{"collection":"scripture-revelation","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_21830/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_21830","id":"gutenberg_21830","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/21830","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Children & Young Adult Reading","Category: Novels","Christmas -- Juvenile fiction","Religion -- Juvenile fiction"],"text":"Produced by David Edwards and the Online Distributed\nProofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was\nproduced from scans of public domain material produced by\nMicrosoft for their Live Search Books site.)\n\n\n\n\n\n\nTHE LITTLE MIXER\n\n\n\n_By_\n\nLILLIAN NICHOLSON SHEARON\n\n\n\nINDIANAPOLIS\nTHE BOBBS-MERRILL COMPANY\nPUBLISHERS\n\n\nCopyright, 1922\nBy The Bobbs-Merrill Company\n\n\n_Printed in the United States of America._\n\n\nPRESS OF\nBRAUNWORTH & CO.\nBOOK MANUFACTURERS\nBROOKLYN, N.Y.\n\n\n\n\nTHE LITTLE MIXER\n\n\n\n\nThere was no fault to be found with the present itself; the trouble lay\nin the method of transportation. This thought was definite enough in\nHannah's mind, but she had to rely upon a seven-year-old vocabulary for\nexpression, and grown-ups are notably dull of comprehension. Even\nmothers don't always understand without being told exactly in so many\nwords.\n\n\"I didn't say the kimono wasn't nice, Mama,\" explained Hannah, \"and\n'course Cousin Carrie was awful good to send it to me, but--but Santy\nClaus is going to bring Virginia one to-morrow night, _down the\nchimbley_!\"\n\nRose Joseph slipped the absurd little garment over her daughter's dainty\nlingerie frock, and stood her on a chair that she might view herself in\nthe narrow mirror between the windows of the living-room. The child was\nas lovely as a flower, but vanity was still sound asleep in her soul,\nand she glanced indifferently at the reflection, her body sagging with\ndisappointment. \"It is just like those little Japanese girls wear,\" her\nmother cried in that over-enthusiastic adult tone which warns a child he\nis about to be the recipient of a gold brick. \"I am sure Virginia's\ncan't be any nicer than this one!\"\n\n\"But, Mama, Santy Claus is going bring hers _down the chimbley_.\nMine\"--her voice dropped to a mournful key--\"mine came _through the\ndoor_!\"\n\n\"But, darling, what difference does that make just so you get it?\"\n\nPity for her mother's barren childhood shone in Hannah's soft black\neyes. \"That's--that's no way for presents to come,\" she explained;\n\"Mama, it's Chris'mus.\"\n\n\"It is Chanuca,\" Mrs. Joseph responded firmly. \"Remember you are a\nJewess, dear.\"\n\n\"I can't never forget it,\" said the child with a catch in her voice,\n\"'specially at Chris'mus.\"\n\n\"But, darling, the Jewish children have Chanuca; it comes about the same\ntime as Christmas, and amounts to the same thing.\"\n\nHannah shook her bronze curls. \"Chanuca is because the children of\nIsrael took Jerusalem and the temple away from the bad people,\" she\nrecited glibly, \"and--and you say prayers, and light candles--eight\ndays, and--and all your uncles and aunts and cousins send you things,\nbut Santy Claus, he don't pay any 'tention to Chanuca. Chris'mus is just\none day, and Santy Claus comes down the chimbley and brings things to\nall good children--'cept little Jews--because it is the birthday of our\nSaviour.\"\n\nMrs. Joseph was silent so long that Hannah felt she had convinced her\nmother of the superiority of the Gentile Christmas over the Jewish\nChanuca, and she continued more in detail. \"And the children's kinfolks\njust give Santy Claus money, and tell him what to buy, and he brings the\npresents, and nobody has to bother about it 'cept him.\"\n\n\"Hannah,\" Mrs. Joseph interrupted coldly, \"who told you about the\nbirthday of--of the Saviour?