AUNT TABITHA'S TURKEY A Comedy of the Unexpected.

Evening Post, Volume LXXXII, Issue 151, 23 December 1911, Page 15

AUNT TABITHA'S TURKEY A Comedy of the Unexpected.

Bi- ANNIhi S. SWAN. [All Eights Reserved.]

On the first day in December it was the custom of Robert Milward and his wife to make out a list of the Christmas presents they intended to give, and each year the task seemed to become heavier. It was quite a long time since the list had been divided into three heads; the presents they gave from a strict sense of duty, family or otherwise, the presents they found it expedient to- give from a business point of view, and the presents they gave for love. It was Jane's idea to settle the duty ones and the politic ones first, then for reward revel in those given for love. Milward was a solicitor in the busy Midland town of Binghampton, where he had succeeded his father. The Milwards belonged to Binghampton, 'where they were much respected, but they had never succeeded in rising very high in the social scale, or even of increasing the business as much as they had expected and hoped to at the time of their marriage. ,' Their marriage, anyhow, had been a success. Jane had been a governess^ in the family of one of the manufacturing magnates of Binghampton, for whom her husband had done a little business. He had met her at their house, and fallen in

They spent the next hour most happily, and by eleven o'clock had go* the lists almost, but not quite, to their own satisfaction. Then they drew up to tho fire to have a cosy chat, while Milward boiled tho kettle for the cup of cocoa they always took with one of Jane's incomparable butter biscuits before they went to bed, often saying it was the best meal of the day. It was tho one they had most peace to enjoy, and when, all the cares of the day over, they could draw a breath of relief and talk over those intimate and tender things, which, so trifling in themselves, go to make up the sum of married happiness. Jane had a very busy three weeks getting ready for Christmas. It is nob easy for the mother of six to get very far ahead with preparations ; because so many things can happen in a day to upset her calculations, and take away both time and attention from the things she has planned to do. In fact, a mother of six can't very well live by rule of thumb ; as Jane said, her best plan is to be ready for any emergency. Several occurred in the next three weeks, the most serious of which was a email accident, which might easily have been a serious one to Winnie and Bobby, the two elder children. Winnie was a very staid thoughtful little airl, who

love with her on the spot. They had not waited, as prudence might have dictated, until Milward's position was more firmly established ; but had decided ( to talce all the risks at once. Jane, who had been a governess for nine years, confessed to being very tired of other people's houses, and anxious for one of her own. Milward was tired, too, of the loneliness of 'the rambling old house above the offices in the Market Square. They had "never regretted the step they took, and now in ten years' time there were six children in the house, filling it with life and sweetness and family joy. They were hard put to it to get ends to meet at times; but they did manage to fulfil literally the Scriptural injunction, to owe no man anything, and to love one another. It may be said that two people who had so many obligations had no business to send out "Christinas presents ; but they had the heart of the giver, and it was such a joy-,to them that they would not have given it up except for some very cogent reason. "When the children get bigger, Bob, we shall have to cut down the list," said Jane a trifle ruefully. "When shall we begin ?" "Time enough to settle that when we're obliged, little woman. Well, here goes. We'll tot off the turkeys first. We'll begin in the office as before. Old Todgers ten and sixpence, Bertram twelve and sixpence, because he has his mother and two sisters now. I'm afraid it'll have to be a fifteen shilling one this time for Templeton, as he has another baby." "But the baby won't eat turkey, stupid, twelve and six this, year yet," eaid Jane speaking with her mouth full of pins which she had taken from the hem of a baby's frock, after having feather-stitched it along. v "Well, twelve and sixpence, and a little one for Marjory Brown, and for the Wacketts, and old Billy. Does that finish them, I wonder ?" "I hope so, I'm sure, but I've been wondering whether we might send one to Aunt Tabitha this year. She didn't have a turkey at all last Christmas, never even tasted it." "Her own fault entirely, my dear. Didn't you waste two letters on her inviting her to come and spend Christmas here ?" "Yes, but she never leaves home. If it weren't for all the babies I'd go to her myself at Christinas this year. Somehow I seem to be thinking of her a good deal." "It's very good of you to remember her at all, it you ask me. I don't think your Aunt Tabitha deserves it, she's — " Jane reached across the table and put her hand on her husband's mouth. "I know i what you think of Aunt Tabitha, but you don't know what she has had to sour her. And apyway, she's a lonely miserable old woman, and two happy people like us ought to have a little sympathy and affection to spare, so put down Aunt Tabitha." "Seven and six then," said Milward with affected ferocity. "Not a penny more." "I shouldn't insult the old dear with poor,- skinny apology for a bird, Bob. Twelve and sixpence, if you please, if I have to pay for it out of the house-keep-ing money." "Well, twelve and sixpence, but that's grudged, Jane Milward, on. account of the way she has treated you. That finishes the turkeys } now for the beef and the woollen garments. Oh, I say you'd better finger this list. I get muddled among the knitted waistcoats, and cardigan jackets, and what not. It's a woman's business." "I've got the sleeves of baby's frock to do yet, Bob ; so go ahead, and I'll keep you straight." Milward was the most amenable of men in the hands of Jane, though outside he could sometimes stiffen hie back to his own great disadvantage. '

