From the Children’s Friend, December 1938 –

Marie’s Christmas

By Geneve H. Williams

Snow was falling in the mountains, a stinging wind whipped the dead leaves from the trees. Winter was coming and Marie Warner did not like winter. She knew too well its piercing cold and how hard it was for her widowed mother to get the fuel to keep them warm.

She pulled her worn coat closer and slipped her hands inside the cuffs as she thought, “Tomorrow night is Christmas Eve, I must hurry and finish the handkerchief for Mother.” A little thrill of pleasure ran through her at the thought and she did not notice the sting of the wind so much. She was walking slowly, looking for bright colored leaves when she noticed a worn leather purse in the path. She had found old purses before and they had all been empty so she hesitated a moment before picking this one up, but on looking inside she saw more money than she had ever seen before. She looked wildly around for the owner but as there was no one in sight she clutched the purse tightly in her hand and hurried home. Her heart beat fast and with a cry of happiness she said,

“Oh, thank You, thank You, dear Heavenly Father.”

Marie’s mother had not returned from work so she reached under the step for the key, unlocked the door and soon had a fire started. She sat near the stove and counted the money, over and over, fifty dollars and seventy-five cents; it seemed like a fortune to Marie.

Taking an old envelope she started to write down the things she would like to buy. It took a lot of writing and erasing before she was satisfied with her list. For her mother a nice new coat and a hat and a pair of much needed shoes, gloves and a dress and she almost forgot some warm slippers to rest her feet in when she came home from work.

Marie sat looking first at the money and then at her list and wondered if there would be anything left for the things she wanted most for herself. She made a list of things she needed, and another list for the Christmas dinner and placing the paper in the purse, she waited, impatiently, for her mother’s return. Singing happily she bustled about preparing the evening meal then taking the purse again she looked more closely and with a cry of dismay she held it nearer the light and there, rubbed and worn until she could hardly read it, was a name stamped on the leather. Marie read the name aloud. “A.W. Perry, 1066 Grove Street.” Wave after wave of disappointment swept over her. She put her head on her arms and wept bitterly. She was still crying when her mother opened the door.

“Why, Marie, what is the trouble?” she cried, taking the little figure in her arms. Between sobs Marie told of finding the money only to lose it again. When she had finished her mother kissed her fondly and said,

“Don’t cry, darling, you must take it to Mr. Perry at once so he will not worry about losing it.”

“I wish it hadn’t had a name on it,” cried the child, “then we could have kept it. We need it so, and he is just a rich, cross old man and as stingy as can be. The children in school talk about him and call him old tight wad, and grouchy miser, and I guess he is awfully mean,” Marie added.

Her Mother listened patiently until the child had finished, then she said softly, “Marie, darling, it hurts me to hear you talk like that. You wouldn’t want to keep what belonged to someone else, would you? The children should not say such things; perhaps that is what helped to make Mr. Perry cross. Now, put on your wraps and hurry to his house so you can get back before dark. It is not ours, and I am glad you can return it to the owner.”

Marie bravely fought back her tears and tried not to let her mother see how badly she felt as she started out to return the money. When she reached the large house on the hill her heart was beating fast. Timidly she knocked on the door.

Mr. Perry came to the door and said, “If you are selling anything, I don’t want it; I have been pestered enough with children selling stamps and such trash.”

Marie was frightened but she managed to say, “I am not selling anything. I found the purse you lost and Mother said you would worry so she sent it to you as soon as she got home from work.” Handing him the purse, Marie ran down the steps, glad to be on her way to more friendly surroundings.

Marie found her mother gay and light-hearted as she put the finishing touches to their simple Christmas and each tried to hide form the other the gifts they were making. At last Marie finished the handkerchief and folding it neatly placed it with the calendar she had made in school for her mother. After Marie had been tucked into bed, Mrs. Warner took the last stitches on the little red mittens she had knit for Marie and put them with the doll she had bought.

Snow fell during the night and Marie opened her eyes on a world covered with a blanket of glistening white.

“How beautiful and clean everything looks,” thought Marie as she helped her mother throughout the day and somehow the loss of the purse she had found did not seem so tragic as it had the night before.

