Saint Mary's beacon. [volume] (Leonard Town, Md.) 1867-1983, 1891-12-24

ing beside my bed, all cloaked and
bonneted for an outing. Then
kneeling beside me she continued,
in low voice, so as not to wake the
boys:
Eve go. five hundred dollars.
Kit; think of it five hundred
whole dollars | Enough to get to-
morroW's dinner and some tors for
the boys. and other things besides. .
And she snuggled my hand in
hers and smiled down into my
amazed face, ret with a wistful look
in her eyes that belied the cheer
fitness OF her manner and some
how those sad eyes seemed to plead
with me to ask no questions. did
not. We only held each others
hands the tighter, and exchanged
one long aud understanding kiss
She next explained to me that in
order TO have our Christmas dinner
1t was necessary to go to market
that night; the stores would all be
closed next day. Bina must go,
too. Would | be afraid to stay
with the children while they were
away! They wouldn't be long
scarcely an hour.
''Afraid Not L. was my proud
answer. For when, as she general
ly did, my mother treated me as a
woman grown, | tried hard to live
up to the honor. However, this
night my willingness to comply
with her request came from no spe-
ciai pride or bravery on my part. |
seemed to be in somewhat of lazed
and non-comprehending state. Al
ter month or more of unusually
short commons, during which time
the realities of our forlorn condi-
ton had been painfully stamped on
my young mind, the genuineness
of this phantom iye-hundred- dollar
bill was something too shadowy to
be grasped. Corn poae, bacon, and
greens wehad long been glad enough
to get, with just an occasional treat
of sorghum molasse5 TO keep us
from forgetting the taste; and why.
now, should we be thps suddenly
flung into the arms cf turkey? q
suppose j should have said wings. J
"And fruit-cake," too" thought
/, quoting my mother.
No, no, Kit Prescott, you've ~
agined this . You've just been ly-
ing here with your eyes wide open.
fancying all manner of ridiculous
things. That was only dream
mother standing at the bedside Of
her little dream-girl, and she was
not your mother, and you are not
her little girl, and you will get no
turkey tomorrow And with this
sorrowful reflection | fell fast asleep.
The next morning. with the twit-
tering Of the snow-Lirds outside my
window, came the refrain OF fam
iliar melody:
JEFF Davis rides white horse
Aud Lincoln Sides m"ie,"
and from the resounding box and
shrill yell that followed ] knew ex-
actly what had happened. Bina
wasn't going to stand any sucl
nonsense. She was not responsible
for our manners and morals, but
Pete must be trained in the way h,
should go. "Course I'll alters b,
er fas' fren' OBJ de fambly's, nC
mattah how de wah en- =" she would
say, "but | isn't gwine Ter stan nc
niger chile oh mine castin' 'sper.
sions on Marse Linkum's cac'ter.
Poor Bina! She died soon after
of the measles, and is in heaven
now, | hope-though she tcas light
fingered at times.
But to return to Christmas and
the dinner. Never did | have a
better one. Never was there snch
q bursting breast TO another turkey;
such grainy rice, or such huge and
mealy yams, all wrapped in wet
newspapers and baked in the red
hot ashes. Then with all these
good things, such draughts Of per-
siInmon beer, light and sparkling
as champagne, pouring out with a
guTglc and drunk with reeling
sensesl At the very last, after the
dessert Of fruit-cake and hickory
nuts, came tiny nip Of good old
rye, just to help digestion along,
and tOast-but am anticipating.
At three O'Clock sharp the feast was
announced, and exactly one minute
past, with dramatic opening, il
began. First, Pete flung the pine