The Little City Of Hope by F. Marion Crawford

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The boy saw, and understood, for ever since he had been very small he
had been taught that he must not wake his father, who slept badly at all
times, and little or not at all when he was anxious. So Newton would not
disturb him now, and at once formed a brave resolution to sit bolt
upright all night, if necessary, for fear of making any noise. Besides,
he did not feel at all sleepy. There was the Motor to look at, and there
was Christmas to think of, and it was bright and clear outside where the
snow was like silver, under the young moon. He could look out of the
window as he sat, or at his father, or at the beautiful moving engine,
or at the little City of Hope, all without doing more than just turning
his head.

To tell the truth, it was not really a great sacrifice he was making,
for if there is anything that strikes a boy of thirteen as more wildly
exciting than anything else in the world, it is to sit up all night
instead of going to bed like a Christian child; moreover, the workshop
was warm, and his own room would be freezing cold, and he was so well
used to the vile odour of the chemical stuff, that he did not notice it
at all. It was even said to be healthy to breathe the fumes of it, as
the air of a tannery is good for the lungs, or even London coal smoke.

But it is one thing to resolve to keep awake, even with many delightful
things to think about; it is quite another to keep one's eyes open when
they are quite sure that they ought to be shut, and that you ought to be
tucked up in bed. The boy found it so, and in less than half an hour his
arm had got across the back of the chair, his cheek was resting on it
quite comfortably, and he was in dreamland with his father, and quite as
perfectly happy.

So the two slept in their chairs under the big bright lamps; and while
they rested the Air-Motor worked silently, hour after hour, and the
heavy wheel whirled steadily on its axle, and only its soft and drowsy
humming was heard in the still air.

That was the most refreshing sleep Overholt remembered for a long time.
When he stirred at last and opened his eyes, he did not even know that
he had slept, and forgot that he had closed his eyes when he saw the
engine moving. He thought it was still nine o'clock in the evening, and
that the boy might as well finish his little nap where he was, before
going to bed. Newton might sleep till ten o'clock if he liked.

The lamps burned steadily, for they held enough oil to last sixteen
hours when the winter darkness is longest, and they had not been lighted
till after supper.

But all at once Overholt was aware of a little change in the colour of
things, and he slowly rubbed his eyes and looked about him, and towards
the window. The moon had set long ago; there was a grey light on the
snow outside and in the clear air, and Overholt knew that it was the
dawn. He looked at his watch then, and it was nearly seven o'clock; for
in New York and Connecticut, as you may see by your pocket calendar, the
sun rises at twenty-three minutes past seven on Christmas morning.

He sprang to his feet in astonishment, and at the sound Newton awoke and
looked up in blank and sleepy surprise.

"Merry Christmas, my boy!" cried Overholt, and he laughed happily.

"Not yet," answered Newton in a disappointed tone, and rubbing his arm,
which was stiff. "I've got to go to bed first, I suppose."

"Oh no! You and I have slept in our chairs all night and the sun is
rising, so it's merry Christmas in earnest! And the Motor is running
still, after nine or ten hours. What a sleep we've had!"

The boy looked out of the window stupidly, and vaguely wished that his
father would not make fun of him. Then he saw the dawn, and jumped up in
wild delight.

"Hurrah!" he shouted. "Merry Christmas! Hurrah! hurrah!" If anything
could make that morning happier than it had promised to be, it was to
have actually cheated bed for the first time in his life.

They were gloriously happy, as people have a right to be, and should
be, when they have been living in all sorts of trouble, with a great
purpose before them, and have won through and got all they hoped for, if
not quite all they could have wished--because there is absolutely no
limit to wishing if you let it go on.

The people watched them curiously in church, for they looked so happy;
and for a long time the man's expression had always been anxious, if it
had no longer been sad of late, and the boy's young face had been
preternaturally grave; yet every one saw that neither of them even had a
new coat for Christmas Day, and that both needed one pretty badly. But
no one thought the worse of them for that, and in the generous Good Will
that was everywhere that morning everybody was glad to see that every
one else looked happy.

In due time the two got home again; the Motor was still working to
perfection, as if nothing could ever stop it again, and Overholt oiled
the bearings carefully, passed a leather over the fixed parts, and
examined the whole machine minutely before sitting down to the feast,
while Newton stood beside him, looking on and hoping that he would not
be long.

The boy had his new watch in his pocket, and it told him that it was
time for that turkey at last, and his new skates were in the parlour,
and there was splendid ice on the pond where the boys had cleared away
the snow, and it was the most perfect Christmas weather that ever was;
and in order to enjoy everything it would be necessary to get to work
soon.

The two were before the Air-Motor, turning their backs to the door; and
they heard it open quietly, for old Barbara always came to call Overholt
to his meals, because he was very apt to forget them.

"We are just coming," he said, without turning round. But the boy
turned, for he was hungry for the good things; and suddenly a perfect
yell of joy rent the air, and he dashed forward as Overholt turned sharp
round.

"Mother!"

"Helen!"

And there she was, instead of in Munich. For the rich people she was
with had happily smashed their automobile without hurting themselves,
and had taken a fancy to spend Christmas at home; and, after the manner
of very rich people, they had managed everything in a moment, had picked
up their children and the governess, had just caught the fastest steamer
afloat at Cherbourg, and had arrived in New York late on Christmas Eve.
And Helen Overholt had taken the earliest train that she could manage to
get ready for, and had come out directly to surprise her two in their
lonely cottage.

So John Henry Overholt had his three wishes after all on Christmas Day.
And everybody had helped to bring it all about, even Mr. Burnside, who
had said that Hope was cheap and that there was plenty of it to be had.

But as for the little Christmas City in which Hope had dwelt and waited
so long, they all three put the last touches to it together, and carried
it with them when they went back to the College town, where they felt
that they would be happier than anywhere else in the world, even if they
were to grow very rich, which seems quite likely now.

That is how it all happened.

_Printed by_ R. & R. CLARK, LIMITED, _Edinburgh_.

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