Semi-weekly interior journal. [volume] (Stanford, Ky.) 1881-1905, 1895-12-17
SANTA CLAUS CAME.
"1f you please, sir
"Ehg What now?"

The crusty old gentleman turned sud-
denly and sharply and glared from beneath
his shaggy eyebrows at the little figure be-
side him. The figure was that of girl 8
years old perhaps, but small and frail She
wore an enormous sunbonnet that might
have been made for the wife of the giant
Blunderbore, so out of proportion was Il to
the diminutive wearer, and out Of its
depths peered thin little face, with big,
frightened brown eyes. Her clothing was
so clean and neat that one scarcely noticed
how very poor il was, and as she stared up
into the terrible face above her one of the
little feet wriggled uneaSily in the depths
of the costly rug.
"If you please sir, mother said TO tell
you that she couldn't come up today be-
cause she's sick"
The childish treble was little shaken
this time, for the shaggy eyebrows were
very close to her, and they gave the old
gentleman a look that was terrible beyond
belief
He was in a dreadful temper, this crus-
ty old gentleman, and nothing made him
angrier than for poor people to get into his
house. He hated the sight of poverty, and
all his servants had special orders to guard
the doors and the gates and to see that no
moan OF woe or want ever reached his
ears And yet, after all, this little bcggar
had slipped past the bolts and bar into
his very study. where his own servants
scarcely dared to enter.
l don't know what dreadful thing might
have happened If IL had not been for that
one little word "mother" in the child's
a,
speak the word nowadays that it gave a
little shock Of surprise Instantly he found
himself looking beyond the child, at an
old long forgotten sccne-a little cabin
with "a white country road winding past it
and an awkward boy going down the road
stopping at the last curve to wave his
hand to his mother, who stood in the door
watching him go out into the world.
Then be remembered himself and asked
sharply:
And who is your mother, pray, and
why should she come here?'
please, sir, said the quavering little
voice, mothers the dust woman"
THE what" calculated the old gentle
man, with another dreadful frown.
"She comes up once week and dusts
the bric-a-brac," explained the child.
"The housekeeper hired her. She says she
doesn't feel equal TO it herself, and mother
does 1t so nicely"
Aha muttered the old gentleman
with an angry CLEAN in the eyes under
those fearful brows. $50 Mrs. Murray
brings outsiders into the house when my
back is turned, does she9 They're all
alike pack Of cheats and robbers I'll
teach her to violate my confidence and fill
my house with irresponsible people! You
may stay in this room till Mrs. Murray
comes. Do you hear? And then i shall
have a message to send TO your mother"
He rang the bell violently and ordered
that Mrs. Murray be sent to him as soon
as she returned. Having made this salts.
factory arrangement, he took up his paper
again and ignored the little figure in the
But before he had read dozen lines
there was light touch on his arm, and
the brown eyes were looking up into his.
please, sir, may look out of the win
dow while we're waitingY'
He was so astonished that he could not
reply for a moment, but he did finally give
a scornful grunt of assent.
There was silence in the room for long
time Not "a clock licked, for old Mr.
Roberts could not endure the ticking of
clocks. Not leaf stirred, not a cricket
Chirped. The stiffness disturbed him at
last, and he looked up. The child was out
On the little balcony, leaning on the stone
Her bonnet had fallen off,
and the sunlight, falling on the mass Of
brown hair, wOye it full of CLEANS of gold.
Another touch on his arm-there she
was again. Her hand-such "a little mOrsel
Of a hand--trembled with some new emo
ton, and her eyes shone with strange
light.
1T must be nice to live on hillr' was
what she said.
The old gentleman in the armchair had
never been more astounded in his life. He
stared at her and forgot to say anything.
Il have always wanted to live on a
hill, +" she went on. "Our house is away
down yonder, and you can't see anything
but the houses across the street. But up
here you can look SO far, and the sky's so
close To you. Don't you think people can
Do better when they live on a hill?"
The newspaper fell to the floor unheeded,
and the crusty old gentleman and the lit
lie girl looked at one another. After
awhile the old gentleman went to the bal
,ony and looked down to the roofs Of the
houses In the narrow streets be-
ow and then away to the far horizon.
This beautiful home of his crowned the
summit of this purple hill and was up
lifted so far above the noise and dust and
Of the city that lay below.
Truly, Ii was pleasant thing to live on a
hill. He had never thought Of 1t before,
but all at once he fancied himself down
among those miserable tenements looking
up at this beautiful home and thinking
how near To heaven 1t reached.
There was a hurried tap at the door,
and Mrs. Murray presented herself. Her
figure was attired still In the
neat dress that she had worn In the street.
Her round face was wreathed with smiles,
but she was obviously fiuttersd and quak-
Ing with fear.
did you leave word that you wanted
10 see me, sirf" she asked and then waited
for the blow to fall.
Mrs Murray" said the old gentleman
In his stiffsst and most formal manner,
am to understand that you have EN-
ploysd n woman TO come here once week
and dust the bric-a- bracS'
a.