Eagle River review. [volume] (Eagle River, Wis.) 1890-1927, 1895-12-19
MISS MARSH And BOOTS

of Marshdown, and everyone was ready
for it. That is, almost everyone. Mr..
Grimes himself, in at the store. wore as
smiling countenance as ever fell to the
lot Of man.
1t was amusing to watch Mr. Grimes
hastily glance over at the store door
whenever its latch ratified, and. if he did
not see the head of the newcomer at Il
certain distance above the latch. cry out
christmas gift" 1t was necessary to
do this protection against the small
boys of Marshdown, to whom he would
have been held pledged for gift if he
had not said the words before they did.
1t was also amusing to witness the
sheepish looks upon the small boys faces
when they were thus saluted; for they
had 10 intention in the world to bestoW
a gift upon Mr. Grimes
There were two people in MarshdOwn
who were not ready for Christmas. Miss
Marsh was one, and Boots Mooney was
the other.
Miss Marsh was a very prim little old
iady-the only lady" in Marshdown.
MarshdoWn looked UP to her, notwith-
standing her limited means
1t was pleasant to go into her trim lit
tie ,parlor and sit down within the range
OF her understanding flowers, and listen
to her mockingbird singing it's curious
songs. And when anyone was in trouble.
it was comforting to go then, too, though
he might not have the heart either to
smell the flowers or to listen to the bird.
Miss Marsh was never chary with com
forting words; she had seen so much
trouble herself that she knew exactly
how to sympathize with it in others.
But this Christmas the whole of
Marshdown-tha is, nearly the whole
of twas enjoying itself to such won
Il f,,I Al
consoler was altogether in the wrong
neighborhood.
Mrs. Wells, who lived in the big brick
house which Miss Marsh's father had
built when he owned all the land there
about, was going to have public Christ
mas tree. The children of Marshdown
and the chiIdren's parents of Marsh
down were iii a genuine f1utter of delight
over the idea. Little trees, with few
candles and candies, were common
enough; but Mrs. Wells tree was in
tended to dazzle all eyes. The lady had
not attempted to keep it a secret and the
JOY of anticipation was certainly without
bounds.
Miss Marsh sat alone in her pretty
parlor, gazing out through her flowers
at the house on the hill. Once she had
had Christmas tree there, too, ever
highways and byways and gathered in
sal the children that could be found.
She smiled over the memory of it.
How eager she had been and how fear
fad that there wouldn't be children
enough to consume the little colored
bags of candy And how her father had
laughed when the crowd came trooping
in!
There was to be another Christmas
tree in the dear old room, and she was
not to be there. Why what a very fool
ish person she had become, to care for
Wells had thought she wished to come
she brushed her hands over her eyes
quickly and laughed TREMENDOUSLY. What
Il very, very foolish oldaperson she was!
But five minutes later Miss Marsh,
still gazing out through her flowers, but
hills, acknowledged frankly to herself
that she did not wish to so to Mrs.
Wells Christmas tree and that she
would have refused politely an invita-
ton. She concluded that was the reason
why the invitation had not come.
Her knocking bird began to sing wildly
and gladly. It's voice filled the little
room-such a little room that it never
could have held the beautiful tree which
she longed TO set up.
Suddenly Miss Marsh's vision mar
rowed and centered itself upon the fig
ure of a small boy advancing down the
road. There was an extremely indiffer
individual would certainly declare was
assumed.
Once he turned ana glanced back at
the big house, and when he continued his
leisurely gait he forgot just how a boys
face must appear when he is DESTROYS of
showing all the world how very little he
cares.
Ever so long ago, it seemed to this L.
year-old boy he had lived in neat
little wooden house, which had since had
it's windows nailed up and been con-
verified into the warehouse attached to
the store.
His life had been altogether different
thing to him then. A Christmas day in
that little house was the happiest of all
his happy memores-that day when he
found his little red-topped boots standing
by the fireplace. Everyone had made
much of him. and then and there people
had begun to call him Boots.
Boots could remember walking on the
storecounter. so that all men could see
how very pretty were the red tops and
brass toes. His mother had laughed at
his new name, and late that Christmas
night had walked up, saying. ever so
softly. "Come little Boots, you must let
me take them off"
The name was the only one that was
lpft-that and these. He knocked his
bic feet c,umsily together feeling the
NIiic Ieel SiON hot lie uleu Ill
Marshdown generously gave him their
old boots, and he had to wear them.
Everyone said they were quite good
enough for him, and that he ought to be
glad to get them. But he was neither
glad nor grateful.
Boots felt himself very disreputable
specimen of hoyhood with all this weight
CT thankessness upon his heart, as his
big boots and his little feet shuffied along
on this beautiful Christmas day.
He lived outside the village with a
farmer named Mead. 1t was a good
home. but he was not grateful for that
either.
.Its Christmas day"-ths is the way
Roots thoughts were running. as he
aeaeed Miss Mavsh's trim palings-''it's
christmas day, an | amt thankful for
that. neither
SIS that you. Boots?'