\"\n\n\"Nellie Halloran,\" answered Hannah, \"and Virginia, too. They've--they've\ngot the same one.\"\n\n\"The same what?\"\n\n\"The same Saviour,\" Hannah explained.\n\n\"Darling, hasn't Mama told you many times, that you must never, never\ntalk about religion to Nellie and Virginia?\"\n\n\"Oh, we don't, Mama, never, never! But 'course we got to talk about\nSanty Claus, and things.\"\n\nThere seemed to be no reasonable objection to that, so Mrs. Joseph\ndropped the subject. She spent a great deal of time folding the despised\nand rejected kimono into its tissue-paper wrappings. Presently she\nbrought a narrow parcel from another room.\n\n\"See what Uncle Aaron has sent you, dear,\" she cried gaily. \"A little\nman; you wind him up in the back with this key--so--and then he dances\nand plays the fiddle!\"\n\nHannah forced a polite giggle at the little man's antics. He too rested\nunder the ban of having come \"through the door,\" and her attention soon\nwandered.\n\n\"Nellie got a jumping-jack in the very top of her stocking last\nChris'mus; 'cause she's such a jumping-jack herself, her papa said. You\nknow, Mama, Santy Claus puts nuts and candy, and _little_ things in your\nstocking and puts your big things all around the room. Sometimes he\nbrings a tree and hangs them all on a tree. Virginia and Nellie want a\ntree and a new doll. Virginia gets a new doll every Chris'mus, and she's\ngot every doll Santy ever brought her--even her little, baby, rubber\ndoll. She's eight years old and will have eight dolls! But Nellie\nain't--hasn't saved a single one, and she's scared she won't get one\nthis Chris'mus--awful scared.\"\n\n\"Why, dear?\" asked Mrs. Joseph, when Hannah paused for breath.\n\n\"Because the doll Santy brought Nellie last Chris'mus, you know what?\nShe was playing Indian with her brother one day, and _chopped her head\noff_! And Nellie's mama says she don't know whether old Santy's going to\nforget that or _not_! But Nellie, she says she prays hard to the Virgin\nMary every night--if she don't go to sleep too quick. Mama, what's a\nvirgin? Mama, what's----\"\n\n\"A virgin is a lady who has never been married,\" answered Mrs. Joseph,\nputting the neglected musician back into his box.\n\nHannah wrestled alone for a moment with a mighty ecclesiastical problem,\nand then gave it up.\n\n\"The Virgin Mary is God's mother,\" Hannah continued. \"That's her picture\nover our fireplace,\"--pointing to a copy of a crude thirteenth century\nMadonna and Child in a carved Gothic frame, which Eli and Rose Joseph\nhad bought in Italy while on their wedding trip. Flanked now by candles\nburning in silver candelabra in honor of Chanuca, it gave the mantel a\npassing resemblance to a Catholic shrine.\n\n\"I don't think God's mother is very pretty, do you, Mama? And I think\nNellie's little brother is a heap prettier'n God was when He was a\nbaby.\"\n\nMrs. Joseph showed signs of having reached the limit. \"Hannah,\" she said\nfirmly, \"it is time you were in bed.\"\n\n\"But, Papa hasn't come home yet.\"\n\n\"Papa will be late to-night, dear.\"\n\n\"The Chris'mus rush,\" sighed Hannah. \"Mama, you haven't looked down my\nthroat to-day,\" she added, playing for time.\n\nMrs. Joseph went through the daily ritual. \"It looks all right,\" she\npronounced.\n\n\"It _is_ all right,\" came the triumphant answer. \"It is never going to\nbe sore again. Virginia says----\"\n\n\"Never mind what Virginia says. If your throat ever hurts you the least\nlittle bit, you are to come to me instantly and tell me. Do you\nunderstand?\"\n\n\"Yes, Mama, but it isn't going to hurt any more,\" Hannah insisted.\n\n\"Come on up-stairs to bed.