Johnny Blossom took his leave in some disappointment. Miss Jorgensen wasn’t a bit nice—she was simply horrid. Oh, well, he didn’t mind. Anyway, she couldn’t say that no one had given her a Christmas present.
Johnny Blossom went on to Jeremias the wood-cutter’s. The wind blew straight into the room the minute the door was opened, and Jeremias groaned. He looked awfully old today. Very gray indeed was his stubby beard and very dull were his eyes as he lay there on his blue pillow.
“Have you come to see me in all this bad weather?” said Jeremias.
“This is delightful weather,” said Johnny Blossom, although just then another wild gust of wind made Jeremias’s little house shake violently.
“Here is a Christmas present for you,” said John. “It is to hang on the wall so you can see it, Jeremias. Isn’t it pretty?”
“Yes, indeed, that’s a fine piece of work!”
“Did it all myself,” said Johnny Blossom, with some pride.
“Well, well! You do know how to make things!” said Jeremias admiringly.
A nail was driven in the wall near the one that held the big silver watch, and the Christmas present was hung on it at once in plain sight.
“God will never, never forsake thee,” read Jeremias as his crooked old finger pointed along the slanting line. “There is balm in those words, Johnny Blossom,” he said slowly.
Old people were queer, thought John, for “balm” was something that was used for wounds—he knew that very well—and yet there lay Jeremias and said that there was balm in those words, “God will never, never forsake thee.”
“Yes,” said Johnny Blossom, for he saw that Jeremias expected him to answer.
It really looked very pretty hanging there on the wall.
“How do they manage about the wood at your house nowadays?” asked Jeremias.
“Oh, very well,” replied John. Then he happened to think that Jeremias might be disappointed to hear that it made no difference whether he was able to look after the wood or not, so Johnny added quickly, “Mother says that they don’t split the wood fine enough.”
Jeremias was plainly enlivened. “There! Isn’t that what I have always said!” he exclaimed. “Wood should be split just so. Kindlings ought to be light and pleasant and coquettish to make the fire dance.”
What a great one Jeremias was to use queer words!