The sun. [volume] (Newberry, S.C.) 1937-1972, December 23, 1949, Image 17
FRIDAY, DECEMBER 23, 1949
I Are, you
THE NEWBERRY SUN
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REAGINS SHOE
SHOP
THE VILLAGE
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HAS A HEART
Dorothy Boys Kilian
T HE CLOCK struck nine as Nola
hung the last bauble on the
fragrant green Christmas tree.
Without even stepping back to ad
mire the fin’shed effect she went to
the front window and peered out.
A cold white moon illumined a
cold white earth. She shivered.
How lonely she had been in this
tiny, quiet village!
When she had written Jim two
months before that she was being
evicted from their apartment in
Chicago he had answered. “I’m
hoping against hope to be home
from occupation duty in time for
Chirstmas. and I can’t think of ar.y
place more perfect than Pineville
to spend the holidays and my termi
nal leave. Remember my telling
you what happy summers I spent
there as a child, and how I’d al
ways wanted to see it in winter?
Do investigate this, as a Christmas
present for me. Nola darling.”
So she had come here and found a
house. But somehow she felt that
the villagers had ignored her as an
outsider
And now it was Christmas Eve.
"He’s not going to make it and
that’s that,” Nola thought miser
ably. She knew that he had landed
at San Francisco three days before
and had been trying desperately to
get a seat on a train or plane.
for your fireside
and for you
R. M. LOMINACK
Hardware
"It’s me. Doc Ryan. We’re on
your party line you know, and
heard the good news. My wife
thought I’d better take you over."
The telephone rang. "There’s a
telegram just come for you. Mrs.
West, down here at the drug store.
Very important."
“Yes?” Nola breathed.
“Chicago, 8 P.M. Am catching
train. Get off Shoreham five miles
east of Pineville 10 P.M. Icve Jim.”
Nola leaned heavily against the
wall and stared at the phone.
“Mrs. West, are you there?” Mr.
Trotter, the druggist, sounded
anxious. “Listen, you go out in the
garage and get your car motor to
warming up. My wife’ll be up
there in five minutes to stay with
your little boy. Hurry now.”
In joyful haste Nola peeked in at
Jimmy—’’Santa Claus is bringing
you your Daddy, honey”— pow
dered her nose and put on her fur
coat and boots.
The garage door stuck in its
icy groove although she bent her
whole weight against it. Suddenly,
out of the darkness, a voice called.
“It’s me, Doc Ryan. We’re on your
party line you know, and heard the
good news. I’m so used to driving
out in all kinds of weather, my wife
thought I’d better take you over."
“Dr. Ryan, I didn’t realize ’til
Just now how I dreaded that trip
alone.”
A train whistle shrilled through
the cold thin air as they drove up
to the little depot.
"We made It!” Nola cried ex-
ultlngly. “dome on.” She held open
the door.
But Doc muttered, “I’ll stay here
and keep my feet warm.”
Now the huge black engine
roared past, slowed down and slid
to a stop. A coach vestibule door
opened, and before the conductor
could step down, a khaki-clad fig
ure leaped onto the platform.
“Oh, darling, darling, darling,”
Nola’s heart throbbed as she felt
once more the thrilling warmth of
Jim’s arms around her.
“Nola!" Jim said everything in
that word.
A few moments later as they
walked to the car a voice boomed
from within, "Glad you made it.”
“Whoever you are—thanks," Jim
answered. “It’s people like you
who made me want Nola to come
to Pineville to wait for me.”
“Get in and close the door. You’re
freezing me out." Doc grinned as
he raced the motor.
“Chrismas Eve," Jim said softly
as they squeezed in with Doc.
“You beside me, our baby just a
few miles away, and a Chrismas
card place like Pineville to wel
come ns. Don’t you love it there,
darling?"
Nola glanced at Doc, thought of
Mrs. Trotter and the others “Yes,
Jim, I do,” she whispered. “1
surely do.”
Z?ouel#
RIMES
By John Scott Douglas
F RED DOBSON plugged in the
string of lights and then stood
back to admire the blue and red
and green candle globes on the
Christmas tree. Ellen left the table
she was setting to study the effect.
■Nice little tree. Fred. Seems a
shame, though, not to be sharing
it with someone. This was our
year—’’
And Uien she stopped, and her
face, still pretty in middle age,
grew pink. Fred knew she’d been
about to say that it was their year
to have the Robbins to Christmas
dinner. Every year since their
children had married and left they
had either entertained their neigh
bors or had been their guests.
