The Birds' Christmas Carol - Part 2

The Bird’s Christmas Carol (1887) is a short, heartwarming classic by American author Kate Douglas Wiggin.

Wiggin’s stories are known for their warmth, gentle humour and quiet goodness and in these next chapters we see more of the Bird family’s Christmas preparations, their bustling kindness and the small, thoughtful moments that make their home so endearing, as little Carol's generous spirit continues to shine...

Full of cosy domestic detail, gentle comedy and that familiar old-fashioned charm, this story is ideal for relaxing, unwinding or adding a little extra glow to your day...!

Transcript

Hello there.

Thank you so much for joining me for this continued reading of The Bird's Christmas Carol,

The sweet,

Charming little novella from 1887 by American author Kate Douglas Wiggin.

Wiggin was an author,

An education reformer.

She actually opened the first free kindergarten in the San Francisco area and she became famous for these kind of feel-good classic novels,

Of which this is one of her prime examples.

We are following along with the tale of a very sweet,

Deeply kind little girl who was born on Christmas Day and has actually a terminal illness and we are hearing about the kindnesses that she shares in her short life before her passing.

So,

Before we go further with the story here,

Let's just take a moment to have a nice,

Deep exhale,

Letting go of the day,

Letting go of whichever baggage we might be bringing along with us into this moment.

For right now,

There's nowhere else we have to go,

Nothing else we have to be doing.

So we can just relax,

Get ourselves comfortable and enjoy the sweet tale of The Birds' Christmas Carol.

Chapter 4.

Birds of a Feather Flock Together.

Uncle Jack did really come on the 20th.

He was not detained by business,

Nor did he get left behind,

Nor snowed up,

As frequently happens in stories and in real life too,

I'm afraid.

The snowstorm came,

Also,

And the turkey nearly died a natural and premature death from overeating.

Donald came too.

Donald,

With a line of down upon his upper lip and Greek and Latin on his tongue and stores of knowledge in his handsome head and stories.

Bless me,

You couldn't turn over a chip without reminding Donald of something that happened at college.

One or the other was always at Carol's bedside,

For they fancied her paler than she used to be and they could not bear her out of sight.

It was Uncle Jack,

Though,

Who sat beside her in the winter twilights.

The room was quiet and almost dark,

Save for the snow light outside and the flickering flame of the fire that danced over the sleeping beauty's face and touched the fair one's golden locks with ruddier glory.

Carol's hand,

All too thin and white these latter days,

Lay close clasped in Uncle Jack's and they talked together quietly of many,

Many things.

I want to tell you all about my plans for Christmas this year,

Uncle Jack,

Said Carol,

On the first evening of his visit,

Because it will be the loveliest one I ever had.

The boys laugh at me for caring so much about it,

But it isn't altogether because it is Christmas,

Nor because it is my birthday.

But long,

Long ago,

When I first began to be ill,

I used to think,

The first thing when I waked on Christmas morning,

Today is Christ's birthday.

And mine.

I did not put the words close together because that made it seem too bold,

But I first thought,

Christ's birthday,

And then,

In a minute,

Softly to myself,

And mine.

Christ's birthday,

And mine.

And so,

I do not quite feel about Christmas as other girls do.

Mama says she supposes that ever so many other children have been born on that day.

I often wonder where they are,

Uncle Jack,

And whether it is a dear thought to them,

Too,

Or whether I am so much in bed,

And so often alone,

That it means more to me.

I do hope that none of them are poor,

Or cold,

Or hungry,

And I wish,

I wish they were all as happy as I.

Because they are my little brothers and sisters.

Now,

Uncle Jack,

Dear,

I am going to try and make somebody happy every single Christmas that I live.

And this year,

It is to be the Ruggleses in the rear.

That large and interesting brood of children in the little house at the end of the back garden.

Yes.

Isn't it nice to see so many together?

We ought to call them the Ruggles children,

Of course,

But Donald began talking of them as the Ruggleses in the rear.

And Papa and Mama took it up,

And now we cannot seem to help it.

The house was built for Mr.

Carter's coachman.

But Mr.

Carter lives in Europe,

And the gentleman who rents his place doesn't care what happens to it,

And so this poor Irish family came to live there.

