Chapter Twenty-Seven
Reforming The Scrooge
Uncle Claymore Gregg was sitting at his desk, hunched over his account books, working on them with a turkey feather quill. He took no notice of the snow falling past the windows or the beauty of the Christmas scene outside. It was all the same to him.
Nothing gave him more pleasure than adding up rows of fat figures for his benefit. He loved the sense of order they gave him. Too often, people had let him down.
The door to his office opened with a flurry of snow and a blast of cold air. He looked up sourly. Carolyn walked in, looking lovely in a red coat and bonnet powdered with snowflakes. Her rosy cheeks glowed from the brisk walk from her home to town.
"Merry Christmas, Uncle!" She smiled as she closed the door against the cold and shook the snow from her muff.
"Bah, humbug!" Claymore pulled out his large pocket watch and opened it, frowning at the dial. "You're four and a half minutes late! I thought we had already talked about this! I do not tolerate tardiness!"
"Well, I'm sorry," Carolyn apologised sweetly. "I was unavoidably delayed. Daniel came home, and I lost track of the time."
As she removed her wrap and bonnet to hang them on the coat rack behind the door, she said, "But the streets are so crowded. Everyone is so excited it's almost Christmas. Aren't you even a little bit excited?"
"Five minutes here, five minutes there," Claymore tut-tutted, waving his quill pen. "And all out of my pocket! People are so careless with their time. Time is money, niece, time is money. That is a lesson you would do well to remember. Your Captain could have waited a few more minutes to disembark. He could have greeted you here in town. I would not have objected."
Carolyn sighed. "Yes, Uncle. I'm sorry, I'll try and do better from now on." She hurried over to his desk. "But there is such merriment outside—"
"What right do you have to be merry?" her uncle demanded to know. "You're poor enough…"
"What right have you to be gloomy? You're rich enough." She bent down and kissed his cheek.
"Bah! Humbug!" Claymore exclaimed, jumping back. He detested all forms of affection. There was no profit in any of it.
Carolyn smiled. "Thank goodness, Christmas doesn't depend on you for survival!"
She gathered up her paper cuffs and pulled them on before crossing to a shabby desk in the corner. Jumping up onto her high stool, she opened a ledger, picked up a feather pen and began to work.
"What's Christmas but a time for running up bills without any money to pay for it?" Claymore demanded to know, still waving his quill. "If I had my way, every idiot who goes about with Merry Christmas on his lips would be boiled in his own pudding." He nodded decisively.
"Uncle!" Carolyn declared reproachfully. "If you could only see it as it is."
"What is it, pray tell?" Claymore demanded to know in a resigned tone.
"It's a time for warmth, a time for giving. A time when families can come together in peace and harmony. Even if all they can give each other is a smile."
"A smile won't keep you warm at night or pay the bills on time." Claymore pulled a face. "You keep Christmas in your way and let me keep it in mine. Plenty of people will owe me money by the time all the tinsel comes down."
"But you don't keep it…" Carolyn pointed out. "You ignore it like everything else in your life that you don't like. Rows of cold, hard figures won't keep you warm at night, either."
"If you don't get back to work, you'll celebrate Christmas by losing your situation," Claymore snapped. "Niece or no niece, time is money. I can't afford these emotional extravagances."
He checked his watch again. "Mmm, now you're five minutes late!"
"I'll work fifteen minutes later, tonight, to make up for it," Carolyn cajoled beguilingly. "Oh, don't be cross."
She jumped down from her stool and approached him sweetly. "Come dine with us tomorrow. Share Christmas with us. Daniel is home, so we can all be together. It will be such a joyful day. You are my only, dearest uncle."
"Tomorrow I shall be at this desk as always," Claymore replied severely. "Someone has to keep the wheels of this town turning. I cannot afford to backslide. Not for anyone."
"Yes, sir…" Carolyn shook her head in despair.
Claymore went back to waving his quill to emphasise his point. "And don't expect me to contribute to your wedding plans. I live on a strict budget that doesn't allow for such unnecessary extravagances. You'd do well to follow my excellent example."
"Yes, Uncle…" Carolyn sighed.
Claymore turned back to his ledger. "Did you turn that infant over to the Alms House yet? I told you to do so."
