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birthday,” Father said, noticing Emily’s hands.
    Emily tried to smile, but her hands were not trembling from cold. The happy feeling

    she’d woken with this morning had drained away. As the parcel wrapping fell to the floor, Emily tried not to cry.
    The present was a framed picture of a little girl holding a dog in her arms. It was a pale and tiny copy of a painting like one of Miss Woods’ prints — lifeless.
    â€œShe looks like you,” Alice pointed out.
    â€œNo, she isn’t like me,” Emily said in a hard voice. “She has a dog.”
    Emily went to the fireplace at the end of the room, pretending to warm her hands. She slipped the blue and green collar from her pinafore pocket and dropped it into the fire.
    â€œI’m not hungry,” she said. “I’m going out to feed the chickens.”
    That day took a long time to end. In the afternoon, Mother came and felt Emily’s forehead and asked her if she was feeling sick. Emily shook her head and tried to smile for Mother.
    Emily climbed into bed that night without saying her prayers. What good was it to pray for anything? What good was it to wish?

15
Christmas
    Although Emily had tried to put art out of her mind, she found that drawing helped to ease her disappointment about her birthday. When she stood at her easel, her pencil or paintbrush at work, she forgot about everything except the joy of what she was doing. She decided that it would be much better to keep the Smiths and what they stood for out of her mind, than to keep art out. She dove back into her drawing practice, filling more pages with noses, hands, feet and faces. As Christmas drew closer, she became further distracted by the preparations and growing excitement.
    The day before Christmas, the Carr housefilled with the spicy smell of boiling plum pudding and the fresh fir scent of the Christmas tree. On Christmas Eve Father took Emily and her younger sisters into town to see the shops lit up. Every lamp-post had a fir tree tied to it, and the shop windows were decorated with mock snow made of cotton wool and sparkly dust. In the grocer’s window was a Santa Claus grinding coffee. Bonbons, clusters of raisins, nuts, candied fruits and long peppermint candy sticks surrounded him. At the end of the food shops was Chinatown. Its dark streets held no Christmas decorations. Emily’s father turned them around to head back to James Bay.
    Before bed the children hung their stockings from the high mantelpiece in the breakfast room, and Dede read “ ‘ Twas the Night before Christmas and all through the house, not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse…”
    At the bottom of the stairs Emily peeked into the dark dining room and smelled the Christmas tree waiting there. She couldn’tsee it, but she knew that it stood there, touching the ceiling and hanging heavy with presents ready for the morning. Up in her bedroom the air was chilly, and Emily dove under the covers next to Alice. She wiggled with excitement.
    â€œBe still,” whispered Alice. “I want to sleep.”
    Emily tried to keep still, but she tossed one way and then the other. How could she fall asleep when there were presents waiting? She tried not to think of the new set of paints she wanted or of the cuddly puppy she had longed for. She knew it wouldn’t do any good to wish for them, but she couldn’t help hoping that something special hung on the tree for her.
    Morning finally came, and they were off to church. After church, Father went into the dining room to light the candles on the Christmas tree. Then he called everyone in, and they held hands around the tree to sing Christmas carols. Then, one by one, the presents were taken down from the tree and handed out. Emily held her breathas she unwrapped each of her presents. Everything was practical, as usual: gloves from Dede, embroidered hankies from Alice and Lizzie, new black boots from Mother. No