Mar 19, 2019 6 min read

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¦ CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Elizabeth

The story so far: Back in the past again, Sally and her family have just brought home the most beautiful tall Christmas tree.

“Twee!” cried little Bub. They had to hold him back, for he rushed at the tree on his chubby legs as if he meant to push it over, if possible, just for the fun of seeing it raised again to the ceiling.

Mrs. Niminy Piminy, to everyone’s surprise, forgot her dignity and tried to climb up the tree. Like Bub, she too had to be restrained. Her grown-up kittens behaved much better, sitting in a line and blinking in astonishment as the tree was decorated with strings of popcorn and cranberries, cotton-whiskered Santas, and beautiful shining balls of red and gold and green glass.

When it was all done, everyone stood back to admire it. “We need a Christmas angel,” Sally said, “at the top of the tree. Elizabeth could be our angel!” And indeed, Elizabeth, her feet flying as Sally lifted her, looked as if she were already winging her way to the topmost branch of the tree.

“I’ll bring the ladder back,” said Father. He helped Sally climb almost to the very top, and then he handed Elizabeth up to her.

Up there, Sally could smell the piney smell of Christmas. She gently tied Elizabeth to the top of the glittering tree and blew a kiss to her. Then Sally came down, and they all stood looking up at Elizabeth.

“She’s the most beautiful angel in the world,” said Sally.

“Indeed she is.”

“Dear little thing,” said Mrs. Perkins, holding Bub up to see.

“Fing, fing.”

Tom sat looking up longingly at his friend. “He wants to be up there with her,” said Sally.

Her mother said, “He’d better not try to get there!”

Then, with Sally’s mother playing the melodeon, they sang Christmas carols, while snow fell upon the house and the hills and all the sleeping fields.

It was Sally who first saw that Elizabeth was gone.

They had stopped singing at last, too tired to go on, and they had all turned to admire the tree once more.

Sally, of course, looked for Elizabeth first of all.

“Mama!” she cried. “Elizabeth! She’s gone!”

“Goodness!” cried her mother. “So she is!”

“Dear little thing,” said Mrs. Perkins. “No doubt she’s fallen.”

“But then, where is she?” cried Sally, for she was now looking all around the bottom of the tree.

“In among the branches, probably,” said her father, bringing the ladder back once more. They searched and searched among the branches and they looked and looked, till they knew that there was no point in looking anymore. Elizabeth was nowhere to be found.

“But where could she go?” Sally was sobbing. “She couldn’t just vanish!”

They all stood looking unhappily down at Sally, not knowing what to do. Then her mother knelt beside her and took her in her arms and kissed her. “Sal,” she said, “you mustn’t. Elizabeth wouldn’t want to spoil your Christmas, darling, you know she wouldn’t.”

“I know,” sobbed Sally into her mother’s comforting shoulder. “I know, but I can’t help it. I miss her so.” She sniffed and looked up at her mother. “Oh, Mama,” she said. “I had such good times with her.”

“There, dear,” comforted her mother. “Don’t cry, don’t cry.”

“Don’t cry, Sal. Don’t cry, dear.”

Sally looked up to find Aunt Sarah seated on the attic floor, holding her in her arms. “Sal, what’s the matter?” she was saying. “You’ve overtired yourself. I shouldn’t have let you come up here.”

Sally rubbed her eyes. “No,” she said, “it’s all right. I was crying about Elizabeth, when the other Sally lost her.”

“There, dear, you were dreaming again,” said Aunt Sarah.

“No,” said Sally, “no, it wasn’t like a dream. It was just as if it was happening.” She sat up slowly. “Where’s Shadow?” she asked.

“Up to his usual tricks,” said Aunt Sarah, pointing. He was poking at something between the roof and the floor, poking and poking. “Aren’t cats funny?”

But Sally didn’t hear her. She was remembering something-the bonnet found by Emily, and Tom, sitting under the Christmas tree, gazing up at his friend Elizabeth. Tom, who had carried Elizabeth in his mouth, in the garden. What if, while they were singing, Elizabeth had fallen off the tree? What if Tom had been sitting there, watching her? What would he have done if she had fallen to the floor? Her eyes flicked to Shadow, poking his paw into the space under the roof. What if Tom had taken Elizabeth in his mouth? What if, while they were singing, he had walked silently past them, up the stairs, and what if the attic door had been open? Yes, what if Tom was like Shadow? They were both cats, weren’t they?

Sally sat up very straight. Her heart was pounding as she stared at Shadow.

“What is it, Sally?” asked Aunt Sarah.

But Sally didn’t answer. She jumped to her feet and ran over to Shadow. “Shadow!” she cried. “What are you doing?” Shadow looked up at her, then went on poking with his paw. She could hear him growling low in his throat. “He’s trying to get something out of there,” she said. She knelt beside him, pushed him gently aside, and reached into the dark space.

Her hands closed over something soft, something that made her fingertips tingle. She drew it out and held it up.

“Elizabeth!” she cried.

For it was indeed the little doll herself – muff, ruffled dress and all – dusty, rumpled and rather dirty, but without any doubt whatsoever, dear, dear old golden-haired sweet-smelling Elizabeth! Tears were running down Sally’s cheeks onto Elizabeth’s head as she hugged her and then hugged her again.

“What is it, Sally? What’s wrong?” cried her aunt. She moved so suddenly that she knocked against the mirror, and it fell and broke with a crash that reverberated through the attic.

But her aunt ignored the mirror and hurried over to Sally. “Whatever is it, Sally?” she asked again.

Sally, laughing and crying all at once, wordlessly held the doll up to her.

NEXT WEEK: Aunt Sarah