Astra (23 page)

She took out a pair of scissors she had brought, cut off several generous pieces of the green tissue, and began crumpling them in her hands. Then she unrolled her package of cotton and tore off good-sized pieces.

“We’ll stuff the cotton under the hills to make them stand up nicely,” she explained cheerfully, as her deft fingers twisted and patted and stuffed the hills quickly into shape across the back of the low table, slipping a pile of magazines under one hill, with the green paper smoothly over the top.

“This will be where we shall build the little town of Bethlehem,” she explained to the watching children. “We have to have a smooth, firm base to put the houses on so they won’t fall over.”

“What are we going to build the houses of?” asked the boy. “We’ve got a lot of stone blocks.”

“Oh, have you? That will be lovely. Can you get them?”

“Oh yes,” said the boy, springing up eagerly. “They’re right in the nursery on the shelf.”

He came bringing the box, but the cook, already cross from the “wee drap” she had taken from her bottle, stuck her head out of the kitchen door, saw him coming along the hall, and began to object.

“Hey, you boy, you! Take them toys back where they b’long! Don’t ya know the nurse got them all picked up and put away nice? And didna she tell ya ta let ’em alone? Yer mommie’ll smack ya good fer gettin’ them toys out an’ clutterin’ up the livin’room fer Christmas. Don’t ya know ef yer a bad boy, Santie Claus won’t give ya nothin’ when he comes?”

“Aw! Santa Claus!” sneered the child. “He ain’t coming
here.
My father and mother are gone away. Thur won’t be any Santa Claus
here
!”

“Well, shut you up an’ tak them toys back where they b’long!”

“No!” said Harold, “We need ’em. She wants ’em fer something she’s makin’ fer us,” and he vanished into the living room excitedly.

“The cook’s mad,” he remarked calmly, as if it were a common occurrence. “But I told her you wanted ’em.”

“Well,” said Astra soothingly, “after a while we’ll invite her in to see Bethlehem, and then she’ll understand.”

A gleam of relief and triumph came into the boy’s eyes.

“Okay,” he said with a sigh of pleasure.

By this time the region round about Bethlehem was taking form and shape, and the children were fascinated, watching it grow.

Astra went to her box of things she had found in the ten-cent store and brought out some trees, lovely fuzzy green things, and a few palm trees with stiff metal backs that stood up beautifully. Then she began to build tiny white houses out of the stone blocks, three or four blocks to a house; now and then an arched doorway, or a tiny crack of a window between two larger blocks, with a wee one below; one or two larger houses with flat roofs, and one with a tiny outside staircase. It all looked very real. And then some of the little cardboard houses she stuck here and there between the others. Astra was as much interested in her work as were the children. Presently, the cook swung the pantry door open halfway and peered in scowling, but stayed to watch also, gradually edging in and standing behind Astra, emitting a strong odor of whatever was in her black bottle. But Astra went steadily on with her work.

“Bethlehem had a hotel,” she said. “They called it an inn.”

“That’s what they call our hotel out here,” announced Harold excitedly. “It’s right over there on the next street. It has big piazzas and flower beds all around in summer. Sometimes we go there to get ice cream.”

“Yes!” said Astra. “Well now, we’ll put this inn over here on the left. Perhaps it didn’t have piazzas, but it had a flat roof, and people could go up there and sit and walk. We’ll build it with these big stone arches, because down under these arches was their stable. Or at least we’ll play it was. The real Bethlehem might have had a separate building, but it must have been near the inn. They kept their cows there. The sheep were off on the hills with their shepherds, but the cows would stay around the stable probably. Here are two or three little cows I brought with me. We’ll stand them here by the stable, and here are some guards for the hotel. We’ll stand them up here on the housetop.”

Deftly Astra placed the tiny figures she had brought, an Arab in a long white robe, with a sword lifted over his turbaned head, two or three other figures in oriental garments.

The children watched her breathlessly, and old Becky edged nearer and peered with her nearsighted eyes.

“And now off here in the valley at the foot of these hills,” went on Astra, “the sheep were out in green pastures, eating grass, and drinking water out of this little silver stream. We’ll put this little mirror down here to show where the drinking water is, and we’ll put the sheep and the little lambs around it.”

