Summary
In a hushed New-England mansion where ticking clocks echo like heartbeats, the camera cradles Carol Bird—a porcelain child whose spine has never known the extravagance of straightness—while outside her lace-curtained observatory the Ruggles tribe swarms through frozen alleys like bright sparrows in hand-me-down plumage. Carol, half-specter half-saint, bribes the calendar with whispered bargains so she may survive one more Yuletide; across the cobblestones Mrs. Ruggles, a widowed Atlas, balances wash-tubs and pride while her nine offspring rehearse a pantomime of respectability. The invitation—inked in Carol’s trembling calligraphy—arrives like a comet: a single sheet that promises roast goose, blazing candles, and the narcotic glow of being seen. Cue communal pandemonium: stockings begged, borrowed and comically mis-striped; hair tortured into ringlets; Larry’s stomach already rehearsing its future rebellion. On the appointed night the Ruggles army, scrubbed to rawness, crosses the threshold into a realm where cut-crystal decanters outnumber their teeth; they chew with democratic vigor, forget the napkin’s purpose, and discover that abundance can ache. Uncle Jack, bronzed by distant monsoons, presides like a laughing pagan priest while Carol, candle-fragile, inhales the spectacle she has orchestrated. When the last raisin pudding vanishes and the Christmas tree disgorges its bounty, the children trudge home through moon-silvered snow, pockets clattering with tin soldiers and peppermint; back in the hush of velvet drapes Carol exhales a final sentence—“I think we kept His birthday right”—and relinquishes her borrowed body, leaving the parlor so saturated with radiance that even the shadows feel baptized.
Synopsis
The story has to do with a crippled child, Carol Bird, the only daughter of her wealthy parents, who are proud of two strong, healthy sons, in addition. Little Carol is a hopeless invalid, and the tender love and affection of the entire family go out to her, fearing the day when the soul shall take its flight from the fragile body. Carol has a devoted Uncle Jack also, a traveler in distant lands, who cheers her by a letter, in which he promises to come home and spend Christmas with her. But little Carol has other friends, outside of her sphere indeed, but nevertheless faithful, loyal friends, who would go any length to spare her pain or to bring her pleasure. These are none other than the nine ragged members of the Ruggles family, little boys and girls who live nearby, whom Carol has often watched at play and wished that she could join them. Mrs. Ruggles, their widowed mother, toils ceaselessly to bring up this healthy brood of hers, from Sarah Maude, the elder, and the little mother, down to sturdy little Larry, the pet and pride of the Ruggles' family. Shortly before Christmas, Carol, who had been planning for some time to give a pleasant surprise to her Ruggles friends, asks her mother if she can invite them to a Christmas dinner. Mrs. Bird gladly consents, and so the letter of invitation is written by Carol and is carried to Mrs. Ruggles by Sarah Maude. The commotion which this letter creates is best told in the pictures, as are also the preparations made by Mrs. Ruggles to have her children appear in presentable condition. The mirth which these preparations create seizes the spectator with such continuous grip that he loses the sense of time and place. He is truly in the midst of it all, at times earnestly sympathizing with Mrs. Ruggles in the knotty problems that confront her and sincerely admiring the resourcefulness that overcomes every difficulty. Peory, for instance, has no stockings, and Mrs. Ruggles surmounts the difficulty by telling Clem, her eldest boy, to go out and ask Mrs. Cullen, a neighbor, to lend her a pair and to promise that Peory will give her boy Jim Cullen half of her candy. Peory flares up at this bargain, but Mrs. Ruggles settles the matter by asking: "Which would you rather do. Give Jim half your candy or go to the party barelegged?" The said stockings arc a sight, striped, not like a zebra, but black and white! "Thay'll be the makin' of you! Ain't they stylish, Peory?" Mrs. Ruggles says to that disgruntled young lady, as she surveys them with delight. Then in an aside to the other gazing members of the family, Mrs. Ruggles says confidently, "Nobody'll fergit she's got 'em on." This is only a single sample of the mirthful preparations, not omitting the dress rehearsal to which Mrs. Ruggles subjects her brood, before they depart for the Bird mansion. They are certain to delight both old and young, and people of all ages. The scene showing the Ruggles' family around the Christmas table, with Uncle Jack seated at the head and the invalid Carol looking delightedly on, will remain with everyone who sees it for some time to come. The director has seen to it that the Ruggles children eat just as they have been accustomed to eat at home, and Larry eats so ravenously that his face soon begins to pucker up with pain, which comes from an over-gorged "tummie." The closing scene is one of sadness. The merry Ruggles children have gone, laden with beautiful Christmas presents, taken from Carol's Christmas tree. In her mother's arms, the child is seized by a great faintness. "Mother, I do think we have kept Christ's birthday this time just as He wanted it done," she whispers, and then passes away.
