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THE NEWBERRy SUN The wurmtii and friendliness of the Holiday season prompts us to again wish you a season of Peace and happiness in an un settled world. The Christmas Season this year shines like a guiding light. It gives us hope in the future and a sincere appreci ation of the value o f the brother hood of man. As we wish yju the joy of Christmas and every h ppiness throughout the new year, we add our genuine thanks for your pa tronage in the past. tat M. K. (Buck) WICKER ALDERMAN WARD 4 . 1 OUR CHRISTMAS WISH ■ , - • .*■ ' ' : * - .-i-l Health i .. „ ■■ It is a big order, we know, but we ore sincere in the knowledge that our friends deserve oil three. It is good to think back over the events of the past year, and to pick out those things which , are bright end cheerful. These occasions overshadow the dark spots and simplify the task of forgetting dreams unrealized. Your thoughtfulness to this organization is dcoply app-eci- ated, and because of this we deem it a privilege to express Season's Greetings. Our sincere good wishes to every one. MAXWELL BROS & QUINN — FRIDAY, imjeanififiK 25, 1942 MRS. SANTA CLAUS By HAROLD E. CHRISTIE Last Christmas our local jewelry store added two new departments we never had carried before. One was a toy counter, wlhere a selection of movie dolls was featured. The other--an optical department—cater ed to the trade who could not afford glasses unless they could arrange to pay for them on credit. Visiting the shop the night before Christmas, I watched a tiny little girl . . . I’m sure she couldn’t have been more than six . . . standing before the already sadly depleted doll counter. Her eyes were big as she looked up at the one doll still unsold, and there was a child’s longing in them as she tugged at the tattered overall jacket of her fa ther, busy talking to the optome trist. "Daddy,” she called, her voice shrill with excitement, “look! Isn’t it the darlingest thing? Do' you think Santa will bring it to me? The mans tired face turned toward her, and a hurt expression flushed across it settling hopeless ly in the gray eyes. “ ’Fraid not, Mary,” he answered. “I saw Santa in a store down the street a while ago, and he said that he’d be about out of everything by the time he reached our house. Reckon he might have some sweets, or maybe a rag doll, though. And he’s prom ised for sure to bring those glasses. “Oh!” Tears were in her eyes, hut she fought them back bravely, and her worn coat sleeve wip'ed the last trace of them away. “I did so want one of them,’ she whispered. “But Im glad Santa isn’t going to bring it to me. It means* that he’s found someone else who wants it even wdrser than I do, don’t it, Daddy?” “Come on, Mary,’ the optome trist called, taking the little girl by the hand. “Santa told me to see what kind of glasses you should ihaye, so’s to be sure he’d get it right. Now just sit in this chair and do as I say.” The examination didn’t last long, and I was still there when it was completed. The optometrist turned to the father. “I’ll make a special effort to finish them tonight,’ he said. He was back soon, a slip in his hand. “I’ve fixed it with the man agement. A dollar now, and a dol lar a month until the balance of five dollars is paid.” Mary had returned for a final look at the toy. “Don’t you think, Daddy, that the glasses could come as a birthday present, and . . . oh, I did want a doll so badly! But . . . but I won’t cry.’’ Her father hadn’t heard. He was busy feeling in his pockets for the dollar needed for the down payment. He found a lean wallet, and from it pulled a quarter and seven dimes. He countd them over twice, a scared look on his face, then began a renewed search. Triumphantly, he finally produced an eighth dime, and handed the silver to the optome trist. As the man in overalls and his elfin daughter started toward the door, the grl behnd the doll coun ter loked at the optometrst, then at me, a tear in her eye. Then she ran after the pair. “Wait a mo ment—isn’t your name Mary?” she asked. “Un-huh?” the little girl answer ed, bewildered. “Then I guess Santa meant you. He was here just a few minutes ago, and said he had a doll for a little girl named Mary, but he was afrid he wouldn’t have the time to deliver it. Then he remembered that the little girls father said he was com ing here, so he asked me if I’d keep the doll and give it to you. That’s it, u«p on the counter. Take it and run away, because I’m so busy I haven’t time to talk.’’ Shyly, Mary reached up for the proffered treasure, and hugged it close. Mary was speechless while her benefactor buised herself behind the counter. Suddenly the girl felt a tug at her skirt, and Mary was at her side, looking up at her. “I be lieve you’re Mrs. Santa Claus,’ the rhild whispered, awe in her voice. As the door closed behind the pair, the girl took her purse from her bag and looked inside. * “Ms. Santa Claus, indeed!” I heard her mutter. “Lucky for me this is pay day, or Mrs. Santa wouldn’t eat tomorrow.” The Last Christmas Card . ♦ * . Ma Sawyer sewed the final stitch in the Christmas turkey while she kept her ear “peeled” for the post man’s step. Still, she actually dread ed his coming lest he bring another card of loving regrets like the one received yesterday from their son Fred. Even four grown boys did not dispel the possibility of a lonely Christmas for Ma and Pa. She answered the double ring, and forced a smile as she waved Ben’s :ard at Pa. “He can’t make it, neither. None of them ever yet riaiiled a card unless they wasn’t coming.” When she came out, Pa asked mildly, “You ain’t gittin’ a cold, aye you, Ma?” “Cold? Nonsense. Pa. Jest the Christmas onions, I s’pose.” “Oh, Jim will make it easy, seeing his children is almost grown. And Billy most died of disappointment ’cause he couldnt come home last year. But folks can’t travel with a new baby and three other young ones. This year it’ll be much better for him.’’ When Ma left her tree decorations to throw a log in the stove, the crimson glow might have shown Pa the lines of fearful doubt on her round face. But he had just wasted another match on his pipe. “Sup pose neither Jim nor Billy can come?” ran through Ma’s tortured mind. At quarter to four, she wished the letter carrier a merry Chistmas and hurried back, her hands filled with cards. This was the last mail. If neither son had written, it would mean both boys would arrive about six, laden with mysterious bundles. Then Ma spied Jim’s hold writing in its usual purple ink. There was a special message for his parents and a five-dollar bill. “The spruce trimmings look fine, Pa,’’ she said. “I won’t think of tfhe mess when it dries, for Billy does set such store by Christmas. And coming on Sunday this year it will give them an extra day to stay.” A peal of the bell interrupt ed her. “Its Billy, got off a little early,” she called as she hurried to the door. The postman beamed, because (he didn’t know that Ma’s expectant smile was not for him. ‘Overlooked this before, Mrs. Sawyer” Silently Ma passed the card to Pa after her own swift perusal. The simplest greeting in Billy’s careless scrawl, “Sorry we can’t make it.” “Well, I s’pose everything is for the best, Pa. What with all I’ve cooked, it wouldn’t do any (harm to invite poor Miss Coombs over. Pa packed his pipe slowly. “You sure hanker after work, Ma,” he sighed. “We might as well cut into the ham and cake. That’ll be enough.” “You ain’t eating before six?’ “Might’s well. I’m starved,’ she lied. Four boys and all alone for Christmas! Not one of them able to come home. A short, clipped ring of the bell. Fred’s present, per haps Billy’s, too. “Express package,” sang a man’s voice. But the thought of a square brown box held no thrills for Ma. It was her brown square-shouldered son slhe wanted as she opened the door. Three children stamped the show from ther fet, and before Ma reached the kitchen Billy’s wife had deposited the woolly clad baby" on Pa’s lap. And then Ma found her self folded within Billy’s spacious overcoat with its smell of tobacco and crisp fresh air. ‘Ha-ha! Expressman, huh?” roar ed Billy, relinquishing Ma with a kiss. “Ddn’t expect us so early, did you? Don’t hope for suoh good luck when we wrote. You got our card ? ” “Oh, sure, but—Pa, what did you read on Billy’s card?’ , “What’d I read? Why jest some thing about having shopping to do. But you read it, Ma.” “Yes, yes, of course I read it, Billy. I—” “Ma!” He caught her hand. “Say, you’re not catching cold, are you? Good grief, Ma, you’re not cry ing?” His arms were about her again. “Crying? Nonsense, you silly boy. But onions is onions even at Christmas,” said Ma. KJIC, WC III*- * • —— — — — years past, we have looked forward to the opportunity of ex pressing Season's Greetings to our friends and customers, and this year is no exception. Much has happened within the past year to alter our habits and customs. Such changes have been necessary, and we have gladly tried to do our part. Because of these changes, the true meaning of Christmas is brought home to us more forcibly. Christmas is a tangible ;r ng that means so much in a chaotic wc rid. It is a season of good fellowship to which American people look forward with enthusiasm. It is the one time of the year when cares can be forgotten, and an occasion which you can treas ure through the months to come. We ore sure that you have had your problems and your cares. You have had your share of disappoint ments. It is because we are fully want to attempt to bring a note ot cheer to you ot this Christmastime. With^incere feelings of friendship and appreciation, we wish for you o happy Christmas. KENDALL MILLS MOLLOHON PLANT Qondial Nancy says— Guess what Sluggo! My dad just did the swellest thing ... he signed up 10% of bis pay for War Bonds and it ain’t even New Year’s yet! jv “Top That 10% by New Year'*" When playing cards were introduced into England they looked upon purely as a pastime. Qneetinai R. DERRILL SMITH WHOLESALE GROCER 910 Main Street Newberry, S. C. 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