' v ?. i> , , :5H . . * X,. ^ ,5f -
S*?v J "
*JT#- / _ *v"'., .''.Vitj-, < - "-'i..
V . - :. . ... ' ,
9
Rgfpmm
?
HE Morrls-Moores had Just had
their first?no, not quarrel?tiff,
v Harry was now In hiB study
tV pulling down books he did not
^Fwant and piling them up on his
Jtt table. He selected a row ot
notebooks bearing title, "The
Grlsons and the Italian Valleys."
He got out extensive whlteWlrJjMW
blotched Swiss survey maps.
|and files of the little "Ladln"
SHbeSSEs paper printed lit Samaaden. He
had got all thl8 up thoroughly
on bis last Journey, and now was the time to
dip deep into the pile of printed and annotated
"stuff." It would help hlni to forget anything
so absolutely silly as a little wife upstairs In
her room, the tears of temper still wet on her
cheeks, and employing her small white teeth
In reducing to tattered "waste" a soaked lace
pocket handkerchief. ,
Henry Morris-Moore felt himself very superior.
He was calm, cold, Judicial, and abovo
what he called "infantile tempers."
Upstairs Clara wept and fretted.
To think, only to think?scarcely ten
months married, and It had come to this! Ah.
If only she had known! Were all men so cruel,
so bitter? Did nobody care for her? She
would go to her mother?No (Clara's reflection
came refreshingly cool, like a splash of cold
water), no-o-o?well, not quite that! For one
thing, she knew her mother; and Mrs. Murray-I.lnklatcr
would "pack her back to her
hUBband." Clara heard her mother speak these
very words.
Hut?It was over. So much was fixed.
Never, never would It be "glad, confident morning
again." Henry had settled that when he
spoke those words?those cruel dividing words.
He had said?had said?well, Clara could not
1
quite remember what. But, at any rate, it was
over. She ooulil never forgive him?for saying
that?yes, about dear Aunt Unetitia. Oh. yes,
she remembered, "that he could never get her I
a single night to himself Without some stalking <
old she-patriarch with a reticule coming in to
spoil everything." 1
Clara would not have her family spoken
against?not by a score of Henry Moores. She
had been educated carefully in the Murray- ,
Linklater cult, and no Vere de Vere could be
prouder of her name. ,
Clara, in her bolted bedroom, was getting
out her blotting book and pad to write to her i
poor wronged aunt. She was going to ask a i
refuge for the few remaining days of a blasted (
life. Yes, that was the adjective she was using, ]
and (strange coincidence!) the villain below i
stairs was also using it, though perhaps in a
more colloquial sense. He hnd Just knocked <
over a whole pile of the neat notebooks in 1
f ? which he stored away his literary material, and *
was passing off his own clumsiness in invec- i
tlve against inanimate things. This was his
man's way of biting his handkerchief. I
But the strong arm of coincidence reached
yot further.
Stumbling ami grumbling, Harry gathered
up the fruit of his travel experiences and be- I
. gan re storing them in the little three-eornored '
Rhfllvnu tlhnpn v. l">"? *- ?*-'
iic sucn mings tor refer- 1
ence. Work would not "go" to-night, somehow.
One remained in his hand?a small pocket note- '
book with rounded corners, which served to 1
carry about him for the shortest personal Jot- 1
i tings. Usually it lay among his keys on the '
.. dressing table, and when he shaved he was In '
the habit of putting down a word or two?oh. 1
as brief and bald as possible. , *
* i
Hut this particular stubby volume happened
to be his diary of two years ago, and ho stood 1
there with one hand mechanically pushing the
notebooks into their places, while his eyes, en- '
tangled by what he read, transported him to '
the ragged carpet, the peremptorily furnished 1
lodgings, the solitary walks, hands deep in 1
pockets, overcoat collar up, cap pulled low? 1
of the days when first? But stay, what was '
Clara doing? '
She had got out her blotting book from un 1
der "The Songs of the North." The new maid? j
very hard on the temper of young wives are
new mams, as a class?had Jammed It Into the
rack, bending the corners shamefully. And so, 5
when at last Clara had released the folio, lo!
a car.cade of solidly built volumes In red basil i
clattered to the ground. She had Just, time 1
to spring back; for'he volumes had solid brass
locks, all opened with the samo little gold key. !