When they first moved in,

I used to sit in my window and watch them play in their backyard.

They are so strong,

And jolly,

And good-natured.

And then,

One day,

I had a terrible headache,

And Donald asked them if they would please not scream quite so loud.

And they explained that they were having a game of circus,

But that they would change and play deaf and dumb school all the afternoon.

Laughed Uncle Jack.

What an obliging family,

To be sure.

Yes,

We all thought it very funny,

And I smiled at them from the window when I was well enough to be up again.

Now,

Sarah Maud comes to her door when the children come home from school,

And if Mama nods her head,

Yes,

That means Carol is very well,

And then you ought to hear the little ruggleses yell.

I believe they try to see how much noise they can make.

But if Mama shakes her head,

No,

They always play at quiet games.

Then,

One day,

Carrie,

My pet canary,

Flew out of her cage,

And Peter Ruggles caught her and brought her back.

And I had him up here in my room to thank him.

Is Peter the oldest?

No,

Sarah Maud is the oldest.

She helps do the washing,

And Peter is the next.

He is a dressmaker's boy.

And which is the pretty little red-haired girl?

That's Kitty.

And the fat youngster?

Baby Larry.

And that freckled one?

Now,

Don't laugh.

That's Peoria.

Carol,

You are joking.

No,

Really,

Uncle dear,

She was born in Peoria,

That's all.

And is the next boy Oshkosh?

No,

Laughed Carol.

The others are Susan and Clement and Ailey and Cornelius.

How did you ever learn all their names?

Well,

I have what I call a window school.

It is too cold now,

But in warm weather,

I am wheeled out on my little balcony,

And the Ruggleses climb up and walk along our garden fence and sit down on the roof of our carriage house.

That brings them quite near,

And I read to them and tell them stories.

On Thanksgiving Day,

They came up for a few minutes.

It was quite warm at 11 o'clock,

And we told each other what we had to be thankful for.

But they gave such queer answers that Papa had to run away for fear of laughing,

And I couldn't understand them very well.

Susan was thankful for trunks of all things in the world,

Cornelius for horse cars,

Kitty for pork steak,

While Clem,

Who is very quiet,

Brightened up when I came to him and said he was thankful for his lame puppy.

Wasn't that pretty?

It might teach some of us a lesson,

Mightn't it,

Little girl?

That's what Mama said.

Now,

I'm going to give this whole Christmas to the Ruggleses.

And Uncle Jack,

I earned part of the money myself.

You,

My bird?

How?

Well,

You see,

It could not be my own,

Own Christmas if Papa gave me all the money,

And I thought to really keep Christ's birthday,

I ought to do something of my very own.

And so I talked with Mama.

Of course,

She thought of something lovely.

She always does.

Mama's head is just brimming over with lovely thoughts,

And all I have to do is ask,

And out pops the very one I want.

This thought was to let her write down,

Just as I told her,

A description of how a little girl lived in her own room three years,

And what she did to amuse herself.

And we sent it to a magazine and got $25 for it.

Just think.

Well,

Well,

Cried Uncle Jack.

My little girl,

A real author.

And what are you going to do with this wonderful own money of yours?

I shall give the nine Ruggleses a grand Christmas dinner here in this very room.

That will be Papa's contribution,

And afterwards,

A beautiful Christmas tree,

Fairly blooming with presents.

That will be my part,

For I have another way of adding to my $25,

So that I can buy everything I like.

I should like it very much if you would sit at the head of the table,

Uncle Jack,

For nobody could ever be frightened of you.

You,

Dearest,

Dearest,

Dearest thing that ever was.

Mama is going to help us,

But Papa and the boys are going to eat together downstairs,

For fear of making the little Ruggleses shy.

And after we've had a merry time with the tree,

We can open my window and all listen together to the music at the evening church service,

If it comes before the children go.

I have written a letter to the organist and asked him if I might have the two songs I like best.

Will you see if it's all right?

Bird's Nest,

December 21st,

1886.

Dear Mr.

Wilkie,

I am the little sick girl who lives next door to the church,

And as I seldom go out,

The music on practice days and Sundays is one of my greatest pleasures.

