FullReads

“Then you know Mrs. Martin … last year she was Miss Hope, my dear Sunday School teacher. She married a home missionary, and they are in a lonely part of the west. Well, I wrote her a letter. Not just an ordinary letter; dear me, no. I took a whole day to write it, and you should have seen the postmistress’s eyes stick out when I mailed it. I just told her everything that had happened in Greenvale since she went away. I made it as newsy and cheerful and loving as I possibly could. Everything bright and funny I could think of went into it.

“The next was old Aunt Kitty. You know she was my nurse when I was a baby, and she’s very fond of me. But, well, you know, Aunt Emmy, I’m ashamed to confess it, but really I’ve never found Aunt Kitty very entertaining, to put it mildly. She is always glad when I go to see her, but I’ve never gone except when I couldn’t help it. She is very deaf, and rather dull and stupid, you know. Well, I gave her a whole day. I took my knitting yesterday, and sat with her the whole time and just talked and talked. I told her all the Greenvale news and gossip and everything else I thought she’d like to hear. She was so pleased and proud; she told me when I came away that she hadn’t had such a nice time for years.

“Then there was … Florence. You know, Aunt Emmy, we were always intimate friends until last year. Then Florence once told Rose Watson something I had told her in confidence. I found it out and I was so hurt. I couldn’t forgive Florence, and I told her plainly I could never be a real friend to her again. Florence felt badly, because she really did love me, and she asked me to forgive her, but it seemed as if I couldn’t. Well, Aunt Emmy, that was my Christmas gift to her … my forgiveness. I went down last night and just put my arms around her and told her that I loved her as much as ever and wanted to be real close friends again.

“I gave Aunt Mary her gift this morning. I told her I wasn’t going to Murraybridge, that I just meant to stay home with her. She was so glad–and I’m glad, too, now that I’ve decided so.”

“Your gifts have been real gifts, Clorinda,” said Aunt Emmy. “Something of you–the best of you–went into each of them.”

Clorinda went out and brought her cornery armful in.

“I didn’t forget you, Aunt Emmy,” she said, as she unpinned the paper.

There was a rosebush–Clorinda’s own pet rosebush–all snowed over with fragrant blossoms.

Aunt Emmy loved flowers. She put her finger under one of the roses and kissed it.

“It’s as sweet as yourself, dear child,” she said tenderly. “And it will be a joy to me all through the lonely winter days. You’ve found out the best meaning of Christmas giving, haven’t you, dear?”

“Yes, thanks to you, Aunt Emmy,” said Clorinda softly.