\"\n\nStill Hannah hung back. She had not played her trump card yet, and the\ntime was short. She caught her mother's slim white hand in hers and\nfingered nervously at the rings. \"Mama,\" she almost whispered, \"Virginia\nsays it's Jewish mamas' fault that Santy Claus don't come to see Jewish\nchildren. If the mamas would just go to Santy and _tell_ him to\ncome--You will, won't you, Mama? _Please, Mama!_\"\n\n\"Hannah, not another word about Christmas and Santy\nClaus--not--another--word!\"\n\nHannah swallowed something that came in her throat, and bravely winked\nback her tears. \"Can't Mandy put me to bed?\"\n\n\"No, dear; Mandy is busy in the kitchen. Mama will put you to bed and\ntell you stories.\" She bent down and kissed the child tenderly.\n\nHannah flung her arms about her mother's neck. She loved the feel of the\nsoft throat and the gently curving bosom against her little cheek, and\nthe fragrance of her mother's hair and silken laces. She didn't know\nthat her mother looked like a portrait by Raphael, but she did know that\nher mama was the prettiest, sweetest mama in all the world; and yet--\n\n\"Mama, I'm so tired of stories about the children of Israel. They never\ndid anything funny. Mandy tells me tales about the old plantashun, when\nher ma was a slave, and about ole Marse, and ole Mis' going to town and\ngiving Santy Claus money so's he'd bring beads and 'juice' harps and\nthings to the little niggers; and he never forgot one, from the biggest\nto the littlest darky, Santy didn't.\"\n\nThe child's body began to tremble with repressed sobs. \"I--I wisht I was\na--a little darky! It's--it's awful--sad to be a little Jewish child at\nChris'mus time.\"\n\nAnd then the storm broke.\n\nTwo hours later Eli Joseph's tired step sounded on the veranda, and Rose\nhurried to admit him, lifting a silencing hand as soon as he had crossed\nthe threshold. \"Hannah has just gone to sleep,\" she whispered. \"No--no,\nshe's not sick at all.\" He placed an arm around her and drew her into\nthe library.\n\n\"Eli, your overcoat is wet,\" she exclaimed, untwining her arms from his\nneck.\n\n\"Snow,\" he said, his good-looking boyish face lighting up with pleasure.\n\"It seems we are to have a white Christmas after all.\"\n\n\"Christmas!\" she cried; \"I wish I could never hear that word again.\"\n\n\"Well, I'm glad it comes only once a year. To-night ends my siege,\nthough. To-morrow night Stein goes on duty, and I come home for dinner\nto stay. Rose, darling, you look all tired out. You shouldn't wait up\nfor me.\"\n\n\"It isn't that. It's Hannah. She cried for more than an hour to-night,\nand but for Mandy and her tales I believe she would still be crying.\"\nAnd she detailed the scene to him.\n\n\"But, good gracious, Rose, let Santa Claus bring her presents to her,\"\nsaid Eli, when she had finished. \"Hannah's nothing but a baby.\"\n\n\"She is beginning to think for herself.\"\n\n\"As you did at a very early age,\" he reminded her, \"and your father the\nstrictest of orthodox rabbis. How old were you when you began slipping\noff to the reformed temple?\"\n\n\"I broke my father's heart,\" she said somberly. \"I'll be punished\nthrough Hannah.\"\n\n\"Not unless you let Hannah think faster than you do. And remember,\" he\nadded teasingly, \"if you hadn't run off to the reformed temple you would\nnever have met me.\"\n\n\"Outside, at the foot of the steps,\" she recalled. \"I would never have\nmet you inside.\"\n\n\"Maybe I am lax,\" he acknowledged, \"but it seems to me that if you are\nliving a decent life yourself, and giving the other fellow a square\ndeal, you are pretty nearly fulfilling the law and the prophets.\"\n\n\"And what do you suppose is happening to Hannah with a Christian Science\nfamily on one side and Roman Catholics on the other?