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Cherry pie. Well, it isn't such a bad house, said
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little Elsie Perch to herself, gazing up at the tall
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tenement building where she lived. To be sure, there are
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a good many folks in it, Grandpa and Grandma Perch,
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and Grandpa and Grandma Finny, and Uncle John's family and us.
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And her house hasn't got anybody in it but them.
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But it's a good enough house. I'm not going to
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cry because that little girl from Sunday School has nicer
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clothes and lives in a nicer house. She hasn't got
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a cherry tree anyway. Elsie spoke those last words with
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great triumph, because right there in the backyard of her
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home stood a tall, generous cherry tree. Looking at it
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now in the gray quiet of a December twilight, she
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had to use some imagination to bring back the luscious
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red fruit it had borne last summer and the cool
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shade of its glossy green leaves. But Elsie was quite
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equal to the effort, especially since tomorrow was Christmas Day.
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There was to be a wonderful Christmas dinner at Grandma
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Perches on the lower floor with Uncle John's family and
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Elsie's parents, and both sets of grandparents all gathered round,
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and the crowning glory of Christmas dinner with the Perch
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family was always the cherry pie. True, it was made
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from canned cherries, but nobody could put up cherries the
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way Grandma Perch could, tasting just as fine in winter
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as in summer, and nobody else knew exactly how much
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sugar to add or how to make such flaky, perfect
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pie crust. All of this came pleasantly to mind as
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Elsie ran up and down the front walk in her
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warm hood and cloak and mittens. There was a small
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cloud of discontent, It's true, when she thought about the
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velvet clothes and other fine things belonging to the girl
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from Sunday School, But it faded as she ran, and
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faded further when she glanced down toward the square below
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and saw how much more cramped and cheerless the buildings
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looked down there. She felt a grateful warmth, knowing her
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home was better and that her Papa and Uncle John
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never came home in a harsh, frightening state the way
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some fathers did in that square. Pretty good times at Christmas,
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Elsie said aloud, hopping merrily and forgetting her discontent entirely.
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Why there's Millie. She ran across the street toward a
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little girl who had just come out of the tall
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house opposite. Milly looked very forlorn. What's the matter, asked Elsie.
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Mama says, I can't have any Christmas present, said Milly,
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beginning to sob. She was expecting some work, but it
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didn't come, and the rints overdue, and and I can't
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have a thing. That's too bad, said Elsie. I'm going
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to have lots and we're going to have cherry pie
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for dinner. Oh my, cried Milly, drying her tears to
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contemplate this wonderful future. Cherry pie. It must be so good.
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It sounds good. Didn't you ever have any cherry pie?
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Milly shook her head. Oh, it's splendid. Milly's eyes shone.
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Just then, a small group of thin, poorly dressed children
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from the square below came running up the walk, two
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boys named Sammy and Luke, and two girls named Lizzie
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and Sallie. They were shouting and racing, but stopped to listen.
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The word Christmas loosened their tongues at once. I'm going
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to our Sunday School for a Christmas tree, said Sammie.
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I can't go to Sunday school, said Lizzie, near tears.
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I haven't got any clothes fit to wear. Elsie's heart
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reproached her sharply for her covetous ungrateful thoughts of a
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few minutes before. The reproach grew stronger still when Milly
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announced proudly to the little crowd that Elsie Perch was
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going to have cherry pie for her Christmas dinner. Oh my,
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is she isn't that fine? Cried one and all, Yes,
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said Elsie, her heart swelling a little with pride. My
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Grandma always makes a cherry pie for Christmas. A hush
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fell over the small group, and into that hush came
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the light, quick patter of footsteps. Around the corner. There
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appeared a little girl from the street above, Little Maud,
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the very girl Elsie had been envying. She wore a
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broad gray hat with a lovely red feather and a
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matching red velvet cloak and leggings, carried a pretty muff
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and led on a silken cord. A small white dog
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dressed in a buff and silver blanket. Oh, cried this
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charming little creature bounding toward Elsie. There you are. I
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saw you come this way after Sunday school, and I've
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been looking for you everywhere. See my new little dog.
