On Christmas Day in the Morning

Grace S. Richmond
Christmas Day in the Morning,
by Grace S. Richmond

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Title: On Christmas Day in the Morning
Author: Grace S. Richmond
Illustrator: Charles M. Relyea
Release Date: December 26, 2006 [EBook #20187]
Language: English
Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ON
CHRISTMAS DAY IN THE MORNING ***

Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Sankar Viswanathan, and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net

[Illustration: "'I HAVEN'T GIVEN YOU ANY CHRISTMAS
PRESENT. WILL--I--DO?'"]

On Christmas Day in the Morning
By GRACE S. RICHMOND
Illustrated by CHARLES M. RELYEA

GARDEN CITY NEW YORK DOUBLEDAY, PAGE & COMPANY
MCMXI

COPYRIGHT, 1905, BY THE RIDGWAY-THAYER COMPANY
COPYRIGHT, 1908, BY DOUBLEDAY, PAGE & COMPANY
* * * * *

Illustrations
"'I haven't given you any Christmas present. Will--I--do?'" Frontispiece
"Stumbling over their own feet and bundles ... the crew poured into the
warm kitchen"
"'The children!' she was saying. 'They--they--John--they must be here'"
"'Merry Christmas, mammy and daddy!'"
* * * * *

On Christmas Day in the Morning
And all the angels in heaven do sing, On Christmas Day, on Christmas
Day; And all the bells on earth do ring, On Christmas Day in the
morning.

--OLD SONG.
That Christmas Day virtually began a whole year beforehand, with a
red-hot letter written by Guy Fernald to his younger sister, Nan, who
had been married to Samuel Burnett just two and one-half years. The
letter was read aloud by Mrs. Burnett to her husband at the breakfast
table, the second day after Christmas. From start to finish it was upon
one subject, and it read as follows:
DEAR NAN:
It's a confounded, full-grown shame that not a soul of us all got home
for Christmas--except yours truly, and he only for a couple of hours.
What have the blessed old folks done to us that we treat them like this?
I was invited to the Sewalls' for the day, and went, of course--you know
why. We had a ripping time, but along toward evening I began to feel
worried. I really thought Ralph was home--he wrote me that he might
swing round that way by the holidays--but I knew the rest of you were
all wrapped up in your own Christmas trees and weren't going to get
there.
Well, I took the seven-thirty down and walked in on them. Sitting all
alone by the fire, by George, just like the pictures you see of "The Birds
All Flown," and that sort of thing. I felt gulpish in my throat, on my
honour I did, when I looked at them. Mother just gave one gasp and
flew into my arms, and Dad got up more slowly--he has that darned
rheumatism worse than ever this winter--and came over and I thought
he'd shake my hand off. Well--I sat down between them by the fire, and
pretty soon I got down in the old way on a cushion by mother, and let
her run her fingers through my hair, the way she used to--and Nan, I'll
be indicted for perjury if her hand wasn't trembly. They were so glad to
see me it made my throat ache.
Ralph had written he couldn't get round, and of course you'd all written
and sent them things--jolly things, and they appreciated them.
But--blame it all--they were just dead lonesome--and the whole outfit
of us within three hundred miles, most within thirty!

Nan--next Christmas it's going to be different. That's all I say. I've got it
all planned out. The idea popped into my head when I came away last
night. Not that they had a word of blame--not they. They understood all
about the children, and the cold snap, and Ed's being under the weather,
and Oliver's wife's neuralgia, and Ralph's girl in the West, and all that.
But that didn't make the thing any easier for them. As I say, next
year--But you'll all hear from me then. Meanwhile--run down and see
them once or twice this winter, will you, Nan? Somehow it struck me
they aren't so young as--they used to be.
Splendid winter weather. Margaret Sewall's a peach, but I don't seem to
make much headway. My best to Sam.
Your affectionate brother,
GUY.
Gay Nan had felt a slight choking in her own throat as she read this
letter. "We really must make an effort to be there Christmas next year,
Sam," she said to her husband, and Sam assented cheerfully. He only
wished there
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