The Democratic advocate. [volume] (Westminster, Md.) 1865-1972, 1891-12-26


him.
Mrs. Rexford," and his voice was bit
of condensed harshness, al thought you
knew my mind on sech trihin' years ago,
and l want yo to understand once and Tor
all, won't have it, and the big foot came
down on the uncarpeted floor with snap
Sand you Young ones, stop your snlvelln
over there, or I'll give you something to
snivel about" and the mighty potentate
glared over in the corner, where little Nan
was struggling with sob of mingled terror
aud disappointment, for at her mothers
kind words it seemed so easy to have just a
little bit of Christmas, at least.
"Darn him." whispered Ted, clinehing
his fists, and shaking them at the house
hold monarch, who had again wrapped
himself in his newspaper "rllrun away,
see if l don't, an I'll have Christmas
tree every day when | get big.
His Jacket would have needed nofurther
busting for months to come, if the parent
could have seen the belligerent action, but,
fortunately, the paper was not transparent,
and Mr.. Rexford was deep in an article on
the Irish question.
He looked up presently; he had the COM
placent feeling of the bull dog, who comes
uppermost in the fight, and could look upon
his vanquished subjects with amiable con-
descension. 81 guess those Britishers II
find they can't always abuse them poor
Irishers," he said. They'll find out,
sooner or later, that it don't pay to alters
play the tryrant'
Mrs. Rexford received the information
with proper degree of humility, and
subdued chm m IN, escaped her lips, but
she thought to herself that it would not be
necessary to cross the ocean to find tyrant,
if one were urgently needed, and wondered
rebelliously if it was always going to pay
him to assume the character he so depre-
Gated in his British neighbors.
Bedtime came, and Ted and Nan, with
little Jane, crept off toward their beds
No cheerful, goodnight, papa" with the
kiss which sweetens slumber, and ushers
the children into happy dreamland; Mr..
Rexford' S soul would have recoiled at such
sentimental doings, children being, in his
eyes, necessary evils, from which to extract
the greatest amount of work with the least
amount of love and money
The mother rose, lamp in hand, and fol
lowed them softly; she helped them undress
with soft, gentle touches, and then drew
them to her side for their evening prayer.
Little Nan, ten years of age, was just at
the point of tears, and when she came to
the phrase in her simple prayer: ''Gnd
bless papa and mamma," her voice broke
into a muf1ed sob 1t was so hard to pray
for the father, who apparently loved them
so little
Hush, darling" said Mrs. Rexford,
almost in tears herself, as she drew the
quivering little form to her heart; perhaps
mamma will find way yet"
Ted was thirteen, and in his rebellious
feelings omitted the customary phrase from
his prayer entirely. "The mean old thing, :"
he muttered, angrily, "I'd like to lick him. y
"Hush, DEAR" she said, gently, "father
doesn't mean to be unkind"
"What does he do it for, then ?" de-
manded the boy, and the mothers lips
we're shut, for she had no adequate reply
for such a pertinent question.
All this was done in whispers, and a
familiar voice broke in upon the converse
ton at this juncture: "Going to stay in
there all night, Jane? And hastily tuck
ing them into their beds, with loving kisses
on the little grieved lips, she left them
hurriedly to the gentle comforter, sleep,
which seldom refuses to come to healthy
childhood.
This was two weeks before Christmas,
and week went by, and Mrs. Rexford saw
no possible way to fulfill the hope she had
cherished of making it pleasant day for
the children. She could get up good
dinner Mr.. Rexford was fond of good
dinners himself, but with his stern face at
the table, the children would be obliged to
sit like dummies, and eat in sepulchral
silence, for the father was firm believer
in the doctrine that children should be
seen, not heard" and allowed no frivolous
chattering at meal-time.
She had been putting away surreptitious
balls of butter and dozens of eggs, in the
hope of being able to smuggle few little
trihes quietly into their stockings, but hel
heart was heavy with a sense of her inabil
! ity to make the holiday such one as she
would like
"Jane," said Mr.. Rexford, coming il
from the village with an envelope in hi,
hand, 81 don't know what ever you'll do
but I'll have to leave ye for awhile"
"What is it, Mr.. Rexford?' she asked
in surprise; it was very seldom either duty
or pleasure took him from home
"Why Johns dead, an they telegraphet
me to come and tend the funeral, an
s'pose its my dooty to GO"
"0f course it is, Joseph replied th'
wife, "and I'll get along all right. Billy
Grant will come over and do the chores" "
John was Mr.. Rexford's brother, another
branch of the Rexford family tree, which
though not as gnarled and knotty as JOSEPH
himself, still bore enough resemblance to