Carolyn looked contrite. "Oh, I couldn't. He's just so adorable."
"He's another mouth to feed!" her uncle reprimanded her. "You'll never manage. You and your family will starve. Well, don't come begging at my door. Nowhere on my shingle will you find that dreadful word, charity." He shuddered.
"We'll manage." Carolyn shrugged. "We always have."
"You'll never have two farthings to rub together!" Claymore shook his head.
"It doesn't matter. I am a rich, rich woman, Uncle Ebenezer." She bent down to tap his chin. "Bah humbug…"
※※※※※
Claymore's office was quiet, except for the almost continuous scratching of two turkey feather quill pens. Carolyn knew better than to annoy her uncle when he was hunched so intently over his figuring.
Her uncle had always insisted that idle chatter gave him an upset stomach. That was also why he eschewed rich foods like turkey or a fat goose. He maintained that he was far better off with a bowl of nice, hot gruel. That dish didn't give him indigestion.
Carolyn glanced his way. She suspected it was more that her miserly uncle didn't wish to pay the price for more expensive Christmas fare offerings. She was well aware that he could afford the very best of everything.
"Ah-ha!" Claymore suddenly cried, making Carolyn jump.
"What is it, Uncle?" she asked, worriedly.
"Someone is interfering with my property!" Claymore exclaimed, throwing down his pen and jumping to his feet. "I'm being robbed! I can feel it!"
He hurried to the coat rack, grabbing up his heavy green cloak, tying it at his neck with a thick golden cord. "I shall return, niece, when I have evicted the trespassers!"
He jammed his grey felt hat on his head before he swept out of the office, leaving Carolyn to shake her head as she looked after him with resigned bemusement.
※※※※※
On a snow-covered hillside outside the town limits, Candy and Jonathan were excited as they stood beside the Captain. They were admiring a lush, perfectly formed tree standing in a large, snowy collection of other trees.
"It's the best tree I've seen in my whole life," Jonathan declared breathlessly. "And it will just fit on our sledge. I greased the runners only last night."
"Captain Gregg," Candy asked in a serious tone. "Wouldn't it be terrible if there was no Christmas at all?"
"Yes…" Daniel nodded. "It would be like a long, long night without a star. I feel sorry for people like your Uncle Claymore who eschew the season because they hate to spend money and share a little cheer. Parsimony won't keep him warm at night."
"Bah humbug." Jonathan nodded his understanding. "Uncle Claymore is nothing better than a grumpy curmudgeon. Martha said so."
"Uncle Claymore's a scrooge, too." Candy shrugged. "He just can't help it."
"However, we must be grateful he agreed to pay your mother a wage," Daniel acknowledged as he walked behind the tree to begin chopping it down with the small hand axe he'd taken from the children's red sledge. "It keeps you all while I'm away at sea. Somewhere deep inside him, he has a heart."
At the same moment, Claymore came running into the field. He flapped his hands in agitation when he saw what they were doing.
"Captain Gregg!" he ordered loudly. "Chop not one more time! I do not allow it!"
The children frowned as they turned to him. But they remembered their mother's careful instructions to show him their best manners at all times for her sake.
"Hello, Uncle Claymore," they said in unison.
"Merry Christmas," Jonathan added.
"Yes, Merry Christmas…" Candy watched him anxiously.
"Bah, humbug," Claymore grumbled, not looking at them. "Humbug, I say!"
"Hello, Claymore," Daniel greeted him in a resigned tone. "What are you doing this far from your beloved office?"
"Guarding what's mine," Claymore replied with malicious glee. "That tree is on my property. I felt you three, the very moment you stepped onto my land. I came out because I just knew you were up to no good."
"Don't tell me you own this hill, now, too?" Daniel asked incredulously. "By my estimate, you must own almost half the town."
"The more things I collect, the happier I am and the fatter my bank balance becomes." Claymore giggled. "I foreclosed on the mortgage last week," he declared proudly. "Old man Hislop's widow couldn't keep up with the payments. If you want that tree, it will cost you three pieces of silver."
"That's a whole month's rent," Candy declared hotly.
"It's highway robbery," Jonathan added.