\" she demanded\ntragically. \"She's decided not to take any more medicine, because\nVirginia Lawrence doesn't. And she has Nellie Halloran's every\nexpression about the Virgin and the Saviour. Not only that, but she has\nmade friends with a Christian Science practitioner through the\nLawrences, and calls him 'my friend Mr. Jackson.' She runs to meet him\nand walks the length of the block with him every time he passes.\"\n\n\"Hannah is certainly a natural born mixer,\" laughed the father. \"We are\nsaving ourselves trouble by giving her the best there is to mix with!\"\n\n\"Eli, I am afraid we made a mistake moving out here, away from all our\npeople.\"\n\n\"No, we didn't make a mistake,\" he declared earnestly. \"The Square was\nno place to bring up Hannah, among those parvenu Jews. We have the\nprettiest home on the heights and the best people in town for\nneighbors.\"\n\n\"Our child is losing her identity as a Jewess.\"\n\n\"Let her find it again as an American,\" he replied. \"Frankly, Rose, I\ndon't lose any sleep over trying to keep _my_ identity as a Jew intact.\nIf a Jew doesn't like it here, let him go back to Palestine or to the\ncountry that oppressed him, I say. I've got the same amount of patience\nwith these hyphenated Americans as I have with the Jews who try to\nsegregate themselves and dot the map with New Jerusalems. Where's the\nsense in throwing yourself into the melting-pot, glad of the chance, and\nthen kicking because you come out something different?--Come on to bed,\ndear; you are as pale as a ghost, and I'm so tired I can't see straight.\nOur baby is all right. Don't you worry.\"\n\n                    *      *      *      *      *\n\nSnow falls on the just and the unjust. There was quite as much of it in\nHannah's back yard as in either Virginia's or Nellie's--perhaps even a\nlittle more had drifted into the fence corners. Hannah's joy in\ndiscovering that in this respect she had not been slighted crowded her\ntroubles into the background. Immediately after breakfast, bundled up\nsnugly, she stood in her yard and threw snowballs toward her neighbors'\nhomes, while she squealed with delight. In a very few minutes, three\nlittle girls were playing where only one had played before.\n\nThe two newcomers, Virginia Lawrence and Nellie Halloran, presented an\ninteresting contrast. Virginia, slim, and tall for her age, with long,\nflat, yellow braids, handled the snow daintily, even gingerly. Nellie,\nfat and dimpled, her curls tousled into a flame colored halo, rolled\nover and over in the snow, and then shook herself like a puppy. Until\nthe advent of Hannah, a subtle antagonism had existed between the two\nchildren. Virginia's favorite game was playing \"lady\" with a train\nfloating gracefully behind her; Nellie's chief joy in life was seeing\nhow long she could stand on her head, her short skirts obeying the laws\nof gravity all the while. Hannah, however, vibrated obligingly between\nthe two sports, and kept the peace inviolate.\n\nRomping in the snow is hard play, and presently the little girls sat\npanting on the top step of the Josephs' back porch. Immediately Nellie\nproduced a string of amethyst colored beads from her coat pocket, with\nthe announcement that she would say her prayers while resting.\n\n\"What kind of beads are those?\" asked Hannah.\n\n\"Rosary beads, 'course,\" responded Nellie. \"Hannah, you don't know\nanything.\"\n\n\"I do, too.\"\n\n\"Huh! you didn't even know about the Mother o' God until I told you.\"\n\n\"I reckon I thought God was an orphan,\" Hannah pleaded in extenuation.\n\"But, what about God's papa?\" she demanded with sudden inspiration.\n\"You're so smarty, tell me about that!\"\n\n\"Oh, God didn't have to have a father,\" Nellie answered easily.\n\"Everything is free in Heaven; so He didn't have to have a father to\nwork for Him when He was little.\"\n\n\"Then why did He have to have a mama?\"\n\n\"To tell Him what to do, 'course. You know how 'tis. If you ask your\npapa anything, don't he always say, 'Go ask your mama'?