IT is only quite natural that the little folks throughout these United States should set less store by Thanksgiving day than Christmas. It may seem all very fine to sit down to a Thanksgiving dinner, but, after all, Thanksgiving may not hold a candle to Christmas,—to Christmas, with its continued round of excitement, beginning in the small hours of the morning with the inspection1 of Christmas presents, and ending, in all probability, with the glory and glitter of a well-loaded Christmas tree at night. Yet I doubt if the most favoured little darling in the world, who knew every wish for a twelvemonth would find its fulfilment on Christmas morning, ever looked forward to that day as eagerly as our little friends to this Thanksgiving.
I will do them the credit to say that they gave little thought to the good things that were to fall to their own share. They were each conjuring2 pictures for themselves of how those Spanish sailors would look when they sat down to that good dinner. Two of the sailors knew nothing of English beyond the two words “thank you.” Nan could see them now saying it with their funny accent every time anything was passed to them. And when she wondered how they would look when the money was handed to them, she could hardly wait for the glad moment to come and see for herself. She did not have to wait long, for those were her last thoughts before falling asleep, and when she awoke it was Thanksgiving morning. Of course the weather would have much to do with the pleasure of the day, so the first thing she did was to fly to the window and throw open the blinds. The late November sun, rising out of the ocean, flooded everything with a rosy3 light, and the air was mild enough for early October.
Three or four seagulls were sailing over the waves In search of their breakfast, making a dive now and then when their wonderful far-reaching gaze detected a fish near the surface of the water. Nan watched one of them circling round and round, and clapped her hands from sheer delight when she saw him rise from a desperate dive with a fish quivering in his talons4, then flying homeward to his nest on the bough5 of some inland tree. It seemed as though even the seagulls ought to fare better than on other days. To be sure it put a sad ending to the life of the poor little fish, but no doubt it was as allowable for seagulls to dine off men-haden, as for people to dine off roast turkeys and ducks. This logical train of thought, and some other thoughts not as logical, tripped through Nan's mind as she made her neat little toilet. The brown hair was braided quickly but very evenly, and tied with a scarlet6 ribbon; the whitest of little yoke-aprons was put on over the blue flannel9 dress, and, notwithstanding it opened down the back and boasted fifteen buttons, was carefully adjusted by Nan's own little fingers. it is astonishing what “own little fingers” can do for the children who must needs wait on themselves.
A radiant embodiment of sweetness and freshness, Nan bustled10 into the dining-room, to find the boys there before her. They were curled up on the window-seat looking over, for perhaps the tenth time, the budget of envelopes which Miss Vale had sent the night before.
“Well. I guess I shall not be good enough to let you eat me,” Nan answered, blushing a little.
Harry caught her dress as she passed him, and held her firmly while he gave her the heartiest13 sort of a kiss. The truth is that two months ago Harry would have done nothing of the sort. It might have occurred to him, but he simply would not have done it. Regie had been teaching him a lesson. Always gallant14 and thoughtful himself toward Nan, Harry had watched him closely, and gradually had come to the conclusion that a brother might really treat his sister with much consideration without being set down for a spoony; indeed, might even go so far as to actually express his admiration, not only in words, but in the deed of an unexpected kiss now and then, without being silly. The lesson was well worth learning, and would it might be taught to a host of well-meaning little Harrys, who need to learn it every whit7 as much as this Harry in particular! As soon as Sister Julia arrived they had breakfast. She ran up every morning from the hospital, for the sake of the change and fresh air. As soon as the meal was finished, preparations were at once begun for the great Thanksgiving dinner. In the first place Dobbin was brought to the door, and the two boys helped Captain Murray carry out from the hall several well-filled boxes and baskets; for the dinner was to be served in the rear end of the chapel15, as Captain Murray's dining-room was too small to accommodate so large a party comfortably; besides, one or two of the men were not so far recovered as to be able to venture out of doors. Pet and the cart were also pressed into service, and made numerous trips to and fro, until at last, with the help of the sailors, everything had been unloaded at the chapel door.
