Billy, the Christmas Tree, and the Irishwoman.
THE night before Christmas, Billy Jr. was prowling around, feeling lonely and unhappy and wishing that he were back again with his father and mother for the holidays at least. Chancing to look through a window from which the light was streaming, what should he see but a beautiful Christmas tree! And more wonderful still, who do you suppose was trimming it? None other than old Santa Claus himself. Billy quickly stationed himself directly in front of the window and gazed with longing eyes upon the many attractive gifts being tied upon the tree. “Oh, my! Just wouldn’t I like to get a nibble at that big red apple hanging near the very top of the tree. Yes, and there is a fine cornucopia filled with all kinds of goodies that I could eat if I had the chance, and without a grain of salt, either.” But Santa Claus continued his work, utterly unconscious of the greedy eyes blinking at him from the outer darkness.
Presently Billy Jr. said, “I wonder whose house this is and how many children live here.” Almost as if in answer to his question a quick step sounded on the walk, and to his utter disgust, the hated fireman ascended the steps and entered the house with his latch key.
“Well, I declare,” said Billy, “it’s a shame for a man like that to have such a lovely Christmas tree. I’ll venture to say that Santa Claus does not know how unkind he is to animals or he would never help him to trim his tree.”
As soon as the last gift was disposed of, Santa Claus raised the window to keep the room cool so that the tree might not wilt, then he quickly put out the lights; and hark! I hear sleigh bells! Yes, there he goes with his reindeer over the tops of the houses. Swiftly and merrily he drives, stopping at every fireside to bring joy and some little remembrance of his good will to all.
“Now that he has gone and the window is open, what is to hinder me from climbing in and tasting a few of the Christmas dainties? I am sure a few would not be missed and I can see my way clearly, as that electric light across the street shines straight into the room, making it as light as day. There is a packing box just under the window that I can jump upon, and from that I can easily get into the window.” So, without any more ado Billy climbed in and at once began to eat the dainties he had coveted.
The first thing he took was the big red apple, then the cornucopia of nuts and candies, next he licked a lemon-candy dog, after this he ate a popcorn ball or two, then he spied a bunch of yellow carrots on an upper branch. These he must have (not knowing that they were made of silk and to be used as a pin cushion). So he raised himself on his hind legs and tried to reach them, but they were just beyond his nose. He gave a little spring, but missed again, and, worse still, his feet struck the table which the tree stood upon and over it went, burying the luckless Billy under it, while tin horns, candies, toy horses, and all, rattled round him in hopeless confusion. The noise awoke the fireman, and he and his wife came hurrying into the room, thinking to find burglars. They did not see Billy, for as they opened the door he jumped out of the window, and to this day they do not know who upset the Christmas tree.
One day when Billy was wandering idly about he saw one of the firemen walking across lots, carrying a bundle which he knew was intended for the washerwoman. Having nothing special to do, he followed and soon overtook him. The fireman gave him a chew of tobacco and was surprised to find that instead of spluttering, making a fuss, and spitting it out of his mouth, he chewed it like an old-timer and seemed to enjoy it, his beard going up and down in that queer way that men’s do when they are chewing.
“Well, Billy, how are you, and how has the world been using you since last we met? Let me see, the last time I saw you, you were trying to decide whether to come down a flight of stairs or whether to slide down a greased pole, were you not?” And with such pleasant converse the man and goat walked along side by side until they reached the washerwoman’s shanty. She was a jolly, red-faced Irishwoman, somewhat pie-crusty in temper, but nevertheless an excellent laundress, and all would have been well had not Billy accidentally tramped with his muddy feet on some fine clothes that had been spread on the grass to whiten. Seeing his footmarks upon the dainty pieces with which she had taken such pains, she snatched up a dipper of hot water and threw it at Billy, calling out as she did so:
“You miserable baste, if ye come around here with your dirty fate again, a-spilin’ my nice, clean clothes, I’ll brake yer ugly neck fer ye, that I will. Bedad it’s no fun doin’ thim fine petticoats agin. Sure and it ain’t.”