She wore It abcut her neck, n?d no od? in the (
HI -1ha1l 1
CJirisilTlO
^7
5-R.Cr
:HHB\ |
i?\ * vB
^
.? cs^stozzy
SLWP G&fjFA'aFTCS"/*'
world, not even Harry, had ever been allowed
to peep within. Indeed, since she was married
she had not often done so herself. But now?
now that the happiness of her life had founden,>d
beneath her. she would go back?it might
he all the pleasure (sob) that was left her?
thus to live over a happy past. (A time.)
Watklns, the Moores' new maid, experienced
some surprise (and not unnaturally)
when, in the exercise of her vocation, she was
parrying a copper jug of hot water to Mrs.
Moore's dressing room before sounding the
first gong, she observed her master and mistress
approach each other from opposite ends
af the corridor, both Intently reading, like
people on a stage?he In a small black book,
sho in one large, fat and red.
A still poorer opinion had Sarah Watklns
of her new plnce when she saw the readers
look up simultaneously, suddenly and guiltily
close their books, turn on their several heels,
and so exeunt. f
"And them sez as what they has only been
married ten months!" she meditated. "Well?
we'll see what's to come of this!"
The family dinner that night was distinguished
by extreme correct It tide of demeanor,
ind an etiquette almost Spanish in its statelloess.
They were nothing if not polite?that Is.
when Watklns was in the room. But Watklns
knew, and stayed a moment on the mat. llstenng
to the silence that dropped like a pall. Sho
entered, smiling to herself, knowing (oh. experienced
Watkins) that she would find Clara
ooking sideways at the pattern of the carpet
is though she had never seen it before, while
it his end o^ the table Harry was molding
jread pellets as if for a wager. These things
lo not vary.
But even Watklns the wise did not know
sverything. Penny fiction does not Inform
ts readers what real people do. So as soon
is Clara had escaped out of tho dining room,
icfore he had time to open the door for her,
iiarry sulkily sat down and felt for his cigarette
case. He was sure he had left It In the
Irawing room. Yet he would not go for it.
de could hear Clara playing a noisy jig, the
vriggle and stamp of which ho particularly
oathed.
"The little wretch." he said, laughing In
jplte of himself, "she knows quite well."
"flood evening, Mr. Moore," said his wife,
ind he rose and went. "Your cigarette case is
n the smoking room."
But this time Harry had it all his own way.
Six feet of blonde colossus mado short work
>f mere pinpricks of the tongue. Clara found
farRgmei
A
^ >31t>rv
ook.e'tt
^' $ ' '* = ""
'
? -# )r ' -A ' *
It I % * f: : I $ %: J
'
'
. - .
/?sz z+&i<r z^ooAy/Vc
Kf= JWT'TZ'APA' G>^ 7jY7= <34/2/^7^
herself swept olT the piano stool and Installed
where, on the rounded nrni of a big easy chair,
she had little more liberty of movement than
that of swinging her feet naughtily and rebelliously.
while her husband questioned her.
"What book were you reading so intently
this afternoon when I came upon you in thn
corridor? Lot me Bee it?"
"Shan't!" (A time). "Oh. you coward! Because
you aro strong! I shall go to?to?"
"Where? To whom?" said Harry, easily.
"To my?to Aunt I.aetitla."
"She wouldn't have you, child," laughed her
husband, "and besides, she would charge you
board?which I should have to pay!"
"Well, I would pay it out of my own money?there!"
"What own money?"
"My houso money!"
"You forget, Mrs. Morris-Moore," said her
husband, gravely, "if you run away you
wouldn't have any house money!"
Then in a burst, as he shook her, "Oh' you
great baby," ho cried, "make up. Bring the
book! It was a volume of your diary. 1 knew
by the lock. I'll show you mine. Fair exchange!
Off with you!"
"Well, come with me, then," said Clara,
holding out her hand, "hut don't you think I'm
giving in. It's only yielding to brute force. My
spirit is unconquered."
"Never mind your spirit," said her lord,
"fetch the hook!"
And in these books, the greater and the
lesser, they read late into the night.
And this was what they found.
" 'Christmas eve' "? said Clara, "begin
there!"
And sho paused, waiting, with her finger
in its place.
"Oh." said her husband, "I don't think there
is much!"
nuu jun van juuraeii a writer!"
