Nobody

"The devil's ways never help no one to heaven, child, not if they gosingin' hymns all the way."

"But, mother!" cried Madge. "Mr. Dillwyn ain't a Christian, maybe, buthe ain't as bad as that."

"I didn't mean Mr. Dillwyn, dear, nor no one else. I meant theatrework."

"Santa Claus, mother?"

"It's actin', ain't it?"

The girls looked at each other.

"There's very little of anything like acting about it," Lois said.

"'Make straight paths for your feet'!" said Mrs. Armadale, rising to goto bed. "'Make straight paths for your feet,' children. Straight waysis the shortest too. If the chil'en that don't love their teacherswants to go to the yellow church, let 'em go. I'd rather have the Lordin a little school, than Santa Claus in a big one."

She was leaving the room, but the girls stayed her and begged to knowwhat they should do in the matter of the lists they were engaged toprepare for Mr. Dillwyn.

"You must do what you think best," she said. "Only don't be mixed upwith it all any more than you can help, Lois."

Why did the name of one child come to her lips and not the other? Didthe old lady's affection, or natural acuteness, discern that Mr.Dillwyn was not drawn to Shampuashuh by any particular admiration ofhis friend Mrs. Barclay? Had she some of that preternatural intuition, plain old country woman though she was, which makes a woman see theinvisible and hear the inaudible? which serves as one of the naturalmeans of defence granted to the weaker creatures. I do not know; I donot think she knew; however, the warning was given, and not on thatoccasion alone. And as Lois heeded all her grandmother's admonitions, although in this case without the most remote perception of thispossible ground to them, it followed that Mr. Dillwyn gained less byhis motion than he had hoped and anticipated.

The scheme went forward, hailed by the whole community belonging to thewhite church, with the single exception of Mrs. Armadale. It wentforward and was brought to a successful termination. I might say, atriumphant termination; only the triumph was not for Mr. Dillwyn, ornot in the line where he wanted it. He did his part admirably. A betterSanta Claus was never seen, nor a better filled sled. And genialpleasantness, and wise management, and cool generalship, and fun andkindness, were never better represented. So it was all through theconsultations and arrangements that preceded the festival, as well ason the grand occasion itself; and Shampuashuh will long remember thetime with wonder and exultation; but it was Madge who was Mr. Dillwyn'scoadjutor and fellow-counsellor. It was Madge and Mrs. Barclay whohelped him in all the work of preparing and ticketing the parcels forthe sled; as well as in the prior deliberations as to what the parcelsshould be. Madge seemed to be the one at hand always to answer aquestion. Madge went with him to the church; and in general, Lois, though sympathizing and curious, and interested and amused, was verymuch out of the play. Not so entirely as to make the fact striking; only enough to leave Mr. Dillwyn disappointed and tantalized.

I am not going into a description of the festival and the show. Thechildren sang; the minister made a speech to them, not ten consecutivewords of which were listened to by three-quarters of the people. Thechurch was filled with men, women, and children; the walls were hungwith festoons and wreaths, and emblazoned with mottoes; the anthems andcarols followed each other till the last thread of patience in thewaiting crowd gave way. And at last came what they were waitingfor – Santa Claus, all fur robes and snow and icicles, dragging afterhim a sledge that looked like a small mountain with the heap ofarticles piled and packed upon it. And then followed a very busy anddelightful hour and a half, during which the business was – thedistribution of pleasure. It was such warm work for Santa Claus, thatat the time he had no leisure for thinking. Naturally, the thinkingcame afterwards.

He and Mrs. Barclay sat by her fire, resting, after coming home fromthe church. Dillwyn was very silent and meditative.

"You must be glad it is done, Philip," said his friend, watching him, and wishing to get at his thoughts.

"I have no particular reason to be glad."

"You have done a good thing."

"I am not sure if it is a good thing. Mrs. Armadale does not think so."

"Mrs. Armadale has rather narrow notions."

"I don't know. I should be glad to be sure she is not right. It'sdiscouraging," he added, with half a smile; – "for the first time in mylife I set myself to work; and now am not at all certain that I mightnot just as well have been idle."

"Work is a good thing in itself," said Mrs. Barclay, smiling.

"Pardon me! – work for an end. Work without an end – or with the end notattained – it is no better than a squirrel in a wheel."

"You have given a great deal of pleasure."

"To the children! For ought I know, they might have been just as wellwithout it. There will be a reaction to-morrow, very likely; and thenthey will wish they had gone to see the Christmas tree at the otherchurch."

"But they were kept at their own church."

"How do I know that is any good? Perhaps the teaching at the otherschool is the best."

"You are tired," said Mrs. Barclay sympathizingly.

"Not that. I have done nothing to tire me; but it strikes me it is verydifficult to see one's ends in doing good; much more difficult than tosee the way to the ends."

"You have partly missed your end, haven't you?" said Mrs. Barclaysoftly.

He moved a little restlessly in his chair; then got up and began towalk about the room; then came and sat down again.

"What are you going to do next?" she asked in the same way.

"Suppose you invite them – the two girls – or her alone – to make you avisit in New York?"

"Where?"

"At any hotel you prefer; say, the Windsor."

"O Philip, Philip!" —

"What? – You could have pleasant rooms, and be quite private andcomfortable; as much as if you were in your own house."

"And what should we cost you?"

"You are not thinking of that?" said he. "I will get you a house, ifyou like it better; but then you would have the trouble of a staff ofservants. I think the Windsor would be much the easiest plan."

"You are in earnest!"

"In earnest!" he repeated in surprise. "Have you ever questioned it?You judge because you never saw me in earnest in anything before in mylife."

"No, indeed," said Mrs. Barclay. "I always knew it was in you. What youwanted was only an object."

"What do you say to my plan?"

"I am afraid they would not come. There is the care of the oldgrandmother; they would not leave everything to their sister alone."

"Tempt them with pictures and music, and the opera."

"The opera! Philip, she would not go to a theatre, or anythingtheatrical, for any consideration. They are very strict on that point, and Sunday-keeping, and dancing. Do not speak to her of the opera."

"They are not so far wrong. I never saw a decent opera yet in my life."

"Philip!" exclaimed Mrs. Barclay in the greatest surprise. "I neverheard you say anything like that before."

"I suppose it makes a difference," he said thoughtfully, "with whateyes a man looks at a thing. And dancing – I don't think I care to seeher dance."

"Philip! You are extravagant."

"I believe I should be fit to commit murder if I saw her waltzing withanybody."