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WENTY years of conserva tism and impeccable ethics Id his dealings with men had finally succeeded in grinding into Thomas Mare's consciousness one bitter, outstanding conclusion. i ? ^ The alleged law of com pensation was no law at all. Men who practiced ruthless tactics with their fellow-men seemed td be the ones who succeeded. Women who defied the cardinal virtues, which In the rect$sea.,of his old-fashioned heart Thomas still held sacred, seemed to be the ones Who reaped. More usually than not, the wages of sin seemed to be not dealh, but more of life. As he grew older and more bitter and more resigned to the disillusion ment of the twenty years since he had been on bis own in the struggle for existence, Thomas found himself more and more frequently airing some of his bltterness.ln the presence of Adalia his wife, who was part of the reason ror the sullen re sentment that tugged at his heart, like n tide. No more than In his own case did ? there seem any reason for the sul len kind of fate that dogged at the life of Adalia. She was a good wife. More than that, she was a good mother, and If ever a woman played her game of life fairly and square-' ly, with due re gard for others, with fidelity toward her husband, and adoration toward her children, that woman wan Adalla. And yet here wan the fifteenth Christmas since Thomas had married her, and only, the annual heartbreak of Inadequate holiday spirit, Inade quate funds, snd fear of facing her children on Christmas morning, to con front her In the way of holiday antici pation, ? The slow anger that had been lying In embers In the henrt of Thomas throughout the years of their marriage seemed to catch lire this time. What hadv Adalla done except be sweet, sac rificing, tolerant and godly, to de serve the Insistently drab fate thnt tugged at her footsteps since her mar flggO to Thomas? What had Thomas himself done ex cept try, as cofllclentlously as a man knows how, to fulfill his obligations to employer, family, children, and his God ; and why was he, at forty-five, un able to get footing on the ladder of success beyond bis wretched role of assistant gardener In the household of a Wail Street magnate who lived on Long Island? Deep within tho rebelling heart of i'&it V' V ? ThomaS 'Mare, rancor against his em ployer, against the llttle-glrl daughter of big employer, against the whole scheme of society that made his state of oppression possible, began to burn and rage and finally sweep through his being. Another Christmas at hand, another period of beholding Adalia scraping and pinching to afford her children the minimum Joy of this season ; another Christmas day, dreaded because It would expose the disappointment and yearning concealed by the valiant little faces of his youngsters; another Christmas of being obliged to face the denied face of his wife across the lean dinner table, and of trying to ig nore the fact that life was persistently, cruelly passing them by. The plan to Improve upon the scheme of his universe and somehow obtain for his brood some of the com pensations which had all of their life time been denied them, began to grow In the heart of Thomas Mare the third month after he had obtained his posi tion as assistant gardener on the Longman estate in Long Island. For a man to reconcile himself to a society that*was built on foul under growth was folly. Months of that se cret mental fodder succeeded In rous ing within Thomas Mare the Impulse and the courage to carry out an act that two or three years before would have Beemed to him to be the act of a mad man. i Thomas Mare had reason to know that In a drawer of a desk in the room j In which Theodore Longmnn slept. ! there usually reposed a roll of bank notes sufficient to keep Mare's family In luxury over a period of years. To j I/mgman this sum represented merely the running funds of a vast household. To Mate this sum represented escnpe, a fresh start In another part of the world with Adalla, opportunity for his ' children. And curiously, stubbornly, almost Insanely in the mind of Thomas Mare was the determination that this year there would be no little frustrat ed faces around his Christmas table, | no scheming on the part of Adalla to cover up heartache. The Mares were going to have their first real