The Middle Moffat (13 page)

"Can I look at it?" asked Jane.

Looking at one another's letters to Santa Claus was usually an unheard-of procedure. They were for Santa's eyes alone. But this letter Rufus was proud of, and he pushed it over to Jane with a magnanimous gesture.

This was Rufus's letter:

"Gee, that's nice," approved Jane.

"Think he'll know what I mean?"

"Sure."

"Maybe I better add the words
real one
under the picture just to make sure," said Rufus.

So he carefully printed the words
REAL ONE
under his drawing and was convinced that now he had made it plain to Santa Claus what he wanted for Christmas. He and Jane took their letters to the kitchen stove, lifted the lid, and dropped them into the red-hot coals. The draught whisked them up the chimney and the charred letters were gone.

"Funny he can read them when they are burnt up like that," said Rufus.

"He just can," said Jane with finality.

Rufus went back to the kitchen table and wrote another letter with a picture of an "ALIVE" pony on it. This he gave to Mama to put in her bag and mail in the big Post Office tomorrow when she went to town.

"I'm sure he'll get one or the other of them," said Rufus.

Jane sat down before the kitchen fire to warm her toes.

"Dear God," she prayed, "tell Santy Claus to bring him the pony."

She could not bear to think of another Christmas Day with no pony for Rufus. Then she began thinking about what to give Mama this Christmas. Something especially lovely. What was the loveliest thing she could think of? She watched the sparkling coals and suddenly she had a wonderful idea. The gift should be a beautiful bag, brocaded and sparkling with gold and silver threads, all embroidered together into a gorgeous pattern. Yes! She had seen such a bag once in a store window on Chapel Street in town. Certainly that was the gift for Mama.

She called Joe and Rufus. She didn't call Sylvie, because Sylvie already had all her presents wrapped and hidden on the top shelf of the pantry.

"How much money you got?" she asked them.

"What do you want to know for?" they both countered.

Jane told them about the bag. She painted it in glowing colors. "It'll be lovely. It'll be shiny all over," she ended up. Rufus and Joe were impressed. They liked the idea. Well now! A brocaded bag for Mama. That was something!

"Well, how much money have you got?" asked Jane impatiently. "Because I don't have enough just by myself. And this brockated bag'll be from the whole three of us."

Rufus disappeared in the closet under the stairs and came back with his old Prince Albert tobacco box he kept his treasures in. Among the bottle tops in it he found a few pennies, six in all. He dropped them in Jane's lap.

Joe put his hand in his pocket. He kept his money there, when he had any, like a grown man. He pulled out two nickels and two pennies and dropped them in Jane's lap. Jane opened the little Chinese purse that Mama and Sylvie had brought her from New York's Chinatown. A nickel and four pennies fell out of this. Altogether it looked quite a pile. She scooped it up in the palm of her hand.

"Twenty-seven cents," she announced with satisfaction, shaking the coins up and down, up and down.

"Will that buy one of those bags?" asked Joe incredulously.

"Oh, no," replied Jane scornfully. "They cost a dollar at least. I'm goin' to make this brockated bag."

"Supposin' you don't finish it before Christmas?" asked Joe. "Then I'll have nothin' for Mama."

"I'll finish it," said Jane positively. Again she painted the bag she would make in glowing terms, for she saw that their enthusiasm was lagging. She rolled the words lovingly on her tongue,
gold threads, silver threads, cerise, peacock blue, threads of silk and satin ... brocaded...
Well, they were won over again.

"Tomorrow we'll go to Aberdeen's and get the things," she concluded, exhausted from all this persuading, and putting all the coins in her purse.

The next day it was snowing very hard. It had begun in the middle of the night. Silently a soft, thick mantle had been laid over the earth, and it was growing thicker by the minute. Jane and Joe and Rufus ran to the front window and looked out. Marvelous! The first deep snow of winter! They waved good-bye to Sylvie, who was making her way with difficulty through the deep drifts.