I want to know if you can let the boys sing Carole Brothers' Carol on Christmas night,

And if the one who sings My Aine Country so beautifully,

May please sing that too?

I think it is the loveliest song in the world,

But it always makes me cry.

Doesn't it you?

If it isn't too much trouble,

I hope they can sing them both quite early,

As after ten o'clock I may be asleep.

Yours respectfully,

Carole Bird.

P.

S.

The reason I like Carole Brothers' Carol is because the choir boys sang it eleven years ago,

The morning I was born,

And put it into Mama's head to call me Carole.

She didn't remember then that my other name would be Bird,

Because she was half asleep and couldn't think of but one thing at a time.

Donald says if I had been born on the 4th of July,

They would have named me Independence,

Or if on the 22nd of February,

Georgina,

Or even Cherry,

Like Cherry in Martin Chuzzlewit.

But I like my own name and birthday best.

Yours truly,

Carole Bird.

Uncle Jack thought the letter quite right,

And did not even smile at her telling the organist so many family items.

The days flew by,

As they always fly in holiday time,

And it was Christmas Eve before anybody knew it.

The family festival was quiet and very pleasant,

But quite swallowed up in the grander preparations for next day.

Carole and Elfriede,

Her pretty German nurse,

Had ransacked books and introduced so many plans and plays and customs and merry-makings from Germany and Holland and England and a dozen other places,

That you would scarcely have known how or where you were keeping Christmas.

The dog and the cat had enjoyed their celebration,

Under Carole's direction.

Each had a tiny table with a lighted candle in the centre,

And a bit of bologna sausage placed very near it.

And everybody laughed till the tears stood in their eyes to see Villikins and Dinah struggle to nibble the sausages,

And at the same time evade the candle flame.

Villikins barked and sniffed and howled in impatience,

And after many vain attempts,

Succeeded in dragging off the prize,

Though he singed his nose in doing it.

Dinah,

Meanwhile,

Watched him placidly,

Her delicate nostrils quivering with expectation,

And,

After all excitement had subsided,

Walked with dignity to the table,

Her beautiful grey satin tail sweeping behind her,

And,

Calmly putting up one velvet paw,

Drew the sausage gently down and walked out of the room without turning a hair,

So to speak.

Elfride had scattered handfuls of seeds over the snow in the garden,

That the wild birds might have a comfortable breakfast next morning,

And had stuffed bundles of dried grasses in the fireplace so that the reindeer of Santa Claus could refresh themselves after their long gallops across country.

This was really only done for fun,

But it pleased Carole.

And when,

After dinner,

The whole family had gone to church to see the Christmas decorations,

Carole limped wearily out on her little crutches and,

With Elfride's help,

Placed all the family boots in a row in the upper hall.

That was to keep the dear ones from quarrelling all through the year.

There were Papa's stout top boots,

Mama's pretty buttoned shoes next,

Then Uncle Jack's,

Donald's,

Paul's and Hugh's,

And,

At the end of the line,

Her own little white worsted slippers.

Last,

And sweetest of all,

Like the little children in Austria,

She put a lighted candle in her window to guide the dear Christ Child,

Lest he should stumble in the dark night as he passed up the deserted street.

This done,

She dropped into bed.

A rather tired,

But very happy Christmas fairy.

Before the earliest ruggles could wake and toot his five-cent tin horn,

Mrs Ruggles was up and stirring about the house,

For it was a gala day in the family.

Gala day,

I should think so,

Were not her nine children invited to a dinner party at the great house.

And weren't they going to sit down free and equal with the mightiest in the land?

She had been preparing for this grand occasion ever since the receipt of the invitation,

Which,

By the way,

Had been speedily enshrined in an old photograph frame and hung under the looking-glass in the most prominent place in the kitchen,

Where it stared the occasional visitor directly in the eye and made him pale with envy.

Bird's Nest,

December 17th,

1886.

Dear Mrs Ruggles,

I am going to have a dinner party on Christmas Day and would like to have all your children come.

I want them every one,

Please,

From Sarah Maud to Baby Larry.

Mama says dinner will be at half past five and the Christmas tree at seven,

So you may expect them home at nine o'clock.

