“Mother Understands”

Christmas morning dawned with the sun riding in a clear sky, but with a cold, biting wind blowing from the north. A heavy snow had fallen the day before, and the ground was covered with a carpet of white. The bare branches of the trees creaked under the heavy weight of the snow upon them. A jingle of sleigh bells was heard, and as the Harmons looked from their frost-covered window they saw their neighbors, the Gregory family, go by in the old bobsled. Roy and David rushed to the door, threw it open, and cheered them as they passed by. There was an answering cheer from the Gregory children, the team passed on by, and the jingle of the bells died away in the distance.

“That is just about the way your Uncle Rufus will come over here today,” remarked Mr. Harmon as the boys returned to the fire.

“I hope they do,” replied Mrs. Harmon, as she laid some more wood in the stove and turned to baste the turkey which she was preparing to place in the oven.

“I do not think it matters much how they come, just so they get here, does it?” inquired her husband. “I hope they come pretty soon, for although I have just had my breakfast the sight of that turkey makes me hungry, and I should not care if they came right away.”

“Well, if they were to come right now the turkey is not done, but if you would like to have raw turkey you may help yourself to it,” laughingly replied Mrs. Harmon, “but I think it does make a difference how they come, for that wind is biting this morning, and if they come in the bobsled they can wrap up and keep so much warmer than if they came in the carriage. You see, they can put the children in the bobsled on the hay, with warm bricks to their feet and cover them up well, and they will not get cold at all. But I would not want to travel very far on such a day as this. I am glad I can stay at home and cook dinner today instead of going somewhere else, and I do not envy Mrs. Gregory that twelve-mile ride on such a day as this. But I guess if I had a mother I would want to be with her on Christmas Day to eat Christmas dinner with her, though I should have to ride through the chilly wind for twelve miles to get there.”

The jingling of bells was heard again and, as the Harmons looked from their window, sure enough, there was Uncle Rufus and his family in the old bobsled. The boys ran to open the gate, and Mr. Harmon laid some more wood on the fire, so there would be nice and warm when they came into the house.

In they came—Uncle Rufus, Aunt Susan, and the four younger children, Carrie, Bessie, May, and three-year-old Danny. Henry, the eldest boy, stayed with Roy and David to help put up the team. They, too, soon entered, and there was the usual exchange of greetings and presents, and Aunt Susan donned her kitchen apron and busied herself in helping to prepare the dinner. Mr. Harmon and his brother, Rufus, were left to visit with each other, and the children had their usual romp about the house.

Dinner was called, and the two Harmon families sat down to the table which was spread with all the dainties that were needed to make up a real Christmas dinner. Mary Harmon was one who understood how to prepare these special dishes, and so the turkey was done to a turning and the mince pie had the exact flavor needed to make it palatable. All were seated about the table; Father Harmon bowed his head to offer thanks for the food before them and ask the blessings of God upon it. “Bless, also, the absent ones from among us today,” he continued, “and may they be as well supplied with the good things of life as we are, and may their every need be supplied.”

Mother Harmon was seated next to Roy at the table, as her husband repeated these words she heard Roy take a short breath, and at her husband’s “amen” she looked at her youngest son and saw his face get pale and his eyelids bat quickly as if to check tears which wanted to start. She saw also the trembling of the lips. Yes, Mother saw and understood. Laying her hand on Roy’s shoulder in an affectionate way, she said, “Now, son, I have prepared you some special dishes. I had to drive you out of the kitchen several times while I was preparing them, but you can have all you want now.” But Roy did not seem to be very hungry, and the food that he took on his plate was merely tasted and then left. The rest of the family did justice to what was set before them, and all enjoyed the Christmas dinner but Roy.

Long before any other of the family had finished, Roy excused himself, put on cap and muffler, and started toward the barn. Climbing the ladder to the hay mow, he threw himself face downward and there burst into tears. Unmindful of the cold he lay there for some time until he had wept out the tears that had been held back for a number of days; then he rose, descended the ladder, washed his face with snow and dried it on the back of his knitted mittens, and started for the house.

“What is wrong with Roy?” Aunt Susan had inquired, when Roy excused himself from the table and she saw the food which remained on his plate; “is he not feeling well?”

Mother Harmon glanced at first her husband and then David before answering Aunt Susan’s question. How her mother heart went out to her boy as she knew what a battle he was fighting! How she wanted to spare him as she thought of his kind, sensitive nature, and knew how keenly he felt the disappointment of not having Elsie and her family with them at this time! Should she really tell what she knew? While debating thus in her mind David spoke and rather disgustedly said, “No; he is not sick at all but just a great big baby. I dare say he has gone somewhere now to bawl like the baby that he is.