\"\n\nHannah had noticed this shifting of masculine responsibility more than\nonce. \"That's so,\" she acquiesced. Then a terrible thought struck her.\n\"I don't want to go to Heaven! I don't want to go anywhere unless my\npapa can go too.\"\n\nNellie's nimble Irish wits were ready. \"I just said _God_ didn't need\nany papa. 'Course _our_ papas will go to Heaven, 'cause that's the only\nplace they can quit working. Didn't I hear my papa say one time he hoped\nhe'd get a little rest in Heaven, 'cause he never got any on this\nearth?\"\n\n\"But, you have to die before you can get to Heaven,\" sighed Hannah.\n\nVirginia, who had been maintaining a most dignified silence, looked as\nif she must speak or explode. \"No you don't. Heaven begins here and\nnow,\" she recited. \"If you are good, you are well and happy, and that's\nHeaven.\"\n\n\"'Tisn't,\" scoffed Nellie. \"Do you see any angels flying 'round in this\nhere yard? I don't.\"\n\nHannah rather took to Virginia's argument, and resolved to have\nconversation with her some time, undampened by Nellie's skepticism. If\nthere could be feasting on the joys of Heaven here and now, Hannah had\nevery intention of being at the banquet table. At the present moment,\nhowever, the rosary beads were of fascinating interest; she must hold\nthem in her own hands, and watch the play of purple lights upon the snow\nas she flashed them in the sun. Questions about the crucifix, she found,\nbrought on an embarrassing silence. Nellie looked at Virginia. Virginia\nlooked at Nellie. Then the two excused themselves for a whispered\ncolloquy at the other end of the yard. When they returned, Virginia\nacted as spokesman, fixing Nellie with an unrelenting eye.\n\n\"That is Jesus nailed to the cross, Hannah. Some very wicked people did\nit.\"\n\nThere was nothing exciting in this to Hannah; wicked people were doing\nwicked things the world over, all the time. The statement fell flat, and\nNellie, disappointed at the lack of dramatic effect, broke treaty. \"I\n'spect the Jews did it,\" she said.\n\n\"They did not!\" Hannah's voice trembled. \"The Jews are nice people; they\nwouldn't do a wicked thing like that!\"\n\nVirginia put an arm across Hannah's shoulders. \"Now see what you've\ndone,\" she snapped at Nellie.\n\n\"Oh, I 'spect the Irish helped them,\" Nellie added magnanimously. \"My\npapa says the Irish are into every thing.\"\n\nNot having to bear the ignominy alone Hannah was comforted. \"What makes\nyou say prayers on the beads?\" she asked.\n\n\"'Cause I want Santy to bring me a doll to-night. I wrote him 'bout\nsixteen letters, and I'm going to say my rosary a dozen times to-day.\"\n\nTo-morrow was Christmas Day! Hannah's face fell. All her sorrows\nreturned with a rush. \"Have you got any more of those beads?\" she asked.\n\n\"Yes, but they wouldn't do you any good,\" Nellie answered with quick\nunderstanding. \"You're not a Catholic.\"\n\n\"Couldn't I be one?\"\n\n\"Not unless you're baptized with holy water. The priest does it.\"\n\nThe leaven had begun to work.\n\n\"What did your mama say about asking Santa Claus to come?\" Virginia\ninquired, with a quick glance toward the beads.\n\nHannah shook her head, speechless. She compressed her lips into a tight\nline with an effort at self-control, but two large tears rolled down her\ncheeks and splashed on her scarlet coat. Again Virginia placed an arm\nprotectingly across Hannah's shoulder.\n\nNellie's bright blue eyes grew soft with pity. \"I tell you what,\" she\nexclaimed. \"I'll baptize Hannah, then she'll be a Gentile, and Santa\nClaus will come, no matter what. And when your mama sees how nice it is,\nshe won't care.\"\n\n\"But, you said a priest has to baptize anybody,\" objected Virginia.