"Well, shall I begin?" Clara was all on
pins and needles now. She could hardly keep
still. The quarrel was forgotten.
"'Christmas eve' (she read). 'A dull day?
Paid calls In the lane?Went to Margaret's.
Baby Is adorable and Tom begins to love me
and calls me Aunty dee-ar. Came homo by
Grant's and brought back fruit for dinner.
There Is a man coming, a friend of father's.
It is a horrid nuisance.'"
Here Clara Moore broke off suddenly.
"Oh, I wrote everything fresh, you Bee. I
wanted to remember. You've no Idea how bad
my memory used to be In those days. Being
married helps. One has to remember one's
hushand's Iniquities."
" 'Set in a notebook, learned and conned by
rote.' murmured Harry.
His wife stopped and looked severely at
him.
"Well," she said, "I did write a lot, I know,
and yours Is no fair exchange. 1 did It partly
as an exercise, you see, for I was considered
very good at composition at school, whatever
you may think. Besides, I don't believe you
have anything In that book at all."
"Oh, yes?I have!" and he nourished a
closely written page of memoranda before her
eyes.
"Well,"-she said, with a sigh (and her eyes
were dim and distant), "I will read?thoueh I
never thought to let anyone see?not even you.
But since you have been so horrid to me, 1
will."
It seemed an odd reason, hut Harry wisely i
nodded. Clara fluttered some leaves thoughtfully.
"Where shall I go on?" she asked, knitting
her brows.
"You did begin from the beginning," he
smiled as he spoke, "why not continue?"
She glanced up with sudden shyness, almost
as he snoke, "why not continue?"
She glanced up with sudden shyness, almost
like a surprised Eve.
"You were saying that It was a horrid nuisance,
having me come to dinner," said Harry
Moore, "did you change your mind?"
"Here It is," said his wife, running her eyo
down the columns of close knit writing. "'11:00
p. m. He is gone. It wus not so horrid after
all. But 1 think he likes Edith best. Ho Is
big and badly dressed. Why can't writers and
artistic people dress humanly? He had on tho
funniest tie I ever saw, and a beard, and he
came In a big gray cloak like one of Millet's
shepherds. But he talked?yes, It was worth
rTT ~ ~ wr TTfTlBT '
nbranip
while hearing him talk. Not much to me.
though, but he looked at me a lot. and somehow
seemed to be conscious of everything I
was doing. Dr. Stonor came In after, and
wanted me to look out music for him. We
went Into the corner together and got out the
folios, and though he was talking to father. 1
knew very well he was watching us." That's
all." Clara concluded. She had been reading
very rapidly, as If anxious to get to the end.
"Now for yours!"
Mine! oh, mine's no great thing." fi^id Harry,
opening his little black pocketbofjk^ "Jottings
merely."
"Go on, please." cried Clara, stamping her
foot, "and mind, don't alter a word or put In
more. I shall know!"
'"Christmas eve'" (began Harry) "'worked
at Guardian article, took It round, Baw proof
of yesterday's. Chief wants mo to go to Armenia
about the atrocities. Shan't! To club
In afternoon?Clifton, McCosh, Moxon and several
of the fellows there, who wanted me to
stop. Told them I couldn't. Had to go out to
old Llnklater's to dinner?girls, music, bore?
but 1 should look In later.' "
"Oh!" interjected Clara, with her head suddenly
haughty, "a bore?was it?"
"You said a horrid nuisance!" remarked
her'husband, and continued his reading without
troubling to defend himself further.
" i got there early?long way out of town?
several false trails. At last found the place?
a big house under trees. From the doorway
I could see In the hall a girl standing on steps,
putting up holly and green stuff. Presently
old LInklatcr came and Introduced me. "This
is Clara!" I became conscious of two great,
dark, steady, grayish-hazel eyes. The dinner
went all right after that. Pretty?well, I don't
know: a fascinating and glamorous person certainly.
There was also a sister.' "
"Nonsense!" said Clara. "You are making
up as you go along. I know you."
Her husband silently handed her the book.
Decidedly It was so written.
Clara did not apologize for her unbelief.
She only remarked, "Oh, but you are a dear."
And, rubbing her cheek against his coat
sleeve, she purred.
"Go on!" she said.