Mrs. Murray, in a long white apron8, presided over the cooking, and soon a strange new incense16, which was none other than the smell of roasting turkey, began to make its way to the rafters of the church.
The captain on his cot sniffed17 it gratefully, and he wished from the bottom of his heart that he was up and about and able to enjoy it. Sister Julia busied herself with setting the table. Rex and Harry sat in one corner paring potatoes, and the sailors strolled about with their hands in their pockets, and broad smiles on their dark faces, rendering18 some little service whenever they could.
The one who could not speak English at all kept near Mrs. Murray, watching her intently with his large black eyes, and trying to anticipate any little thing he might do for her, such as lifting the great pot, in which a Savoury soup was boiling away, or pushing more wood into the cooking-stove.
“Well, Sister Julia, what can I do now?” asked Nan, when she had finished the glasses.
“Let me see,” answered Sister Julia, pausing a second to count the places at the table, to be sure she had made no mistake; “I think you might arrange the fruit. The bananas and oranges will look the better for a careful rubbing with one of the glass towels.”
“All right,” Nan said, cheerily, glad to have so important a task assigned to her. Just as she had gotten everything together a sudden thought occurred to her, and seizing a fruit dish under each arm, she travelled down the aisles19 and into the vestry.
During the week she and the Spanish captain had grown to be fast friends, and his face brightened the moment he saw her.
“I was thinking you might be a little lonely,” she said; “if you like, I can bring my work in here and do it.”
“Indeed, senorita, nothing would please me better,” the captain answered, in musical broken English. The captain always addressed Nan as “senorita,” the pretty word that stands for miss in his native tongue.
Nan asked two of the sailors to carry the great box of oranges and bananas into the vestry, and seating herself on the floor, with a dish on each side of her, she set to work.
“How do you feel to-day, captain?” she asked, by way of opening the conversation, and rubbing vigorously away at an orange.
“Better, senorita; but one does not want to get well too fast, and say good-bye to Sister Julia and the rest of you who have been so kind to us all.”
“You are sorry, then, that you tried to do it, aren't you?”
“Do what, senorita?” and the colour came into his dark face.
“Why, kill yourself, captain,” polishing away at a banana without looking up, and feeling pretty sure it would have been better not to have said this.
“I had hoped the little senorita did not know about that,” sighed the captain. “It was a cowardly and foolish thing to do.”
“It was a very wicked thing, captain. I hope you never will try to do it again.”
“Never you fear,” he answered, smiling; “all my life I will try to make amends20 for it; and I will tell you something you may think strange, senorita, and that is, that this has been the happiest week in all my life. Two or three times when I have been lying here, just at sunset, where I could watch the great white breakers come rolling in, and Sister Julia has been playing on the organ in the church there, I have thought I must be dreaming in my berth21 in the poor Christina. Then I have raised myself on my elbow, so that I could look into the chancel yonder and see the cross on the altar cloth, and feel sure it was really all as it seemed.”
“Yes, in a way, I am glad.”
“You don't forget about losing all your money and things, do you?”
“No, but perhaps it's worth while to have lost one's money to be wrecked on a coast of big and little angels.”
“Big and little angels!”
“Yes, and if you want to know why it seems so to me you must listen to a story.”
There was no “must listen” for Nan where a story was concerned. She was all attention in a moment, an eager breathless little listener, and the captain began.
“Just thirty-six years ago a Spanish boy found himself without father or mother, and was set adrift on the world. Not a penny did he own, but he was a hearty23, fearless little fellow, and he managed somehow to live, though he seldom knew where the next meal was to come from, or where he would sleep at night. By the time the boy was ten years old he grew tired of his vagabond life, and longed to learn how to read and write. So he resolved to go to the village school, and he earned a little money out of school hours here and there, and was a happier fellow than in the old idle days.