\n\n\"He does 'less it's a time of danger and you can't get any priest. Then\nany Catholic can baptize anybody. My mama baptized our washerwoman's\nlittle baby 'cause they knew it was going to die before Father Murphy\ncould get there. And ain't this a time of danger?\"\n\n\"Nobody's dying.\" Virginia was distressingly literal.\n\nHannah looked from one friend to the other, hoping against hope.\n\n\"No, but there's danger Santa Claus won't come to see Hannah less'n\nsump'n is done mighty quick,\" came Nellie's ready reply. \"And can we get\na priest? You go get one, Virginia. Go get one.\"\n\nClearly there was no answer to this. The ceremony was set for early\nafternoon when Grandmother Halloran took her nap and Nellie could borrow\nthe bottle of holy water from her shelf. As to the place, there were six\nboys at the Hallorans' always in the way; Mrs. Lawrence had guests;\nobviously the baptismal rite would have to be performed at Hannah's\nhome. After lunch the children assembled in the sun parlor of the\nJosephs' home, in full view of Mrs. Joseph who sat embroidering in the\nlibrary, the French door closed between them, so that she did not hear.\n\nNellie had secured the bottle of holy water, and, arrayed in her brother\nJoe's long, black rain-coat, a towel about her neck for a stole, acted\nas priest. Virginia, not to be left out of such an important affair,\nconsented to be godmother. In lieu of a prayer manual, Nellie used one\nof Hannah's story books. She chose a verse, which, because she knew it\nby heart, she could read exceptionally well:\n\n    \"Little boy blue, come blow your horn,\n    The sheep are in the meadow,\n    And the cows are in the corn.\"\n\nThen she poured a little of the holy water on Hannah's forehead (wet\nhair might occasion unanswerable questions) and baptized her \"Hannah\nAgnes Ignatius Joseph.\"\n\nCalled upon for a response, the godmother recited very impressively the\nScientific Statement of Being as found in the Christian Science\ntext-book, and Hannah was pronounced a Gentile and a Catholic.\n\nOne thing more remained to be done. Hannah ran to her mother, cheeks\naglow. \"Mama, may I trade my striped ball to Nellie for some beads?\"\n\n\"Why of course, darling, if you wish.\"\n\nThe exchange was made, and some time was spent in mastering the use of\nthe rosary. All three of the children knew the \"Our Father,\" though\nthere was some difference of opinion as to \"debts\" and \"trespasses\"\nwhich is apt to hold in all mixed congregations. The \"Hail Mary\" proved\na bit difficult for Hannah, and she finally abandoned it. \"I'll say,\n'Hear, oh Israel, the Lord our God, the Lord is One,'\" she said. \"I\nalready know that, and a prayer is a prayer, isn't it?\"\n\nNellie refilled the holy-water bottle from the kitchen hydrant, and\nhurried home to replace it before her grandmother should awaken. Hannah\nspent the next hour lying flat on her stomach printing letters,\nappealing to Virginia from time to time for aid as to the spelling,\nVirginia being a very superior speller.\n\nMrs. Joseph was busy with callers when Virginia went home, and Hannah\nwas left to her own devices. Suddenly she thought of one stone that had\nbeen left unturned: there was her friend Mr. Jackson to whom the\nLawrences always appealed in time of stress. She knew the formula, she\nknew his number, for on the list by the Lawrences' telephone, his name,\nlike Abou-ben-Adhem's, led all the rest. \"Main 1234,\" it was as easy as\ncounting. She slipped into the telephone closet and closed the door.\n\nThere was no trouble with Hannah that night. She went to bed early, and\ndidn't care to have any stories told--she could go to sleep by herself.\n\n\"Quite a change of heart, eh?\" Eli commented to Rose, as they sat by the\nliving-room fire after telling their little girl good night.\n\n\"She has been like that all day, playing as happily as you please,\" Rose\nresponded. \"I suppose she got it all out of her system in last night's\nscene.