"Where's she goin'?" asked Rufus.

"To the Parish House to rehearse for the Christmas tableau," said Jane. "Come on. Get ready to go to Aberdeen's and get the things."

"All right, let's go," said Rufus impatiently.

They put on their rubbers. "Mine leak," said Jane, looking at the holes in the heels and toes. "But never mind, Santy Claus," she breathed, "I don't care a thing about whole rubbers." Rubbers would be worse to see on Christmas morning than material for a dress, she was thinking.

"Where are you going?" asked Mama.

Jane made grimaces at Rufus and Joe to keep them from saying, "Aberdeen's." This was to be a real surprise.

"We're just going out to play in the snow," said Jane carelessly.

"All right," said Mama, "but don't be gallivanting all over town. And come in when your feet get wet."

"All right. Good-bye, Mama." And they each ran in to kiss her good-bye, giving her a good hug besides.
Wait till she sees the brockated bag she's going to get,
they thought.

Out into the snow they ran. The whole world was white. Soon they looked like snowmen.

"Boy, oh, boy, I'll have plenty of shoveling to do when we get back," said Joe.

Although they could walk on the sidewalk, most of which had been cleared by the snowplow, they preferred to walk through the deep snow on the side of the pavements. They sank into the soft snow as far as their knees. This was good fun. After a while Jane said, "We better hurry. And anyway, my chilblains are itching me. And I want to get home and start that bag."

At last they reached Aberdeen's department store, the only large store in Cranbury. Rufus ran up to the show window and stretched his arms out wide. "Up to here is mine," he said, almost losing his balance. "And up to here is mine," laughed Jane, stretching her arms so wide she felt as though she would burst. It was still snowing so hard they could hardly see through the window. They did see that there was nothing there as pretty as the bag that Jane was going to make for Mama.

They pushed open the door. They sniffed the strange smells here, bolts of new material, rubber raincoats and overshoes, powder and perfumes. Because it was such a bad day, there were few people shopping. Joe, Jane, and Rufus stood at the goods counter and waited. Mrs. Aberdeen herself, dressed in many sweaters and a black apron, came to wait on them. She had a pencil stuck in the bun of her hair, a tape measure around her neck, and a pair of scissors strung on a black silk ribbon dangling from her bosom. Mrs. Aberdeen looked more like Madame-the-bust than anyone else in Cranbury.

"What do you want, children?" she asked briskly.

Jane looked at her, wondering how to begin. It was clear that Mrs. Aberdeen was not going to guess "brockated bag" just by looking at the three Moffats.

"Well, speak up," she said, more briskly still. "A spool of thread? A yard of elastic? Garters? Buttons?"

"No," said Jane. "We, that is, I, that is, we're all giving it, but I am making it, want to make a bag for Mama for Christmas."

"Oh, well ... I see ... well, now, how much money can you spend?"

Jane opened the little Chinese purse and the nickels and pennies rolled out on the counter.

"Twenty-seven cents," said Jane, "And I want to 'broider the bag."

"Yes. Well, twenty-seven cents won't buy much."

"A brockated bag," Jane breathed, but Mrs. Aberdeen didn't hear her.

"Here's a nice piece of goods you can have for that money," said Mrs. Aberdeen, holding up a piece of blue calico.

"I want to 'broider the bag," Jane repeated faintly.

Mrs. Aberdeen pulled out a skein of white embroidery cotton. "There," she said kindly. "I'm sure that will make a very nice bag."

These things don't shine. Something is wrong,
thought Jane, almost sobbing. But she paid the money and Mrs. Aberdeen deftly wrapped up the cloth and the embroidery thread in crackling green paper. With a real, bought package under her arm, Jane felt better. Then, too, the plain blue calico was out of sight and her vision of the brocaded bag returned in full force. It danced before her, a lovely elusive thing that quickened her pace. Joe and Rufus practically had to run to keep up with her.