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Updated: May 25, 2025
When it was dusk, or early in the morning, Mary Chavah, with her long shawl over her head, stooped beside the violets and loosened the earth about them with her whole hand, and as if she reverenced violets more than finger tips. And she thought: "Ain't it just as if Spring was right over back of the air all the time and it could come if we knew how to call it? But we don't know."
When Jenny had gone, Mary Chavah stood in the snow shaking the rug she had left outside, and looking at the clean, white town. "It looks like it was waiting for something," she thought. A door opened and shut. A child shouted. In the north east a shining body had come sparkling above the trees Capella of the brightness of one hundred of our suns, being born into the twilight like a little star....
"I won't have him!" said Mary Chavah, aloud. "... he could come alone with a tag all right and I could send his things by freight. He ain't got much. You couldn't help but like him and I hate for him to get rough. Please answer and oblige your loving Nephew, "JOHN BLOOD." Mary kept reading the letter and staring out into the snow. Her sister Lily's boy they wanted to send him to her.
"Let's us leave the tree right where it is," she said. "Even with it here, we won't have enough Christmas to hurt anything." On that morning of the day before Christmas, Mary Chavah woke early, while it was yet dark. With closed eyes she lay, in the grip of a dream that was undissipated by her waking.
Mary Chavah held the picture out before her. "I do," she said; "I could take a real fancy to it. I'll have it up on the wall. Much obliged, I'm sure. Set down a minute." But Jenny could not do this, and Mary, the key to the barn still in her hands, followed her out.
"I done the town a good turn for once, didn't I?" he thought; "I've fixed folks so's they can't spend their money fool!" Two steps from Ebenezer's front gate, Simeon and Abel overtook a woman. She had a long shawl over her head, and she was humming some faint air of her own making. "Coming to the meeting, Mary?" Simeon asked as they passed her. "No," said Mary Chavah, "I started for it.
"I'd rather go along like I am," she said; "I'm used to myself the way I am." "Mary Chavah!" said Mis' Winslow, sharply, "a vegetable sprouts. Can't you? Is these stocking caps made so's they won't ravel?" she inquired capably of Abel Ames. "These are real good value, Mary," she added kindly. "Better su'prise the little thing with one of these. A red one."
"What'll we all say when he first comes in?" somebody asked. "Might say 'Merry Christmas," two or three suggested. "Mercy, no!" replied shocked voices, "not to Mary Chavah, especially." But however they should say it, the time was quick with cheer. At quarter to eight the gate clicked.
"... You tell me some news," Jenny added. "Mother don't ever write much but the necessaries." "That's all there's been," Mary Chavah told her; "we ain't had no luxuries for news in forever." "But there's that notice in the post office," cried Jenny. "I come home to spend Christmas, and there's that notice in the post office.
Mary cried at last. "See it can't you see it? in gray wool?" It was the pattern for a boy's topcoat, cunningly cut in new lines of seam and revers, with a pocket, a bit of braid, a line of buttons laid in as delicately as the factors in any other good composition. Mis' Winslow inevitably recognized its utility, exclaimed, and wondered. "Mary Chavah! How did you know how to do things for children?"
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