That night the stars seemed brighter than usual. With the Christmas Spirit in the air it did not seem so long ago that the shepherds followed the star and found the Babe in the manger.

“Please tell me again about the first Christmas, Mother,” she said as she sat before the fire, and as her mother retold the wonderful story the child seemed to see the mother and Babe, the shepherds bearing their gifts, and could almost hear the angels singing “Peace on Earth.”

“Now you sing a Christmas song, dear,” said Mrs. Warner as she finished her story. Marie chose “Silent Night,” and as her childish voice filled the room her mother thought she had never heard anything quite so beautiful. As the song ended a knock sounded at the door. Opening it, Mrs. Warner gave a gasp of surprise. A large car was driving away and on the small porch was a Christmas tree and several boxes piled high with parcels.

“There must be some mistake,” said Mrs. Warner as she took an envelope from the top of one of the boxes. On the card inside was written, “Mrs. Warner and daughter. Please accept these with all good wishes for a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year,” and signed “From a friend.”

“Who could it have been?” they wondered as they began to carry the things into the house. There was a lovely coat and hat, a nice dress, shoes, hose and bedroom slippers for the mother; a beautiful red coat, tam and mittens, a silk dress, shoes and stockings and a beautiful big doll with golden curls for Marie.

“Oh! Just what I’ve always wanted,” she cried happily. “Who could have sent us all these lovely things?” said Mrs. Warner in a choking voice. Marie stopped short in her joyous exclamations, “Why, Mother,” she cried, “everything I wrote down is here and a lot more besides.”

“You wrote down,” said her mother in surprise. “What do you mean, Marie?”

“Well, before I saw the name on the purse I wrote down a lot of things I would like to get with the money. I put the list in the purse and I must have forgotten to take it out again.”

“Oh, Marie, and to think people say that Mr. Perry is mean and stingy; I think he must be a very wonderful old man,” Mrs. Warner exclaimed. “But we can’t keep all this.”

Just then a large coal truck stopped and the driver came to the door to make sure he was at the right house. “But I didn’t order coal,” said Mrs. Warner, “you must have made a mistake.”

“This is the Warner house, isn’t it?” replied the driver. “This is where I was told to deliver it so that is what I am doing.”

“We just can’t keep all this,” said Mrs. Warner. “Put on your wraps, Marie, and we will go and talk to Mr. Perry.”

Marie looked at all the nice things with childish longing. “I’m sorry I said what I did about him being mean and stingy,” she said.

They walked fast and were soon at the Perry home. the housekeeper ushered them into the library where Mr. Perry sat in front of the fireplace, deep in thought. At sight of them he arose quickly and motioned to some chairs. “Won’t you be seated, please. I get rather lonesome here evenings.”

“We cannot stay, Mr. Perry, we just came to tell you how kind it was of you to send us all those lovely things, and how we appreciate your kindness, but, of course, we cannot keep them.”

Mr. Perry was confused and unable to answer at once. He was gruff and harsh and used to dealing with men in the business world but this mother and child awakened memories he had thought long dead; he had hoped they would not learn who had sent the gifts.

At last he said, “Of course you shall keep them. They are as nothing compared with what you have done for me. For years Christmas has meant little to me. After the death of my wife and only child I allowed myself to become bitter and suspicious, not altogether without cause, for people whom I considered my friends proved faithless and dishonest,” he added. “Then when your girl returned my purse and ran away without thought of reward or even thanks, I made up my mind to reward her honesty if possible. I looked in the purse and found an envelope with your address on one side and a list of articles written in a childish hand on the other. My housekeeper knows you, so we had no trouble with our shopping. I want you to accept the things in the spirit they are given and if they make your Christmas more happy I will be more than repaid.”

When they left the house there were tears in Mrs. Warner’s eyes. She said she was glad Mr. Perry had at last let a little sunshine into his life.

After the tree was trimmed and the little gifts they had made placed under it, Marie said wistfully, “Mother, I believe God did have Mr. Perry lose his purse where I would find it and help us all to a happier Christmas.”