Aunt Susan stared at him in amazement and then exclaimed, “Roy a baby? Why I never thought him to he a baby, for he has always been such a manly little fellow from babyhood on. I consider him quite a man now.”

“It would be well if you had just a little more feeling for your brother,” said Father Harmon to David.

“Feeling,” exclaimed David; “I think that I have as much feeling for him as I should have, and you have more than you should have, for he needs to be jerked out of some of his babyishness.” David then told Aunt Susan how Roy had acted when he broke the news to him in Tanner’s blacksmith shop that little Mary was sick and Elsie could not come home for Christmas.

“But I thought that he had just about got over that,” said his father. “I have heard him whistling and singing around here the last few days, and he seemed to be real jolly this morning.

“Yes,” said Mother Harmon, “but he noticed what you said as you offered thanks, when you asked the Lord to remember the absent ones and supply them with the same as we are enjoying today. I noticed him at the time and that is what took away his appetite.”

“That does not make him a baby in my sight,” said Aunt Susan. “I wish more men were tender like him and could shed tears. It shows that his heart is easily touched and he has feeling for others.”

“It is just ‘Peachy,’ ” retorted David. “He doesn’t care so much about Elsie, but ‘Peachy’ is all that he thinks about and about all that he cares about. You should have seen what he got the child for Christmas. Every spare nickel he had was spent for her. He got her enough for half a dozen children.”

“What did you get for her?” inquired Aunt Susan.

David’s face reddened as he replied, “I did not get anything for her, but there wasn’t anything left to get after Roy got through.”

“You mean you could not get anything for the little ‘Peachy’ after you had finished buying for the big ‘Peachy,’ ” laughingly replied Father Harmon, at which remark they all burst out laughing, for they knew of the friendship which had sprung up between David and Bessie Smith, a girl that lived near the Tanner’s in Whitefield, and which caused David to shorten his week-end visits at home, for he returned to Whitefield Sunday afternoon instead of waiting to be driven into town on Monday morning. They also knew that he had used the greater amount of his spare change to get her a nice Christmas present.

David had no more to say about Roy, and so the subject was dropped with Aunt Susan remarking, “Roy may cry over his disappointment, but I am glad to hear that he is so attached to Elsie’s baby, for I think that an admirable quality in any young man.

They all arose from the table and the womenfolk began to clear away the dishes. Carrie and Bessie dried them as Mother Harmon and Aunt Susan washed them. When about half finished they heard a loud call from the rear of the yard; they looked out and saw Roy rolling a huge ball of snow across the yard.

“A snow man,” exclaimed Henry as he hastily donned mittens and cap. “Come on, David, let us help him.” And out the door he went on the run. The girls were soon wrapped in coats, hoods, and scarfs, and even little three-year-old Danny went out to see the sport of building a snow man. The snow was dry, and it was rather difficult to get it to cling together, but how those boys worked and the girls and Danny clapped their hands in glee as they saw a body built on to the base and then came arms and head! David brought some charcoal from the house to make eyes, nose, and mouth, and then placed an old cap on his head and a stick in his hand for a cane, and to finish him put a bright red tie about his neck. Below this he put some small pieces of charcoal which looked like buttons on his vest. When completed they called to Mother Harmon and Aunt Susan to see what they had done.

As the women stepped to the back porch, Roy walked to where they were standing and called out merrily, “What do you think of it, Aunt Susan?”

Aunt Susan laughingly replied, “It looks almost like a real man, doesn’t it? I will say that if I should see something like that after dark it would surely frighten me until I couldn’t tell you what I would do. You boys have certainly done well, for that is about the best snow man I have even seen.”

Roy seemed very much pleased, and stepping to his mother’s side, said in a low tone, “I wish Peachy could see it; don’t you?”

Mother Harmon laid her arm about her son’s shoulder, pulled him to her and said, “Yes, son, I do.”

There was something about her voice as she spoke to him that caused him to look up into her face and he saw something in her eyes which drew him to her as never before, for he now knew that although he might be laughed at and ridiculed by others, Mother understood.

Yes, Mother did understand her boy, and she knew what a battle was being fought that he might hide his disappointment and try to enjoy the Christmas festivities with the others. Yes, she understood; and in the pat of her hand, the glance of her eye, and the tone of her voice, she tried to carry the message to her young son, “Mother understands.”