Christmas; and In his desper ation Thomas even said to himself the Mares were going to have their first real Christmas, even If a fly-by-night promoter named Theodore I,ongman was going to be found dead In his bed on Christmas day. Secretly, cautiously, subtly and with a finesse that amar.ed himself, the plans of Thomas Mare took shape. So clever these plans, that even In the eventuality of having to use force once he found himself In the apart ment of Theodore Ix>ngmnn, It would be Impossible to trace the crime to the Innocuous second gardener. The family of Mare was about to be emancipated. "Papa, am I going to get a sled for Christmas?" Here it came ngaln, the Innocent and authentic desires of his Innocent chil dren, that frightened look in the face of Adalla; that heartache look. The plans of Thomas Mare took shape, and there was within him neith er fear nor Indecision. Christmas eve came and with It the rounding up of plans he had been care folly making over a period of nine weeks. Nothlr\g falling him, at seven thirty o'clock In the evening, Thomas Mare had reason to know that repos ing In the upper right-hand drawer In the bedroom of Theodore Longman would be . ? bundle of bank notes amounting to six thousand three hun dred and fifty dollars. At eight o'clock of that Christmas Eve, Thomas Mare had reason to know that most of the household would be assembled In the great lower hall helping to pre pare a great Christmas tree for little Miss Matilda, Longman, age eleven. At eleven o'clock, according to cus tom, Theodore Longman would retire to his bedroom, turn on his reading lamp for an hour or two before he fell asleep. At one o'clock the watchman of the grounds, a good-natured Irish man, named Curry, would be down at the third gardener's little cottage for a tweak of midnight eggnog. That was the hour upon which Thomas Mare staked and staked hard. Ironically, every move on the chess board was precisely as Thomas Mare had planned. Not a slip-up ; not a break In the chain of events. The Christmas tree stood bright and mag nificent In the hallway, decorated and shimmering by ten o'clock. At eleven Theodore Longman was stretched out In his bed, his night lamp burning and a stack of mogazines under his fingers. At twelve o'clock that night lamp clicked out. At one .o'clock, Curry, with the good-natured air of indulging in unforbidden fruit, was sitting in the third gardener's cottage drinking egg nog. At ten minutes past one, Thomas Mare, with a flash light In his hand, and his cap pulled down over his face, wns standing be side an open draw er in the bedroom of Theodore Long man, who was snoring. There was the bundle of bank notes with a rub ber hand around it precisely as he had known It would be I And for the life of him, to his degradation, to his humiliation, to bin s e 1 f-1 o a t h I n g. Thomas Mare could not lift out that bundle of bank notes. Not for the life of him, not for the soul of him. And . bo, Impotently, blinded with rage, stifling with humiliation, the figure of Thomas Mare, leaving the bank roll, turned and tiptoed from the chamber of Theodore Longman. It wan long about breakfast time on Christmas day Just when Thomas Mare, Bunk In' the ahjectnesa and Bhnme of he knew not what, was be ginning to dread the little breakfast table circle of the frustrated face* of hla wife and children, that the sum mons came. Theodore Longman, waiting In the panelled study of IiIb Georgian house 011 the hill, Informed him that, at triple his Ralary, Mare was to become gen ernl superintendent over the premises. What Longman did not add was that, at one o'clock that morning, he had watched a man with n rap pulled down over his fare and a flaHhllght In his hand, atand beside nn open drawer containing six thousand three hundred and flfty dollars and, shuddering, turn away, leaving It untouched. <<? hy MaClur* N?wspr?p?r Syndicate.) < WNt) Sor vlrol On* Way to K?