"Couldn't you spare even one tree for your only niece and nephew?" Candy demanded to know. "After all, we're family."
"That's the trouble with family," Claymore grouched. "They've always got their hand out," he complained as he extended his hand, palm upwards, toward Daniel.
The Captain, not wishing to hear any more complaints or make things more awkward for the children, reached into his pocket to extract the required coins. He put them one at a time into Claymore's not unwilling hand. "Here's your money, you tight-fisted, stingy, money-grubbing, penny-pinching—"
"Tut, tut, tut, tut!" Claymore clutched the money as he waved a warning finger. "Remember, I can still call for the constable and have you all thrown in jail for trespassing! Christmas or not! It's all the same to me!"
He glared at them all before he turned on his heel and descended the hill toward the town and his office. The children looked after him with indignation written large in their expressions.
"How can anyone be so mean?" Candy demanded to know.
"He doesn't need your money," Jonathan pointed out.
"Well, we're not going to allow Claymore's parsimony to spoil our Christmas, are we?" Daniel counselled. "Now remember, not a single word to your mother about any of this unpleasantness. Promise?"
"Yes, sir," Jonathan responded. "We promise. But it's still not right."
"I hope she gets home early," Candy added. "Even Uncle Claymore can't be that mean."
"So do I," Jonathan agreed. "Then Christmas will begin…"
"Yes," Daniel replied warmly. "Christmas will truly begin when your mother comes home. And we must make sure it's a fine and festive homecoming."
He returned to chopping down the tree. Carollers approached them in a single file, wending their way home. Each singer was carrying a gaily wrapped Christmas present. They were singing 'God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen' as they passed by.
Daniel stopped his chopping to listen to them, pushing back his cap on his head. "I think it's going to be a very Merry Christmas…"
He still had to stop by the little church to visit with the Reverend Farley. And then there was the most important task of all. He needed to formally ask his love to marry him…
※※※※※
Once they'd towed the tree all the way home on their sledge, Daniel and the children managed to get it into the parlour and set it up in the corner by the window. All three stood back to admire their handiwork.
"I think it'll do very nicely." Daniel nodded. "But the branches look a little bare. What do you think, children?"
"Martha wrapped the gingerbread men and gave them to us to put on the tree. And there's some cranberries and popcorn to be strung up," Candy replied. "We can do that while we wait for Mother to come home."
"An excellent idea," Daniel approved. "Speaking of Martha, her Christmas fare smells delicious. I think I'll just go and have a word with her about dinner…" He hurried out of the room, leaving the children to their preparations.
※※※※※
In the warmly fragrant kitchen of Gull Cottage, Martha was preparing a Christmas pudding. She moved to the oven to peek in on several fat mince pies bubbling temptingly. She smiled with satisfaction as she took out the tray and placed it on the kitchen island.
The Captain appeared in the doorway, rubbing his hands in anticipation. "Martha, what glorious mouth-watering aromas." He helped himself to a sweet mince pie, tossing the hot treat from palm to palm. "I can't wait for the feast!"
Martha smiled up at him with deep satisfaction. "Oh, I do like cooking for a man. Women and children are such delicate feeders. It's such a shame you are away at sea so often. I worry that you aren't being fed properly."
"I get by. But I'll tell you something," Daniel replied regretfully. "The kitchen delights at the Inn don't hold a candle to yours. But that cannot be helped. I must abide there."
Martha sighed. "It's such a shame you have to stay there. But, I know, Mrs Muir's mother insisted. She would know if you moved back in here."
"True enough." The Captain nodded. "Even though the house is mine, I can hardly reside under this roof until Carolyn and I are married. It would not be seemly or right. I have her reputation to think of, and yours."
"Oh, I do understand. But it's still such a shame." Martha fussed with her arrangements. "But you're ashore now and you're here. Have you set the date yet?"
"No…" Daniel paused as he studied his pie. "I spoke with the Reverend just an hour ago. It's all arranged bar the date. He waits for my word."
A sudden thought assailed him. "How do you think Carolyn would feel about Christmas Day?" He tried not to sound too eager.
"Tomorrow?" Martha looked deeply startled. "Why, I couldn't possibly be ready. Not with everything I would have to do to be prepared."