Wishing you a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year.

I am yours truly,

Carol Bird.

Breakfast was on the table promptly at seven o'clock,

And there was very little of it too,

For it was an excellent day for short rations,

Though Mrs Ruggles heaved a sigh as she reflected that even the boys with their India rubber stomachs would be just as hungry the day after the dinner party as if they had never had any at all.

As soon as the scanty meal was over,

She announced the plan of the campaign.

Now,

Susan,

You and Kitty wash up the dishes,

And Peter,

Can't you spread up the beds so that I can get to cutting out Larry's new suit?

I ain't satisfied with his clothes,

And I thought in the night of a way to make him a dress out of my old plaid shawl,

Kind of Scotch style,

You know.

You other boys,

Clear out from underfoot.

Clem,

You and Con hop into bed with Larry while I wash your under flannels.

It won't take long to dry him.

Sarah Maud,

I think it would be perfectly handsome if you ripped them brass buttons off your uncle's policeman's coat and sewed them in a row up the front of your green skirt.

Susan,

You must iron out yours and Kitty's aprons.

And there I came mighty near forgetting Peori's stockings.

I counted the whole lot last night when I was washing of them,

And there ain't but nineteen anyhow you fix him,

And no nine pairs mates know how.

And I ain't going to have my children wear odd stockings to a dinner company brought up as I was.

Ailey,

Can't you run out and ask Miss Cullen to lend me a pair of stockings for Peori,

And tell her,

If she will,

Peori'll give Jim half her candy when she gets home,

Won't you,

Peori?

Peoria was young and greedy,

And thought the remedy so much worse than the disease that she set up a deafening howl at the projected bargain.

A howl so rebellious and so out of all season that her mother started in her direction with flashing eye and uplifted hand,

But she let it fall suddenly,

Saying,

No,

I won't lick your Christmas day if you drive me crazy,

But speak up smart now,

And say,

Whether you'd rather give Jim Cullen half your candy,

Or go bare-legged to the party.

The matter being put so plainly,

Peoria collected her faculties,

Dried her tears,

And chose the lesser evil.

Clem having hastened the decision by an affectionate wink that meant he'd go halves with her on his candy.

That's a lady,

Cried her mother.

Now,

You young ones that ain't doing nothing,

Play all you want to before noontime,

For after you get through eating at twelve o'clock,

Me and Sarah Maud's going to give you such a washing and combing and dressing as you never had before and never will again,

And then I'm going to sit you down and give you two solid hours training in manners,

And won't be no fooling,

Neither.

All we've got to do is go eat,

Grumbled Peter.

Well,

That's enough,

Responded his mother.

There's more than one way of eating,

Let me tell you,

And you've got to eat to learn about it,

Peter Ruggles.

Lord's sakes,

I wish you children could see the way I was fetched up to eat.

Never took a meal of vittles in the kitchen before I married Ruggles.

But you can't keep up that style with nine young ones,

And your pa always off to sea.

The big Ruggleses worked so well,

And the little Ruggleses kept from underfoot so successfully,

That by one o'clock,

Nine complete toilettes were laid out in solemn grandeur on the beds.

I say complete,

But I do not know whether they would be called so in the best society.

The law of compensation had been well applied.

He that had necktie had no cuffs,

She that had sash had no handkerchief,

And vice versa,

But they all had boots,

And a certain amount of clothing,

Such as it was,

The outside layer being in every case quite above criticism.

Now,

Sarah Maud,

Said Mrs Ruggles,

Her face shining with excitement.

Everything is ready up,

And we can begin.

I've got a boiler,

And a kettle,

And a pot of hot water.

Peter,

You go into the back bedroom,

And I'll take Susan,

Kitty,

Peory,

And Cornelius,

And Sarah Maud,

You take Clare,

Menealy,

And Larry,

One at a time,

And get as far as you can with them,

And then I'll finish them off,

While you do yourself.

Sarah Maud couldn't have scrubbed with any more decision and force if she had been doing flaws,

And the little Ruggleses bore it bravely,

Not from natural heroism,

But for the joy that was set before them.

