Aberdeen herald. [volume] (Aberdeen, Chehalis County, W.T.) 1886-1917, 1901-12-19
ard to, an il he Is, my cakes an pies are

TOOUls an put up SoIue SIceuS " MANY a.
seem Christmassy. l wouldn't have the
heart to finish, Homer, if knew he
wasn't COMM She was still smiling,
but TREMENDOUSLY.
"All right, Gran'ma," he said, with a
great effect of cheeriness in his voice;
but I'm like you, I'm positive Toms
comm"
"Yes. I'm most sure We'll see him this
time; but if there's a letter, Homer. don t
bring it. Peter Crump always brings 1t
up to me as he goes home on Christmas
eve"
Homer climbed into his Gathering old
spring wagon, and with the lines Tapping
loosely on the gray mares back he let her
take her own gait down the long street.
Arriving at the postofiice. he exchanged
greetings with the few loungers gathered
around the stove, sat down on cracker
box, chewed broom straw, and gazed
ahstractedly at the dirty floor.
want your mail. Homer" the post
master inquired, when there came lull
in his duties.
Homer got up from the cracker box to
receive his copy of the Scarborough
Weekly Argus. He held it first in one
hand, then in the other, hesitating. The
last lounger shuffled away from the fire
and out the door. Homer reused to in
slant life
"Say. Got any letters for Gran ma Dor
kins?' he asked.
"One from Tom. Guess he amt comm
this year, same US ever"
Gee whutsw Homer exclainied-it was
his nearest approach to swearlng-"lf
Tom Dorkins don't come home this
Chris mas 'twon't be because Homer Fox
amt going to do his best to fetch him!'
Toms got to be a reg'lar high-hyer,
observed the postmaster. HAS his pri-
vate car an all that sort O thing!'
ITO see that poor OF soul havin' faith
in his comm year in an year out, an
never shown hair nor hide O. himself!
Homer broke in, excitedly. Its more
flesh an blood can stand. Gimme a
pasteboard box. Peter Crump, one big
enough to hold these" He unwrapped
the cakes Grandma Dorkins had given
him and laid them on the counter. "Ihere
If Tom Dorkins has got piece of heart
hid away anywhere them cakesll make
him own it,"
He writes to her sometimes an sends
her money" Peter Crump said. as he
brought an assortment of boxes.
Huh! What's money to her when she
wants him." Homer said, with scorn, Sc
lecting a box and trying the cakes, to
see if they would fit. "Lemme have pen
an ink an sheet O paper"
He wasn't much of a scribe, and he
sucked the top of the pen frequently as
he wrestled with his problem. Finally
it was done, and he held it off at arms
length, surveying it with pride. This Is
what he had written:
TON Dorkins, for nine years your
mother has baked these cakes for your
Christmas homecoming. because you lik-
ed them when you was boy. Has she
got to send them to the Wallingford
Orphan Asylum this year, same as al
ways, on account Of your not thinking
enough of her to come?
HOMER FOX"
"If that don't bring Tom Dorkins moth
ing WILL" he said, conviction in his voice.
His epistle was spread over tle cakes.
the lid tied on securely, stamped and ad-
dressed, while Peter Crump winked at so
fragrant a violation Of postal laws under
his very nose.
On the morning of the day before
Christmas. as the general manager of the
Pocomoke and Westhaven Railroad was
leaving his private office. his eye was
caught by a small package lying unopened
upon his desk.
NEARLY forgot that thing again." he
said. 1T came last night, and | went
home without it. Here. Phil" he called
to his secretary. "open this package, and
If it requires an answer fix up the polite
thing"
When he returned some hours later the
package was still on his desk, apparently
unopened.
II thought told you to open this and
see if it needed an answer he said,
sharply.
are the proper person to answer it," the
stenogra pher replied, in curious tone.
Mr.. Dorkins cut the string around the
pasteboard box. a tinge of impatience in
his manner. Lifting the lid, Homer's
painstaking scrawl was exposed to view.
He read it, frown gathering on his
brow. Over at his desk by the window
the stenographer rustled his papers nois-
ily, not daring to steal look at his EN-
ployer.
The general manager tossed the note
aside with a muttered imprecation and
took up one OF the big cakes. 1t more
than covered the palm of his hand. ard
there was borne to his nostrils spicy
smell that brought with it memories of
his youth. Little things he had not
thought OF in years suddenly crowded up
on him. His life had been such busy
one, such shoulderto-s shoulder. neck
and-neck race for place and power. he
had had no time for anything else.
He sat very still, holding the big cake
ON his outstretched palm. and all the
struggle and care and turmoil. all the