{"id":12850,"date":"2023-11-28T16:11:37","date_gmt":"2023-11-28T16:11:37","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.everywritersresource.com\/shortstories\/?p=12850"},"modified":"2023-11-28T16:11:55","modified_gmt":"2023-11-28T16:11:55","slug":"the-christmas-surprise-at-enderly-road-by-lucy-maud-montgomery","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.everywritersresource.com\/shortstories\/the-christmas-surprise-at-enderly-road-by-lucy-maud-montgomery\/","title":{"rendered":"The Christmas Surprise at Enderly Road by Lucy Maud Montgomery"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"\"<\/h2>\n

The Christmas Surprise at Enderly Road<\/span><\/h2>\n

by Lucy Maud Montgomery<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

“Phil, I’m getting fearfully hungry. When are we going to strike civilization?”<\/span><\/p>\n

The speaker was my chum, Frank Ward. We were home from our academy for the Christmas holidays and had been amusing ourselves on this sunshiny December afternoon by a tramp through the “back lands,” as the barrens that swept away south behind the village were called. They were grown over with scrub maple and spruce, and were quite pathless save for meandering sheep tracks that crossed and recrossed, but led apparently nowhere.<\/span><\/p>\n

Frank and I did not know exactly where we were, but the back lands were not so extensive but that we would come out somewhere if we kept on. It was getting late and we wished to go home.<\/span><\/p>\n

“I have an idea that we ought to strike civilization somewhere up the Enderly Road pretty soon,” I answered.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Do you call <\/span>that<\/span><\/i> civilization?” said Frank, with a laugh.<\/span><\/p>\n

No Blackburn Hill boy was ever known to miss an opportunity of flinging a slur at Enderly Road, even if no Enderly Roader were by to feel the sting.<\/span><\/p>\n

Enderly Road was a miserable little settlement straggling back from Blackburn Hill. It was a forsaken looking place, and the people, as a rule, were poor and shiftless. Between Blackburn Hill and Enderly Road very little social intercourse existed and, as the Road people resented what they called the pride of Blackburn Hill, there was a good deal of bad feeling between the two districts.<\/span><\/p>\n

Presently Frank and I came out on the Enderly Road. We sat on the fence a few minutes to rest and discuss our route home. “If we go by the road it’s three miles,” said Frank. “Isn’t there a short cut?”<\/span><\/p>\n

“There ought to be one by the wood-lane that comes out by Jacob Hart’s,” I answered, “but I don’t know where to strike it.”<\/span><\/p>\n

“Here is someone coming now; we’ll inquire,” said Frank, looking up the curve of the hard-frozen road. The “someone” was a little girl of about ten years old, who was trotting along with a basketful of school books on her arm. She was a pale, pinched little thing, and her jacket and red hood seemed very old and thin.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Hello, missy,” I said, as she came up, and then I stopped, for I saw she had been crying.<\/span><\/p>\n

“What is the matter?” asked Frank, who was much more at ease with children than I was, and had always a warm spot in his heart for their small troubles. “Has your teacher kept you in for being naughty?”<\/span><\/p>\n

The mite dashed her little red knuckles across her eyes and answered indignantly, “No, indeed. I stayed after school with Minnie Lawler to sweep the floor.”<\/span><\/p>\n

“And did you and Minnie quarrel, and is that why you are crying?” asked Frank solemnly.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Minnie and I <\/span>never<\/span><\/i> quarrel. I am crying because we can’t have the school decorated on Monday for the examination, after all. The Dickeys have gone back on us … after promising, too,” and the tears began to swell up in the blue eyes again.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Very bad behaviour on the part of the Dickeys,” commented Frank. “But can’t you decorate the school without them?”<\/span><\/p>\n

“Why, of course not. They are the only big boys in the school. They said they would cut the boughs, and bring a ladder tomorrow and help us nail the wreaths up, and now they won’t … and everything is spoiled … and Miss Davis will be so disappointed.”<\/span><\/p>\n

