The Worthington advance. [volume] (Worthington, Minn.) 1874-1908, 1883-12-27
THE WIDOWS CHRISTMAS.


stand and wait in the cold"
The goodnight kiss was given, and
the little brown head disappeared under
che cover. Presently it emerged again.
"Mamma."
"What is it, my baby?"
"Do you think he'll Gomez"
eyes, darling; think So"
"You only think 50. Then you're not
sure. IT. you felt sure. you'd say yes, he
will"
you know, Bessie, We never con be
quite sure of anything in this world; but
l feel pretty certain that he will come"
That's So" said the child retlectively,
after pause. ';Such little house, and
50 many trees around. lie might miss
it. All the houses about are so big.
And he might forget. After he'd got
through filing the other little children's
stockings he might say TO himself, Are
there any more stockings that want fill
ing? Let ne see.' And after he'd stud
led awhile he might cay, No I can't
think of any. and it's too late and cold
to 60 around hunting. I'll just take
home what's left And then he might
get in his reindeer cart and gallop on.
Oh, me, what pity! Oh, l hope he
won't"
The little creature broke off with. a
sudden wall, wrought into an ecstacy Of
anxiety and forestalled disappointment
by the yividness of the reality her own
imagination had ere ated.
A faint smile came to tAe widows pa
tent mouth; a faint smile, and a sad one
that had a fellowship with the tears in
her eyes.
"Hou know Santa Claus always did
come. Bessie" she answered presently.
Eyes; he came last wear. To be sure
there wasn't much in tho stockiEg,"
With another reflective pause.
"You see this is the littlest place, 50
he puts it of till the last, and | s'pose
his pockets had got most empty. But
lie did come, anyhow. He didn't for
get. Mammal"
"WeIl, my darlng?"
81 think I'll say "A little prave~, and
just ask God to put him in mind. Do
you think he would care if said it hero
in bed?'
"No," said the widow; II don't think
lie would"
Forthwith she knelt, in crouci,ing
posture. in her place on the bed, ANA
burvi.ig her face in the pillow. A sound
of Whispering tioated through the room.
The angels stopped to listen, and this is
what they heard:
'Oh dear God, I'd get out and kneel
down if the floor wasn't SO very cold. l
hope you won't be angry cause ask it,
but if you'll only be SO kind as to tell
Santa Claus not to forget me tonight,
III be very glad. Tell him it's the LITTLE.
house among the trees, where there's
only one little girl. And III try real
hard to be good girl; l will, sure
enough, dear God, and if don't say this
right, please don't take any notice. And
please bless mamma and me-for Je.
sus' sake: and-lead us not into temp
ta'ion-and-thine is the glory forever
and ever. Amen"
Then the angels looked up smiling,
and the light from the great altar flame
fell upon their jubilant faces, as they
choired the Gloria in Elk celsis. Perhans
she heard it in her dreams, for sleep
then and there fell upon her, and her
frame, relaxing from its uneasy posture
sank gently into one of repose; the face
half showing with its yelled eyes, and
peaceful, child's mouth, the tiny hands
still ciasped close upon the breast.
The widow had drawn up to the wood
fire her little table, uron which he oil
lamp burned dlmly. She sat beside it
sewing, and, now and then raising her
head, paused and listened anxious:y.
BY and by, in the distance, whip
cracked, and the sound was followed by
the heavy rum5ling OF a wagon. Ths
anxious look cleared away from the Wild
owls face, and she whispered softly:
'"rhank God! She won't be disap-
pointed"
The wagon came closer, anda gruH
voice was heard outside:
Gee. DoLbin; whoa-haw, Buck :;
whoa, Dobbin; whoa iar, l say"
And, with mingling of many abinr-
cations and much growing abuse, the
team was brought to a standstill before
the door.
The widow had already opened 1t as
silently as might be, and no stood hold
ing 1t against the keen north wind.
why can t they make less noise:" she
muttercd impatiently with an uneasy
glance toward the bed. But there was;
no movement; the slumber Of healthy
childhood is hard to break.
Something stlapeless but presumably
human was visible in the darkness. els
that you, Gen?' called the widow. 81
was afraid you wouldn't get back this
Its what dar is left O me-" said the
grutf voice. GAS Ter gettin' back, Use
To u Il Of Il bot,
Christmas out yer in dat wagin."
The shapetess heap drew near with
s'ouching motion, until the light stream.
ing through the door revealed amid
mysterious endless wrappings an ancient
v,sage once ebony black, but worn by
wind and weather into grayish hue.
Ibid you get all the thiugs?" asked
the widow.
''Dat TO- you to fine out" was the SEN
tentious rejoinder. II dun fotch all
what dat sto'keeper gimme. HoW's
gwine to know WOt you dun writ on da,
AZ piece o'paper. Oar dey is, anyhow.
III set @em inside TO- ye."
The speaker disburdened himself Of a
henlpen sack, evidently containing a
miscellany OF articles, alter which from
the unknown depths of his apparel he
produced, as rapidly as his numbed fin
gers would allow, several small pack
ages which he laid upon the little table.
''Thats all, think" said the widow,
rs she inspected them. But the old
darkey still lumbled among his unclassic
draperles.
Not yit," he soid, in his gruf way,
adding, as he produced tiny, brown
paper parcel, "Dar, OATS all. Mustn't
mind me siben it to little Miss. Tel
her ole Uncle Ben wish her Merry
Christ,na.?"'
"Thank you for your kindly thought,
Ben" said the widow, as she took trora
the. hearth steaming tin cup, which had
been waiting there. and handed it to the
old man, who received it with bow
and scrape "tlere IS some hot coffee
that will warm you. sits very good
OF you, know to bother yourself about
my little commissions, when the westh-
er is so cold. It's not what your obliged
to do"
Cd Ben drank the coffee in great
gulps, and set the cup carefully
back on the hearth. THANK ye, ole
Miss" he said. "Dat' pear like hit dun
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