Not being satisfied,

However,

With the tone of their complexions,

She wound up operations by applying a little bristol brick from the knife board,

Which served as the proverbial last straw,

From under which the little Ruggleses issued,

Rather red and raw,

And out of temper.

When the clock struck three,

They were all clothed,

And most of them in their right minds,

Ready for those last touches that always take the most time.

Kitty's red hair was curled in thirty-four ringlets,

Sarah Maud's was braided in one pigtail,

And Susan's and Ailey's in two braids apiece,

While Peory's resisted all advances in the shape of hair oils,

And stuck out straight on all sides,

Like that of the Circassian girl of the circus.

So Clem said,

And he was sent into the bedroom for it too.

From whence he was dragged out forgivingly by Peory herself,

Five minutes later.

Then,

Exciting moment,

Came linen collars for some,

And neckties and bows for others,

And Eureka,

The Ruggleses were dressed.

And Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these.

A row of seats was formed directly through the middle of the kitchen.

There were not quite chairs enough for ten,

Since the family had rarely all wanted to sit down at once,

Somebody always being out or in bed,

But the woodbox and the coal hod finished out the line nicely.

The children took their places,

According to age.

Sarah Maud at the head,

And Larry on the coal hod,

And Mrs Ruggles seated herself in front,

Surveying them proudly,

As she wiped the sweat of honest toil from her brow.

Well,

She exclaimed,

If I do say so,

As shouldn't,

I never see a cleaner,

More stylish mess of children in my life.

I do wish Ruggles could look at you for a minute.

Now,

I've often told you what kind of a family the McGrills was.

I've got some reason to be proud.

Your uncle is on the police force on New York City.

You can take up the newspaper most any day,

And see his name printed right out,

James McGrill.

And I can't have my children fetched up common,

Like some folks.

When they go out,

They've got to have close,

And learn to act decent.

Now,

I want to see how you're going to behave when you get there tonight.

Let's start in at the beginning,

And act out the whole business.

Pile into the bedroom there,

Every last one of you,

And show me how you're going to go into the parlour.

This'll be the parlour,

And I'll be Miss Bird.

The youngsters hustled into the next room in high glee,

And Mrs Ruggles drew herself up in the chair with an infinitely haughty,

And purse-proud expression that much better suited a descendant of the McGrills than modest Mrs Bird.

The bedroom was small,

And there presently ensued such a clatter that you would have thought a herd of wild cattle had broken loose.

The door opened,

And they straggled in,

All the little ones giggling,

With Sarah Maud at the head,

Looking as if she had been caught in the act of stealing sheep,

While Larry,

Being last in line,

Seemed to think the door a sort of gate of heaven which would be shut in his face if he didn't get there in time.

Accordingly,

He struggled ahead of his elders,

And disgraced himself by tumbling in headforemost.

Mrs Ruggles looked severe.

There,

I knew you'd do it in some such fool way.

Try it again,

And if Larry can't come in on two legs,

He can stay to home.

The matter began to assume a graver aspect.

The little Ruggleses stopped giggling,

And backed into the bedroom,

Issuing presently with lockstep Indian file a scared and hunted expression in every countenance.

No,

No,

No,

Cried Mrs Ruggles in despair.

You look for all the world like a gang of prisoners.

There ain't no style to that.

Spread out more,

Can't you?

And act kinda careless like.

Nobody's going to kill you.

The third time brought deserved success,

And the pupils took their seats in the row.

Now,

You know,

Said Mrs Ruggles,

There ain't enough decent hats to go round.

And if there was,

I don't know's I'd let you wear them,

For the boys would never think to take them off when they got inside.

But anyhow,

There ain't enough good ones.

Now,

Look me in the eye.

You needn't wear no hats,

None of you.

And when you get into the parlour,

And they ask you to lay off your hats,

Sarah Maud must speak up and say,

It was such a pleasant evening,

And such a short walk that you left your hats to home to save trouble.

Now,

Can you remember?

All the little Ruggleses shouted,

Yes,

Marm,

In chorus.

What have you got to do with it?

Demanded their mother.

Did I tell you to say it?

Wasn't I talking to Sarah Maud?

The little Ruggleses hung their diminished heads.