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He's a Christmas present. He came early yesterday. Is this
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where you live? She glanced up and down the narrow street,
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a little uncertain about the neighborhood. And are these your
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brothers and sisters? Elsie laughed and said no. What do
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you think? Said Lizzie quite seriously, her large, wistful eyes
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and pale face giving an unexpected gravity to her words.
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This girl here, she pointed at Elsie, is going to
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have cherry pie? Is she said, Maud? How nice? I
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like cherry pie, but we never have it in winter?
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We do, said Elsie proudly. My grandma puts up jars
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of cherries when our tree bears, and at Christmas time
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we have cherry pie, and sometimes cherry sauce for tea
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when we have company. I'd love some cherry pie, said Maud,
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with the easy confidence of a child who usually got
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what she asked for. Can we have some of your
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cherry pie? The little group of children pressed close around her.
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Elsie was just beginning to explain that the pie was
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really Grandma's and not hers to give. When a bell
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rang in the distance, and Maud darted away. That's for me,
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she called, tugging the little dog along goodbye. I do
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wish I could have some of that cherry pie. She
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went tripping away down the side street, and the children
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watched until she was out of sight. I suppose, said
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Luke with a small sigh. She has dinner every day.
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I have dinner every day, said Elsie. Do you, said Lizzie,
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looking at her with big wistful eyes. I don't. Oh,
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I'd love of some of that cherry pie. Just then
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Elsie spotted her father coming up the street and ran
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to meet him, while the others turned toward their homes below.
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The next morning, there was such excitement that Elsie forgot
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entirely about Milly and Maud and the children from the
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square until Christmas dinner was nearly finished and the cherry
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pie came to the table. Oh, she cried, Grandma. You
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don't know how much everyone wants some of your cherry pie,
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do they said Grandma kindly. Well, I do hope it's
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turned out well. Elsie noticed that after everyone had been served,
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there was still some pie left. A bright idea flashed
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into her head, and she was out of the room
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in an instant. On went her cloak and hood, and
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she dashed around the corner to find Maud. There she
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was playing with her blanketed dog on the sidewalk. Come,
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cried Elsie, catching hold of Maud's hand. Come quick, there's
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lots of cherry pie, Come and have some. As they
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passed Millie's house, they found her on the front steps,
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and she was easily persuaded to join them. Now, said Elsie,
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running ahead, Let's find Sammy and Lizzie and the others.
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They flew down the street and quickly found what they
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were looking for. The watchword cherry pie was enough, and
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in moments they were all at Grandma Percha's door. It
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was only then that Elsie felt the first flutter of doubt.
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Perhaps there wasn't enough pie to go round, And what
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would Grandma say? She marched bravely in all the same,
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her e eager little crowd at her heels. See here, Grandma,
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she said, here are a lot of children who'd like
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some cherry pie. Dear heart, exclaimed Grandma, looking at the
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Motley group with wide eyes. Why Elsie, there's hardly enough
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left for three small pieces, but bless them all. The
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look on some of those thin, hungry faces went straight
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to Grandma's heart in the middle of her own abundant,
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cheerful Christmas Day, I'll have a cherry pie made for
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them in no time. There's pastry already in my pan,
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and the oven is hot. Just go outside and play, children,
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and I'll call you in presently. And presently they were
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called back in to find a magnificent cherry pie baked
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in a great tin pan, and they had just as
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much as was good for them. Even Maud's little dog
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got a taste. Maud left first, for she wasn't really
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hungry and knew her mother would be wondering where she was.
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But the children from the square below stayed a long while.
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To tell the truth, Grandma didn't stop at cherry pie.
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There was turkey and mashed potatoes and turnip, and hot
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coffee too. I can't often give, Grandma said afterward, but
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we've been blessed this year, and I can't bear to
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see any one go hungry. On Christmas Day, after they
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had all gone home, Elsie sat rocking quietly in her
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little rocking chair, her heart full of a still gentle happiness.
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She was thinking in a vague way about the envy
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she had felt toward Maud and her general feeling of discontent.
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At last, she said to Grandma, who was sitting near by.
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Most everybody has things that some other folks don't have.
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Grandma understood her perfectly, dear heart, she said, smiling, that's
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just right. There are mercies for everyone if they'd only
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stop to count them, and Christmas Day is the very
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best time to remember it.