"You couldn't?" Daniel pondered, pursing his lips in thought. "Very well. When do you think you could be ready?"
"Well, New Year's Day would suit me fine," Martha assured him. "I can call on some of the womenfolk of the town to help me with the preparations. I know Mrs Muir would be delighted with that. Your engagement has been long and tiring for her. She would rather it was behind her so she could settle down to being a sea captain's wife."
"Well, that'll be my second suggestion!" Daniel declared happily. "I shall walk back to town and tell Reverend Farley before I bring Carolyn home."
He leaned in to kiss her round, flushed cheek as he swiped another sweet mince pie, adroitly avoiding her half-hearted swat at his trespass. She laughed as she chased him from her domain. He left, chuckling, as he consumed his pilfered prizes with gusto.
Across the foyer, in the parlour, the children were busy with Christmas festive fare. Candy was stringing dried cranberries while Jonathan worked with a large bowl of popcorn. Scruffy was doing his part by snapping up anything that fell his way.
"You two certainly are busy." The captain smiled at them as he returned to the room. Finishing his second pie, he bent down to help himself to a handful of popcorn.
"Hey, no fair eating the ornaments," Jonathan chided him.
"Wait until you see what I've brought home for you all." The captain crossed the room to retrieve his seabag from where he'd hidden it behind the alcove curtain. He opened it to carefully remove the wrapped gifts he'd purchased in foreign ports.
The eager children got up to follow him, trying to see around his arms. Their intense curiosity was alive in both their faces. Daniel carried the pile of wrapped gifts back into the living room, kneeling to place them beneath the tree.
He didn't look up as he said, "I'm getting ready to hang some chains of cranberries and popcorn any moment now…"
"Aye, aye, Captain!" Jonathan saluted him smartly before both children quickly returned to their tasks. Scruffy remained on alert for any more treats that might come his way.
"Scruffy…" Jonathan warned the dog severely. "If you don't stop, Saint Nicholas isn't going to bring you a big, fat, juicy bone!"
The dog barked before he left the popcorn and went to curl up beneath the tree, his head on his paws. He sighed dramatically before closing his eyes.
"When the baby wakes up, can he have some popcorn too?" Jonathan asked.
"Absolutely not," Daniel replied. "He'll have to content himself with lashings of milk and a loving family."
"He's a darling, isn't he?" Candy sighed.
"He certainly is."
"I just thought of something terrible," Candy exclaimed. "The baby won't get anything from Saint Nicholas because he won't know where he lives…"
"Of course, he will," Daniel reassured her.
"How can he?" Jonathan demanded to know. "He doesn't even know he's here."
Daniel winked. "I think you'll find that Saint Nick knows everything." He tapped a knowing forefinger against the side of his nose.
"Well, if he doesn't, I'll share my presents with him," Candy offered.
"So will I," Jonathan added, then his face fell. "Unless I get a birch switch."
Daniel sat back on his heels to look at him sympathetically. "That sounds like a boy with a guilty conscience."
"Well… I keep remembering all the things I did that I wish I hadn't done. Like when I accidentally broke my slate at school and blamed it on Jimmy Perkins."
He looked up, his face stricken. "I really did apologise soon afterwards. Since then, I've tried to be good… honest."
"It's good that you apologised." Daniel fought to keep an understanding smile from his lips. "You must resolve not to do any of them again."
"But how will Saint Nicholas know I'm not going to do them again?" Jonathan worried.
"Leave a note by the chimney," his sister offered helpfully. "It always worked for me when I wasn't sure about what Saint Nick would bring me."
Daniel stood up to look at them both. "If you could ask Saint Nicholas for one special thing this Christmas, what would it be?"
"To let us keep the baby," Candy replied.
"Yeah, 'cause he's like family now," Jonathan added.
"That's a lovely thought…" Captain Gregg smiled at them. It was a sweet idea, but completely impossible.
※※※※※
Claymore was hunched over his desk, scanning his figures again. He enjoyed doing it for the satisfaction it gave him. He puffed contentedly on his long-stemmed clay pipe, wreathing himself in a cloud of spicy smoke.