\"\n\nEli drummed abstractedly on the arm of his chair: \"I don't feel quite\nright about it, even so,\" he said.\n\n\"Maybe you will think me inconsistent,\" she confessed, flushing, \"but\nHannah was so indifferent about the presents sent her for Chanuca, I\nonly showed her two. I've saved the others to give her Christmas Day, so\nshe will have something of her own to show when the other children bring\ntheirs over.\"\n\nEli didn't seem any too pleased. \"Poor little mite,\" he murmured.\n\n                    *      *      *      *      *\n\n\"His-st! Missis Joseph!\"\n\nIt was Bridget, the Hallorans' old family servant, calling softly from\nthe hall.\n\n\"I'll be after takin' the prisints ye've stored away for us. I'll lave\n'em on the back porch 'n' carry 'em over when the childer are all\nasleep. Nellie's in bed like a little angel, bless 'er heart, but them\ndivilish b'ys do be a-snoopin' into ivery crack 'n' corner!\"\n\nMrs. Joseph unlocked a closet under the stairs, and loaded Bridget's\narm's with heavy and bulky parcels.\n\n\"Shure, an' 'tis a sad Chris'mus we'll be havin', savin' the childer.\nMr. Timmy, him that's old Missis Halloran's youngest, but old enough to\nknow better, he ups an' runs away to-day an' marries a Protestant\ngir-rl. An' if ye'll open y'r windy the bit av a crack, ye'll hear the\npoor old lady this minit, wailin' like a banshee.\"\n\n\"But Mr. Timothy is such a nice young man, he must have married a lovely\ngirl, Bridget,\" said Rose.\n\n\"Shure, an' that may be, but she is a Protestant, Missis Joseph. She\nruns away fr'm her folks, an' he runs away fr'm his, an' they get\nmarried by a justice o' peace. An' no peace will come o' such doin',\nLord 've mercy on their souls!\"\n\n\"Oh, poor Grandma Halloran!\"\n\n\"Poor lovers,\" said Eli, when Bridget had gone. \"I'll wager they had the\nvery deuce of a time with both sides.\"\n\nNo sooner had they settled themselves again than the door knocker\nsounded. Eli admitted Mr. Jackson, the Christian Science practitioner.\n\n\"I have only a minute,\" he said. \"I just dropped by to leave a doll my\nwife dressed for your little girl. We chose one that we thought looked\nlike Hannah.\"\n\n\"Oh, but that is kind of you!\" Rose looked her gratitude. \"Mrs. Lawrence\nhas told me how busy both you and your wife always are--and to take time\nto think of our little girl----!\"\n\n\"I had intended to give it to her myself,\" Mr. Jackson continued, \"but\nafter her talk with me to-day I decided she would enjoy it more if I\nasked Santa Claus to bring it.\" His eyes twinkled reminiscently. \"She\ncalled me up by telephone and asked me to give Santa Claus a\ntreatment--she seemed to think that he would pass her by. I could assure\nher that he wouldn't, as I had already seen the doll. Hannah is a\nwonderful child.\"\n\n\"We think so,\" smiled Eli. \"I am sure we thank you, and wish you the\nvery merriest Christmas.\"\n\n\"It will be a _happy_ Christmas for me,\" he answered. \"I am going to the\nstation to meet my father and mother. Some years ago they felt estranged\nfrom me--they are both staunch Presbyterians of the old school and it\nnearly broke their hearts when I went into Christian Science work. But\nthey are beginning to look more tolerantly upon my calling, and they are\non their way now to spend Christmas with us. You can guess how happy\nthat makes me. 'Peace on earth, good will to men'--it is a\nwonder-working thought.\"\n\n\"It is indeed,\" Eli agreed heartily.\n\nWhen the door had closed upon their visitor, Rose and Eli stood staring\nat each other rather foolishly. She was the first to speak: \"Is there no\nend to the fight between the old and the new generation?\"\n\n\"We are just beginning the scrap with _our_ new generation,\" he said.