Chapter XIII: The Christmas-Tree That They Made in the Happy Shop

THAT night after tea, Aunt Phoebe curled up on the lounge. “Jimsi,” she said, “I don’t feel like reading and I don’t know what to do. Come talk to me. What’s the matter, dear? You hardly said a thing all through supper. Don’t you feel well?”

“Oh, I’m all right, Aunt Phoebe,” Jimsi declared. “But I was thinking—I want to make some money _dreadfully_!”

“What for?” Aunt Phoebe drew Jimsi onto the couch beside her. “Is it for Christmas, Honey?” she asked.

Jimsi shook her head from side to side slowly. “Of course, I do want money for Christmas presents, but what I want it _most_ for is to give it to somebody. I want to know if you think, Aunt Phoebe, that I could earn some money some way. Do you think that I could make things to sell if I made blotter-pads and little presents and took them to a shop? Would the shopkeeper buy them to sell at Christmas, do you think?”

“I don’t believe so, Honey. You’d not make much money that way, I’m afraid.” Aunt Phoebe smiled. “It wouldn’t be a fortune, dear. Shopkeepers would not pay little girls much. The things you make are lovely, I know, but—you see, shopkeepers don’t buy that way.”

There was silence.

“What is it you want the money for?” asked Aunt Phoebe suddenly. “Maybe I could help.”

“I think you could, Aunt Phoebe. I want it to help somebody who is sick.”

“It’s the little lame girl, Joyce, isn’t it?—I didn’t know they needed money. Of course, dear, I knew they were not rich, but riches do not always mean money. I know very many poor persons who are rich because they have the things many rich persons do not have. I mean love and hope and happiness and work. Riches are not always money, Jimsi. I think you’re a rich little girl because you are so resourceful. You have such happy clever ways of making things. The crow’s magic book has been very magic indeed with the things you and Joyce have made. I’ve been thinking about it all as I watched you. There’s one thing you’ve made that is _splendid_. It’s the motion picture play screen.”

“Crow told Joyce about it,” said Jimsi. “Yes, it’s ever so much fun. Do you think maybe we could sell _that_? I could make them, ever so many of them. I want the little lame girl to go to the hospital and be made well, Aunt Phoebe. She can’t go till the money is in the bank, and it may be two whole years—”

Aunt Phoebe sat upright with a jump. “You don’t mean that Joyce could get well if there was money to send her where she could have treatment, do you?”

A hot, little tear crept from Jimsi’s eye and fell on Aunt Phoebe’s hand that clasped hers in her lap.

“Why, I’ll send Joyce,” she cried. “They never told me!”

“No, no, you can’t,” declared Jimsi. “Joyce wouldn’t let you. She wouldn’t go that way, she says. _She_ wants to help her mother earn the money. Her father can’t put much aside. They need it. That’s why I wanted to help.”

“Nonsense,” declared Aunt Phoebe. “They’ll have to take it from me.”

Again there was silence. Of course, Aunt Phoebe knew Jimsi was right. They would rather wait than borrow. It was too much for a gift.

Aunt Phoebe got up and walked restlessly about the room. She did that sometimes when she was writing stories, when the story stopped and wanted to go another way than the way Aunt Phoebe planned. Jimsi often laughed about this habit in fun. It did seem so odd that the story people wouldn’t do as Aunt Phoebe wanted them. Aunt Phoebe said it helped her think to walk about like that. Jimsi sat on the couch and watched her silently.

“There must be a way,” Aunt Phoebe kept saying. Then she would walk some more. Once she went right out of the room and Jimsi heard her telephoning. Then she came back and sat down in the rocking chair. “Run and bring me the shadow play that you made from the Magic Book, Jimsi,” she asked. “I want to look at it again. I know somebody who wants to see it. Jimsi, don’t get your hopes up too high—maybe the man will buy the idea and put it on the market as a children’s toy. What do you say to that? If you’ll give me the toy you made, I’ll wrap it up and we’ll send it on for him to look it over. Don’t tell Joyce. I think Joyce can patent it.”

Well, if Jimsi didn’t fly! Into The Happy Shop she rushed and came back panting. The crow’s motion picture play was all there. Aunt Phoebe had paper. She did it up neatly, addressed and sealed it. Then she went to her desk and began to write a letter to send with it. She wrote for quite a while. When the letter was done, it was bed-time. Jimsi kissed her and went upstairs.

