The Monmouth inquirer., 1898-12-29

She sat perfectly silent and quiet. He
picked up his nat and walked to the
door. Even there he turned, hoping
that in some way he would find out it
was all mistake But the still, up
right figure beside the window had not
stirred, nor unclasped her hands, nor
looked toward him. She was proudly
Indifferent to his coming or going
But w1en he had gone, two small.
white hands stole up to her eyes and
wiped away the binding tears, crush
ing the violets upon her breast. Re-
beIlious, indignant thoughts came to
her; anger and grief struggled till grief
conquered, and che rose and put away
the envelopes in the long box and tied
up the book with it.
When, next day, a courteous note
came from Philip, asking for the COM
plesed envelopes and inelosing crisp
FIVE dollar bill as payment. a note came
back in reply. also Enclosing the self
same crisp FIVE dollar bill. and stating
that, as she did not care to finish the
work. she did not feel entitled to the
money. She also returned the envelopes
and book
A few moments later Philip was star
ing at her note and the money. He
was not surprised. But he thought of
her bitter disappointment over the
Christmas presents and the tree.
Hang it all" he said Poor little
Margery. I'm sure could not help
it," But he did no work that after
noon, occupying himself vita unpIeas-
ant and unhappy thoughts instead.
III.
When twilight fell he rose from his
chair. showing the note into his pocket.
His fingers fell upon a scrap Of paper;
he found her list crumpled up Smooth
ing it out, he scanned again the names.
Monday morning dawned bright and
beautiful. All was activity in the lit
| tie church in the afternoon. The tree
had been set up and many fingers la
bored over its decoration. Philip pass
ing by stopped in and his eye searched
the church for the bright curly head
that was so sure to be there
Miss Bain?" said one of the girls.
in reply to his inquiry. Why. she
sprained her ankle climbing up that
ladder, and has gone home.
The tree suddenly lost interest for
Philip. He told himself he need not
care if she were hurt he had no right
to care. 1t was another's right He
did not care to say whose. When
night came and the tree was lit, and
the little church was full of delighted
and wild-eyed children. Philip came
again. He nad wandered restlessly
about all day and found no peace. A.
laugh and pair of eyes haunted him.
He suffered pain as he thought Of a
bruised and aching ankle. Better her
ankle than her heart, he said savage
ly, to himself.
Up in the choir gallery, wrapped in
shawIs and behind the choir. sat Mar
gerry Balm. She had begged to come.
and her mother had yielded. So a
neighbor's carriage had brought her.
and. anxious to avoid notice, and sad
at heart because of ner disappointment.
there she sat while gift after gift
was pIucked from the wonderful tree,
dazzling with its candles and tinsel
strings. Her poor little cards Of greet
ing were called out. and she saw her
class file up to receive them. But what
was this? She leaned forward in sur
prise. Not only the little cards were
given, but more; doll for Dot. pearl
knife for William football for An
drew. The roses famed in her cheeks
wner a warm shawl was handed out
for Aunt Sally. So on through her
list; her own list which she had been
obliged to discard She sank back
amazed; who could have done it? She
thought of certain small envelope
hanging on the tree. It was addressed
ssMr. Philip Lake When she had
hung it there her foot had slipped,
and it was then she had received the
ugly sprain.