The Pacific commercial advertiser. [volume] (Honolulu, Hawaiian Islands) 1885-1921, 1906-12-23

"COme, Norman, uOIl 20 UO"Ai
at this hour. 1t is half-past Tour
o'clock and dinner will be ready at SIX,
Re at home Christmas, won't you? You
know how you forgot on Thanksgiving
day. If you go you viii meet Iot
of friends and there's no telling when
YOU will be back"
"Oh. that's all right, Alice, don't
worry. Iii be here about half after
five. There's my car. So long!" and
without pausing to hear further pros
test. Mr.. Norman Fletcher, broker and
bohemian, coursed down the steps ana
caught his car at the corner.
1t was Christmas day in Honolulu
The warm afternoon sunlight SHIN
mered among the fronds of palms and
the feathery twigs of the kiawe. An
atmosphere of lazy peace filed the wide
spaces of the town-an all-pervading
peace which folded the wings of the
clouds and made even the stream which
had so madIy rushed betimes from its
fastness in the great wet mountains,
glide TRANQUILITY and unanimously to
the sea- There was little movement in
the streets. Now and then a bare
foot native man went by with burden
of ferns and 1eis or a japanese boy
passed on his noiselesS bicycle 80
quiet was the day that one could hear
the clatter of trolley cars for a long
distance, as on Sundays, and the
jangle of the telephone in the house
across the street, and even the talk
of the Asiatic servant as he went to
answer the message, Smote upon the
ear One missed the sound of the at
ternoon Iawnmower. Instead there was
a crunching noise in the rear of neigh
boring houses as if ice and salt were
being ground together AT an carrier
hour children had been playing on the
sidewalks with their Christmas carts
and tops, but as the afternoon waned
one caught glimpses of them through
the foliage of porches, where they were
reading their new books or even
browsing in hammocks, overt1red
from early rising. Now and then
gentle breeze stirred the red hibiscus
flowers in the hedges, bent the fragrant
tops of the oleanders and brought a
sudden nervous protest from a half
hidden group of sleeping planta1n
leaves. A mile or two away over the
tops of an urban forest which revealed
every hue of tropical green, one could
watch the ocean piling its surges softly
on the shore-that everlasting ocean as
blue and fresh as when Gods spirit
had first moved upon its waters; that
mighty welter measureless and deep
which has it's kinship with eternity.
Norman Fletcher had a good home
built upon high ground; a home OF
comfort if not of opulence; wife
whom he had married for her good
looks and who had not yet lost them,
and. two little boys who gave promise
of a bright career in school He had
never been a saving man; money had
come easily to him and gone more
easily. AS a broker he had his ups
and his downs; and just now things
with him were at a low ebb. Still
Christmas was Christmas, and the
family dinner was to be as prodigal as
his money could buy. Only wines
were debarred from it; these Mrs
Fletcher, who inherited New England
prejudice, could not tolerate. Some
times she wondered vaguely if this
rule had not done her husband more
harm than good, if it had not driven
him to the saloon; but she could re-
member no text to convince herself
that one error of morals could mitigate
another.
It was a little after five o'clock when
Norman Fletcher, broker and bo-
hemian, stepped out of the glittering
barroom where he had met some Of his
friends. He was a little
flushed of face. a bit noisier than was
his wont, perhaps a trifie unsteady in
his gait. 1t was dark outside, save for
the light of the arc lamps, as the
ha hal nd icI,
the evening before, had closed for the
Christian holiday. Fletcher had been
made very comfortable in the open club
within. He had enjoyed the luxury of
high, paneled, rosewood ceilings,
amidst which shaded bulbs of glass
gIowed with soft and even light. The
chairs at the mahogany tables were
cushioned and the long bar, flashing
with nickel and cut-glass and with a
deep silver punchbowl which, like the
cruise of oil, seemed never TO
run dry, was indeed a thing of art and
luxury. AT one end of the fine, large
room was a smaller bar bearing on its
surface great platters of tur-
key and fried oysters, celery and olives,
and Clipped potatoes and
little pots of cheese. A white-aproned, /
smiling attendant had served Fletcher, /
both from the punchbowl and the [.
feast. Everyone was open-hearted and /
genial there and the proprietor, a tall, /
handsome man with a military air and 1
the innate breeding of a gentleman, /
bad seemed to single the broker out for |
special courtesies. Fletcher thought !
with a pleasant glow how the master .
Of the house had sat beside him and .
a sked his opinion about sugar invest |
nents, meanwhile having a frosty bot |
tie brought which, deftly opened, fixed /
and sparkled with the wine of France.
And those cigars, those cubes of golden
leaf from the choicest fields of Vuelta |
Abajo! No wonder that Norman |
Fletcher fingered at the door and look
ed sulkily into the night. But it was
Christmas and he must be at home for
dinner, though the talk about invest
ments had given him a good excuse,
he thought. to come back afterward.
The trolley car he took for home was
belated and the motorman was trying
TO make time Fletcher iII0o0e5