Karl Krinken, His Christmas Stocking

“Squire Darlington stroked down the hair again, and looked in the bright eyes, but with something of wistfulness now; and without stirring his hand from the boy’s head, his look went towards the fire.

“The Yule Clog was blazing there steadily, although it now shewed a great front of glowing coals that yet had not fallen from their place. A clear red heat was all that part of the log, and hardly to be distinguished from the bed of coals below; while bright points of flame curled and danced and ran scampering up the chimney, as if they were playing Christmas games. But each end of the log yet held out against the fire, and had not even lost its native brown.

“The Squire looked there with an earnest gaze that was not daunted by the glowing light; but his brows were slightly raised, and though the caressing movement of his hand was repeated, it seemed now to keep time to sorrowful music; and his lips had met on that boundary line between smiles and tears. Presently a little hand was laid against his cheek, and a little lace ruffle brushed lightly over its furrows.

“‘Grandfather, what’s the matter? What makes you look grave?’

“The Squire looked at him, and taking the hand in his own patted it softly against his face.

“‘The matter? my dear,’ he said. ‘Why the matter is that Christmas has come and gone a great many times.’

“‘But that’s good, grandfather,’ said Edric, clapping his hands together. ‘Just think! there’ll be another Christmas in a year, only a year, and we had one only a year ago—and such a nice time!’

“‘Only a year’—repeated the old man slowly. ‘No Edric, it is only sixty years.’

“‘What do you mean, grandfather?’ said the boy softly.

“‘Sixty years ago, my dear,’ said Squire Darlington, ‘there was just such a Yule Clog as that burning in this very fire-place. And the windows, and picture frames—there were not quite so many then—were trimmed with holly berries and yew from the same trees from which these wreaths have come to-day. And this old chair stood here, and everything in this old hall looked just as it does now.’

“‘Well, grandfather?’ said Edric catching his breath a little,—and the wind gave one of its lone sighs through the keyhole.

“‘Well my dear—Instead of one dear little couple on the floor’—and the old man drew the boy closer to him—‘there were six,—as merry-eyed and light-footed little beings as ever trod this green earth. At the head I stood with your grandmother, Edric—a dear little thing she was!’ said Squire Darlington with a kindly look towards my lady, whose eyes were cast down now for a wonder, and her lips trembling a little. ‘Her two brothers and my two, and the orphan boy that we loved like a brother; his sister, and my four little sisters—precious children! that they were—made up the rest. Light feet, and soft voices, and sweet laughter—they went through this old hall like a troop of fairies, I was going to say,—more like a ray of pure human happiness.

“‘My father sat here, and my mother opposite—her picture watches the very spot now; and of these good friends at the other end of the hall—Ay! old Cuthbert remembers it—there were two or three; but many others that bore their names.

“‘My child—that is sixty years ago.’

“‘And where are they now, grandfather?’ said Edric under his breath.

“‘In heaven—the most of them,’ said the old man solemnly. ‘But one couple remains of the six.—Of those other dear children not one is left—and not one but gave good hope in his death that he was going to be with Jesus. They remember yet that he came to earth, but they sing another song from ours—their hearts swell with a different joy. We shall know, one day—if we are faithful. They are exceeding fair to my remembrance,—they are fairer now in reality.’

“The old Squire was silent for a few minutes, with his eyes turned again towards the fire, while Edric looked up at the sweet portrait to which his grandfather had referred, and wondered how it was that those eyes always met his. Then Squire Darlington spoke again, and with a different manner.

“‘Everybody that has money makes Christmas a time of feasting and rejoicing, Edric,’ he said. ‘What does Christmas day celebrate?’

“‘The birth of Christ,’ said Edric gravely.

“‘Yes’—said Squire Darlington. ‘The birth of Christ. ‘Who though he was rich, yet for our sakes became poor; that we through his poverty might be made rich.’ There is a motto for Christmas-day!—ay—for one’s whole life.’

“‘Grandfather,’ said Edric, ‘does everybody that loves Christ love all the poor disagreeable people?’

“‘This is what the Bible says, Edric. ‘For if any man seeth that his brother have need, and shutteth up his bowels of compassion from him, how dwelleth the love of Christ in him?’’

“‘Grandfather,’ said Edric thoughtfully, ‘when I am a man I will take a great deal of care of poor people.’

“It was rather a sad smile that the old man gave him, and yet it was very tender.

“‘My dear Edric,’ he said, ‘never say, when I am a man I will do good. There is hardly any kind of good work that a child may not help forward, or help to keep back. Will you wait till you are a man, Edric, before you begin to love Christ?’

“‘I think I do love him now, grandfather,’ said Edric. ‘I should think everybody would—he has done so much for us.’

“There was the same look of love and sadness for a moment in the old man’s face before he answered.

“‘My motto has another bearing, dear boy, and one which should be first in the heart of every man and every child in this world which Christ died to save,—‘If ye love me, keep my commandments.’’

“And when the Christmas eve was almost ended, Squire Darlington kissed and blessed his little grandson, and Edric went up-stairs to bed.

“And the wind sighed no more that night.”

“And did he do as he said he would, when he got to be a man?” inquired Carl.

“I don’t know”—said the stocking: “I never heard.”

THE END OF THE STOCKING