Manchester Democrat. [volume] (Manchester, Iowa) 1875-1930, 1902-12-24


sat in the library of his
home, and his hair was tossed into dis
order by the combins of his nervous fin
gers. His dull eyes gazed into the red
depths of n great fire, but read no GRIM
son pictures there.
This was the man the world had called
'complacent John Howard"
Eight years before, when he married,
people expected n change in his habits,
but they were disappointed. He had
merely added another part to his ma
chinery. He had carefully chosen the
kind of woman who would helplessly be-
come part Of a machine
When childre they, too, We're
compelled to becoi-@arts of the order
", silent machine controlled by John
Howard. Meek little mites they We're.
No one suspected that they were chill
dren.
There were three of them: Mary. n girl
of seven; Anna, girl of five, and John,
a boy of four. By direction of John
Howard, good, plain names were given to
them. names that would wear. Meek
Mrs. Howard would have chosen differ
emily, but she was not consulted.
When the children came. John How
ard laid down the rules for their con-
duct and keeping: and never afterwnrl
bothered himself about them. If he saw
them once n day it was by accident. One
of his rules, conditions. was that he was
never to hear them, save when he wish
ed. AS result John Howard was n
father without children-and the chill
dren had living father, but were faith
erless.
All this would have continued but for
one, inevitable little incident in life called
death'-for death, after all, is II part
of life, and dying very often the main
part of living. The entrance of Mrs.
Howard into the life of her husband had
made no perceptible change in it. Her
death had thrown every part of it out of
gear. There were three waits in his
house who came Mt his bidding and look.
ed Mt him in frightened sort of way.
How was he to win the love of his
children?''
How John Howard longcd to enter that
play room! But he never dared. He
was afraid his entrance would drive them
forth, and he realized that this room was
their own little world. Sometimes, in
agony. he listened at the door, and learn
ed how different they were from other
children.
How he longed for them to ask him
for something! What joy he would take
In granting them any wish! But they
had been brought up to ask for nothing.
to expect nothing, save on one day in the
year. That day was Christmas.
On that day they could expect wonder
ful new presents, they knew, from n mys.
FERROUS person called Santa Claus. The
late Mrs. Howard had cultivated this one
dear delusion in them, and so perfectly
that they never dreamed that either she
or their father had anything to do with
the annual midnight visit of the good
little fnt man. OF him they talked
months before he came and months after
he left. And with the presents he left
they played from one Christmas until
the next. patiently waiting for the new
ones and carefully guarding the old.
Discouraged at his failure to win even
the confidence of his children, John How
ard hired that hopeless substitute for ii
mother, nurse, to take care of them.
With business acumen and lack of or.
binary common sense he secured grim
New England school teacher for this deli
cate position; and in less than u week
she succeeded, by perseverance and in
dustry, in casting more of n shadow over
the lives of the three waits than eyer
John Howard had. But the waits had
been taught not to complain, and John
Howard knew nothing about it,
One lingering hope remained In his
breast. Could he make the coming
Christmas so happy for his children that
he could win their love? He resolved
that lie would take charge of the holiday
himself, and the preparations he made
for it were extravaganza. The presents
purchased for all the preceding Christ
mas celebrations ut his house were MS
nothing compared to the array that stood
before him on the floor, OIL tables and on
chairs, this Christmas eve when he sat SO
broken in heart before his CRATE fire.
Something had happened. A mistake
had been made. The New England school
teacher, in the interests of white-winged
truth, had told his children there was no
Santa Claus. This he had learned while
listening at the door of their playroom
that afternoon. And lie, who had so care
fully rehenrsed the part of Santa Claus
for the performance that night, felt that
1t would be hollow mockery, now that
they knew, as we all do some day, too
much.
With a promptness and decision that
had characterized him always in bust
ness, John Howard peremptorily dismiss
ed the New England school teacher, Civ
ing her n months salary and no expla-
nation for his strange conduct. The chill.
dren should have the hollow mockery of
Christmas at any rate. But the essence
of it was gone. He had heard his chill
dren declare, between sobs, that they
would never hang up their stockings
again, and after all it is the stocking and
not the tree that is the essence of Christ
mas-and the mystery of mysteries there
of is the wonderful fact that Santa Claus
can spend SO much time and take 30
much pains in filling the stockings.
But John Howard was human. He
himself had looked forward to this Christ
mas with greater expectations than had
any of his children.
He rose from bed and put on his Dress
Ing gown and slippers. Then, with a
little night lamp In his hand turned very
low, be went stealthily into the bedroom