My Short Story Book

THE SNOW WITCH.

THERE was skating on the ponds where the snow had been cleared; there were icicles on the trees, nice blue, clear skies in the daytime, cold, bright, wintry moonlight at night.

Lovely weather for Christmas holidays! But to one little five-year-old man, nothing had seemed lovely this Christmas, though he was spending it with his Father and Mother and his big sisters at Grandpapa’s beautiful old country-house, where everybody did all that could be done to make Grandpapa’s guests happy.

For poor little Roger was pining for his elder brother, Lawson, whom he had not seen for more than four months. Lawson was eight, and had been at school since Michaelmas, and there he had caught a fever which had made it not safe for him to join the rest of the family till the middle of January. But he was coming to-morrow.

Why, then, did Roger still look sad and gloomy?

“Stupid little boy,” said Mabel. “I’m sure we’ve tried to amuse him. Why, Mamma let him sit up an hour later than usual last night, to hear all those funny old fairy tales and legends Uncle Bob was telling.”

“Yes, and weren’t they fun?” answered Pansy. “I did shiver at the witch ones, though, didn’t you?”

Poor little Roger! Pansy’s shivering was nothing to his! They had all walked home from the Vicarage, tempted by the clear frosty moonlight, and the hard, dry ground; and trotting along, a little behind the others, a strange thing had happened to the boy. Fancy—in the field by the Primrose Lane, through the gateway, right in a bright band of moonlight, he had seen a witch! Just such a witch as Uncle Bob had described—with shadowy garments, and outstretched arms, and a queer-shaped head, on all of which the icicles were sparkling, just as Uncle Bob had said. For it was a winter-witch he had told the story about, whose dwelling was up in the frozen northern seas; “the Snow Witch” they called her.

Cold as it was, Roger was in a bath of heat, his heart beating wildly, his legs shaking, when he overtook his sisters. And the night that followed was full of terrible dreams and starts, and misery, even though nurse and Baby were next door, and he could see the nightlight through the chinks.

If it had not been that Lawson was coming—Lawson, who never laughed at him or called him “stupid little goose”; Lawson, who listened to all his griefs—Roger could not have borne it. For, strange to say, the little fellow told no one of his trouble; he felt as if he could only tell Lawson.

No wonder he looked pale and sad and spiritless; there was still another dreadful night to get through before Lawson came.

But things sometimes turn out better than our fears. Late that afternoon, when nursery tea was over and bed-time not far off, there came the sound of wheels and then a joyful hubbub. Lawson had come! Uncle Bob had been passing near the school where he was, and had gone a little out of his way to pick him up. Everyone was delighted—though of them all, none so thankful as Roger.

“Though I won’t tell him to-night,” decided the unselfish little fellow, “not to spoil his first night. I shan’t mind when I know he’s in his cot beside me.” And even when Lawson asked him if anything were the matter, he kept to his resolution.

But he awoke in the middle of the night from a terrible dream; Lawson awoke too, and then—out it all came. “I thought she was coming in at the window,” Roger ended. “If—if you look out—it’s moonlight—I think p’r’aps you’ll see where she stands. But no, no; don’t—_don’t_; she might see you.”

So Lawson agreed to wait till to-morrow. “You go to sleep,” he said. “_I’m_ here, and you can say your prayers again if you like.”

Lawson was up very early next morning. When breakfast was over he told Roger to come out with him. Down the Primrose Lane they went, in spite of Roger’s trembling.

“Now, shut your eyes,” said Lawson, when they got to the gate. He opened it, and led his brother through.

“Look, now!” he said, with a merry laugh. And what do you think Roger saw?

An old scarecrow, forgotten since last year. There she stood, the “Snow Witch”—an apron and ragged shawl, two sticks for arms, a bit of Grandpapa’s hat to crown all—that was the witch!

“Shake hands with her, Roger,” said Lawson. And shake hands they both did, till the old scarecrow tumbled to pieces, never more to frighten either birds or little boys. “Dear Lawson,” said Roger lovingly, as he held up his little face for a kiss. And happy, indeed, were the rest of the Christmas holidays.

L. Molesworth.

THE CHRISTMAS TREE PUNCH.

“YOU mustn’t go into the dining-room, children,” said Mother, popping her head in at the school-room door.

“All right, Mother!” Jack and Dorothy and Eva called after her, but Jim didn’t say anything.

He was the naughty boy of the family, and went by the name of “Jim the Terrible,” and I am afraid he very often deserved his name.

When the others went to say good night to Mother, Jim paused outside the dining-room door; it was open just the least little bit in the world, and he peeped in and saw a wonderful tree, standing in the middle of the room, laden with toys.

Right at the top hung a Punch doll, dressed in satin and tinsel, and he shone and glittered so that Jim could see him better than the other toys.

But his Mother called to him, so he could not wait to examine the tree more closely.

When the children were in bed Jim made up his mind to lie awake, and as soon as the others were asleep, he stole softly downstairs to have another look at the Christmas-tree.

The room was a blaze of light now, and the Punch doll at the top shook his staff at Jim as soon as he entered.

“Oh! you naughty boy,” he cried. “You Terrible Jim. What do you mean by coming here when your Mother told you not to go near the dining-room! I’ll teach you to disobey! Oh—o—o—o—! Go to bed! go to bed!”

All the while Punch was speaking he was growing larger and larger, until at last he seemed as big as the giant in the pantomime, and then he gave a terrific jump from the top of the tree, and began to chase Jim upstairs.

Oh! how the little boy ran, with Punch close behind him all the time.

At length he reached the nursery, and with a bound sprang into his bed and tucked the clothes up round him. There he lay trembling for ever such a time, but when at length he ventured to peep out, the nursery was quite dark, and Punch had evidently gone away, so he curled himself up and went to sleep.

The next day when the children were called in to the forbidden room, they simply danced and screamed with delight when they saw the beautiful Christmas-tree.

At least all except Jim, for when he looked at the Punch doll on the top of the tree, it seemed to him that it was frowning at him, and he made up his mind never to peep through cracks of doors again, when it was forbidden him, however much he might want to know what was behind them.

Now, before he had made this good resolution he had been thoroughly miserable.

He could take no pleasure at all in the beautiful presents which Mother gathered for them from the Christmas-tree, for all the time he was watching the Punch doll to see if he would come down from his perch and chase him upstairs again.

No sooner did he resolve to be a better boy in future than the expression on Punch’s face changed in a most surprising manner: he seemed almost to smile at Jimmy.

Even when the tree was stripped of everything except Punch, and the children were busy pulling the plums out of the big snapdragon Father had lighted, Jimmy fancied the old fellow nodded his head at him once or twice in a friendly fashion, and the little boy was so relieved and happy that he clapped his hands for joy, and shouted with the rest.