Free A Merry Christmas by Louisa May Alcott Page A

two of them, saying, as she climbed the stairs again, “They remembered the children, so I’ll remember them and have my share of the fun.”
    So up went the pies, for Mrs. Smith had not much to give, and her spirit was generous, though her pastry was not of the best. It looked very droll to see pies sitting about on the thresholds of closed doors, but the cakes were quite elegant and filled up the corners of the towel handsomely, for the apron lay in the middle, with oranges right and left, like two sentinels in orange uniform.
    It was very late when the flicker of a candle came upstairs and a pale lady, with a sweet, sad face, appeared, bringing a pair of red and a pair of blue mittens for her Dolly and Grace. Poor Mrs. Blake did have a hard time, for she stood all day in a great store that she might earn bread for the poor children who stayed at home and took care of one another.
    Her heart was heavy that night, because it was the first Christmas she had ever known without gifts and festivity of some sort. But Petkin, the youngest child, had been ill, times were hard, the little mouths gaped for food like the bills of hungry birds, and there was no tender mate to help fill them.
    The angels hovering about the dingy hall just then must have seen the mother’s tired face brighten beautifully when she discovered the gifts, and found that her little helpers had been so kindly remembered. Something more brilliant than the mock diamonds in Miss Kent’s best earrings fell and glittered on the dusty floor as Mrs. Blake added the mittens to the other things and went to her lonely room again, smiling as she thought how she could thank all the contributors in a pleasant and simple way.
    Her windows were full of flowers, for the delicate tastes of the poor lady found great comfort in their beauty. “I have nothing else to give, and these will show how grateful I am,” she said as she rejoiced that the scarlet geraniums were so full of gay clusters, the white chrysanthemum stars were all out, and the pink roses at their loveliest.
    The flowers slept now, dreaming of a sunny morrow as they sat safely sheltered from the bitter cold. But that night was their last, for a gentle hand cut them all, and soon three pretty nosegays stood in a glass, waiting for dawn, to be laid at three doors, with a few grateful words which would surprise and delight the receivers, for flowers were rare in those hardworking lives, and kind deeds often come back to the givers in fairer shapes than they go.
    Now one would think that there had been gifts enough, and no more could possibly arrive, since all had added his or her mite except Betsey, the maid, who was off on a holiday, and the babies fast asleep in their trundle bed with nothing to give but love and kisses. Nobody dreamed that the old cat would take it into her head that her kittens were in danger, because Mrs. Smith had said she thought they were nearly old enough to be given away. But the cat must have understood, for when all was dark and still, the anxious mother went patting upstairs to the children’s door, meaning to hide her babies under their bed, sure they would be saved destruction. Mrs. Blake had shut the door, however, so poor Puss was disappointed; but finding a soft, clean spot among a variety of curious articles, she laid her kits there and kept them warm all night, with her head pillowed on the blue mittens.
    In the cold morning Dolly and Grace got up and scrambled into their clothes, not with joyful haste to see what their stockings held, for they had none, but because they had the little ones to dress while Mother got the breakfast.
    Dolly opened the door and started back with a cry of astonishment at the lovely spectacle before her. The other people had taken in their gifts, so nothing destroyed the magnificent effect of the treasures so curiously collected in the night. Puss had left her kits asleep and gone down to get her own breakfast; and there,