Uncle Noahs Christmas Inspiration | Page 8

pressing the precious fowl in his arms, watched the carriage drive
slowly away. Then, after an interval in the kitchen devoted to hiding his
purchases, he sought the library, striving to simulate a decent
depression over the assumed decapitation of Job.
Colonel Fairfax looked up inquiringly as he entered.
"I'se jus' come to tell yoh, sah," said Uncle Noah with a meaning glance
at Mrs. Fairfax, "dat I has de turkey all ready foh de oven."
A faint red crept through the Colonel's skin, but he met the darky's eyes
squarely. "Thank you, Uncle Noah!" he said, and the negro shuffled
hurriedly away.

In his old rocking-chair by the kitchen fire Uncle Noah, alert and
excited, waited until he heard the Colonel and Mrs. Fairfax go up to
bed; then, chuckling to himself, he extinguished the kitchen lights, and,
carrying one of his Christmas bundles, plodded across the field to Job's
nocturnal hermitage. The light of a match revealed the tyrant roosting
glumly on the summit of a ruined plowshare.
"I'se brought yoh a Christmas surprise, Massa Job Fairfax," said Uncle
Noah, and he sprinkled the floor of the hut thick with corn that the
turkey might find it in the morning.
With his heart full of thanksgiving the negro plodded homeward
through the snow. As he reached the old barn the great clock in the
library struck twelve and faintly through the snowy air floated the
distant silvery chimes of the Cotesville bells, clear and sweet, ringing
in a Christmas morning.
Creeping to bed long after the first rooster had crowed Uncle Noah had
sought the kitchen again with the sunrise, his tired eyes opening
jubilantly upon a snapping cold Christmas morning radiant in gold and
white. Downstairs clusters of holly and mistletoe festooned doors and
windows, dotted the old-fashioned hanging lamps with spots of
crimson, and crowned the family portraits with royal diadems, and
evergreen wreaths hung in the windows--all the work of a wrinkled pair
of faithful brown hands toiling while the world slept. In the library a
blazing wood fire leaped and crackled, while in the dining-room the
table was spread for breakfast. Certain long-needed articles of china,
which had mysteriously disappeared from time to time since the
autumn, dotted a tablecloth free from holes (a new one subjected to a
severe laundry process during the night), and the napkins no longer
resembled Ku-Klux masks. A great bowl of purple orchids glowed at
Mrs. Fairfax's plate.

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Fernlands

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The Colonel greeted the Christmas festoons of holly in the library with
a stare of astonished approval. A question had risen to his lips, but the

warning look in Uncle Noah's eyes as they rested on Mrs. Fairfax had
checked it. These two had had many financial and domestic secrets
from the dear lady, and the Colonel promptly decided that Uncle Noah
had sold some forgotten relic and had once more made use of his
highly developed faculty for expanding a small sum to incredible
elasticity, and he praised the result accordingly. Mrs. Fairfax, too,
brightened wonderfully, yielding to the Christmas spirit with which the
old darky had contrived to fill the house.
Uncle Noah felt a glow of delight at their outspoken appreciation, and,
bowing elaborately, he ushered his master and mistress in to breakfast.
Here again, as he seated himself, the Colonel was conscious of an
agreeable flood of astonishment. There was quite an air about this
Christmas breakfast. Fixing his keen eyes on the tablecloth and napkins,
he stealthily fingered them with a searching look at the waiting negro.
Fortunately his interest was speedily diverted. He caught sight of the
orchids and the tear-stained face of his wife bending over them. With a
wrench of his chair he arose.
"Patricia!" he said stormily, "did I not say that nothing of his--did I
not--" he paused and gulped. "Uncle Noah," he added unsteadily, "that
turkey of yours is gobbling like a fiend under the window; you--he--"
The Colonel stopped abruptly, reddened as his eyes fell upon the negro
(Uncle Noah had wisely turned away), and sternly reseated himself,
somewhat confused by his thoughtless reference to the late lamented
Job,
Uncle Noah hobbled from the room, his brown face working
convulsively. In the kitchen he shook with silent laughter, doubling
over breathlessly and clasping his hands over his stomach in aching
distress.
"And what, Uncle Noah," asked the Colonel kindly as the old negro
presently re-entered the dining-room, "have we for our Christmas
breakfast?"
"Well, sah," Uncle Noah began fluently, "we has grapefruit, cereal wif
cream, quail on toast, fried oysters--er--oatmeal, hot muffins, fried
chicken, co'nbread an' coffee!"
The Colonel, appearing to be thoughtfully considering his choice,
replied as usual: "It all sounds delicious, Uncle Noah, but I have a
touch of my old enemy dyspepsia