“No sooner had he learned to read and write in pretty decent fashion than he decided24 to run away to sea, for he had always a notion that he would be a sailor some day. I do not know that you could exactly call it running away, when no one cared very much whether he came or went; but for the next few years he had a pretty hard time of it, for to go to sea before the mast under a harsh and cruel captain is likely to make life rather difficult. Sometimes when he was sent out to reef the top-gallant sail he would balance himself on the yard, wondering if it would not be better to let himself drop into the ocean—the men would only think he had tumbled off; but somehow the fear of God always kept him from it.”
“Notwithstanding the hardship he went to sea again until he was twenty-five years old, and by that time he had worked up to be first mate of the——”
“Of the Christina?” Nan questioned, eagerly.
“Yes, of the Christina,” the captain admitted; “and he had managed to save enough to become part owner of her besides.” Nan had finished her work, but was quite unmindful of the fact, and sat gazing up to the captain's face, with her hands clasped round her knees.
“Had he grown up to be a good man?” she asked, innocently. “I am afraid not, senorita, as you would count goodness.”
“Was he kind to his men?” altogether unconscious of how embarrassing her questions might prove.
“Yes, he was kind. That was the best thing that could be said for him. He did not deserve any credit for that, though, for he had suffered so much himself from unkindness.”
“Then he deserved all the more credit,” Nan said, decidedly, and the colour in the captain's face showed how grateful her praise was to him.
“Well, it happened one November morning,” he continued, “ten years afterward25, that when he had been battling all night with the wind and the waves of a terrible storm, his ship ran ashore26, and in such a way that he knew he could never save her. All the earnings27 of his lifetime gone in a minute! What was there to live for? He had not a relative in the world, and that ship was his darling. Then the thought to take his own life came to him, as it used to sometimes when he was a poor little sailor on the top-gallant yard, only now that he was a man no thought of God came with it, and so the desperate deed was attempted.” Nan had never listened to anything so fascinating in all her life before.
“That is not all?” she asked, eagerly, for the captain had paused for a moment.
“Thank God, no! scarcely did the captain—for he was no longer first mate—think that the ugly weapon had done its work, than he seemed to be all by himself in a beautiful silver boat on a wide blue sea. It was a little boat, without sails or oars28, and it bounded over the waves of its own free will, so that the captain had simply to let it carry him whither it would. Soon he knew they were nearing a shore, for he recognised the sound of breakers on the beach; but he shuddered29 as he heard it, for he half-remembered that something terrible had happened when he had heard that sound once before But his fright was over in a moment, for he saw a great banner waving in the air, and on it was printed, in gold letters, 'The Shore of Loving kindness.'”
“As he neared the land, one curling white breaker seemed gently to lift the boat on to the next, until at last it was landed on a great white stretch of beach. It seemed to the captain such a beautiful shore, that he wondered if it might be heaven; and if it was, he knew he had no right there. He tried to lift himself up and step out of the little boat, but somehow he was not able to do that; so he lay quite still and contented30, looking up at the stars overhead,—wonderful stars they were, for the only light there was came from them, and yet he could see everything plainly. At last the stars seemed to grow dim and still more dim, and the captain turned himself over on the silk cushions of the boat and fell asleep. When he awoke he stared about him with a wondering gaze, for everything looked so strange. He was no longer in the silk-cushioned boat, but lying on a cot in a little room, a queer little room, with a carved oaken partition, and soft red curtains running along two sides of it. He could not see very plainly, for the light was low in the room, and he could not tell where it came from. He felt something heavy on his head, and put his hand up, for he remembered that he had thought that the little red boat had landed him in heaven. But alas31! there was no crown, only a tightly-bound bandage, and the moment his hand touched it he guessed why it was there, and that he was only a shipwrecked captain whom someone had cared for. But where was he? A door led out of his little room—into what? Why, it looked like a church; yes, it was surely a church,' for the moonlight was streaming through the chancel window, and he could see the communion table and some one sitting beyond the chancel rail. How strange! What could it mean? He put his hand to his head again to make sure of the bandage, and that he was not dreaming. And now the figure has left the table, and is moving toward him. It comes gently to the side of his cot, and he can see that it is a woman, a woman with the face of an angel. The captain looks up at her with a wondering gaze; but she puts her finger to her lips as a sign that he must not speak. Then she makes the light brighter in the room, and draws a chair to his side, and tells him in a low, sweet voice all about himself—how he happens to be in the vestry of the little church; and finally she tells him that she means to take care of him until he is entirely32 well again. But the captain almost wishes he may never be well again, if he may only have that angel face to watch over him.”
