Presents
Three years had passed since Elsie first brought little Mary to the Harmon home, and Peachy won Roy’s heart. Each year she had made two visits to her parents, and each time all could see how rapidly Mary was growing and learning those things that all children must learn in babyhood. In her third year she could talk plainly and ask so many questions that it kept the Harmon family busy trying to answer them. Grandpa and Grandma would tire and occasionally tell Peachy she asked too many questions and send her away, but Uncle Roy never tired, regardless of how many questions were asked, nor how fast they came.
Peachy was Roy’s favored pet, and all could see that Uncle Roy was the chosen one of all the Harmon family for her. She was with him when he went to attend to some chores about the barn, or when he went to the field to bring up the stock to water, and ride back with him on old Fan. Sometimes, when her little chubby legs would carry her no farther, Uncle Roy would lift her to his shoulders and, placing one foot on each side of his neck, and holding her little hands, give her a ride in this fashion back to the house. Peachy would scream with delight, and Roy would enjoy the ride no less than did she. It seemed while she was with them he had no other thought than to find some way to amuse her. This was a great relief to both Mother and Grandmother, for Peachy was ever trying to satisfy her curiosity, and often this led her into places where baby hands and fingers should not be found. But regardless of where she might be found or what she might be doing, Uncle Roy always found a way out for her and no punishment came her way when he was about.
But all things must come to an end sometime, and so did Peachy’s visit with Uncle Roy come to an end. Elsie returned to her home again, leaving Roy in tears as he said “Good-by” to his little Peachy at the station. Elsie promised to be with them during Christmas. He looked forward to that time with all his heart, expecting to have her with him again, and went about making preparations to that end. Every spare piece of money he could get was laid away that he might get something for little Peachy, that there might be something nice for her to find in her stocking on Christmas morning. Roy could talk of nothing else. He and Grandma planned many things for Christmas when Elsie and little Peachy should be with them again.
Elsie’s letters came regularly, and they were filled with promises of being with them again during the Christmas holidays. Dan was coming with her this time, and all were looking forward to a great time together. Roy had found many things to get for the baby that meant much to him. Among the toys which he selected for her was a set of building blocks which contained all the letters of the alphabet, together with the picture of a number of animals and their names. When asked why he had selected these, he said, “Peachy is so quick to learn anything that I wanted to teach her the letters on those blocks while they are here.”
But life is filled with many disappointments, and we see our plans and our desires torn from their foundations and crumble to pieces before us. And so it was with Roy.
The second week of December arrived. Roy and his mother arranged a room for Elsie and put a stove in her bedroom so that it might not be so cold for her and the baby, and all was in readiness for her. They watched the mail closely for word from her as to when she should arrive and when to meet her at the station. The long-expected letter came at last, but what disappointment and anxiety it brought with it, for it stated that Peachy was very sick of a fever, and they could not come and would not feel safe to take her from home for the remainder of the winter, so they need not expect a visit from them now until they felt it would be safe to take their little darling away from home.
As Mother Harmon read this letter, tears fell from her eyes, and as she looked at her young son she saw tears were streaming down his cheeks, although he had not uttered a word. Laying her hand upon his shoulder, she said, “I know this is just as great a disappointment to Elsie as it is to us, and it is all for the best, I am sure. I would not want her to come now with the baby sick for I fear it would only make her worse, and I want her to take care of our little Peachy.”
Roy nodded his head and walked away, but there was a sad, disappointed look in his eyes as he appeared at the dinner table and he had no appetite for the food which Mother Harmon had prepared.
David had now passed his eighteenth birthday and was working in Whitefield for Mr. Tanner, the blacksmith. Roy would often ride in of an afternoon during the winter and often David would return home with him after work hours, and seldom a Saturday afternoon passed without a visit to the blacksmith shop from Roy. So this afternoon as he saddled old Fan he announced his intention of riding into town. “Better hitch her to the buggy,” said his father, “for David will want to come home with you, and it is going to be cold this afternoon.” So old Fan was hitched to the buggy, and soon Roy was driving toward Whitefield. Old Fan was feeling good; with well-shod feet she stepped briskly over the frozen ground and soon the trip to Whitefield had ended. Roy stopped in front of the Tanner blacksmith shop, hitched old Fan to the post which stood near, blanketed her, and then walked inside. Mr. Tanner was busy shoeing some horses, and David was repairing a farmer’s wagon when he entered. A number of men were standing around the roaring forge. Roy paid no attention to them, but, walking up to where David was, broke the news to him of Peachy’s illness, and that Elsie would not be with them during the Christmas holidays. David noticed the tremor in his voice, and when he looked up saw the tears rolling down his cheeks.
“Well, I do declare,” exclaimed he; “I did not think you were that big a baby.” And he laughed heartily.
“What are you laughing about?” inquired Roy.
“I am laughing because a great, big boy like you has to cry because his sister cannot be with him to eat dinner with him on Christmas,” replied David. “You must think that Santa Claus will pass you by this year, and he laughed again.
“Well, I do not think this is any time to laugh,” retorted Roy. “Elsie says Peachy has been very sick and is far from well now, and I cannot bear to think of the little thing having to suffer pain.” Tears began to roll from his eyes and down over his cheeks as he spoke. He looked David in the eyes and asked, “Don’t you feel the least bit sad about it?”
“Oh, yes, I guess I will have to say that I do not feel delighted to get such news,” replied David, “but I feel that Elsie is able to take care of her, and I do not think there is any need of worry just now. But I thought you were the boy that did not care anything about girl babies”; and David gave Roy a pinch on the ear and laughed again.
