but her sweet face was happier than when last we saw her kneeling at her mother's feet. It was as though the storm of life had buffeted her until almost crushed, and having vented its utmost fury, had pa.s.sed away, leaving her at rest at last, but oh! so worn and weary with the strife.
Poor old Mrs. Flanagan! Every thought of her heart turned to Nora. When her daughter was sometimes gay with a touch of the light-heartedness of other days, the gaiety would find an echo with her, and she would strive to be merry for that dear one's sake. And if, as was more frequently the case, the girl was sad, the shadow rested on the mother also. She seemed now but to live in the reflection of her daughter's life.
Even now, whilst busy with the morrow's good cheer, she would ever and anon pause to glance at her child; and if the girl chanced to look up, and met the mother's eyes with a smile, what intense joy spread over that mother's careworn face, lighting it up with the suns.h.i.+ne of love.
Ah me! we can never fathom the depth of a mother's tenderness. Who in the whole world cares for us as she does? Pitiful to our faults, sorrowing with our griefs, rejoicing in our joys. Who so unselfish? who so true? Happy the child who can _truthfully_ say, ”Never has sin of mine furrowed thy brow, or silvered thy hair, my darling.”
But to return to our story.
Pollie, seated as before mentioned at Nora's feet, was intently watching her (making very little progress, I fear, with stoning the raisins) as she daintily threaded some berries to form a word, and many a merry laugh was caused by the two children trying to guess what the word was to be.
P was the letter first fixed on to the slip of cardboard, and which she held up to them, smiling brightly.
”I know what it's to be!” cried Sally, who was becoming quite a scholar now; ”it's plum-pudding.”
But Nora shook her head, saying--
”No, that is not the word I am going to make. Can you guess, Pollie?”
”I don't think I can,” was the reply. ”Is it”----
”P stands for Pollie,” cried out impetuous Sally, in her eagerness almost upsetting her basin of raisins upon the floor. ”Perhaps it's that.”
There was much merriment over Sally's guessing, and much amazement too on the part of Mrs Grimes, who was utterly astonished at her ”gal's larning;” but still Nora shook her head. No, that was not the word intended.
Many were the conjectures hazarded, till at last Pollie resolved to try no more, but wait until the entire word or phrase was finished, both children promising not to look until at a given signal from Nora they should know it was completed. Then they resumed their employment, waiting very patiently for the time. At last it came.
”Now,” said Nora, and she held it up so that all could see, then she gave it into Pollie's hand.
The puzzle was solved.
”Peace on earth,” read the child aloud.
There was a silence, each one occupied with thoughts those words suggested. Tears filled the eyes of the two widows, for they clearly understood what was in the girl's heart when tracing those letters.
_Her_ head was bowed; they could not see her face, but her hands were very trembling as she clasped them together as if in silent prayer.
Pollie broke the silence.
”Nora, dearie,” she half whispered, ”I wish we could get in the other beautiful words, 'Glory to G.o.d in the highest,' because it is He who gives us this sweet peace, and I should so like to thank Him.”
CHAPTER XII.
IN THE SPRING-TIME.