\n\"She called him up and asked for Christian Science help! I wonder what\nelse that little monkey has been up to?\"\n\nThey soon found out. Carrying the doll Mr. Jackson had brought, Rose\ntiptoed after Eli into the nursery and gradually turned on the light.\nThe first object to meet their eyes was Hannah's stocking, hanging\nprecariously to a pin driven into the mantel. Pinned to the wall were\nseveral messages, neatly printed in pencil, which told their own tale:\n\n    Deer Santy--Nellie babtized me. Holy wotter.\n                                                Hannah.\n\n\n    Deer Santy--I want things in my stockin.\n                                                Hannah.\n\n\n    Deer Santy Claws--Ime a jentile. Nellie babtize me. Ime a jentile\n    cath-lic C. S.\n                                                Hannah.\n\n\n    Deer Santy--Bring me any nice things you got left. With love\n                                                Hannah.\n\n\n    Deer Santy--Don't let my Mama and my Papa get mad bout you.\n                                                Hannah.\n\nEli began to chortle, and Hannah stirred in her sleep, throwing both\nchubby arms over her head. Clutched tightly in her left hand they saw a\nrosary of amethyst colored beads.\n\nRose snapped off the light and pushed Eli out into the hall. He sat down\non the stairs and laughed until he cried. \"The dog-gone little mixer!\"\nhe chuckled. \"A Gentile Catholic Christian Scientist is she? And if she\nhas ever happened to hear anything about Mahomet, believe me, she's\nsleeping with her feet toward Mecca right now!\"\n\nRose was weeping silently over the message: \"Don't let my Mama my Papa\nget mad bout you.\" She touched her husband on the shoulder, \"Eli, what\nshall we do about it?\"\n\n\"Do?\" He stood up and set his jaw determinedly. \"You spoke just now of\nthe fight between the old and the new generations: do you see what we\nare coming to if we don't concede our child her legitimate rights. She\nwill seek them out, and take them by force, and never forgive us for\nwithholding them, that's what! Every child who has ever heard of Santa\nClaus has a right to enjoy the myth. Didn't I give a hundred dollars to\nthe Elks and a hundred dollars to the Big Brothers who are looking after\nthe empty stockings of the poor children, while my own baby----\"\n\nHe had reached his bedroom door and was kicking off his house slippers.\n\n\"Eli, where are you going?\"\n\n\"Down-town to see Santa Claus if I have to break open a dozen stores,\"\nhe answered determinedly.\n\n                    *      *      *      *      *\n\nIt seemed that Santa Claus, never having visited Hannah before, had a\nmind to make up for lost time. An overflowing stocking hung from the\nmantel; a tree loaded with presents and tinsel stood by her bed; about\nthe room were placed large gifts, everything a little girl might wish\nfor. Hannah was dazed. She didn't see her mother and father standing in\nthe doorway of the nursery, their arms about each other, and smiling.\nShe tugged at her window until it opened and then called to Nellie\nacross the intervening space.\n\n\"He came! He came!\" she screamed, as a tousled, flame-colored head\nshowed at the window opposite.\n\nHannah brushed by her parents and, running to the window nearest\nVirginia's room, repeated her message. Then she came back into the\nnursery, still oblivious of mother and father, and stared about her in\necstasy. The occasion called for some expression of thanksgiving--what\ncould it be? A seven-year-old child hasn't words for such a big emotion.\nShe could think of but one thing to do.\n\nReverently bowing her little bronze head, she made the sign of the\ncross--upside down!\n\n\nTHE END","title":"The little mixer","tradition":"scripture-revelation","translated_text":null,"word_count":5028}