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Albert Bigelow Paine
This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 1,512 pages of information about Mark Twain, a Biography. Complete.

That last was a line of large significance.  It meant that the air was filled with the whisper of hovering events and that he must mingle with the mystery of preparation.  Christmas was an important season in the Clemens home.  Almost the entire day before, Patrick was out with the sleigh, delivering food and other gifts in baskets to the poor, and the home preparations were no less busy.  There was always a tree—­a large one—­and when all the gifts had been gathered in—­when Elmira and Fredonia had delivered their contributions, and Orion and his wife in Keokuk had sent the annual sack of hickory-nuts (the big river-bottom nuts, big as a silver dollar almost, such nuts as few children of this later generation ever see) when all this happy revenue had been gathered, and the dusk of Christmas Eve had hurried the children off to bed, it was Mrs. Clemens who superintended the dressing of the tree, her husband assisting, with a willingness that was greater than his skill, and with a boy’s anticipation in the surprise of it next morning.

Then followed the holidays, with parties and dances and charades, and little plays, with the Warner and Twichell children.  To the Clemens home the Christmas season brought all the old round of juvenile happiness—­the spirit of kindly giving, the brightness and the merrymaking, the gladness and tenderness and mystery that belong to no other season, and have been handed down through all the ages since shepherds watched on the plains of Bethlehem.

CXXXIII

THE THREE FIRES—­SOME BENEFACTIONS

The tradition that fires occur in groups of three was justified in the Clemens household that winter.  On each of three successive days flames started that might have led to ghastly results.

The children were croupy, and one morning an alcohol lamp near little Clara’s bed, blown by the draught, set fire to the canopy.  Rosa, the nurse, entered just as the blaze was well started.  She did not lose her presence of mind,—­[Rosa was not the kind to lose her head.  Once, in Europe, when Bay had crept between the uprights of a high balustrade, and was hanging out over destruction, Rosa, discovering her, did not scream but spoke to her playfully and lifted her over into safety.]—­but snatched the little girl out of danger, then opened the window and threw the burning bedding on the lawn.  The child was only slightly scorched, but the escape was narrow enough.

Next day little Jean was lying asleep in her crib, in front of an open wood fire, carefully protected by a firescreen, when a spark, by some ingenuity, managed to get through the mesh of the screen and land on the crib’s lace covering.  Jean’s nurse, Julia, arrived to find the lace a gust of flame and the fire spreading.  She grabbed the sleeping Jean and screamed.  Rosa, again at hand, heard the scream, and rushing in once more opened a window and flung out the blazing bedclothes.  Clemens himself also arrived, and together they stamped out the fire.

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