The children’s eyes were round with surprise as one by one the sheep and the little lambs appeared and took their places in the setting. And the shepherds came and guarded their sheep.

Then Astra began to tell the story.

“Once, a long time ago, God felt very bad about the people He had made to live on this earth, because they were very naughty. They had all sinned, and God had told them that they would have to be terribly punished if they sinned. Their punishment was to die forever. And God had to keep His promise because He was God, you know. Do you know what sin is?”

“Yes,” said Brenda, “it’s doing what Daddy says not!”

“No, it’s what Mothah says not,” insisted Mary Lou.

Suddenly there came an interruption. The hall doorbell rang.

The cook gave a wild look toward the door and scuttled away to the kitchen.

“Wasn’t that the doorbell?” asked Astra, just as the cook got to the kitchen door.

“It ain’t my business to go to the door,” mumbled the cook.

“I’ll go!” said Harold.

“No, I’ll go!” shouted Brenda.

“I go!” said little Mary Lou, and they all three scrambled up and rushed to the door. The boy reached the door first and swung it open on a lady.

Astra called out to the children. “Oh, but that’s not a nice way to meet a caller. Quiet down. It doesn’t take but one to open a door, you know.”

And then she looked up at the caller, and the lady wore a
mink
coat!

T
he pleasant, welcoming smile she wore as she came forward to quiet the children was still on Astra’s face as she looked up and recognized Camilla Blair, but her heart suddenly felt like a little frozen thing, out of its right place.

But there was the lady regarding her with belligerence and assurance. Astra’s trained mind immediately brought her smile into a dignified about-face and gave the lady questioning attention.

“Isn’t this Mrs. Harrison’s apartment?” asked Camilla.

“Yes,” said Astra, as a lady would say it.

“Well, is Mr. Cameron here?”

Astra opened astonished eyes.

“Oh, did you expect to meet Mr. Cameron here?”

Camilla’s chin went up in affront.

“Why, yes. I supposed he would be here. How soon is he coming?”

“Why, I really wouldn’t know,” said Astra, with the detached air of a servant.

Camilla surveyed her with eyebrows slightly lifted.

“Aren’t you one of the regular servants here?” she asked, almost insolently.

Astra gave a merry, wicked little grin.

“Oh, no,” she said, “I just came in to help with the children while their mother is away.”

“Oh!” Camilla looked Astra over again.

“Are you a professional nurse?”

Astra’s face dimpled amusedly.

“Not exactly,” she said. “Won’t you come in and sit down?”

The children gave little suppressed gasps and looked at Astra with frowns. They didn’t want their playtime interrupted.

“Well, I’d like to know first what time you think Mr. Cameron might get here.”

“I wouldn’t be able to tell you that,” said Astra, clear-eyed, looking at the visitor steadily. “If you would like to come in and wait awhile, I should think it would be all right. And now, I’m sure you will forgive me if I go on with the story I was telling the children. You see, that’s what I’m supposed to be here for.”

“Oh, I see,” said Camilla haughtily, looking at the girl in astonishment. Was this sort-of-a-servant girl attempting to dismiss her, reprove her?

She settled down in the easiest chair in the room and observed what was going on somewhat scornfully. But Astra went on with her story.

“Now, let me see, just where did we leave off, Harold?” she said, trying to think back and greatly annoyed by the presence of the mink coat in the room. Its luxurious folds fell over Camilla’s chair with an oppressive air of affluence which did not fit with the simple town of Bethlehem and the grazing sheep beside their tiny wooden shepherds.

“I know what you were saying!” said the boy. “It was about sin. You said everybody had been naughty, and God said if they were naughty they had to be punished. He had to keep His word because He was God, so everybody was going to die forever ’n’ ever.”

“Yes,” said Astra, “but you see, God so loved people that He made a way for them to be saved from eternal death, if they wanted to be saved. He promised to send a Savior who would die in their place. He had to be a sinless One who had no sin of His own to die for, so He could take the sin of the whole world upon Himself. There wasn’t any ordinary person who hadn’t sinned, so God sent His own Son.”