“That angel was Sister Julia,” said Nan, with a sigh, as though to relieve her overcharged little heart.
“But you said there were little angels, too,” Nan said, innocently.
“Certainly. I have a picture of the little archangel (that is, the principal one) here beside me,” and the captain placed a little frame in Nan's eager hands.
Of course it proved to be only a little mirror, in which she saw the reflection of her own fair little face.
“Do you call a round chubby34 face like that the face of an angel?” she laughed, holding the little mirror at arm's length and looking in, in a funny, half-critical fashion.
“Yes, I do. It has been a real angel face to me, coming in and out of this vestry room with its bright smiles.”
“Why, where is Nan?” someone called just then.
“Coming, Sister Julia,” Nan answered, jumping to her feet, and with an effort lifting one of the heavy fruit dishes.
“I must go,” she said, reluctantly; but when she reached the door she paused for a moment to look back and ask, “It was true, wasn't it, all that about when you were a boy; all except about the boat and the angels?”
“Every word of it,” answered the captain; “and it was true about the angels, too, senorita.”
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1
inspection
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| n.检查，审查，检阅 | |
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conjuring
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| n.魔术 | |
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rosy
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| adj.美好的，乐观的，玫瑰色的 | |
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talons
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| n.（尤指猛禽的）爪( talon的名词复数 )；（如爪般的）手指；爪状物；锁簧尖状突出部 | |
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bough
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| n.大树枝，主枝 | |
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scarlet
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| n.深红色，绯红色，红衣；adj.绯红色的 | |
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whit
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| n.一点，丝毫 | |
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apron
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| n.围裙；工作裙 | |
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flannel
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| n.法兰绒；法兰绒衣服 | |
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bustled
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| 闹哄哄地忙乱，奔忙( bustle的过去式和过去分词 )； 催促 | |
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harry
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| vt.掠夺，蹂躏，使苦恼 | |
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admiration
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| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
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heartiest
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| 亲切的( hearty的最高级 )； 热诚的； 健壮的； 精神饱满的 | |
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gallant
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| adj.英勇的，豪侠的；(向女人)献殷勤的 | |
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chapel
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| n.小教堂，殡仪馆 | |
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incense
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| v.激怒；n.香，焚香时的烟，香气 | |
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sniffed
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| v.以鼻吸气，嗅，闻( sniff的过去式和过去分词 )；抽鼻子（尤指哭泣、患感冒等时出声地用鼻子吸气）；抱怨，不以为然地说 | |
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rendering
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| n.表现，描写 | |
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aisles
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| n. (席位间的)通道, 侧廊 | |
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amends
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| n. 赔偿 | |
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berth
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| n.卧铺，停泊地，锚位；v.使停泊 | |
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wrecked
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| adj.失事的，遇难的 | |
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hearty
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| adj.热情友好的；衷心的；尽情的，纵情的 | |
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decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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afterward
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| adv.后来；以后 | |
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ashore
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| adv.在(向)岸上，上岸 | |
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earnings
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| n.工资收人；利润，利益，所得 | |
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oars
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| n.桨，橹( oar的名词复数 )；划手v.划（行）( oar的第三人称单数 ) | |
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shuddered
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| v.战栗( shudder的过去式和过去分词 )；发抖；（机器、车辆等）突然震动；颤动 | |
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contented
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| adj.满意的，安心的，知足的 | |
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alas
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| int.唉(表示悲伤、忧愁、恐惧等) | |
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entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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assented
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| 同意，赞成( assent的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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chubby
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| adj.丰满的，圆胖的 | |
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