The Christmas Mouse Read Online Free PDF Page B

lost intentions, and fell, almost instantly, into a deep sleep.

C HAPTER F OUR
    ‘M y! That was a lucky escape,’ said Mrs Berry. ‘Good thing we hadn’t got out those pillowcases!’ Two pillowcases, identical to those hanging limply upstairs, had been hidden behind the couch in the cottage parlour for the last two days. Most of the presents were already in them. A doll for each, beautifully dressed in handsewn clothes, joint presents from Mary and her mother; a game of Ludo for Frances and Snakes and Ladders for Jane; and a jigsaw puzzle apiece. All should provide plenty of future pleasure.
    The American aunt had sent two little cardigans, pale pink and edged with silver trimming – far more glamorous than anything to be found in the Caxley shops. The less well-off aunt at Taunton had sent bath salts for both, which, Mary knew, would enchant the little girls. There were also gifts from kind neighbours – a box of beads, a toy shop (complete with tiny metal scales), and several tins of sweets, mint humbugs and homemade toffee among them.
    A stocking, waiting to be filled with small knickknacks, lay across each pillowcase. As soon as the children were safely asleep, the plan had been to substitute the full pillowcases for the empty ones.
    ‘I thought she might reappear,’ admitted Mary. ‘She’s twigged, you know, about Father Christmas. Some of the children at school have let it out.’
    ‘She won’t come down again, I’m certain,’ replied MrsBerry comfortingly. ‘Let’s fill up the stockings, shall we? We can put the last-minute odds and ends in when we carry up the pillowcases.’
    Mary nodded agreement and went to the parlour, returning with the limp stockings. They were a pair of red and white striped woollen ones, once the property of the vicar’s aunt, and reputedly kept for skating and skiing in her young days. Mary had bought them at a jumble sale, and each Christmas since they had appeared to delight the little girls.
    From the dresser drawer, Mrs Berry collected the store of small treasures that had been hidden there for the last week or so. A few wrapped sweets, a curly stick of barley sugar, a comb, a tiny pencil and pad, a brooch and a handkerchief followed the tangerines that stuffed the toe of each stocking. Then, almost guiltily, Mrs Berry produced the final touch – two small wooden Dutch dolls.
    ‘Saw them in the market at Caxley,’ she said, ‘and couldn’t resist them, Mary. They reminded me of a family of Dutch dolls I had at their age. They can amuse themselves dressing them up.’
    The dolls were tucked at the top, their shiny black heads and stiff wooden arms sticking out attractively. The two women gazed at their handiwork with satisfaction.
    ‘Well, that’s that!’ said Mrs Berry. ‘I’m just going to clear away this tray and tidy up in the kitchen, and I shan’t be long out of bed.’
    ‘I’ll wait till I’m sure those two scallywags are really asleep,’ answered Mary. ‘I wouldn’t put it past our Jane to pretend, you know. She’s stubborn when she wants tobe, and she’s real set on finding out who brings the presents.’
    The hands of the clock on the mantelpiece stood at ten o’clock. How the evening had flown! Mary tidied the table, listening to the gale outside, and the sound of her mother singing in the kitchen.
    She suddenly remembered her own small presents upstairs still unwrapped and crept aloft to fetch them. The door of the girls’ room was ajar. She tiptoed in and looked down upon the sleeping pair. It seemed impossible that either of them could be feigning sleep, so rhythmically were they breathing. What angels they looked!
    She made her way downstairs and swiftly wrapped up the necklaces and handkerchiefs. The very last, she thought thankfully! Just a tag for Mum’s cyclamen, and I can write that and tie it on when I go to bed.
    She selected the prettiest tag she could find, and slipped it into her skirt pocket to take upstairs.
    Mrs Berry