The Somerset herald. [volume] (Somerset, Pa.) 1870-1936, 1899-12-27

SOMERSET, PA,
there isn't cent due you. If you had
been at work this week instead Of"
l don't ask no charity, sir" broke in
Robinson, sharply ~ sin't beggar
yet. I'm coming to work day after to-
morrow steady, and reckoned maybe
you'd oyerdraw for me with Christmas
coming tomorrow. A man can bear
poverty for himself, but the child-she
can't understand it.
How many children have you noU?'
zone"
"Ahn
Mr.. Chester was kind man. He
thought of his own children and the
bundles in the pockets of his greatcoat
homeward bound. Should the coming
of the Carist-child bring no gladness to
Robinson's little girl? He opened the
money drawer and took out some
change.
Robinson, will a dollar answer?"
Every well, very well, sir; and I'm
obliged, sir"
He took the dollar and went out into
the snowy winter night. He turned up
the gay avenue with its tramping of
busy people. 2'he bright window of
the toy store was on the corner. He
went ia with the throng and really be-
gan TO catch the infectious Christmas
spirit. He found "the doll with yaller
hair that would go to sleep" 1t cost
a dollar. He paid for it, took his bum
die and hurried away. He really felt
quite like Santa Claus.
He would not go home till Becky was
asleep, and then he would fix up sur
prise for her. At the head-no, on sec
ond thought-at the foot of her little
cot, he would have the doll suspended,
ready to he swung into her arms with
the first awakening.
Meantime, he would take a stroll
down the side streets. After all, fel-
low could have bitter thoughts on a
Christmas eve. The "E1ight have been'
of his life was something he wanted to
forget If only one could have the ex-
hilaration Of alcohol without the after
clap of gloom and unsteady hand and
head.
He was married on Christmas eve,
now that he thought of it. He had
little home then. The mother of those
babies he used to love was an overwork-
ed, spiritless washerwoman now, and
Becky only was left. There had been
fearful going downhill-fearful. Bet
ter for all of them to be dead and in
their graves. Twas miserable world,
even on a Christmas eve.
"Hello, old bcy-Robinsonr
Robinson looked up as he received
friendly grasp of the arm.
"You, Stowell?"
Exactly. Glad TO see you. Haven't
seen you since-when was it?-sinee
our little game?" They were in front
of the saloon. "Come in" taking Rob
inson's arm. christmas eve, you
know. Christmas Genes but once
year Have glass of good cheer with
me. I owe you something on the
game"
If be hesitated, it was only a mo-
ment. What had he to lose? He went
in. After the glass was emptied he sat
down in q corner with the boys. The
old craving was uncomfortable now.
To resist it was like fighting Niagara
current. He listened to the Cnink of
glasses and voices and laughter like a
man dreaming. He could throttle that
barkeeper and satisfy his thirst if so
many were not around. He put his
hand in his pocket from very force of
habit. Then he remembered the bun
die in the pocket of his overeoat. 1t
would bring him a dollar, perhaps.
He jumped up and called the bartender
aside. The bartender was very oblig-
ing about those things. He said: at
would bring fifty c-nts easy being
second handed So"
"All right. Give me fifty cents
worth.
The landlord dealt it out. Robinson
didn't remember so very much what
happened later. A man insulted him
and lie fought it out with him. Fought
it out to his complete satisfaction.
Somebody who was stronger than he
seized him and carried him out.
Christmas day he awoke with stiff,
bruised, sick feeling, and found him
self-where had that bureau gone, and
BOcky's cot and the torn wallpaper?
He jumped up with an oath on his
lips. He was prisoner.
Becky awoke early Christmas morn
ing, Just as she had said she would. 1t
would have been better if she had slept
late, or perhaps never Wakened to an
other Christmas day. She began gayly
with a hunting about, and continued
quite dismally with season of tears.
DtckA iuoiuct tudut ihuAiAuS iOi
breakfast, but they were not as COM
forting as one might have supposed.
They had mullins nearly every week.
Christmas came only after one had
waited and waited through days and
weeks, and daddy had finest promis-
ed' to bring her wax doll. Her
mother sighed heavily.
ave could starye to death for all
your father would care; much less buy
ing Christmas things: so it's no use to
cry, Becky"
But still little Becky with her empty
stocking sailed her mullins with tears,
and could not be comforted.
Don't cry, Becky, and I'll buy you
a tart for dinner, there's dear. You
can have them to eat while Pm wash
ing dishes, and Maggie Murphy may
come in to play with you. Won't that
be nice for Christmas ?'
Becky thought it would, and lifted
her tear-stained face from her arms. 1t
was an old face for a child. pinched
and old, and she was only seven.
The mother was gone all day, and
Becky aud Maggie played at home.