By dint of questioning Frank soon found out the whole story. The semi-annual public examination was to be held on Monday afternoon, the day before Christmas. Miss Davis had been drilling her little flock for the occasion; and a program of recitations, speeches, and dialogues had been prepared. Our small informant, whose name was Maggie Bates, together with Minnie Lawler and several other little girls, had conceived the idea that it would be a fine thing to decorate the schoolroom with greens. For this it was necessary to ask the help of the boys. Boys were scarce at Enderly school, but the Dickeys, three in number, had promised to see that the thing was done.<\/span><\/p>\n

“And now they won’t,” sobbed Maggie. “Matt Dickey is mad at Miss Davis ’cause she stood him on the floor today for not learning his lesson, and he says he won’t do a thing nor let any of the other boys help us. Matt just makes all the boys do as he says. I feel dreadful bad, and so does Minnie.”<\/span><\/p>\n

“Well, I wouldn’t cry any more about it,” said Frank consolingly. “Crying won’t do any good, you know. Can you tell us where to find the wood-lane that cuts across to Blackburn Hill?” Maggie could, and gave us minute directions. So, having thanked her, we left her to pursue her disconsolate way and betook ourselves homeward.<\/span><\/p>\n

“I would like to spoil Matt Dickey’s little game,” said Frank. “He is evidently trying to run things at Enderly Road school and revenge himself on the teacher. Let us put a spoke in his wheel and do Maggie a good turn as well.”<\/span><\/p>\n

“Agreed. But how?”<\/span><\/p>\n

Frank had a plan ready to hand and, when we reached home, we took his sisters, Carrie and Mabel, into our confidence; and the four of us worked to such good purpose all the next day, which was Saturday, that by night everything was in readiness.<\/span><\/p>\n

At dusk Frank and I set out for the Enderly Road, carrying a basket, a small step-ladder, an unlit lantern, a hammer, and a box of tacks. It was dark when we reached the Enderly Road schoolhouse. Fortunately, it was quite out of sight of any inhabited spot, being surrounded by woods. Hence, mysterious lights in it at strange hours would not be likely to attract attention.<\/span><\/p>\n

The door was locked, but we easily got in by a window, lighted our lantern, and went to work. The schoolroom was small, and the old-fashioned furniture bore marks of hard usage; but everything was very snug, and the carefully swept floor and dusted desks bore testimony to the neatness of our small friend Maggie and her chum Minnie.<\/span><\/p>\n

Our basket was full of mottoes made from letters cut out of cardboard and covered with lissome sprays of fir. They were, moreover, adorned with gorgeous pink and red tissue roses, which Carrie and Mabel had contributed. We had considerable trouble in getting them tacked up properly, but when we had succeeded, and had furthermore surmounted doors, windows, and blackboard with wreaths of green, the little Enderly Road schoolroom was quite transformed.<\/span><\/p>\n

“It looks nice,” said Frank in a tone of satisfaction. “Hope Maggie will like it.”<\/span><\/p>\n

We swept up the litter we had made, and then scrambled out of the window.<\/span><\/p>\n

“I’d like to see Matt Dickey’s face when he comes Monday morning,” I laughed, as we struck into the back lands.<\/span><\/p>\n

“I’d like to see that midget of a Maggie’s,” said Frank. “See here, Phil, let’s attend the examination Monday afternoon. I’d like to see our decorations in daylight.”<\/span><\/p>\n

We decided to do so, and also thought of something else. Snow fell all day Sunday, so that, on Monday morning, sleighs had to be brought out. Frank and I drove down to the store and invested a considerable share of our spare cash in a varied assortment of knick-knacks. After dinner we drove through to the Enderly Road schoolhouse, tied our horse in a quiet spot, and went in. Our arrival created quite a sensation for, as a rule, Blackburn Hillites did not patronize Enderly Road functions. Miss Davis, the pale, tired-looking little teacher, was evidently pleased, and we were given seats of honour next to the minister on the platform.<\/span><\/p>\n