" ,llhin??r miltn Infnrmul ' Ilnrru i ? .,^-4
? .-.w. * * ??? a / V,V)UUli UCU.
" 'Talked too much, but got led on Bomehow.
Everything went well. Doetor fellow there,
who put on a lot of frlend-of-the-family side?
sat In a corner and talked to the girl with the
eyes.' "
"Ah. ha! You see?you were Jealous already!"
cried Clara, clapping her hands Joyously.
"Nonsense!" said Harry Moore. "Of Uttlo
Stonnr? I think I see myself!"
"Road the next day?go on?go on! No, the
day you came to Elton again!"
" 'Went to make my "digestion" call. Took
some flowers up to Elton, and talked to the old
lady. Think I made a conquest. But the Lady
of the Eyes did not show up. Waited an hour
and a half, but don't think I wasted my time
entirely. Dear old lady!"
"Harry, you are a cold-blooded wretch!"
"Very much the contrary, Mrs. Moore!"
"Now shall I read?" And without giving
him time to answer. Clara opened the solid
basil boards and continued, "'Dec. 28th: Went
out all the afternoon with Miss Grlerson. Down
the lane?soup kitchen, girls' club, and went
home with her to tea. When I got homo I
saw mother had a secret. You always knew
by the satisfied way she has of looking mysterious.
She would bo disappointed if you didn't
ask her at once. So I teased her to tell.
"'Do you kuow whom I've been entertain-'
tng all afternoon?' she said, her shoulders
shaking with repressed laughter. I understood [
well enough.
" "Oh, the curate,' I said, as carelessly as
I could. 'I saw him going down the lano like
a pair of compasses let loose.'
"'Do you think the curate wnnlH hrlnir mo I
thoso?' said mother, triumphantly. And she
showed me a lovely bunch of rosea, a wagon- |
load nearly, which she had Bet woll hack In
the dusk of the piano, bo that I should not see
tbem before mothor had her little triumph, i
My! they must have cost heaps of money this
time of yenr. 'They are all mine,' said mother, i
'but If you are good you can havo Just one bud
for yourself. You see what one gets by staying
quietly at home!'
" 'She was teasing me, of course, this dear
old sweet-hearted mother.
" 'You see what one gets for doing works ,
of charity and mercy!' I said. 'He would have
given them to me If I'd been here. I'll never
do a good action again!' "
"Now turn on to 'Four Seas Cottage,' and
read about that," cried Clara. Her eyes were
not gray now, nor yet hazel. The dark pupils |
had swallowed up all the rest, overflowing
everything with the soft blackness of a misty
night of few stars.
"Let's sec. Raster, wasn't it?" said her
husband. "Rut why skip? Much water had
flowed undor bridges during these months of
spring."
"Oh, I want to gee to the end?the end!"
Clara whispered, excitedly. "Quick, quick?I
can't wait!"
"Well, here It Is: 'April 8th. We went a
walk along the beach, she and I. We tAlked.
I told her that unless something was going to
come of this, I must go away.
"'What,' .sho said, 'for altogether?' And
i nam ies.- men she walked a good while
Bllent, and when I looked, I could see'?"
"No, you didn't" said Clara. "I could never
have been so silly!"
" 'Tear after big tear rolling slowly down
her cheek,' " Harry continued, Imperturbably.
" 'I needed no more than that?who would?
" 'You don't want me to go?' I cried.
" 'She shook her head, still weeping, and
not caring now whether I saw or not.
" 'So I stayed.' "
They sat long silent that night In their own
home, near each other, and happy Harry's
heart was softened. He was In tho mood for
concessions.
"Dear," he said, "If you would like Aunt
Laetitia to come and stay with us a month?"
"Oh, bother Aunt Laetltia!" exclaimed Mrs.
Henry Moore, "I only want you!"
And thus did Clara Murray-Llnklater deny
her father's house and cleave to her husbund.
m
WitttV ISob's
fT WAS Christmas ere fa jPt- 1
a mining camp la ^ l\?r. \
Rocky mountains, , \
years ago. There were *
many men. bnt only one
little girl. She was sitting
In front of a fireplace,
which occupied
one whole end of "the ^
best cabin In camp." Her seat was m
a flat piece of plie log. Lying close 1
to her was a big St. Bernard dog. 1
"Miner Bob says that Santa Claus I
comes down the chimney; but now, I
Rorer, wo know better than that.** I
She took hold of the dor's collar, and 1 I
turned bis head toward the fireplace. x s
"Even If he should get down the chimney.
he'd be burned up. lie could not
bring anything with him without getting
It black and dirty. I'll put the
fire out tonight with that pall of
water."