Yes,

Marm,

They piped more feebly.

Now,

Get up,

All of you,

And try it.

Speak up,

Sarah Maud.

Sarah Maud's tongue clove to the roof of her mouth.

Quick!

Ma thought it was such a pleasant hat that we'd better leave our short walk to home,

Recited Sarah Maud,

In an agony of mental effort.

This was too much for the boys.

Oh,

Whatever shall I do with you?

Moaned the unhappy mother.

I suppose I've got to learn it to you,

Which she did,

Word for word,

Until Sarah Maud thought she could stand on her head and say it backwards.

Now,

Cornelius,

What are you going to say to make yourself good company?

Dunno,

Said Cornelius,

Turning pale.

Well,

You ain't going to sit there like a bump on a log without saying a word to pay for your vittles,

Are you?

Ask Miss Bird how she's feeling this evening,

Or if Mr.

Bird's having a busy season,

Or something like that.

Now,

We'll make believe we got to the dinner.

That won't be so hard,

Because you'll have something to do.

It's awful bothersome to stand round and act stylish.

If they have napkins,

Sarah Maud,

Down to Peori,

May put them in their laps,

And the rest of you can tuck them in your necks.

Don't eat with your fingers.

Don't grab no vittles off one another's plates.

Don't reach out for nothing,

But wait till you're asked,

And if you never get asked,

Don't get up and grab it.

Don't spill nothing on the tablecloth,

Or likes not,

Miss Bird'll send you away from the table.

Now,

We'll try a few things to see how they'll go.

Mr.

Clement,

Do you eat cranberry sauce?

Bet your life,

Cried Clem,

Who,

Not having taken in the idea exactly,

Had mistaken this for an ordinary family question.

Clement Ruggles,

Do you mean to tell me that you'd say that to a dinner party?

I'll give you one more chance.

Mr.

Clement,

Will you take some of the cranberry?

Yes,

Marm,

Thank you kindly.

If you happen to have any handy.

Very good indeed.

Mr.

Peter,

Do you speak for white or dark meat?

I ain't particular as to colour.

Anything that nobody else wants will suit me,

Answered Peter with his best air.

First rate?

Nobody could speak more genteel than that.

Miss Kitty,

Will you have hard or soft sars with your pudding?

A little of both,

If you please,

And I'm much obliged,

Said Kitty,

With decided ease and grace,

At which all the other Ruggleses pointed the finger of shame at her,

And Peter grunted expressively that their meaning might not be mistaken.

You just stop your grunting,

Peter Ruggles.

That was all right.

I wish I could get it into your heads that it ain't so much what you say as the way you say it.

Ailey,

You and Larry's too little to train,

So you just look at the rest and do as they do,

And the Lord have mercy on you and help you to act decent.

Now,

Is there anything more you'd like to practice?

If you tell me one more thing,

I can't sit up and eat,

Said Peter,

Gloomily.

I'm so cramped full of manners now.

I'm ready to burst without no dinner at all.

Me too,

Chimed in Cornelius.

Well,

I'm sorry for you both.

Rejoined Mrs Ruggles,

Sarcastically.

If the amount of manners you've got in hand now troubles you,

You dreadful easy hurt.

Now,

Sarah Maud,

After dinner,

About once and so often,

You must say,

I guess we'd better be going.

And if they say,

Oh no,

Sit a while longer,

You can stay.

But if they don't say nothing,

You got to get up and go.

Can you remember?

About once in so often.

Could any words in the language be fraught with more terrible and wearing uncertainty?

Well,

Answered Sarah Maud,

Mournfully.

Seems as if this whole dinner party set right square on top of me.

Maybe I could manage my own manners,

But to manage nine mannerses is worse than staying to home.

Oh,

Don't fret,

Said her mother,

Good-naturedly.

I guess you'll get along.

I wouldn't mind if folks would only say,

Oh,

Children will be children.

But they won't.

They'll say,

Land of goodness,

Who fetched them children up?

Now,

It's quarter past five.

You can go.

And whatever you do,

Don't forget your mother was a McGrill.

Reviews

Trained within an inch of their lives!😂😂 thanks for reading✨🙏🏼✨