The Wateree messenger. (Camden, S.C.) 1884-1942, December 21, 1932, Image 6
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?>