seldom forgot any of her mother s injunctions, but on a certain day in the last week of school, before the holidays, she was guilty of a very natural- piece of childish indiscretion. She allowed her small brother to go on the ice on a pond they had to pass on the way to school, and stood watching him. while he took some most delightful slides with about half a dozen other bo;ys, all flushed with excitement and joy in the game. It was a very keen frost, and all shallow pools were considered safe ; even Marshmallow Pool had been passed by the authorities. A small swift stream ran into it, and whether thestrong current had weakened the ice nobody ever knew, but anyway there was a weak spot, and Bobby Milward, a little- more adventurous than the rest, reached it and fell through. Then Winnie gave a liltl© cry, and throwing down her school satchel darted quickly across the smooth surface, her golden locks flowing in the keen air, her face aglow with excitement, and without a moment's hestitation she plunged in after her brother. It was an awful moment for the spectators, but there were plenty of willing hands, and all 'the necessary apparatus ready. The children were both got out alive and carried home to their mother, who did not lose her head, but remained alert and careful, doing everything that was necessary to obviate the consequences of that icy bath in children not conspicuously strong. It meanb a week in bed for them, and they escaped marvellously, not even taking a bad cold or inflammation of the lungs through it. But they did suffer, both of them, through the shock. Winnie got a deal of praise for her brave act, and for the way ehe had managed to keep Bobby at the hole in the ice, till they were hauled out. But she only smiled weakly over it all, and looking up into her mother's face said sweetly, "I was only thinking all the time of you and daddy, mummy." All this extra work somewhat interfered with the preparations for Christmas ; even the puddings and the pies did not gel made till the beginning of Christmas week. But when Jane mourned a little over that, Milward assured her they were bound to be the best they had ever eaten, and that even if they had nothing but bread and butter at Christmas they would eat it with thankfulness, a sentiment which «he endorsed with all her heart, thinking of two homes she knew, in Binghampton which had spent Chr* as happily last year, and were now bi.Jnt and childless. She did not get all the letters written that ehe had expected and desired, for when one has two children in bed needing attention, and also a certain amount of amusement to keep them quiet, and only one indifferent domestic nelp, there is not much spare time left for the embroideries of life. It is astonishing) how many old memories crop up at Christmas time, how many names come back almost in dreams, and how you want to write and ask how so-and-so is getting on, even, if you have not heard from him or her for ages. It is the, Christmas spirit, which inspires such feelings in kindly men and women, and the world would be a much poorer place if it were not so. Jane Milward, in whom the milk of human kindness was very abundant, had lots and lots of these kindly impulses at Christmas — sometimes she would say to her husband laughingly that she was tormented with them. But though she did not write so many letters as usual thai year, she was sitting up quite a few nights as Christmas drew near, sending out messages of good-will. "I think I'd better write to Aunt Ta'bifcha about the turkey before we send it t Bob," she said about a week before Christmas. "You se«, she lives a long way from the elation, aad I know how

