A Christmas Inspiration

"A Christmas Inspiration" by Lucy Maud Montgomery is a charming short story that captures the spirit of the holiday season through themes of hope, love, and the magic of Christmas. Set in the nostalgic landscape of early 20th-century Canada, the narrative follows the intertwining lives of its characters as they navigate personal challenges and discover the true meaning of Christmas. Montgomery’s signature lyrical prose and heartfelt storytelling evoke the warmth of community and the joy of giving, making it a delightful read for anyone seeking inspiration during the festive season.

• Short story

								
"Well, I really think Santa Claus has been very good to us all," said
Jean Lawrence, pulling the pins out of her heavy coil of fair hair and
letting it ripple over her shoulders.

"So do I," said Nellie Preston as well as she could with a mouthful of
chocolates. "Those blessed home folks of mine seem to have divined by
instinct the very things I most wanted."

It was the dusk of Christmas Eve and they were all in Jean Lawrence's
room at No. 16 Chestnut Terrace. No. 16 was a boarding-house, and
boarding-houses are not proverbially cheerful places in which to spend
Christmas, but Jean's room, at least, was a pleasant spot, and all the
girls had brought their Christmas presents in to show each other.
Christmas came on Sunday that year and the Saturday evening mail at
Chestnut Terrace had been an exciting one.

Jean had lighted the pink-globed lamp on her table and the mellow
light fell over merry faces as the girls chatted about their gifts. On
the table was a big white box heaped with roses that betokened a bit
of Christmas extravagance on somebody's part. Jean's brother had sent
them to her from Montreal, and all the girls were enjoying them in
common.

No. 16 Chestnut Terrace was overrun with girls generally. But just now
only five were left; all the others had gone home for Christmas, but
these five could not go and were bent on making the best of it.

Belle and Olive Reynolds, who were sitting on the bed--Jean could
never keep them off it--were High School girls; they were said to be
always laughing, and even the fact that they could not go home for
Christmas because a young brother had measles did not dampen their
spirits.

Beth Hamilton, who was hovering over the roses, and Nellie Preston,
who was eating candy, were art students, and their homes were too far
away to visit. As for Jean Lawrence, she was an orphan, and had no
home of her own. She worked on the staff of one of the big city
newspapers and the other girls were a little in awe of her
cleverness, but her nature was a "chummy" one and her room was a
favourite rendezvous. Everybody liked frank, open-handed and hearted
Jean.

"It was so funny to see the postman when he came this evening," said
Olive. "He just bulged with parcels. They were sticking out in every
direction."

"We all got our share of them," said Jean with a sigh of content.

"Even the cook got six--I counted."

"Miss Allen didn't get a thing--not even a letter," said Beth quickly.
Beth had a trick of seeing things that other girls didn't.

"I forgot Miss Allen. No, I don't believe she did," answered Jean
thoughtfully as she twisted up her pretty hair. "How dismal it must be
to be so forlorn as that on Christmas Eve of all times. Ugh! I'm glad
I have friends."

"I saw Miss Allen watching us as we opened our parcels and letters,"
Beth went on. "I happened to look up once, and such an expression as
was on her face, girls! It was pathetic and sad and envious all at
once. It really made me feel bad--for five minutes," she concluded
honestly.

"Hasn't Miss Allen any friends at all?" asked Beth.

"No, I don't think she has," answered Jean. "She has lived here for
fourteen years, so Mrs. Pickrell says. Think of that, girls! Fourteen
years at Chestnut Terrace! Is it any wonder that she is thin and
dried-up and snappy?"

"Nobody ever comes to see her and she never goes anywhere," said Beth.
"Dear me! She must feel lonely now when everybody else is being
remembered by their friends. I can't forget her face tonight; it
actually haunts me. Girls, how would you feel if you hadn't anyone
belonging to you, and if nobody thought about you at Christmas?"

"Ow!" said Olive, as if the mere idea made her shiver.

A little silence followed. To tell the truth, none of them liked Miss
Allen. They knew that she did not like them either, but considered
them frivolous and pert, and complained when they made a racket.

"The skeleton at the feast," Jean called her, and certainly the
presence of the pale, silent, discontented-looking woman at the No. 16
table did not tend to heighten its festivity.

Presently Jean said with a dramatic flourish, "Girls, I have an
inspiration--a Christmas inspiration!"

"What is it?" cried four voices.

"Just this. Let us give Miss Allen a Christmas surprise. She has not
received a single present and I'm sure she feels lonely. Just think
how we would feel if we were in her place."

"That is true," said Olive thoughtfully. "Do you know, girls, this
evening I went to her room with a message from Mrs. Pickrell, and I do
believe she had been crying. Her room looked dreadfully bare and
cheerless, too. I think she is very poor. What are we to do, Jean?"

"Let us each give her something nice. We can put the things just
outside of her door so that she will see them whenever she opens it.
I'll give her some of Fred's roses too, and I'll write a Christmassy
letter in my very best style to go with them," said Jean, warming up
to her ideas as she talked.

The other girls caught her spirit and entered into the plan with
enthusiasm.

"Splendid!" cried Beth. "Jean, it is an inspiration, sure enough.
Haven't we been horribly selfish--thinking of nothing but our own
gifts and fun and pleasure? I really feel ashamed."

"Let us do the thing up the very best way we can," said Nellie,
forgetting even her beloved chocolates in her eagerness. "The shops
are open yet. Let us go up town and invest."

Five minutes later five capped and jacketed figures were scurrying up
the street in the frosty, starlit December dusk. Miss Allen in her
cold little room heard their gay voices and sighed. She was crying by
herself in the dark. It was Christmas for everybody but her, she
thought drearily.

In an hour the girls came back with their purchases.

"Now, let's hold a council of war," said Jean jubilantly. "I hadn't
the faintest idea what Miss Allen would like so I just guessed wildly.
I got her a lace handkerchief and a big bottle of perfume and a
painted photograph frame--and I'll stick my own photo in it for fun.
That was really all I could afford. Christmas purchases have left my
purse dreadfully lean."

"I got her a glove-box and a pin tray," said Belle, "and Olive got her
a calendar and Whittier's poems. And besides we are going to give her
half of that big plummy fruit cake Mother sent us from home. I'm sure
she hasn't tasted anything so delicious for years, for fruit cakes
don't grow on Chestnut Terrace and she never goes anywhere else for a
meal."

Beth had bought a pretty cup and saucer and said she meant to give one
of her pretty water-colours too. Nellie, true to her reputation, had
invested in a big box of chocolate creams, a gorgeously striped candy

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