"Kelly, Myra - A Christmas Present for a Lady" - читать интересную книгу автора (Kelly Myra)

perfume suggestive of drug stores and barber shopsЧ but nicer than eitherЧ made
him uncover his hot little face. Kneeling beside him was a lady, and he forced
his eyes to that perilous ascent; from shoes to skirt, from skirt to jumper,
from jumper to face, they trailed in dread uncertainty, but at the face they
stoppedЧ they had found rest.
Morris allowed himself to be gathered into the lady's arms and held upon her
knee, and when his sobs no longer rent the very foundations of his pink and
wide-spread tie, he answered her question in a voice as soft as his eyes, and as
gently sad.
"I ain't so big, and I don't know where is my mama."
So, having cast his troubles on the shoulders of the lady, he had added his
throbbing head to the burden, and from that safe retreat had enjoyed his first
day at school immensely.
Thereafter he had been the first to arrive every morning, and the last to leave
every afternoon; and under the care of Teacher, his liege lady, he had grown in
wisdom and love and happiness, but the greatest of these was love. And now, when
the other boys and girls were planning surprises and gifts of price for Teacher,
his hands were as empty as his heart was full. Appeal to his mother met with
denial prompt and energetic.
"For what you go and make, over Christmas, presents? You ain't no Krisht; you
should better have no kind feelings over Krishts, neither; your papa could to
have a mad."
"Teacher ain't no Krisht," said Morris stoutly; "all the other fellows buys her
presents, und I'm loving mit her; it's polite I gives her presents the while I'm
got such a kind feeling over her."
"Well, we ain't got no money for buy nothing," said Mrs. Mogilewsky sadly. "No
money, und your papa, he has all times a scare he shouldn't to get no more, the
while the boss"Ч and here followed incomprehensible, but depressing, financial
details, until the end of the interview found Morris and his mother sobbing and
rocking in one another's arms. So Morris was helpless, his mother poor, and
Teacher all unknowing.



And now the great day, the Friday before Christmas, has come, and the school is,
for the first half hour, quite mad. Doors open suddenly and softly to admit
small persons, clad in wondrous ways and bearing wondrous parcels. Room 18,
generally so placid and so peaceful, is a howling wilderness full of brightly
colored, quickly changing groups of children, a11 whispering, all gurgling, and
all hiding queer bundles. A new-comer invariably causes a diversion; the
assembled multitude, athirst for novelty, falls upon him and clamors for a
glimpse of his bundle and a statement of its price.
Teacher watches in dumb amaze. What can be the matter with the children? They
can't have guessed that the shrouded something in the corner is a Christmas
tree? What makes them behave so queerly, and why do they look so strange? They
seem to have grown stout in a single night, and Teacher, as she notes this,
marvels greatly. The explanation is simple, though it comes in alarming form.
The sounds of revelry are pierced by a long, shrill yell, and a pair of agitated
legs spring suddenly into view between two desks. Teacher, rushing to the
rescue, notes that the legs form the unsteady stem of an upturned mushroom of