OF ALL THE THINGS TO HAPPEN

Lake County Mail, Issue 31, 24 December 1947, Page 1

OF ALL THE THINGS TO HAPPEN

Margaret stijetched luxuriously without even bothering to open her eyes. Christmas Eve morning! She didn’t have to go to the office to-day, so that meant an extra hour in bed. Heaven indeed to a 19-year-old who never seemed to get enough sleep! She had been up late the night before, wrapping up her presents for the family because that was the only safe time for the task—when they were all in bed. She smiled dreamily and snuggled her head further into the pillow. To-day she was going to be lazy and do just what she liked“Ouch!” A heavy weight landed somewhere in the region of her middle, while there was an unaccountable heaviness about her ankles. Margaret opened one eye warily and groaned. “Don’t you ever sleep?” she asked somewhat unjustly. “ Why, at your age, I ” How Margaret had behaved at the age of 10 was cut short effectively by the twins, who proceeded to make a wigwam out o(t the blankets by the simple method of burrowing underneath and sitting up when far enough in, Margaret shivered at the touch of cold air on her bare arms, and reached for her dressing-gown. Robbie put a tousled head outside the “ wigwam.” “Snow!” he chanted. “Real snow! Dad said we could get out the old sledge.” And then he saw that Margaret was preparing to get up. “Wait a minute, Margaret. We want you to help us with something, important, don’t we, Sheila?” He gave the other support of the wigwam a vigorous poke. There was an indignant squeal, and thrashing limbs turned the narroAv bed into a battlefield. Margaret scrambled to safety, while Robbie, wound tightly in sheet and blanket, rolled underneath tire bed, and Sheila, a flushed and triumphant victor, slipped nimbly from the stripped bed and curled herself into the armchair in the corner. Robbie was extricating himself with difficulty, and his voice was muffled. “ Real snow! ” he announced again. Then his head shot out of the enveloping blanket, and he fixed Mar-’ garet with what he hoped was a compelling eye. “ That’s why we want you to go into the village for us, Margaret. We won’t have time. We’ve to get the sledge ready—and—and everything. You haven’t got to go to the office to-day, so we thought you’d be glad to have something to do.” They were uncannily alike, the twins, except that Sheila’s short, curly bob was a clipped, boyish cut on Robbie, Margaret felt her crossness melting at the sight of their innocent, very angelic faces turned to her. “ Why can’t you go into the village yourself?” she asked. “And what is so important?” “It will take us ages to walk all that way!” wailed Sheila. “You know how we’ve been waiting for snow, and now it’s come; but maybe it won’t last very long ” “Snow!” Margaret woke up at last to what they had been telling her. She flew to the window and pressed her nose against the glass eagerly. Looking at the crisp white blanket over the garden, she felt a sudden sharp happiness at the thought of Christmas, of all it stood for, of all it meant, and knew it wouldn’t have been quite the same without the snow. She whirled round, her eyes bright. “If you think I’m tramping into the village to-day, your’e wrong,” she told them flatly. She began to plan, “We can use the sledge in the sloping field, it’s always been best there. Quick, go and get dressed.” But they didn’t stir. So Margaret found herself asking, against her will: “ What is it, anyway, that you want from the village?” “ It’s Mummy’s present,” Robbie explained. “ It’s in Miss Marran’s shop window,” “ Then why didn’t you buy it before? ” “We weren’t sure if we had enough money.” Sheila took up the tale “ Robbie’s money-box had stuck and we couldn’t open it to see how much was in it. But we had another look

A story that could only happen at Christmas, when hearts beat more warmly and love draws us closer together.

at the jug yesterday, and we took a hammer to it—the money-box, I mean —and we’ve counted, it’s just enough, exactly, with what I’ve got.” Margaret suppressed a smile. “ We-ell. I don’t see how I can spare the time.” The twins knew they had Avon, Once more a screaming mass of arms and legs descended on her, and she Avas almost strangled. Margaret extricated herself to find the price of the jug, four and elevenpence, mainly in coppers, spilling over her cupped hands. “ You’ll knoAV it,” Robbie assured her earnestly. “ It’s pink—and it’s got figures and—and —things on it! ” Margaret put on stout shoes and her thickest coat. Her red gloves made a bright splash of colour and matched exactly the ribbon Avith Avhich she tied back her dark hair. As she made her Avay doAvn the path, thankful that the tAvins Avere too busy in. the shed to give her last-minute instructions, she looked Avhat she Avas, a pretty, 19-year-old girl, her cheeks Avhipped into colour Avith the cold, Avith stars in her eyes, unformed dreams in their broAvn depths, her lips parted in anticipation —of life, of living. That Avas Margaret. Still very much a child for all her years, but with that anticipation that is the half-step into Avomanhood; an unconscious urge to grow up that has its oavh heartbreaking appeal. She Avas nearly at the gate Avheu the ear Avent by, and she felt a sudden annoyance at the thought that she might have had a lift if she had been quicker. And then, as she got into the road and iboked after it, she recognised it as the car from Banner Farm. Margaret made a wry face. David Selkirk would be driving, so it meant that she Avouldn’t have got a lift in any ease, nor Avould she have made any gesture to slxoav that she wanted one. She gave an unconscious lift to her chin and walked on, sAvinging her arms briskly. But the sight of the car from Banner had set her thoughts wandering back to school days, to the first time she had seen David, when she herself had been a single edition of the tAvins in her teasing, tormenting, high-spirited Avay. All the other children had loved it, had even invited her teasing because they knew that Margaret only acted that way with those she liked; there Avas an affection and a kindness that took the sting from her words. Banner Farm. Margaret kneAV very Then David Selkirk came to live at

little about him except that his parents had died and that he was now to make his home with his grandparents. He came to the village school, a shy, quiet boy some two years older than herself. The other boys tried to draw him out, invited him to join in their games, but he seemed content to stand and watch, with a young solemnity that they had not understood. - Margaret hadn’t understood either, but she had known that she liked him from the first moment. She was eager to be friends, so she began to tease him as she did the others, wanting him to laugh with her. She tormented him with a kind affection that would have been discernible to anyone else but the bewildered David. At her first word he had flushed a bright red, a hurt look had come into his eyes, to be replaced by a wariness in her presence that made her uncomfortable. She hadn’t tried again. Maybe if she hadn’t liked him so much she might have found it easy to change his opinion of her as the llillllllllllllllllllillllllllililllllllllllllllllllliilllllllllllllllllillll