Rensselaer Republican, Volume 12, Number 13, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 11 December 1879 — THREE CHRISTMAS TEA-SETS. [ARTICLE]

THREE CHRISTMAS TEA-SETS.

This isn’t a play-story. It fa a real, true, live story about three real, true, live little girls whose names are Carrie and Jennie and Gracie, and who live in Be . There! I was just going to tell you the very town where they live, but perhaps that would be a little too bad. Weeks and weeks before Christmas they had been wondering, and guessing, ana hoping what their Christmas presents might be. “Well,” said Carrie (who was oldest), as they sat one day all in a row on the step that led from the bed-room into the kitchen, “I have decided what I want. I shall be perfectly happy if Santa Claus brings me a little tea-set—-a cunning little tea - set with gold bands.” “So I have dfasided!” chimed in Jennie., promptly. “ I shall be as puffickly happy as you are if I get a teaset; only I want mine with red" and yellow posies all over it. P’raps I’ll ’vite you all to my house to a teaparty.” Gracie had never so much as thought of a tea-set before, but she instantly “ dissided ” that she, too, wanted that for a present. “ You hasn’t dissided a bit more than I has,” she cried, jumping up in her earnestness and standing in front of them with her curly head wagging solemnly all the time. “I shall be the most puf-fick-ly happiest of you or Jennie, if Santa C'aus fetches me a tea-set with bands and posies on it. I think velly likely he’ll bring me one with horses, and cows, and dogs, and lallyfunts, besides; any way, more than you or Jennie!” Don’t you believe Santa Claus laughed when he heard that? Of course he did hear it, for on Christmas morning, when they gathered round the table where the presents were heaped up in queer brown-paper bundles, there were the three little tea-sets. “This,” said mamma, holding up a square bundle tied with pink cord, “ fa a present for Carrie.” Carrie had the cord untied and the paper off in a moment, and her eyes danced when she saw the cunning little tea-set with gold bands. “This for Jennie,” said mamma, and Jennie gave a little gasp of joy over the tea-set with red-ana-pellow posies. But before mamma could say Gracie’s name, Gracie had “ dissided,” with her usual haste, that Santa had forgotten her, and tiling herself on her face on the floor, where she squirmed and kicked and screamed till mamma lifted her up with a little settling shake, and gave her the tea-set that was to make her “ the puffickly happiest.” They did not ’eat any breakfast that morning; that fa, at table. They each had a house, and had breakfast alone that morning, and many times after. Gracie’B house was by the low window at the end of the sink; Jennie’s in the corner behind the sofa; and Carrie had hers on the low step before mentioned, leading from the bed-room to the kitchen.

Carrie played happily and kept house with great comfort, but Jennie and Grace were quarrelsome neighbors. Almost every day there was some fuss or other, and one day, just a week after Christmas, mother heard a great uproar in the rival houses. Gracie had been hectoring. She would push the light sofa back till it almost crushed Jennie, tea-things and all. At last Jennie came out and gave her a piece of her mind. “You’re a awful naughty, bad girl, Grace. And now you hear what I say. If you do that another single once. I’ll slap you in the face—hit you a bat right across the face that’ll hurt you real awful! Now you just mind that, Gracie Standley!” Wasn’t 'that dreadful? But it was worse when Gracie did do it once and twice more, and Jennie—oh, she struck her little sister right in the face, as she said, and Grace rolled over among the tea-thingokjth such screams that mamma wondered if her head were broken. It wasnf, but the tea-things were all spoiled; the pretty gift of Santa Claus, with red-and-yellow posies. Gracie’s came to an end in a different way. They had been playing house-keep all one Saturday afternoon. Carrie invited them all to her house, and they had a nice time with frosted cakes and real tea. But Gracie had a selfish fit. “You s’ant any of you belo my party only just my own self!” she said, and so they could only watch her as she got supper, without sharing it with her. “You can have common tea,” she said, scornfully. I’ll have a bestest kind, and I’ll make it just as strong! O-o, don’t vou Wish you had some?” She drank it every bit—the greedy little Grace. They were tiny cups, and she drained every one, smacking her lips over the last drop. This was too much for the children.

“Mother, can’t Gracie give us some of her tea? ” cried Carrie. “ It’s a nice new kind, and she won’t let us taste. She got it out of a bottle.” Mother came out to look. The next minute she had Gracie under her arm and was down stairs where Aunt Chris and Aunt Carlie were. “What shall I do!” she cried. “Gracie has taken half that bottle of laudanum!” They gave her an emetic. It didn’t taste good. Gracie said she should die; but she didn’t. Aunt Carlie held coffee —the blackest you ever saw—under her nose till it made her sick. And they sent for the doctor. When the flurry waa over, and Gracie was well again, she wanted her tea-set. But there wasn’t a whole dish left. Carrie divided. Hers was whole and nice, and she gave two to Jennie, two to Gracie, and kept two herself. And out of all the three, she was the only one who was perfectly happy. Does any one know the reason why? —Annie F Bumham, in Youth's Companion.