“Did He die for our sin, too?” questioned Brenda, who had plenty of such to her own small account.

“Mine, too?” asked Mary Lou. “Wouldn’t my mamma hafta spank me anymore?”

“Oh, you don’t understand, baby. It wasn’t our mother’s spanking. It was God making us die if we didn’t be good!” said Harold in a superior tone. “Did you say it was for everybody? That lady’s sins, too?” He pointed with a speculative finger at Camilla.

“Yes, God says everybody. They all have a chance to be saved. All they need to do is believe it.”

But the lady in question rose in annoyance and came over toward the table with its mountains and its little town.

“What ridiculous stuff are you teaching these children?” she said, bending over and fingering several sheep and upsetting a little tan cow.

“You
stop
that!” said little Mary Lou in a disturbed tone of voice. “You spoil our picture and our town. You
mustn’t
touch our fings.”

But the guest paid no attention to the baby and continued to pick up one and another shepherd and lamb and look them over.

“I beg your pardon,” said Astra in a cool voice. “I’m telling the Christmas story. Would you like to take my place and tell it?”

“No, indeed!” said the guest coldly. Withdrawing to her chair, she said, “I have no desire to descend to storytelling. But I was just wondering what kind of foolishness was being stuffed down the children’s throats. I shall take pains that my friend Mrs. Harrison knows what has been going on during her absence. You seem to have a certain amount of cleverness with children. It’s a pity you couldn’t have gone to college and found out that the sort of thing you are teaching is nothing but folklore and tradition, mixed up with a lot of dogmas. It’s not the sort of thing to tell children. However, I don’t suppose they understand enough to hurt them, and what they do understand, they’ll soon forget.”

Astra twinkled her eyes at the children and smiled quietly, wondering what the lady would say if she mentioned the two noted colleges that she had attended at different times when she and her father were abroad, and if she could see the diploma carefully packed away, of the still more noted college where she had graduated. However, she closed her pleasant lips and said nothing. Then suddenly she saw that Harold had stalked over to the guest and was standing indignantly before her, his feet wide apart, his chin up in the air, his eyes flashing.

“I won’t-not forget what she says! I will
so
remember every word! And I do
so
understand what she says. I guess I’m old enough to know
all
peoples are naughty. You are
yourself
, you
know
you are! And maybe you’ve got to die, too, because you don’t sound to me as if
you
would believe! But I wish you’d go home and not bother us. We were having a nice time until you came. And you’ve no business to talk that way to Astra. We all like her! Now, get out. I don’t care if you are my mummie’s friend, you’re not nice, and I don’t
like
you!”

Astra looked at the boy, aghast.

“Harold! Stop talking! You’re being very rude indeed! You’re being naughty now, and you certainly must know it. What do you think God thinks of such conduct?”

Harold dropped his eyelids and looked ashamed.

“You’ll have to apologize to the lady before we can go on,” said Astra, with a grieved note in her voice.

The child looked up with fury in his eyes.

“What? ’Pologize ta
her
! Not on yer life! She hadn’t any business ta come here and spoil our Christmas Day when our mother and father are away! And she’s saying bad things. I know, because we learn those same things in our Sunday school where we go, and I know they’re good things. Don’t we, Brennie?”

“We cert’nly do!” affirmed Brenda, as if she were a referee in an international contest.

“There! I told ya!” said Harold. “An’ you’re a bad lady. She’s
our
Astra, an’ we won’t let you talk bad to her.”

Brenda was standing a little back of the angry boy, shaking her head, flashing her eyes, stamping her little foot, and saying “No! No! NO!”

And little Mary Lou was sitting in her small chair with her mouth all puckered up into a quiver, her eyes wide with anguish and great tears rolling down her pink cheeks.

Camilla arose with haste.

“
Mercy
!” she said. “What a household! Deliver me from ever having any children! I don’t wonder their mother wanted to get away for a day!”

Then she turned on Astra, as if she were to blame for it all.

“I hope you see the effect your teaching has had! And now I want to know
whose
servant you are! I certainly shall report you. It isn’t fair to other customers to have a nurse like you around, posing as a child specialist.”