Outside, the carollers walked up to stand at the office window, looking in as they sang, 'Deck The Halls…'
"Listen to them, Uncle. They sing so beautifully…" Carolyn gazed off, listening, her eyes tender and misty. "I love Christmas…"
Claymore harrumphed as he glared at his ledger. "Infernal caterwauling!" He jumped up from his desk, waving his pipe. "They're making my head ache. You give them a ha'penny and tell them to go away!"
Carolyn turned to him. "Oh, Uncle, they don't want your money."
"Oh, they want something. Everybody does."
"Only to bring you the greetings of the season."
"I don't want greetings. I want to be left alone!" He shooed his hand at the carollers' framed faces in the window. "Now, go away! Go away!"
"Uncle," Carolyn said softly. "Christmas will come whether you want it or not."
"Outrageous! Bah, humbug! There should be a law against it! In fact, I might bring that up at the next council meeting."
"Oh, Uncle, have a heart…" Carolyn begged. "Tis the season to be jolly."
"Poppycock!" Claymore snapped.
As they turned and walked away, the sound of the carollers faded into the distance. Outside, the wind started to rise, whistling around the building like a lost soul.
"Uncle, it's getting late…" Carolyn got down from her stool to look out the window anxiously. "I still have things to do, and the storm's getting worse. Do you think it would… be all right if I went home now?"
"Ooohhh…" Claymore sighed as he pulled out his pocket watch and snapped it open. "You were four and a half minutes late this morning, and you promised me fifteen extra minutes. That makes nineteen and a half minutes in all."
"I'll work an hour extra on the day after Christmas," Carolyn offered generously.
"A whole hour?" Claymore queried, his eyes glittering. "Without complaint?"
"Yes, Uncle…"
"Mmmm…" Claymore muttered dubiously.
"Please, Uncle…"
"Oh, very well, go ahead. But mind you, Friday, one whole hour. And I'll be watching the clock to make sure you're on time and stay the course."
"Thank you, Uncle…" Carolyn bent to kiss his cheek.
Claymore flinched back as before, looking cross. "Don't make a habit of it. I detest making such extravagant allowances, even for family." He shook his head, deeply worried about his sudden burst of generosity.
Carolyn didn't demur as she hurried to put her work away. "I wish you'd change your mind about dining with us, Uncle. I hate to think of you all alone tonight…"
"I want to be alone," her uncle scoffed. "I enjoy being alone. I'm going to have a nice, cosy evening eating gruel and adding up my many bank accounts. That is my reward for a year of hard toil and graft."
The office door opened, and Daniel entered in a flurry of swirling snowflakes. He took off his cap, brushing snow from the shoulders of his black winter cape.
"Hello, dear." He smiled at Carolyn.
"Oh, it's you." Claymore scowled at him, disliking his annoying air ofgood humour and bonhomie.
"Merry Christmas, Claymore," Daniel greeted him heartily.
"What's merry about it?" Claymore demanded to know.
"Well, certainly not you," Daniel told him with a wry smile. "You're the Christmas curmudgeon."
He shook his head as he turned to Carolyn. "I'm afraid I'm a little early, my dear. But I couldn't stay away a moment longer. The house smells lovely, and it's missing only you to complete the evening. The children are so excited."
"Oh, that's all right," Carolyn reassured him. "He's letting me off early."
"Early?" Daniel looked stunned. "Amazing."
Carolyn nodded. "Yes, ten minutes. He's being very sweet about it."
"Ten minutes," Daniel marvelled. "That's some kind of record, isn't it? Thank you, Claymore. You may become a human being, after all."
Claymore looked offended. "I'm perfectly satisfied with the way I am! Why doesn't anyone understand that? Christmas is not for me! I will be content with my gruel and my own company. The best conversations are the ones I have with myself!"
"Well, if you change your mind, please come out to the house. We'd love to have you," Carolyn reassured him. She went to the coat rack to pick up her coat and bonnet.
"Yes, it'll do you good," Daniel encouraged him for Carolyn's sake. "Man does not live by gruel alone."
He turned to Carolyn, helping her with her coat. "I've hired a sleigh. I know you still have errands, then we will drive home," he told her softly.
"Wonderful!" Carolyn replied warmly. "You think of everything."