careless they are about delivering things. The turkey might lie at Claybridge station until nobody could eat il. I've known things happen like that, when I lived with her.*' "Write if you like, dear, but T always think a gift is better if one doesn't know about it beforehand." "Yes, old goose, because you've never grown up a bit," she said affectionately. "But Aunt Tabitha lives by rule of thumb or whatever you call it. She hates the unexpected with a mortal hatred, so if you don't mind I'll write and say _we have a turkey to spare — she'll think we've had a lot sent then — and ask her whether she'll be so kind as to accept one.' 1 "And you'll have to do without that new frock, Jane, because you would insist on keeping up the price of turkeys," said Milward with a groan. "And the worst of it is she won't appreciate it." "Never mind, she's a lonely old woman, and she hasn't got you and six dear kiddies, and two naughty ones laughing in their beds at bhis minute who might so easily" — here her sweet voice broke, "who but for the mercy of God might have been away." Milward had not a word to say after that. He would nave sent out a thousand turkeys had Jane asked him, and gone without himself. They were that foolish sort of people, but we need more of them in the world, beyond a doubt. Jane wrote .the letter, making it as cordial and, as kind as her dear heart dictated, but it did not bring tvny answer. The days passed by, the twentythird of December came, and still there was no answer, and she began to worry herself leet the old lady should' be ill, and have nobody to look after her or be kind to her at Christmas. "I know what's in your 'mind, Jane Milward," said Robert darkly. "But I forbid it. I'll tie you to a bed-posfc before I let you go away to Claybridge. Remember your duty to your own flesh and blood. You can see about Aunt Tabitha after Christmas. No doubt she's offended by the offer of the turkey. 1 wae afraid of it. With that sort of old girl you never know." It should be explained' here that Mrs. Milward had spent part of her orphaned girlhood , with Aunt Tabitha - Strain, and that the experience had not been a very happy one. The old 1 lady had the reputation of being rich, but' that Jane had never believed in. During the fouryears, she had spent in' the bleak old house on the hill above Claybridge, she had never seen the smallest evidence of riches, or even of decent comfort. And just as soon as ehe had been able to earn her own living, she had gone 1 out- into the world, and remained out in it' ever since, finding it a warmer ' place than that cold bleak house on Claybridge Hill. But she did not bear any malice. Happiness had so expanded her sweet nature that she had nothing but compassion for Aunt Tabitha, and was even prone to exaggerate the very small service she had rendered her in days gona by. "After all, Bob," she would say to her husband, "she gave me a home when I hadn't any. And homes are not plentiful, at least* homes with open doors; you can't get away from that, dear." Jane tried not to worry about Aunt Tabitha, and having finally made all the Christmas arrangements for the good of outsiders set herself in the very last days to get ready for its celebration at home. The young Milwards always had their Christmas trees, a large one for the whole family and a tiny one for each member. Jane had spent a year in Germany acquiring the language, and she had loved that pretty German custom, and had always determined that if she had a homo and children of her own she would follow it. Of course it delighted the children, and' though all the proper and serious gifts were on the big tree, there was always something dainty and unexpected on the, little tree, which would have its possessor's name in gold or silver letters cut out of the paper saved from chocolate boxes throughout the year. It was all Very simple and inexpensive, but gave untold pleasure, even the chubby baby when she was only a year old having her own private and precious tree. This year she was two, the darling and pet of the whole household, and' her little tree was even more dainty and delicious than before. All these preparations and the thought they entailed made Jane a little tired with the approach of Chnbtmas Day. but it is a, tiredness fur which tho childless woman would give untold gold. Jane knew thatf and she often prayed for the empty homes, asking that God would fill them with His own compensation. It was about 3 o'clock on the afternoon of the 24th when the thing happened which upset Jane's Christmas calculations for the- moment, but afterwards made such a difference to her life. The children ha-d all gone out for a long walk with Edie Walton, a Binghampton school teacher who had no home to go to for Christmas, and one who had been promptly invited by Jano to make one of her family party. Various other waifs' and strays were coming in to dine on Christmas Day, and it was to be the biggest party they had yet entertained. But she did not count on the univited guest. Winnie had not gone out- with the others, not being yet quite strong enough to face the bitter frost, aitd she was taken paa-tly into her mother's; confidence, and was tying up mysterious parcels in the attic with a very important and uplifted expression on her face. Sho had been 6ent right down to the dining room cupboard for some more paper and string, when she came running