Rover got up and took a lap or two.
and then came back and waited for
the rest of the story.
She continued: "Rut I don't believe
iny Santa Claus will come away out V|S
here, where there is only you and me.
Here she stooped and whispered in
the dog's ear. "We'll leave the win- V
low open. Of -course. Rover. I don't B
mind telling you why I am so anxious 1
for Santa Claus not to come down 1
that chimney. You see. I want a doll.
Miner Hob says that Santa Claus
brings you what you wish for. I
never saw real dolls, but they cust
be beautiful things. This picture I ^
cut out of a magazine is a doll, so '
Miner Hob says. Whew! It mustn't
come down the chimney, Rover, It
mustn't."
In a few minutes the dog and the
little ^rirl were both fast asleep. This
time the child's head was pillowed on
Rover's shaggy coat and in her hand
*he tightly held an advertisement of
Christmas toys.
Two men. sitting at a pine table In
the other end of the cabin, were talking
in a low, mysterious manner.
"We are "most out of food, you
know," said one; "only five potatoes
left We paid $100 for the last stick,
but wo could not get another stick for
love or money. We have been snowed
In now for three months, and ws'vfc
got to count on four weeks more be- fed
fore there Is any hope of getting out v
of here."
"Yes. I know it," replied hlB com- , ' ?
panion. "but I'm going to do It Just '
the same."
"You know the boss' orders." spoke
up the first man. who was Miner Rob.
"We'll catch it if we disobey, especially
when starvation is staring: us in /
the face."
"I can't help it." was the reply,
"put It all on me; I'll stand the
blame." ,. j i
The men drew their chairs closer # A
together, and there they worked for J?
several hours, stopping; Just long te
enough to lift the little plrl from the
floor to her cot. where she went on
dreaming of Santa Claus and tho j
beautiful doll. { JC
It was a bitter cold night?a regular fl
blizzard' Several miners lost their
way going from one camp to tho
Other and wore frozen to death Ani- d
mals that failed to get under shelter 1
were found dead next morning. ^
The little girl remembers no more
of that most terrible storm In the history
of the camp, but next morning
she was awakened early by her father
trying to close a broken window. Ho
said it had been crushed in by tho
storm, but the little girl said, "No,
Santa Claus did it."
"He's been here!" she cried, and in c
her excitement fnirly rolled from her
cot over the floor to the chimney.
With cries of "It's a doll?a doll!"
she clasped to her heart tho most
beautiful thing she had ever seen.
"It's my doll, all mine; and It'B got
eyes, and a nose, and a mouth, and A
ears and hair?and such a beautiful
red flannel dress!"
She kissed It again and again, and
no heart ever came so near bursting
with Joy as the heart of that lltti?
girl, way out In the snowed-ln mine,
with death and starvation all about
her.
The two miners had oome In, and
were listening to the wonderful story
as It fell again from the childish Hps.
"You used them all," Interrupted
the father, gnzlng sternly at the man.
"Yes." said Miner Bob, "we used
them all."
"It was wrong, very wrong?"
"We could not help It," replied the
other miner. "It was the only way
to make It. and we'd rather go hungry
the rest, of our days than have the
kid disappointed."
The "kid," oblivious of anything but
the blessed Joy of possessing a doll,
was telling Rover: "Father thinks the
wind broke the window. I forgot to
open it; but. you see, Santa Claus
knows Just what you want, so he
brought the doll through the window
to save her from getting dirty coming
down the chimney."
Little did she realize that of all the
dolls found that Christmas morning in
the stockings of the little ones all over
the United States not one was made
of as precious material as hers. She
was clasping to her bosom tho "only
five potatoes In camp." They had been
carved Into "Miss Doll" by Miner Hob.
and dressed in pieces of tho only good
red flannel shirt that the other man
possessed.
Forty Christmas days have' passed
since then, and they have all been
happy ones, but the poculiar and exquisite
satisfaction T experience In
pressing to my heart "my potato
doll" has never been exceoded. J~
i