She turned to look up at him, her love evident in her wide green eyes. Daniel took her small hand between hers, carrying it to his lips, all the while studying the sweet curve of her mouth with desire.
"You're a pair of fools, that's what you are," Claymore grumbled, watching their loving connection sourly. "Squandering money right and left, hiring sleighs, taking in orphans, gorging on roast goose…"
Carolyn shook her head as she turned to the mirror to pull on her bonnet, tying the ribbons neatly beneath her chin. "Oh, I'm afraid it's only mutton."
"Marvellous," Daniel approved. "Next year, Martha shall stuff the fattest goose in all of New England. I can promise you that."
"Ha! That will be yourself." Claymore smirked, pointing his feather quill at his nephew-to-be. "You're the goose!"
Daniel laughed good-naturedly as he opened the door for Carolyn to go before him. "And a very Merry Christmas to you." He gave Claymore a small, ironic bow.
"Oh, bah —" Claymore began.
"Yes, I know," Daniel looked back at him. "Bah humbug…" He shut the door before Claymore could think of a suitable reply.
※※※※※
Safe and alone at last, Claymore made ready for bed. In his nightshirt, cap and robe, he sat at the table in his bedroom writing furiously in his open ledger, ecstatically sipping gruel and adding up columns of figures. Every once in a while, he would purr and break into off-key humming.
"Ninety-seven thousand…" He dipped his feather pen into the ink well and kept writing. "Ninety-eight thousand, ninety-nine thousand, one-hundred thousand dollars… Let me say that again! One hundred thousand dollars! I'm the richest man in the world!" He waved his pen with glee.
"Hee, hee, hee! One-hundred and one thousand, one hundred and two thousand, one hundred and three thousand – what a delightful Christmas – One-hundred and four thousand, one-hundred and five thousand… what could possibly be more fun than this?!"
He leaned over to eat another spoonful of gruel. He froze, thinking he heard an unexpected sound. He looked around the shadowed bedroom.
"Who's there?" he demanded to know, closing his ledger and leaning on it protectively.
"I've given you up, Claymore…" His own voice echoed in the room. But he knew he hadn't spoken.
"Who… who are you?" he quavered. He jumped up from his chair, looking about fearfully. "Where are you? Who are you?"
"I'm the small voice you used to hear inside you…" the voice replied.
"Used to hear inside me? I still hear you…" Claymore trembled as he sat down on the side of his bed.
"Not anymore," the voice denied. "I'm the ghost of the conscience you used to have…"
"The ghost of the conscience I used to have? That's a long name, but I still have you!" Claymore started to panic. "I haven't lost you…"
"But you have…" the voice argued. "So long ago, even I can't remember the date. You turned your back on me and walked away. Then you fell into bad and spiteful ways."
"No! Don't say that!" Claymore quailed. "I've been good! Very good! Ask anyone who knows me!"
"It's too late. You're a lost cause, Claymore…"
"No, no, no, no…" Claymore jumped up, hurrying to his desk and opening his ledger to point at the neat rows of figures. "Look, look, I'm loaded. One hundred thousand dollars, Conscience…"
"Count your ill-gotten gains and eat your grubby gruel. This evening, you sent away the last two persons on earth who care what happens to your sorry, lost soul. No one else cares enough to come to your door tonight..."
"Oh, no…" Claymore's face fell into misery. "Don't say that! Carolyn will be back on Friday. She promised. She always keeps her promises. She's a very good woman. She owes me an extra hour of work. She will not forget the debt."
"It makes no difference. That is duty, not love. You're alone, Claymore…" the voice said, starting to fade away.
"No…" Claymore clutched his ledger to his chest. "I still have me! I like me!"
"Alone… al-oo-ne… alooonee… aloooone…"
"No, come back, Conscience!" Claymore twisted from side to side in desperation, looking stricken. "Come back! Don't leave me alone with me!"
※※※※※
The evening was becoming dark and cold by the time Daniel and Carolyn were driven home in their hired sleigh. While Daniel thanked and paid the well-muffled driver, Carolyn picked up a cloth bag containing a few small parcels and hurried inside. She brushed fresh snow from her clothing.