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Cherry pie. Well, it isn't such a bad house, said
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little Elsie Perch to herself, gazing up at the tall
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tenement building where she lived. To be sure, there are
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a good many folks in it, Grandpa and Grandma Perch,
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and Grandpa and Grandma Finny, and Uncle John's family and us.
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And her house hasn't got anybody in it but them.
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But it's a good enough house. I'm not going to
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cry because that little girl from Sunday School has nicer
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clothes and lives in a nicer house. She hasn't got
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a cherry tree anyway. Elsie spoke those last words with
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great triumph, because right there in the backyard of her
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home stood a tall, generous cherry tree. Looking at it
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now in the gray quiet of a December twilight, she
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had to use some imagination to bring back the luscious
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red fruit it had borne last summer and the cool
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shade of its glossy green leaves. But Elsie was quite
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equal to the effort, especially since tomorrow was Christmas Day.
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There was to be a wonderful Christmas dinner at Grandma
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Perches on the lower floor with Uncle John's family and
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Elsie's parents, and both sets of grandparents all gathered round,
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and the crowning glory of Christmas dinner with the Perch
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family was always the cherry pie. True, it was made
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from canned cherries, but nobody could put up cherries the
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way Grandma Perch could, tasting just as fine in winter
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as in summer, and nobody else knew exactly how much
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sugar to add or how to make such flaky, perfect
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pie crust. All of this came pleasantly to mind as
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Elsie ran up and down the front walk in her
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warm hood and cloak and mittens. There was a small
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cloud of discontent, It's true, when she thought about the
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velvet clothes and other fine things belonging to the girl
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from Sunday School, But it faded as she ran, and
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faded further when she glanced down toward the square below
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and saw how much more cramped and cheerless the buildings
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looked down there. She felt a grateful warmth, knowing her
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home was better and that her Papa and Uncle John
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never came home in a harsh, frightening state the way
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some fathers did in that square. Pretty good times at Christmas,
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Elsie said aloud, hopping merrily and forgetting her discontent entirely.
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Why there's Millie. She ran across the street toward a
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little girl who had just come out of the tall
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house opposite. Milly looked very forlorn. What's the matter, asked Elsie.
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Mama says, I can't have any Christmas present, said Milly,
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beginning to sob. She was expecting some work, but it
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didn't come, and the rints overdue, and and I can't
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have a thing. That's too bad, said Elsie. I'm going
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to have lots and we're going to have cherry pie
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for dinner. Oh my, cried Milly, drying her tears to
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contemplate this wonderful future. Cherry pie. It must be so good.
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It sounds good. Didn't you ever have any cherry pie?
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Milly shook her head. Oh, it's splendid. Milly's eyes shone.
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Just then, a small group of thin, poorly dressed children
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from the square below came running up the walk, two
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boys named Sammy and Luke, and two girls named Lizzie
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and Sallie. They were shouting and racing, but stopped to listen.
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The word Christmas loosened their tongues at once. I'm going
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to our Sunday School for a Christmas tree, said Sammie.
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I can't go to Sunday school, said Lizzie, near tears.
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I haven't got any clothes fit to wear. Elsie's heart
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reproached her sharply for her covetous ungrateful thoughts of a
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few minutes before. The reproach grew stronger still when Milly
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announced proudly to the little crowd that Elsie Perch was
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going to have cherry pie for her Christmas dinner. Oh my,
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is she isn't that fine? Cried one and all, Yes,
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said Elsie, her heart swelling a little with pride. My
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Grandma always makes a cherry pie for Christmas. A hush
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fell over the small group, and into that hush came
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the light, quick patter of footsteps. Around the corner. There
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appeared a little girl from the street above, Little Maud,
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the very girl Elsie had been envying. She wore a
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broad gray hat with a lovely red feather and a
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matching red velvet cloak and leggings, carried a pretty muff
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and led on a silken cord. A small white dog
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dressed in a buff and silver blanket. Oh, cried this
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charming little creature bounding toward Elsie. There you are. I
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saw you come this way after Sunday school, and I've
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been looking for you everywhere. See my new little dog.