Our Billy Jr., having the grace to see that he was at fault, and that his carelessness had been the cause of making unnecessary work to the irate Irishwoman, meekly turned away and returned home without waiting for the fireman.
The next day Billy thought he would stroll back to the washerwoman’s place to find out if she were still angry with him, and also to play some trick upon her (if he could) in return for the throwing of the hot water. He first peeked through a crack in the fence to see if she were hanging out clothes, but not seeing her, he crawled through a hole where some boards had fallen down and, keeping a sharp lookout about him, he caught sight of her coming from the kitchen. He kept out of sight until she disappeared within a neighbor’s house, then he walked straight to the kitchen door, stuck his head inside and, as no one was about, he boldly walked in to see if he could find what it was smelt so good. He had not far to look, for just before him stood a table, and on it was placed the mid-day meal which the washerwoman had prepared for her husband.
“My, but it smells good and I am as hungry as a bear,” and Billy, without a twinge of conscience, helped himself to the nice, mealy potatoes, cabbage and cornbeef, and the bread, even licking the crumbs from the plate, and leaving only the empty dishes for the poor hungry husband.
Just as he was taking a last reluctant lick at the cabbage plate, he heard some one coming and, in turning quickly to escape, he upset a clothes-horse full of clothes so that they fell upon the stove, where they soon caught fire, and the flames spreading to the woodwork of the shanty, the whole structure was in a blaze before you could say Jack Robinson.
Billy escaped without even singeing a hair and started on a dead run down the block. When he finally turned to look back, flames and smoke were pouring from windows and doors, while the poor laundress stood in the yard wringing her hands in sore distress, and watching all her earthly belongings go up in smoke.
“It’s too bad,” said Billy; “I did not mean to burn her home; I only intended to annoy her and eat her husband’s dinner; but, never mind, there go the firemen to the rescue. They will soon put out the flames,” and with a whisk of his tail Billy ran off to look for more mischief.
Billy was growing tired of the location in which he lived, so he decided to leave the firemen and seek a more fashionable quarter of the city, consequently he selected Knob Hill as being quite to his liking. When the firemen went to feed Billy, one morning, he was nowhere in sight. They whistled again and again, but there was no response. He came neither to luncheon nor to supper, but the men thought nothing of this, as he often absented himself for a day or two at a time, but when three, four, five, and six days passed and still Billy did not make his appearance, they felt sure that he had been stolen or had wandered off and been shut up in some barn. They waited a day or two and finally advertised for him by nailing up a large red poster illustrated with a handsome black goat, and offering a liberal reward for his return or for information as to his whereabouts.
Billy laughed way down in his whiskers when he saw the gorgeous poster and the representation of himself, and then he walked up and tore it off the boards. But while in the act of doing this he was recognized by a lot of boys as the goat advertised for, and they quickly pursued him, hoping to claim the reward offered. Need we say that before they had finished with Billy they wondered who in the world could want such a goat? As for themselves, they would have been glad to pay to get rid of him.
Two boys finally got a rope around his neck and thought themselves wonderfully smart for doing so, but they little dreamed that our Billy had allowed them to do it for a purpose of his own. As soon as the rope was securely tied and the boys had a tight hold of the ends, he started, and now the fun began.
Billy was a sturdy fellow, possessed of a certain grim sense of humor, so in a seemingly guileless, innocent manner he lowered his head and trotted along at a steady gait, choosing all the rough, stubbly places in the road, never missing a mud-hole, never passing an ash heap; through the one, over the other he went, dragging the boys after him, and when they attempted to hold him back or to stop him, he simply quickened his pace and went flying through narrow alleys, over and amongst heaps of rubbish, jerking them to their feet at times, or upsetting them with scant ceremony, as the case might be, so that finally rope and boys became hopelessly entangled, and the boys could not let go if they would, but were completely at Billy’s mercy. But, at last, the rope got twisted around a lamp-post and then it broke, giving the boys their liberty very suddenly. By this time they had lost all thought or desire for a reward and Billy left them with a satisfied twinkle in his eye and a subtle smile well hidden under his long whiskers.