up without v it, and rather a scared expression on her face. " Mummy, there's euch a funny old lady in the hall ! She has a, bandbox and little curls sticking out at the side of her bonnet, only her veil is so thick 1 couldn't see her face ! " "Aunt Tabitha!" said Jano a little faintly as she rose to her feet. Just for a moment a sense of resentment and helnlessness almost overcame her. It was not kind of Aunt Tabitha- to do this, at the last moment, because she must be fully aware that it would put them to a great inconvenience.' The house was chock full already, and Aunt Tabitha was a person you could Hbt take liberties with. It simply meant turning Edie Walton out of the pretty spa.ro bedroom and rigging up an attic for her at the last moment. And every housewife knows that rigging 'up an attic can't be done in a moment. She smoothed her hair ruefully, and then, struck by the very anxious motherly expression on Winnie's sweet rmrtfi^ face, sho suddenly burst out lauerhiny:. "It's Aunt Tabitha, dear; I must go down and sec hpr." Sho did not run down th«« stairr. very fast. There were two flights in that rambling, difficult old h<nt6<\ which Jano so often longed to exchange for something easier to work, and less dangerous to young limbs and careless baby feet. But by the time she got to tho bottom and beheld the quaint figure of Aunt | Tabitha standing grasping her umbrella firmly in* her two hands and blinking defiantly through her thick lace veil, tho last atom of her dismay vanished. " She's just like a. Dickene's aunt — she'll fit in beautifully — at least, sho's got to," she whispered to herself. Aloud she ' said quite clearly and cheerfully', " Now, Aunt Tabitha, what do you call thifc? Couldn't you have written and let us know you wore coming for Christmas, then somebody could have mot you and brought you here in a, decent Christmas manner. Aunt Tabitha drew off her shabby cotton gloves and put up her thick veil, showing a. little wavering smile on her wrinkled old face. Her niece had stood the test. There was not a hint of disappointment or annoyance in her voice, which rang cordial and true. " I thought it a pity for you to buy two turkeys, my dear"," she said a trifle 'primly. "I was going to write, but then again I thought why watte two stamps and the time of two people writing, so I just came, and -if it isn't convenient I can go to any one of the hotels for the night, and >go back home to-morrow morning." "Yes, you could do that, of course — 'ia fact, you could go away, again immediately, , why not ? asked. Jane, with her Sunny little laugh. ' Come.' right up. There's, a. fire in the drawing-room for a wonder, and I'll get you a cup of tea in no time. . And how are you. Aunt Tabitha, you don't look a day, not v. minute, older!"' - " I feel centuries older. You look tired, Jano Milward. I suppose that husband of yours takes "it out of you, as they all 'do; to'eay nothing of a pack of unruly children." " If you call them a pack, Aunt Tabitha, I really do think I snail have to send you to the hotel, after all; for, ¦-emember, now 'you've come, that Christmas is the 'children's time, and we don't let anything spoil it. They are allowed to make a noise, and have just a perfectly lovely time,- though, of course, I'll boo that you have a fire in your roomi 60 that you can always* slip away and be quiet by yourself." ' < " Oh, J. won't meddle with them. I had a mind to sco what sort of a* housekeeper you had turned out, Jane, and what kind of a mothei' you make. I'm glad I came. I wasn't sure about it in that cold train, and finding that the man took two and sixpence for fetching mo here. in a dilapidated old fly with an asthmatic horse. Jane laughed a little hysterically, but managed to preserve her calmness till she got Aunt Tabitha safely planted in her own room, which she hastily decided she must give up to the old lady, as it was largo and also warmer, being above the dining room. She and Bob, she decided, could mako shift tor a' day or two till Edie Walton should return to her lodgings. 1 When Milward i let himself in that evening, he was met by hie wife at the .door with a very odd' expression on her face. « ' "Come in, darling; such a thing has happened ! ' I don't know . whether to laugh or cry — Aunt Tabicha's here ! She arrived at half-past three this afternoon to jgpend Christmas ! '* "" "The" deuce sho did!" isaid Milward bTankly. "And who gave her leave?" . "Nobody, she did it on her own, and she look's so pathetic, poor old dear, i j mean to give her a jolly good time." . "But there isn't room," he said blankly. "I think it was moet inconsiderate of her|" "Oh, we can make room. I've given her our room just for a few days, while Edie is here, and we'll go up to the attic. You've always been hankering over • the old feather bed, anyway, in the coid weather, so to-night you can return to your first love," .she said so and yet so sweetly, that Milward suddenly felt something in his throat, and caught her in his arms. ' A good; hug is a great help to a woman, and has been known *o get her through many a weary day. Jane was as gay as a skylark that evening, though ehe felt inclined more than once to Toar with laughter at the elaborate politeness with which Aunt Tabitha and Milward treated one another. The old lady fitted into her niche in quite a marvellous manner, and really gave very little trouble. She fell down ; straightway and worshipped the chil-