Our decorations really looked very well, and were further enhanced by two large red geraniums in full bloom which, it appeared, Maggie had brought from home to adorn the teacher’s desk. The side benches were lined with Enderly Road parents, and all the pupils were in their best attire. Our friend Maggie was there, of course, and she smiled and nodded towards the wreaths when she caught our eyes.<\/span><\/p>\n

The examination was a decided success, and the program which followed was very creditable indeed. Maggie and Minnie, in particular, covered themselves with glory, both in class and on the platform. At its close, while the minister was making his speech, Frank slipped out; when the minister sat down the door opened and Santa Claus himself, with big fur coat, ruddy mask, and long white beard, strode into the room with a huge basket on his arm, amid a chorus of surprised “Ohs” from old and young.<\/span><\/p>\n

Wonderful things came out of that basket. There was some little present for every child there\u2014tops, knives, and whistles for the boys, dolls and ribbons for the girls, and a “prize” box of candy for everybody, all of which Santa Claus presented with appropriate remarks. It was an exciting time, and it would have been hard to decide which were the most pleased, parents, pupils, or teacher.<\/span><\/p>\n

In the confusion Santa Claus discreetly disappeared, and school was dismissed. Frank, having tucked his toggery away in the sleigh, was waiting for us outside, and we were promptly pounced upon by Maggie and Minnie, whose long braids were already adorned with the pink silk ribbons which had been their gifts.<\/span><\/p>\n

“<\/span>You<\/span><\/i> decorated the school,” cried Maggie excitedly. “I know you did. I told Minnie it was you the minute I saw it.”<\/span><\/p>\n

“You’re dreaming, child,” said Frank.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Oh, no, I’m not,” retorted Maggie shrewdly, “and wasn’t Matt Dickey mad this morning! Oh, it was such fun. I think you are two real nice boys and so does Minnie\u2014don’t you Minnie?”<\/span><\/p>\n

Minnie nodded gravely. Evidently Maggie did the talking in their partnership.<\/span><\/p>\n

“This has been a splendid examination,” said Maggie, drawing a long breath. “Real Christmassy, you know. We never had such a good time before.”<\/span><\/p>\n

“Well, it has paid, don’t you think?” asked Frank, as we drove home.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Rather,” I answered.<\/span><\/p>\n

It did “pay” in other ways than the mere pleasure of it. There was always a better feeling between the Roaders and the Hillites thereafter. The big brothers of the little girls, to whom our Christmas surprise had been such a treat, thought it worthwhile to bury the hatchet, and quarrels between the two villages became things of the past.<\/span><\/p>\n

###<\/p>\n

Lucy Maud Montgomery (1874-1942) was a Canadian author best known for her novel Anne of Green Gables (1908). She wrote over 20 novels, many short stories, poems, and journals during her prolific writing career.<\/p>\n

Montgomery was born in Prince Edward Island and had a lonely childhood after her mother died when Lucy was a toddler. She developed a rich imagination and love of literature early on while being raised by her strict grandparents. Montgomery went on to become a teacher and had her first short story published in a newspaper when she was 16.<\/p>\n

After the blockbuster international success of Anne of Green Gables and several sequels, Montgomery married a Presbyterian minister in 1911 and moved to Ontario where she raised her two sons. She continued writing prolifically despite battles with depression.<\/p>\n

Montgomery authored over 500 short stories for publications like Atlantic Monthly and Ladies\u2019 Home Journal. Though most famous for Anne of Green Gables, she successfully experimented with a wide range of genres including romance, regional sketches, allegories, ghost stories, comedies and Christmas tales emphasizing the power of love and community. The warmth and whimsy of her iconic novel character Anne Shirley is infused into much of Montgomery’s lesser-known body of brilliant short fiction awaiting wider rediscovery.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

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