She stopped inside the front door and sniffed the fragrant air. Everything did smell delicious and wholesome. It was so good to be home. And soon - very soon - she hoped, the house would be her home forever.
"I'm home," she called out as she put aside her parcels and then shed her outer clothing. She hung everything on the coat rack beside the front door.
"You're home, you're home!" The children came tumbling down the stairs, dressed again in their night clothes beneath warm dressing gowns.
"We asked Martha if we could stay up to wait for you," Candy confided. "We knew you wouldn't mind. We couldn't go to sleep anyway."
"The Captain said Christmas doesn't begin until you're here." Jonathan nodded.
"Well, she is here, now…" Daniel commented as he entered the house and shut the door against the cold and snow outside with the heel of his boot.
He put aside the pile of parcels he was carrying and shed his outer clothing. He hung the garments on the coat stand to dry in the warmth.
Martha appeared from the kitchen. "I didn't think it would hurt if they stayed up. The baby was still awake, anyway. It seems no one wants to sleep tonight. I've just given him his bottle and put him down in his crib."
"The Captain took us up the hill and we cut down just the very best tree!" Jonathan's eyes shone with pride.
"I can see that." Carolyn looked into the living room, where flickering candles and the fire glowed cheerily. "That is a very fine tree."
"You go on up and get changed, my dear," Daniel instructed. "I'll carry your purchases into the living room for you to place beneath the tree."
He smiled. "I left a gift for you on your bed in your room. I found it in my travels and knew you would look beautiful in it."
"Thank you. I know I will love it. I won't be long…" Carolyn smiled lovingly at him as she allowed the children to take her hands and draw her up the stairs.
※※※※※
Later that night, the foyer of Gull Cottage was dimly lit, and the house was quiet. Carolyn was with the children in their bedroom, reading them a bedtime story.
Martha, dressed in her nightgown and robe, walked past the staircase, heading for her bedroom at the back of the house. She stopped when she heard the jingle of sleigh bells outside.
Going up onto tiptop, she crept back to the half-open doorway of the parlour and peered in. A figure, clad in a red, fur-trimmed Santa Claus suit, was putting presents under the tree before moving away toward the fireplace to fill the stockings.
Above her, the children had hurried from their mother's storytelling to the turn of the staircase. They came halfway down, trying to see what was happening in the front room.
"Martha, what's going on?" Jonathan asked. "We heard something landing on the roof."
"And then we heard sleigh bells," Candy declared, carrying Scruffy in her arms.
"I know it's Saint Nicholas!" Jonathan crowed. "What's he doing?"
"He's going up the chimney," Martha told them with wonder.
They heard the sound of runners leaving the roof, then the jingle of sleigh bells fading into the distance. The children looked at each other with awe on their faces.
"For heaven's sake, he is real!" Candy exclaimed.
"I told you so!" Jonathan crowed. "Gee, we just missed him."
"When can we come down and see what he's left us?" Candy begged.
Carolyn appeared at the top of the stairs, carrying the baby. She was dressed in a full-length red velvet gown with deep white ruffles at the neck and sleeves over a white silk shift. The clothing had been a gift from her love, and she wore them with pride.
"How about now?" she asked with a smile.
The children needed no other invitation. They went tumbling down the stairs, hurrying into the parlour as Martha pushed the double doors open. Daniel, resplendent in a cream, roll-neck sweater, was attaching ornaments to the tree.
"Merry Christmas." Martha beamed.
"Merry Christmas, Martha."
There was a chorus of gasps and squeals as the children discovered the presents and the toys that had been left for them. As they burrowed beneath the tree, the three adults watched them indulgently.
"Here, for the baby." Daniel approached Carolyn, holding out a rattle he'd taken from the pocket of his sweater. It was a silver bell on a flat ring of mother-of-pearl. He shook it, making the infant laugh.
"What a beautiful rattle," Carolyn marvelled.
"A present from the Bey of Tunis," Daniel told her.
"Really? For you?"
"For my household."
"Ah, well, on behalf of our household, thank you." Carolyn smiled up at him, loving the look in his eyes.
She wished they could be alone together. She had so many things she wanted to say and one very serious question she was burning to ask her love…
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