Part 4 (1/2)
She shrank a little, and her eyes looked far away, past the gateway.
”Some of the things you mention; very much that I had not encouraged you more to go on with your work, but mainly--”
”Well, mainly?”
She jumped down from the rock where she had been sitting, and answered evasively, ”I don't think there is any mainly, unless it is that when I had such a good chance to be a hermit, I couldn't remember all those wonderful Mahatma practices that make one so good and so wise. The only formulas I have really tried hard to recall are for cooking without sugar, or spice, or fruit.”
VI
Heap on more wood!--the wind is chill; But let it whistle as it will, We'll keep our Christmas merry still.
SCOTT.
It was Christmas Eve, and the night being in a reminiscent mood, was chillier than usual. Adam piled up the logs till the whole room was full of the warm glow. ”Let us hang up our stockings,” he said, with an attempt at gayety.
Robin spread out her hands with a gesture of comic distress. ”If only I had a pair to hang!” she said. ”But they gave boxes in England, didn't they? I noticed that the rain the other day seemed to have come through the shed roof, and I fear the contents of those packing cases may be the worse for it, especially if they happen to be sugar. Do you think it would do to make ourselves presents of them? If you do, please give me the smaller box; I am sure it has hair-pins and needles and darning-cotton in it.”
Adam laughed. ”We will give them to each other,” he said, ”and perhaps you'll find some stockings in your box, if there is no box in your stockings. We can dream of their contents all night, and--who knows?--we may have a merry Christmas, after all.”
Robin hardly knew the place next morning. Adam had risen early and decked every available spot with kinnikinnick until the room fairly glistened. ”I wish I knew how to thank him,” she said.
”Do you like it?” he said, as he came in. ”I was afraid I should waken you putting it up.”
”Like it!” she answered, ”Why, Adam, it is beautiful. You are just an ideal Santa Claus.”
When they had finished their breakfast they went out and looked at the boxes.
”You must open yours first,” she said; ”it's so big I know it doesn't contain anything nice, so we would better save mine till the last, and then I can divide with you. What do you think it is? You shall have three guesses.”
”It might be a piano from its size,” he ventured.
”No,” she said decidedly. ”It's not the right shape.”
”Or perhaps it's a feather-bed; I don't know of anything I want less.”
”It's too large for that; now guess, really.”
”As a matter of fact, I expect it is mining machinery, which will be about as much use as another chimney; but here goes to find out.” He brought his hatchet down vigorously between the boards at one end, where a slight crevice promised some leeway.
”Oh, do be careful,” she cried ”even if there's nothing in it but stove-polish and excelsior, the nails and the boards are absolute treasures!”
He proceeded more gently. There was any amount of hoop-iron, which he removed carefully, and the nails were drawn with as much caution as if they had been teeth, as they well might be, considering there were no more on earth to draw. When the top of the box was finally off, and a quant.i.ty of papers removed, they gave a simultaneous cry of delight.
The box was full of books. They took them out, one at a time, with little exclamations of pleasure, as an old friend came to light.
Sitting down on the ground they piled the books about them on the papers, and opening favorites here and there read to each other and themselves till long after noon. It was really a fine library, well chosen, covering a wide range of subjects and including an encyclopaedia and an unusually fine edition of Shakespeare.
”Isn't it the most beautiful Christmas present you can imagine, Adam?”