dren, of whose rapid arrival she had i disapproved in many candidly worded letters. Baby was her special idol, and she made herself so helpful where the children were concerned that Jane was l'elieved, instead of burdened, by her Eresence, as she had fully expected to c. Christmas Day was a tremendous success. They all went to church in the morning, then for a walk over the frozen fields, and then back to a very light luncheon. Dinner, the great event of the day, came off at cix o'clock, so 1 that all tho children could sit up to it. Sixteen sat down at the table, and how Jane beamed upon them! She wae so tired 'she felt, as if she could hardly eat, but everybody was so happy and so attentive to her, that she soon forgot her weariness. When the dessert and the crackers came to the table, Milward rose and charged his glass with Jane's homebrewed ginger wine, and lifted it high, looking first- at Aunt Tabitha on hw right, than, at Edie on hie left, and last oi all at the bottom of the table, where Jano aat, the picture of ineffable content. "Ws have only one toast on Christmas Day, and tare it ift, and we all drioi< it Pt'anding. Mother! God bless her! It w she who mikes us all happy and glad that we have buch a home on Christina? Day." Then they all noddc! and smiled at Jane, and those nearest k-it*ycd her. and they sang "For She's n .lolly Good l/ellow" until the tears ran down her cheeks. Quite late that night, just before she went to bed, Jane stole into Aunt Tabitha's room to enquire whether sho ! was too tired to sleep. . j "No, I've had ,a lovely Christmab, I child. I never knew people could be fo happy in this world, and you are positively the .happiest person in. it. Co away to bed and sleep sound, for everybody is loving you and praying for you in this house. This was a great deal for, Aunt Tabitha to say ; in fact, such a speech had never fallen from her lips in the whole course of her life. She stayed for a whole *week in Binghampton and then departed, seemingly in as great a hurry, and as mysteriously as ehe had come. During her visit, she had walked ai>out ' the lown a great deal by herseifj and made a large number of enquiries of various kinds without saying a word to anybody. Two days after her return , to Claybridge this letter arrived at the ' rambling house above (the solicitor's office: — "Dear Jane and Robert, "I arrived home quite safely on Wednesday night, and found everything quite right at my place. But it seems vej-y quiet and desolate after your happy house. I am not going to tnank you lor the time you gave me. for that is not possible. The only thing I want to say ' is that I am sure there is nobody in the, world, except Jane, who would havo put up with a self-invited and rather cantankerous old woman, who came in at the last moment, to upiset all the; Chriatjma-s arrangementte. Her kindness began with tho letter offering the turkey. If it had been a different kind of letter all this would not have happened. Well, what I want to say iSj that I want to make some return for it allj and the best I can think, < ' of is to give you another house. I've | bought one in Binghampton, the one upon the hill looking over the river, wriich 'Jane covets so much. It'll be paid for on Monday, then the title deeds will be handed over to her. Robert must ,forgive me Tor not the business through him, but if I had told him there .might have been no end of difficulties in the way. And Jane will buy whatever she needs to make it pretty and homelike, and I will pay the bills. Over and ' above that, she shall have two hundred pounds a year, paid quarterly, to pay an extra servant, and keep the garden in nice order. And ' the only thing I want is to be asked to Riverdale at Christmas time, and put up in the attic. I only found out by accident that you both went to the attic to give tho best room in the house to a miserable old woman that deserved the worst. God bless you both, but especially Jane. But He has messed her. Don't write till you have composed your minds. What I want to know is the earliest possible date on which you can move to the new, house. "Your affectionate "AUNT TABITHA." Jane sat xery still after she read that letter. It had como in by th© late j post, and they were reading it together over their evening cocoa. Quite suddenly she burst into tears. "Oh, Bob, and just for one awful minute I positively hated Aunt Tabitha! I could nearly have killed her that day, really." "Never mmd A she didn't know," said Milwfird soothingly. "Fancy the old girl being able to lay out 60 much. Wonder what she paid for the placethree'thousand pounds at least." "It's a dream, Bob, I ehall be afraid to waken out of it. I haven't deserved jbhis. Oh, how good God has been to us!" » Milward made no answer. He could not. He wae thinking how divinely his wife lived the faith she professed, and how blessed lie wae among men.