“Well, I like Peachy and so do you,” hastily replied Roy.
“Surely I like Peachy,” said David, “but I am not going to cry because she cannot be with us during the Christmas holidays.”
The conversation then drifted onto other matters as David began to inquire about things on the farm. When informed that his father expected him home for the night he spoke to Mr. Tanner, and accordingly arrangements were made that he might do so, as Mr. Tanner said work was not rushing and he might leave the shop a little early, and need not be back to work before Monday afternoon. So Roy left the shop to do some shopping at one of the stores, and when he returned he carried a large bundle under his arm. This he carefully placed under the seat of the buggy. As David appeared, wrapped in overcoat and muffler, Roy removed the blanket from old Fan and unhitched her from the hitching post. The two then climbed into the buggy and pulled the robe and horse blanket over their laps, and headed old Fan toward home.
Father Harmon had been true in his statement regarding the weather, for it had indeed turned colder. The biting cold wind from the north blew against their faces and almost split their cheeks. Chilled to the bone, they were too cold for conversation. The two brothers rode along in silence until they reached the top of the hill, when Roy remarked, “I hope Papa has a roaring fire when we get home, for I’m chilled through and through.”
“Well, I think he will have,” replied David, “for I see the smoke rolling from the chimney. I feel like I am almost frozen, too.”
Just a short distance from the hill old Fan stopped at the Harmon gate. David sprang to the ground and opened the gate as Father Harmon opened the door and came out calling to them, “Drive her in the shed and let her stand and you boys come on in to the fire, for I know you are cold. I shall come and unhitch her.” The boys did not need to be urged; they drove the horse into the shed and started for the house, where they found a roaring fire and a smell from the kitchen which told them a good supper would soon be spread before them. Father Harmon had attended to the evening’s chores before the boys came, and when he had unhitched and unharnessed old Fan, put her in her stall in the barn, and returned to the house Mother Harmon called supper. Two hungry boys sat down to the table to do justice to the tempting dishes which Mother Harmon had prepared for them.
“How good everything tastes!” exclaimed David, as he filled his plate for the third time. “I tell you it seems good to get back home and eat Mama’s good cooking again. Mrs. Tanner is a very good cook, but there doesn’t anything taste like what Mama cooks. I do not know what I would do if I could not come home once in awhile.”
Father Harmon smiled at his good wife as she sat near him at the table and, reaching over, he gave her an affectionate pat on the shoulder, saying as he did so, “Now, you see, Mama, I have always told you that you are a good cook. I feel just like David does.”
“I guess that is the way Elsie feels about it, too,” said Roy.
This remark brought back to David the conversation between him and his brother in the Tanner blacksmith shop that afternoon, and he related how Roy came, telling him that Peachy could not be with them for Christmas and cried about it.
“I cried, too,” said his mother, “when I read her letter telling me that the baby was sick and that she could not come. I am disappointed and I am sure that she is also.”
“Well, it is all right for you to cry,” replied David, “for no one expects anything else from a woman, but a big boy like Roy is different.” And David laughed again.
“I guess it would be a little better for all of us if we would cry a little bit more and try to help each other more,” replied Father Harmon as he rose from the table.
Mother Harmon looked at her two sons as they sat there before her. The same blood coursed through their veins, yet they were unlike each other in every way. David, her happy-go-lucky boy who never took anything seriously, was of strong, muscular build like his father. He was a good mixer and could go with any crowd and had many friends, but he was the source of much anxiety on the part of his mother, for he was easily persuaded by his associates. His dark, heavy hair was well trained; it lay back from his high forehead, and he prided himself in keeping it well groomed. Nothing became a burden to him, for he had no time for worry.
Roy, her light haired, blue-eyed, slender, tender-hearted boy, so quick to love and so quick to hate, was a type of her people. No one could persuade him unless he had confidence in them and loved them. And when he loved them their burdens became his also, for he took them into his own life. He was very reserved and therefore had few associates. Mother Harmon could see her boys as they were and loved them for what they were. She loved David for his happy-go-lucky way, and loved Roy for being so reserved and slow to form and make acquaintance. In her heart she would not have either of them otherwise, for they were her own.
“Mama, had we not better box those things for Elsie and send them to her by mail?” inquired Roy as he rose from the table.
“Yes, I think that is what we shall have to do,” replied Mrs. Harmon, “but I do not know when we shall get them mailed.”
“I shall have to take David back to Mr. Tanner’s Monday morning,” replied Roy, “and I can mail them then.”
“All right,” replied his mother. “We will get them ready after I have cleared away the dishes.”
This was soon done, and Mother Harmon brought a box from the smokehouse and began to wrap and pack presents which were for Elsie and her family. Roy went to the buggy shed, and when he returned to the house was carrying under his arm the package which he had purchased in town that day. “This is something else that I got for Peachy today,” said he, as he handed it to his mother. She unwrapped it to find a beautifully-dressed doll with real hair and eyes that would open and shut.
“Oh, Son, why did you get such a good doll for her?” exclaimed Mother Harmon. “I fear it will last no time at all and she will just break it right away.”
“There is not anything too good for my Peachy girl,” said Roy, as he smoothed down the doll’s dress, “and I just wish that I might see her when they give it to her.”
The last thing was packed, and the box wrapped and addressed. And on Monday morning Roy took it with him to town as David returned to his work, and mailed it at the post office.