Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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FRIDAY, DECEMBER 23, 1949 THE NEWBERRY SUN With every reverence of the occasion we extend mson Ritz Theatre i p • • • • • •••••• • • • • -• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • §•• • ••••••••••••• •••••••••••••• ••••••••••••• •••••••••••••• ••••••••••••••• •••••••••••••••• ••••••••••••••• •••••••••••••••• ••••••••••••••• » • • • • • • • • • • • • City Filling Station "NEXT TO THE POSTOFFICE AND JUST AS RELIABLE" By Dorothy Boys Kilian r WAS Christmas Eve but the group of people sitting on the floor in the Reeds’ living-room cer tainly weren't in a festive mood. ■■Doggonitt.■■ Dad exclaimed as he stared gloomily at the shiny tracks and the motionless cars of a new electric train*"What's wrong with this thing anyway?” "We've put it together exactly ac cording to directions. I'm sure we have.” fifteen-year-old Rick in sisted. "Well, something's got to be done,” said Mom, looking in from the kitchen where she was stuffing the turkey. "Little Jackie’s been praying for that train for months, and how’U he feel tomorrow morn ing if the thing won't run?” "Maybe Ralph can help. He’s coming by for me in a few minutes, you know." said Wilma, the pretty big sister of the family. "Oh. him!" Rick was scornful. "That guy from the big city with his socks and ties and handker- Ha picked up the ahlny black engine carefully and turned It ever and ever. He put it up to eye level and peered Into Its workings. chiefs that matchl What does he know about motors?” "Rick!” Mom reproved. "Oh, I know you all think of him as an outsider,” Wilma said. “If you only really knew him better! Mom,' I do wish you’d let me ask him to breakfast tomorrow.” "I’m sorry dear, but I just don’t think he’d fit In.” The doorbell rang. Wilma an swered it and she and Ralph ex changed happy hellos. Rick immediately threw out the challenge to the tall, blond, well- dressed young man. “We can’t make this train go. Can you tell what’s wrong with it?” "Maybe," Ralph said quietly. “I used to have a train something like this.” "Look out, that cotton batting stuff will stick to your trousers,” Dad warned. "That’s snow, and the snow around here is clean.” Dad looked slightly startled. Wilma smiled. She remembered how impressed Ralph had been by the whiteness of the drifts even on Main street last night. "The flakes are practically sooty before they even reach the ground to Chicago,” he had said. "Tracks are OK.” Ralph straightened up. Thm he picked up tha shiny black engine care fully and turned it over and over. He put it up to eye level and peered into its workings. "The professional touch!’' Rick muttered. "There may be oil In the com mutator,” Ralph said. "That some times happens with a new engine. I'U see if I can get it out.” 'Til get you a rag, Ralph, just a minute.” Wilma got up and started for the kitchen. "Never mind, this’ll do,” Ralph answered, pulling his perfectly folded wine-colored handkerchief out of his jacket pocket He worked quietly for a moment, gently poking the corner of the handkerchief into the Inside of the engine. Then he set the engine care fully down on the track and said, "Turn on the juice, will you Rick?" Rick meekly moved forward the black lever at the transformer. There was a whirring sound, the wheels began to move, and the lit tle puffer-billy whizzed and clacked around the curve. "Praises be!” Dad heaved a loud sigh of relief. Ralph quietly got up from the floor and turned to Wilma. "Maybe we’d better go now, if we want to catch the gang.” "Alright, Ralph,” Wilma said. Her eyes turned pleadingly to Mrs. Read, "Mom—” "Oh, yes, Wilma,” Mom Inter rupted. Turning to Ralph she said heartily, "In all the excitement we almost forgot to ask you to be sure to come over for late breakfast with us tomorrow. It’s just a simple family af ir, but we surely would like to have you with us.” "You bet." Dad’s eyes twinkled. "Something might go wrong with it again and we’d feel safer with you •round to tlx It.” 'B EVEEY HEART By Vera Tarpley UT THEY don’t believe In Chri'tmas, Jim—y o u know that.” Laura wished she hadn't spoken quite so loudly; her remark had stopped in midstream three rapid-running conversations. Her quests studied the rug pattern. Jim merely looked at his wife in silence "I mean, after all." aha went on. "it’s not their religion. . . so I as sumed it would be embarrassing— to them—to invite them to our Christmas party." She swallowed uncomfortably. "And I assumed that this party was for all the fellows In our office, including Ben.” He smiled then, but didn’t soften the accusation Everyone in the room knew of the close friendship between Jim and Ben—they only guessed at his wife’s resentment of the friendship. "He asked us to sing ‘Silent Night’ and guess what? He gave us ten dollars! And she invited ns in and gave us candy and cookies.” Mr. Adams, office manager, broke the silence next. "I wouldn’t wor ry about it too much, Jim, After all, Christmas is . . .” He emptied his glass and returned It to the coffee-table. "And we all feel a lit tle differently about the holidays than they do.” About nine o’clock carolers came to the door, singing lustily and slightly off-key, "Let every heart prepare him room ...” The oldest caroler was scarcely twelve. He rattled a box full of coins. Mr. Adams snatched the donation box from him, ceremoniously deposited nine pennies, and passed from guest to guest, bowing after each dona tion. Everyone put in nickels and dimes. Jim put in a five-dollar bill and everyone shouted "Show-off!” Laura was annoyed but kept stiU. Laura and Jim's little girl, Bonny, was out caroling too, but her group covered a different neighborhood. No one noticed much when the telephone rang later in the evening and Jim went to answer it. But they noticed Jim’s face when he returned to the living-room—it was white and twitched unpleasantly. Laura walked over to him. "Who was it, dear?" "It was Ben—he called to apolo gize for not coming tonight.” "His daughter’s been In Chil dren’s Hospital for the past month, you know." Adams broke in. "Say, that’s right—Ben said she was pulling out of it—that was last week I be lieve. How’s she doing, did he say?” "She died this afternoon.” Nobody seemed to have anything more to say after that. The party broke up within the next half-hour. Just as the Adamses were leav ing, Bonny came in from caroling. She was flushed with happiness and excitement. Laura clutched her in her arms convulsively. "Did your group make a big haul tonight. Bonny?” j "Did we!” she gasped. “We got more than any other group I bet! And Mom, we sang for that Mr. Ben at Daddy’s office, and—” "Oh but you shouldn’t have!” Laura looked at Jim with alarm. "Why not. Mom? He asked us to sing "Silent Night,” and guess what? He gave us ten dollars! And she invited us in and gave us candy and cookies, and gee, they're nice! And I told them hello from you and Daddy, and you know what? She cried! Isn't that funny, mother?" Jim looked at his stricken wife and wanted to take her in his arms, but Mr. and Mrs. Adams were standing there with their mouths open, so he merely grasped her hand firmly. Bonny babbled on hap pily. "And you know what else? Mr. Ben asked me what the donations went for, and when I told him he took all the money out of his wal let and put it in our box, can you imagine? And then I asked him if he had any boys or girls like us and would they like to go caroling with us and he said no. And then she started crying again and we left. Wasn’t that funny?” Mr. Adams cleared his throat. "By the way. Bonny, Just what were tho.*» donations for anyway? I forgot to notice when they came around here.” "Why. for the Children’s Hospital fund—or something like that—It was «B printed on the box.” so, to you, our family of friends, we extend most cordial Christmas greetings. Fairfield Forest Products Co. 'm