The next morning there was a storm—oh, how it did snow and blow! Aunt Phoebe declared that Jimsi couldn’t go out—no, not even as far as the little lame girl’s house. She sent her to play in The Happy Shop and promised to bring her something nice from crow, if she was good. Aunt Phoebe herself put on her cloak and hat and furs. She said she might not be home till four o’clock as there was business to do in the city even when it _was_ stormy. She told the kitchen maid what to get for Jimsi’s lunch and Jimsi went as far as the front door to wave her off. Aunt Phoebe had—why she had that package of the motion picture play of crow’s under her cloak. Jimsi saw it as Aunt Phoebe turned to wave. There was enough showing under Aunt Phoebe’s arm for Jimsi to recognize the parcel. Her heart gave a big jump; that must be the business Aunt Phoebe intended to do in the city on a stormy day.

Jimsi watched Aunt Phoebe plod through the snow and up the street out of sight. Then she turned and went toward The Happy Shop. It was going to be a very lonely day all alone. But hardly had she opened the glass door when she saw that Aunt Phoebe had put the Good Crow on the shelf today, and in his bill he held a letter.

Jimsi took the crow down and removed the letter. She tore the wee envelope open and read:

“DEAREST JIMSI:

I am right here for company to-day while Aunt Phoebe is
away. I’m giving you a letter myself because, you know,
a play crow _has_ to write letters.

Look in the corner of The Happy Shop and see the nice
thing I brought. It’s a little Christmas-tree and you
can cut decorations for it from your Magic Book. I
think you must have learned how to make chains for
Christmas-trees: just cut strips of colored wall paper
and make links by pasting the ends of one strip at a
time together. Slip the next strip through the first
link and paste. You go on and on making a chain that
will circle the tree.

Cornucopias may be made by rolling a triangular
piece of wall paper together like a cone, closed at
the bottom. You can line each with a plain paper of
contrasting shade.

Christmas-tree pendants may be made by cutting round
and diamond pointed designs out and sewing tinsel about
their edge.

A star may be made for the top of the Christmas-tree.
Cut it from yellow paper. Flowers cut from wall paper
may be pinned on the tree to decorate it too. And you
can make small lanterns to hang by raffia exactly as
kindergarten children make them: just double a square
of paper end to end. Cut snips through the centre with
scissors and unfold. Paste the cut paper together to
make a hollow roll and the cut places will make it look
like a lantern.

Try to make Christmas cards too. A tree is easily cut
out by cutting a green triangle. At its base, make a
small brown trunk and cut a red pot for the tree. Mount
the tree on a square of cardboard and letter the card
with crayon.

A card with a Christmas candle may be made by cutting
out a colored candle-stick from bright wall paper and
adding a paper candle at the top.

Here’s enough to fill all your whole long day alone.
See what you can do by the time Aunt Phoebe gets back!

_Crow._

P. S.

How about taking this tree to Joyce for her Christmas
present?”

Jimsi gathered all the precious sheets of crow’s letter together and looked for the tree. It was almost hidden from sight back of some palms. It was a dear little tree. She put it upon the table of The Happy Shop and began to snip industriously with her scissors. The Magic Book was indeed thin, but there was more than enough to make all the Christmas tree decorations and the Christmas cards. Jimsi began with the chain. She made it very long and pretty, pink, blue, green, red, yellow—and again she repeated the order of colors pink, blue, green, red, yellow. The chain was very lovely when done and she hung it about the tree in long festoons.

After this she made two cornucopias that were big enough to hold candy, and some little ones beside. And she cut the flowers out and pinned them to branches, too. And she made lanterns, and a big, big star, and some pendants. Crow had thoughtfully put a long roll of tinsel in the drawer of The Happy Shop table and Jimsi made loops of the tinsel to hang them on the tree. She had to sew these on with a needle threaded with fine cotton that was from Aunt Phoebe’s workbasket.

The tree was half trimmed at luncheon time and the little maid who worked for Aunt Phoebe didn’t put the lunch on the big, lonely dining-room table. She brought it to The Happy Shop.

Just as Jimsi was swallowing the last mouthful of apple sauce and was going to take a bite of cake, the telephone bell rang in the study. Jimsi hopped up to answer it.

“Hello!” came the voice over the telephone. “Is that you, Jimsi?”

Why, it was Aunt Phoebe’s voice! And Aunt Phoebe’s voice sounded very far away at first. It grew more clear. “Jimsi,” it said, “I can’t wait to tell you, so I called you up by long distance. The firm that makes toys wants to buy the idea of the motion picture shadow play. They will pay Joyce a whole hundred dollars for the model that she made, and give her royalty after it is published. _Royalty_ means that Joyce will get money on every toy sold. They are a big firm, and there will be more than enough money for the hospital. I’ll tell you more when I get home. Are you all right? It can be patented.”

“Oh! Oh,” gasped Jimsi. “Oh, I’m so _happy_! Yes, Aunt Phoebe, I am all right. Everything’s all right!”

Then the wire buzzed. Aunt Phoebe had gone.