*p Warm I'erhnpa the bout of all posnlhlo way to keep warm during the Ynlp nongnri l* to become employed an tlio fnlly outfitted Ranta Claun In a baswment toy department UB birthday of the Prince of Good will was at hand. On the frosted windows I hung my holly-wreaths, looking out upon a world glittering In the first snow mantle of the year, ice-coated trees gleamed with prismatic col ors us the breeze stirred the branches ; It was zero weather. Dan had dropped In with the sea son's greeting, and we sat together before the open ttre. Dan was a bach elor, and If be didn't speak soon they'd be calling me an old maid! I was rlcb and he was poor. If I'd been sure that that was the reason for his silence, I'd have spoken myself. Btit 1 wasn't and our friendship was to? beautiful a thing to spoil, If his lcte was not mine. Annette came In and arranged the tea table at my side. "Certain peo ple," lie had mused, before Annette en tered, "diffuse a charm as real and as hard to define as the perfume of a rose." Tills was poetical conversation for the practical Dan ; there was something on his mind. 1 hurried An nette into the kitchen for more cake, before ills mood should vanish, but ? The door-bell rang. It was too cold to keep anyone waiting; 1 answered It myself. A prim and tiny old lady stood there. "I'm making a little extra for Christmas," she announced, cheerily. "Would you like to look at aprons?" j "Just what I'm in need of," I said. "Come In." Taking her bag, I led her to the Bitting room, and Dan placed a chair for her before the fire. "Good-day and thank you," she greet ed Dan. "How pleasant here by the fire !" Annette came In with the cake. "An other teacup," 1 whispered. Her face registered, "You certainly are eccen tric," but I Ignored this. In warranted self-respect my little visitor had come to the front door and I saw no rea son why she should not. have tea. With bird-like movements, glancing now at me, now at Dan, she untied the satin strings of her neat but pre historic bonnet. "Oh, Havlland," Bhe exclaimed ap preciatively, handling her cup dain tily. Now I was sure that she had seen better days. "You have courage to be out today, little mother," said Dan. "That's what my daughter thinks," twinkled the old dear. "She says at eighty-two one should be through wanting to run around. It's not so much the money," she fibbed proudly, "but I like to get out and see life and people. One Is always running Into such lovely experiences like you ? and tea. One can Just see that you two are made for each other." "Alas!" confessed Dan, frankly, smiling, "I have not the honor to be the lady's husband." "Let us look at aprons," I suggested, and the naughty romancer spread them out. Dan fingered the change In his pocket. "I'll take two of those whit? ones for my wife," he announced. Tho wordB were simple, but they fell upon my ear like a death sentence. "You never told me," 1 gasped re proachfully, ns our guest turned to fold her supplies and arrange her bag. "Well, I must go now," she said, "I'm staying too long. I've got to emp ty this hag before nightfall." The door closed behind the un quenchable optimist. "Isn't she a wonder I" we exclaimed simultaneously, a! which we locked little fingers and pressed thumbs, laughingly, while we wished. I drew my hand away, as soon as was decent. No more familiarities now. "Think," said I, "from Havlland to peddling, and still the world Is wonderful. It makes one ashamod to havo been discontented." "Kxactly," agreed Dan. "I guoss we are all given our dally portion of Joy, If our hearts are tuned to receive It A on so of adjusting th? wave length to our capacity." "And now. about your wife?" I challenged bravely. He should never know my pain. "I must seo If her aprons nt," he snld, putting one about me and draw ing up the strings till we stood nnder the mistletoe. "You darling, darling Idiot," 1 sobbed when I got my breath. "Some Christmas," exulti*d Han, "and blessed be apron*." (<t> by MnC1ur? N?w*p*p?r JlynflloM*,) IWNU B?rvlc?) ERTAINLY Rodney Lee was not bashful and yet three days had passed since he had made up his mind to propose to Helen Johns, and he hadn't even intimated to her the fact that he was smitten. He had met her ai a dunce the Monday before Christ mas, played cards with her Tuesday, skated with her Wednesdn.v, danced again with her Thursday. Then came the Christmas eve dance, when he had fully Intended to tell her he loved her; and the dance was over and he hadn't even begun the preliminaries. Two days after Chrlstmar Rodney's vacation would be over and he would be on his way back to the big city hundreds of miles away. It took gome maneuvers for Rodney to get a chance on Chrlstmns morn ing to telephone to Helen when he would not be