THE QUEEREST CHRISTMAS*
* This story was first published in the Youth's Companion, vol. 83.
GRACE MARGARET GALLAHER
Betty stood at her door, gazing drearily down the long, empty corridor
in which the breakfast gong echoed mournfully. All the usual brisk
scenes of that hour, groups of girls in Peter Thomson suits or starched
shirt-waists, or a pair of energetic ones, red-cheeked and shining-eyed
from a run in the snow, had vanished as by the hand of some evil
magician. Silent and lonely was the corridor.
"And it's the day before Christmas!" groaned Betty. Two chill little
tears hung on her eyelashes.
The night before, in the excitement of getting the girls off with all
their trunks and packages intact, she had not realized the homesickness
of the deserted school. Now it seemed to pierce her very bones.
"Oh, dear, why did father have to lose his money? 'Twas easy enough
last September to decide I wouldn't take the expensive journey home
these holidays, and for all of us to promise we wouldn't give each
other as much as a Christmas card. But now!" The two chill tears
slipped over the edge of her eyelashes. "Well, I know how I'll spend
this whole day; I'll come right up here after breakfast and cry and cry
and cry!" Somewhat fortified by this cheering resolve, Betty went to
breakfast.
Whatever the material joys of that meal might be, it certainly was not
"a feast of reason and a flow of soul.
Pages:
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163
164