It was not snowing in the early morning, and Uncle Leopold drove Aunt Cyrilla and Lucy Rose and the basket to the station, four miles off.
When they reached there the air was thick with flying flakes. The stationmaster sold them their tickets with a grim face.
"If there"s any more snow comes, the trains might as well keep Christmas too," he said. "There"s been so much snow already that traffic is blocked half the time, and now there ain"t no place to shovel the snow off onto."
Aunt Cyrilla said that if the train were to get to Pembroke in time for Christmas, it would get there; and she opened her basket and gave the stationmaster and three small boys an apple apiece.
"That"s the beginning," groaned Lucy Rose to herself.
When their train came along Aunt Cyrilla established herself in one seat and her basket in another, and looked beamingly around her at her fellow travellers.
These were few in number--a delicate little woman at the end of the car, with a baby and four other children, a young girl across the aisle with a pale, pretty face, a sunburned lad three seats ahead in a khaki uniform, a very handsome, imposing old lady in a sealskin coat ahead of him, and a thin young man with spectacles opposite.
"A minister," reflected Aunt Cyrilla, beginning to cla.s.sify, "who takes better care of other folks" souls than of his own body; and that woman in the sealskin is discontented and cross at something--got up too early to catch the train, maybe; and that young chap must be one of the boys not long out of the hospital. That woman"s children look as if they hadn"t enjoyed a square meal since they were born; and if that girl across from me has a mother, I"d like to know what the woman means, letting her daughter go from home in this weather in clothes like that."
Lucy Rose merely wondered uncomfortably what the others thought of Aunt Cyrilla"s basket.
They expected to reach Pembroke that night, but as the day wore on the storm grew worse. Twice the train had to stop while the train hands dug it out. The third time it could not go on. It was dusk when the conductor came through the train, replying brusquely to the questions of the anxious pa.s.sengers.
"A nice lookout for Christmas--no, impossible to go on or back--track blocked for miles--what"s that, madam?--no, no station near--woods for miles. We"re here for the night. These storms of late have played the mischief with everything."
"Oh, dear," groaned Lucy Rose.
Aunt Cyrilla looked at her basket complacently. "At any rate, we won"t starve," she said.
The pale, pretty girl seemed indifferent. The sealskin lady looked crosser than ever. The khaki boy said, "Just my luck," and two of the children began to cry. Aunt Cyrilla took some apples and striped candy sticks from her basket and carried them to them. She lifted the oldest into her ample lap and soon had them all around her, laughing and contented.
The rest of the travellers straggled over to the corner and drifted into conversation. The khaki boy said it was hard lines not to get home for Christmas, after all.
"I was invalided from South Africa three months ago, and I"ve been in the hospital at Netley ever since. Reached Halifax three days ago and telegraphed the old folks I"d eat my Christmas dinner with them, and to have an extra-big turkey because I didn"t have any last year.
They"ll be badly disappointed."
He looked disappointed too. One khaki sleeve hung empty by his side.
Aunt Cyrilla pa.s.sed him an apple.
"We were all going down to Grandpa"s for Christmas," said the little mother"s oldest boy dolefully. "We"ve never been there before, and it"s just too bad."
He looked as if he wanted to cry but thought better of it and bit off a mouthful of candy.
"Will there be any Santa Claus on the train?" demanded his small sister tearfully. "Jack says there won"t."
"I guess he"ll find you out," said Aunt Cyrilla rea.s.suringly.
The pale, pretty girl came up and took the baby from the tired mother.
"What a dear little fellow," she said softly.
"Are you going home for Christmas too?" asked Aunt Cyrilla.
The girl shook her head. "I haven"t any home. I"m just a shop girl out of work at present, and I"m going to Pembroke to look for some."
Aunt Cyrilla went to her basket and took out her box of cream candy.
"I guess we might as well enjoy ourselves. Let"s eat it all up and have a good time. Maybe we"ll get down to Pembroke in the morning."
The little group grew cheerful as they nibbled, and even the pale girl brightened up. The little mother told Aunt Cyrilla her story aside.