But now, by mutual consent, the
quarrel with the Robbins was not
mentioned It was characteristic
of Ellen not to blame Fred. And
that took forbearance because Mar
tha Robbins had been her dearest
friend
Ellen sighed. “Goodnessl the tur
key must be almost ready."
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The spirit of Christmas helps us to ap
preciate the true value of the friendly folks
whose loyalty makes it possjble for us to
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successfully go on Christmas after Christ
mas. ^
Jl Business has friendships many of
which gain strength as they go down through'
the years. X Old names on the ledgers, old
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familiar voices on the telephone, old custo-
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there is a powerful
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gives warmth and feeling to the everyday
things of life.
PURCELLS
Mrs. William Franklin Mrs. Richard Wicker
Mrs. David Senn
'«'C<CtCte<C<CICIC>C>C'«>C«<C>C<««C>C'C««««'«<C<e<C<C«tC««’CtCt«CtC>C-IC'e«<C'<
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and another year has
passed. To us here it has been a year of accomplishment and
satisfaction. But without your friendship and goodwill, and
the friendliness of other splendid folks like you, such achieve
ment could not have been possible.
He was back In a moment with
a rake. Lifting the smouldering
tree with the tines, he buried It
out onto the snowy lawn.
Fred thought of their quarrel,
which had started because of a
cocker puppy which wouldn’t stay
home. Tom, with his usual consid
eration for his neighbors, had
started to build a fence to keep the
dog out of the Dobson’s garden.
Fred thought the fence wpi a foot y
within his own property line, and g E. B. Purcell, Sr., Pres. Keitt Purcell E. B. Purcell, Jr. • Ben P. Stewart
Jokingly said so.
Tom had laughed. “Who’s paying
for It?”
“I'll pay half,” Fred had said,
“If you’ll buy the strip you’re
using.”
The joke, within a matter of days,
had taken on an edge, and then
they gave up speaking. No longer
did they fish and hunt together, or
play in their usual Saturday four
somes.
By then, beginning to fume at
Tom's high-handedness, Fred had
his property surveyed, only to dis
cover that his garden had in reality
extended onto his neighbor’s prop
erty The fence was where It be
longed.
Fred wanted to apologize, but
every time he stepped outside, Tom
walked into the house.
Within a matter of seconds, Fred
was too busy to think of the quarrel.
The little Christmas tree was on
fire and crackling fiercely. He
flung open the door and screamed.
"Fire! help! help!” And then,
snatching up the hall runner he’d
been planning to replace, he
knocked over the tree and began
beating out the flames.
Behind him Tom called. "Stay
with it, pal—I’ll get something.”
He was back in a moment with a
rake. Lifting the smoldering tree
with the tines, he hurled it out onto
the snowy lawn.
Martha Robbins had appeared by
then. Seeing Ellen staring dazedly
at the cloud of smoke and the
blackened wall where the tree had
stood, she opened the windows and
then slipped her arm around Ellen’s
shoulders.
“Poor dear! And Just when you
were sitting down to your Chrismas
dinner. After the smoke has thinned
out, this room will be freezing. You
and Fred are having dinner with
us.” \
Ellen looked happy but flustered
“But this was our year—”
“Nonsense!" Tom said heartily
’WeTl eat with you next year.”
“That will be swell." Fred said
beaming
When they started Martha Rob
bins’ bountiful dinner, there was
at first a little stiffness. But Tom
was soon Joking about Fred's
“high forehead," and Fred was
asking Tom if he’d considered sell
ing his hair to a wire-brush factory
As they said hearty farewells
later. Tom remarked, “Can’t say
I’m sorry about that fire. We’ve
sure missed you folks."
“And it was all my fault,” Fred
said. “1 was wrong about—”
"Aw. forget it,” Tom interrupted.
“How about some golf Saturday?"
When they reached home. Fred
looked at the blackened wall specu
latively. “No real damage done,
Ellen. A coat of paint will fix it
up."
“How Co you suppose the tree
ever caught fire?" Ellen asked.
Fred grinned sheepishly. “A
match and a bunch of tissue paper
may have helped.”
So we say thank you. Thank you very sincerely for the con
tribution you have made toward our success this year. We
hope that your Christmas will be a Merry one. , '
EASON’S
Carolina Remnant Shop
Lillie Mae Goggans
Mattie C. Carroll
Ellie D. Ringer
Julia B. Wicker
Elizabeth B. Cole