overheard by any of his numerous cousins, whose mother he was visiting. "1 am leaving the 27th," Rodney told Helen hurriedly. "I renl ly must see you again before 1 go. My aunt has made plnns for tomor row morning nnd afternoon. May I come In the evening?" "I'd love to have you," Helen an swered quite Impersonnlly, "but you see we are giving the big party out In Rabylon thnt night. I'd love to have you come If you think you'd enre to. So perhnps you'd hotter drive over here nnd trail us out there." Helen, heavily swathed In furs, met Rodney at the door next evening. She shook hands hurriedly nnd pointed to two hampers standing In the hn 11 nnd nsked him If he could take them In his cnr. "There nre two hnskets of dishes In the dining room you enn take besides If ynu have room. We are all ready to stnrt." Rodney could see two enrs nhend of him nnd he could vaguely distin guish the figures of Mr. and Mrs. Johns and others whom he took to be maids from the Johns' household, nlso Helen's younger sister and broth er. all carrying baskets or hampers ss they piled Into the enrs. Finally when the cars nhead stopped ?t the end of n frozen dirt rond In a bleak stretch of farmlnnd, Rodney saw what seemed to he a smslt schoolhouse with yellow lights streaming through smnll windows. RevMldered, Rodney got from Ills cnr nnd seeing thnt the .Tohnsos were cnrrylng their hnskets nnd hampers Into the schoolhouse tie proceeded to carry his cargo In nlso. "Now please get the bnttery out of your car," Helen told Rodney nn she slipped out of her furs, revenllnK a simple little sports frock henenth. "Our chauffeur will help you If you don't know how. He's out tnklng them out of oiM- cars. We need them for the Chrlstmns tree lights. Cnndles nre so dangerous." "So this Is Rabylon," he snld to Helen as he returned nnd Inld the heavy battery at Helen's side ns she directed. Helen laughed. "Didn't you know shout Rabylon?" she nsked surprised. "Babylon Is father's pet diversion. THE LIGHT OF CHRISTMASTIDE By HUBERT KELLEY, in Kinui City Times. NOW, in the night of unbelief, We make this miracle again Of ancient happlnes* and grief And all the tenderness of men. We listen to the heart's demands. Unmindful of our darkling thought. And set in other seeking hands The symbol of the things we sought. How strange we never understood That giving more and taking less, That doing all we dreamed was good Would be our greatest happiness. Now, in the dismal night of doubt. We make the star that we denied: We cannot face the dark without The little Ught of Christmastide. You see, all there Is to Babylon t? tills one-horse district school ? and about twenty-five scattered farm houses ? poor, struggling people who used to try to get up some sort oC Christmas entertainment for their children here. Somehow father heard about It ? and for five years now we have been giving the Christmas party for them." It was midnight when the lights were finally turned out In the little Babylon school house and Rodney had got his battery back Into his car, had waved farewell to the Johns family and was ready to trail them back to town again. And then as he took his place before the wheel he noticed that Helen wns at his side. ?'I want to drive back with yoi:," she said. "I want to tell you how wonderful you Onve been. You worked harder than all the rest of us put together. It Is the Hrst time dad has ever had time really to enjoy the party, because you took all the re sponsibility off his shoulders, nnd when he asked you to make the pres entation speeches for the little gifts, I was so embarrassed for a minute. .You were perfectly wonderful ? Just "I Want to Drive Back With You," Bald Helen. (id If jou had known tlio?e Itahylnn pnople nil your llfo. Dad kii.vh you'll JuhJ have to come hnck next Christ inns ? " "I'll corno hnck every Christmas, it you'll lot me. Helen," said Rodney. "I wanted to see you tonight to -to toll yon thnt 1 love you. After noelng you aa I saw you tonight I know I'm not worthy even to suggest what I wanted to toll you." Mr. .lohna wan waiting for Holeh when she and Hodnoy arrived fifteen mlnutea after the John*' earn. Mr. Johns held his hand out to greet Uod nev and ho know from tho way the young man took hla tiand that ho would aee him again In Hahylon. (? by MuCture N?w?pnp?>r ftyndlr?t?. > ( WNU H?rvl<i?>