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He's a Christmas present. He came early yesterday. Is this
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where you live? She glanced up and down the narrow street,
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a little uncertain about the neighborhood. And are these your
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brothers and sisters? Elsie laughed and said no. What do
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you think? Said Lizzie quite seriously, her large, wistful eyes
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and pale face giving an unexpected gravity to her words.
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This girl here, she pointed at Elsie, is going to
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have cherry pie? Is she said, Maud? How nice? I
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like cherry pie, but we never have it in winter?
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We do, said Elsie proudly. My grandma puts up jars
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of cherries when our tree bears, and at Christmas time
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we have cherry pie, and sometimes cherry sauce for tea
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when we have company. I'd love some cherry pie, said Maud,
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with the easy confidence of a child who usually got
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what she asked for. Can we have some of your
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cherry pie? The little group of children pressed close around her.
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Elsie was just beginning to explain that the pie was
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really Grandma's and not hers to give. When a bell
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rang in the distance, and Maud darted away. That's for me,
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she called, tugging the little dog along goodbye. I do
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wish I could have some of that cherry pie. She
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went tripping away down the side street, and the children
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watched until she was out of sight. I suppose, said
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Luke with a small sigh. She has dinner every day.
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I have dinner every day, said Elsie. Do you, said Lizzie,
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looking at her with big wistful eyes. I don't. Oh,
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I'd love of some of that cherry pie. Just then
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Elsie spotted her father coming up the street and ran
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to meet him, while the others turned toward their homes below.
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The next morning, there was such excitement that Elsie forgot
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entirely about Milly and Maud and the children from the
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square until Christmas dinner was nearly finished and the cherry
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pie came to the table. Oh, she cried, Grandma. You
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don't know how much everyone wants some of your cherry pie,
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do they said Grandma kindly. Well, I do hope it's
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turned out well. Elsie noticed that after everyone had been served,
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there was still some pie left. A bright idea flashed
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into her head, and she was out of the room
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in an instant. On went her cloak and hood, and
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she dashed around the corner to find Maud. There she
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was playing with her blanketed dog on the sidewalk. Come,
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cried Elsie, catching hold of Maud's hand. Come quick, there's
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lots of cherry pie, Come and have some. As they
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passed Millie's house, they found her on the front steps,
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and she was easily persuaded to join them. Now, said Elsie,
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running ahead, Let's find Sammy and Lizzie and the others.
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They flew down the street and quickly found what they
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were looking for. The watchword cherry pie was enough, and
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in moments they were all at Grandma Percha's door. It
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was only then that Elsie felt the first flutter of doubt.
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Perhaps there wasn't enough pie to go round, And what
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would Grandma say? She marched bravely in all the same,
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her e eager little crowd at her heels. See here, Grandma,
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she said, here are a lot of children who'd like
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some cherry pie. Dear heart, exclaimed Grandma, looking at the
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Motley group with wide eyes. Why Elsie, there's hardly enough
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left for three small pieces, but bless them all. The
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look on some of those thin, hungry faces went straight
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to Grandma's heart in the middle of her own abundant,
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cheerful Christmas Day, I'll have a cherry pie made for
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them in no time. There's pastry already in my pan,
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and the oven is hot. Just go outside and play, children,
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and I'll call you in presently. And presently they were
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called back in to find a magnificent cherry pie baked
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in a great tin pan, and they had just as
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much as was good for them. Even Maud's little dog
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got a taste. Maud left first, for she wasn't really
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hungry and knew her mother would be wondering where she was.
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But the children from the square below stayed a long while.
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To tell the truth, Grandma didn't stop at cherry pie.
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There was turkey and mashed potatoes and turnip, and hot
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coffee too. I can't often give, Grandma said afterward, but
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we've been blessed this year, and I can't bear to
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see any one go hungry. On Christmas Day, after they
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had all gone home, Elsie sat rocking quietly in her
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little rocking chair, her heart full of a still gentle happiness.
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She was thinking in a vague way about the envy
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she had felt toward Maud and her general feeling of discontent.
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At last, she said to Grandma, who was sitting near by.
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Most everybody has things that some other folks don't have.
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Grandma understood her perfectly, dear heart, she said, smiling, that's
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just right. There are mercies for everyone if they'd only
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stop to count them, and Christmas Day is the very
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best time to remember it.