She had been long estranged from her family, who had disapproved of her marriage. Her husband had died the previous summer, leaving her in poor circ.u.mstances.
"Father wrote to me last week and asked me to let bygones be bygones and come home for Christmas. I was so glad. And the children"s hearts were set on it. It seems too bad that we are not to get there. I have to be back at work the morning after Christmas."
The khaki boy came up again and shared the candy. He told amusing stories of campaigning in South Africa. The minister came too, and listened, and even the sealskin lady turned her head over her shoulder.
By and by the children fell asleep, one on Aunt Cyrilla"s lap and one on Lucy Rose"s, and two on the seat. Aunt Cyrilla and the pale girl helped the mother make up beds for them. The minister gave his overcoat and the sealskin lady came forward with a shawl.
"This will do for the baby," she said.
"We must get up some Santa Claus for these youngsters," said the khaki boy. "Let"s hang their stockings on the wall and fill "em up as best we can. I"ve nothing about me but some hard cash and a jack-knife.
I"ll give each of "em a quarter and the boy can have the knife."
"I"ve nothing but money either," said the sealskin lady regretfully.
Aunt Cyrilla glanced at the little mother. She had fallen asleep with her head against the seat-back.
"I"ve got a basket over there," said Aunt Cyrilla firmly, "and I"ve some presents in it that I was taking to my nephew"s children. I"m going to give "em to these. As for the money, I think the mother is the one for it to go to. She"s been telling me her story, and a pitiful one it is. Let"s make up a little purse among us for a Christmas present."
The idea met with favour. The khaki boy pa.s.sed his cap and everybody contributed. The sealskin lady put in a crumpled note. When Aunt Cyrilla straightened it out she saw that it was for twenty dollars.
Meanwhile, Lucy Rose had brought the basket. She smiled at Aunt Cyrilla as she lugged it down the aisle and Aunt Cyrilla smiled back.
Lucy Rose had never touched that basket of her own accord before.
Ray"s boat went to Jacky, and Daisy"s doll to his oldest sister, the twins" lace handkerchiefs to the two smaller girls and the hood to the baby. Then the stockings were filled up with doughnuts and jelly cookies and the money was put in an envelope and pinned to the little mother"s jacket.
"That baby is such a dear little fellow," said the sealskin lady gently. "He looks something like my little son. He died eighteen Christmases ago."
Aunt Cyrilla put her hand over the lady"s kid glove. "So did mine,"
she said. Then the two women smiled tenderly at each other. Afterwards they rested from their labours and all had what Aunt Cyrilla called a "snack" of sandwiches and pound cake. The khaki boy said he hadn"t tasted anything half so good since he left home.
"They didn"t give us pound cake in South Africa," he said.
When morning came the storm was still raging. The children wakened and went wild with delight over their stockings. The little mother found her envelope and tried to utter thanks and broke down; and n.o.body knew what to say or do, when the conductor fortunately came in and made a diversion by telling them they might as well resign themselves to spending Christmas on the train.
"This is serious," said the khaki boy, "when you consider that we"ve no provisions. Don"t mind for myself, used to half rations or no rations at all. But these kiddies will have tremendous appet.i.tes."
Then Aunt Cyrilla rose to the occasion.
"I"ve got some emergency rations here," she announced. "There"s plenty for all and we"ll have our Christmas dinner, although a cold one.
Breakfast first thing. There"s a sandwich apiece left and we must fill up on what is left of the cookies and doughnuts and save the rest for a real good spread at dinner time. The only thing is, I haven"t any bread."
"I"ve a box of soda crackers," said the little mother eagerly.
n.o.body in that car will ever forget that Christmas. To begin with, after breakfast they had a concert. The khaki boy gave two recitations, sang three songs, and gave a whistling solo. Lucy Rose gave three recitations and the minister a comic reading. The pale shop girl sang two songs. It was agreed that the khaki boy"s whistling solo was the best number, and Aunt Cyrilla gave him the bouquet of everlastings as a reward of merit.