That time, Jimsi couldn’t go back to work. _She_ walked around just as excitedly as Aunt Phoebe did when the story wouldn’t go the way she wanted it to go. She could think of nothing but how glad Joyce would be. How she longed to put on hat and cloak and run over there. But she didn’t. She had promised Aunt Phoebe to stay indoors.

It seemed to Jimsi that the afternoon hours would never pass. She was as restless as a caged lion. She couldn’t work on Christmas-tree decorations—and then she remembered that the tree was to be finished by the time Aunt Phoebe came home. She started feverishly to make more things. She worked very hard. Indeed, she worked so hard that the tree grew to be wonderfully pretty. It needed only candles to make it quite complete. Then Jimsi had an idea. “I’ll tie a crow letter on the tree,” she thought, “and the crow letter shall tell Joyce all about everything. But Aunt Phoebe must write that crow letter herself.”

She decided to try making Christmas cards and blotter-cases. She was engrossed in these when there came a stamping of feet on the doorstep outside and the front door-bell rang. It was Aunt Phoebe all covered with snow and beaming from under a snow-covered hat. Hooray!

Oh, wasn’t it good to have her back, and wasn’t it jolly to be able to find out all about the real fortune that was going to come to the little lame girl!

“It’s too good to be true,” she laughed. “Oh, tell me all about it right away, Aunt Phoebe, _please_!”

So Aunt Phoebe, as soon as she could fling off her very wet things, sat down by the fire and told Jimsi the whole long story of how she had taken the model and found the toy merchant who published games and toys, and how he had looked it all over and tried it and said it was good—yes, very good, and so good that it _did_ interest him. She told how he had carried the toy away to show to other members of the firm, and how she had had to wait what seemed hours and hours before he came back to say that they thought it an excellent thing and wanted to publish it.

At first, so she said, he had not wanted to pay any advance for it—that meant the hundred dollars, Aunt Phoebe said. But she had insisted, and he had agreed.

There was something Aunt Phoebe called a contract. This was going to be sent and signed by Joyce’s father. It was a written agreement of terms of sale.

“That’s all,” smiled Aunt Phoebe, finishing by giving Jimsi’s hand a hard and happy squeeze. “Now, let’s see the tree crow gave you.”

Jimsi took Aunt Phoebe to The Happy Shop where the little tree stood. Oh, it really did look very, very charming. Aunt Phoebe said so, and the little maid who came to announce dinner said so, and even Jimsi who had done it all herself said so. I think crow would have said so, too, if crow could have talked really and truly.

After dinner, Aunt Phoebe wrote the crow letter that told about the hundred dollars and the contract and all the other things. She wrote it on her typewriter because she wanted it very clear and easy to understand. She told how Jimsi had wanted to have Joyce get well so that she would not be a little lame girl any longer, and she told how she herself had suddenly thought of the value of the original toy made with shadow pictures. She said she had taken it to the city and that everything was all right. It only remained to hurry Joyce right off as fast as she could go. Aunt Phoebe didn’t see why Joyce couldn’t go day after tomorrow. That was the time she and Jimsi were going to the city and they could take Joyce to the hospital in a motor car.

They tied the note to the top of the tree with a bright, red ribbon. It had to be folded and folded to fit into a crow envelope. Oh, the envelope was quite bulky and fat, I assure you.

Then they both went upstairs to bed to dream of the Good Crow who had first suggested the play of the motion picture screen. Ah, yes! It was the Good Crow who belonged to Aunt Phoebe—he had done it all.

As for the little lame girl, why, of course, she went with Jimsi and Aunt Phoebe. _Of course_ she got well! And Jimsi always declared afterward that the Good Crow was the very best crow there was, and that there never was a better real aunt than Aunt Phoebe who was a play aunt—and that if it hadn’t been for The Happy Shop and Aunt Phoebe’s Good Crow hundreds of happy children who played the shadow motion picture fun would have missed half the joy of their lives!

* * * * *

Transcriber’s Notes:

Varied hyphenation was retained.

Asterisks in the notes below indicate missing or smudged letters.

Page 15, “musn’t” changed to “mustn’t” (mustn’t be disappointed)

Page 30, “muf**” changed to “muffs” (hats and muffs)

Page 56, “Pheobe’s” changed to “Phoebe’s” (till Miss Phoebe’s crow)

Page 59, “your” changed to “you’re” (Pretend you’re interested)

Page 98, “suprise” changed to “surprise” (crow’s splendid surprise)

Page 112, closing quotation mark moved to land outside of closing parenthesis (pin-wheels—)”)

Page 134, opening quotation mark removed from middle of dialogue. Original read (trouble. “Today there)

Page 151, opening quotation mark removed from middle of dialogue. Original read (before dark. “Good-bye, dear)

End of Project Gutenberg's The Good Crow's Happy Shop, by Patten Beard