El Paso herald. (El Paso, Tex.) 1901-1931, 1910-12-17


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yfS7ySSf2f the Office, rather earle
kY than usual,-Kinney, th
&}Ef7Xtx manager with his wife o
one arm and his small so
tugging impatiently at th
other; Murdoch laden with variou
awkward packages from one Of which
through a break in the paper, WOOL
lamb wagged gleeful woolly tail
young Simpson each pocket bulginl
with a neat box tied with gold cord
and O'Connor, grinning broadly abov'
the big holly wreaths he had bough
from the cripple boy who had peddlet
them through the building. O'Connol
had stopped at his desk moment.
See here, Barton, why can't yol
come out to the house to dinner? He'll
us fix up the tree for the kids-ths
Madame would be delighted"
He had cut him of almost sharply
Its good of you, O'Connor. But Tn
dining out this evening, thank you"
well, so long then, old fellow. a
Merry Christmas to you!"
Merry Christmas" he repeated
politely.
He had heard O'Connor's big voice
trumpet the same parting phrase to
the elevator boy. and the boys shrill,
excited response came to him through
the long hail.
'sMer' Christmas, Mr., O'Connor.
Thank you, sir. Mer' Christmas to
you. Mer' Christmusi"
Then he was quite alone in the Of
fee Indeed. there seemed to have
been general early exodus from the
building, to swell the throngs of
eleventh-hour shoppers, or of those
hurrying homeward to holly-wreathed
gaiety. Only the rumble of the streets
far below reached him, which seemed
somehow to be pitched in different
key than on other days, and the oc-
casional faint echo of a Merry Christ
mas" as the elevators passed up and
down.
Barton closed the Office doors and a
window which had been slightly open
and set himself TO posting the ledger.
This unnecessary labor finished he
sought diligently through the files for
an unimportant letter that had been
misplaced. Then he sharpened all the
pencils on his desk to miraculous
points, and mechanically tore OF the
top leaf of his calendar pad.
December 25th." There it was
again. There was no getting away
from it, NJ matter what one did. All
day they had dinned it in his ears. To-
morrow would be Christmas Day. All
the world would make a holiday
holiday of family love and the thought
Of friends. And now 1t was Christmas
Eve. Soon a million tiny candles
would be twinkling On the glittering
small stockings would be hung from
mantle shelf and bed post. and small
persons tucked all unwillingly into
bed.
To Hiram Barton Christmas meant
none OF these things 1t meant soli-
tary dinner on Christmas Eve at
Henry's, a cafe not of the first order,
where he was in the habit of dining.
It meant walking slowly to his room
after dinner past bright-lighted homes
whose window wreaths seemed to grin |
1T him mockingly; it meant waking !
on Christmas morning with only the
desire to get the day over The post
man brought him no little gifts nor
letters. Perhaps the landlady set a |
fish of fruit on his table. Perhaps she |
1idn't.
Hiram Barton had no friends. It |
was not that he did not wish for
was that he did not know
how to become friend and that no
one had ever had the patience to try |
% win his friendship. He was born in
,ased in difidence like a turtle in a |
she'll. He had an unpleasant, frighten- |
I'd way of drawing back his head be-
.ween his Iean,s stopped shoulders, at |
INV friendly advances. so that no one
s-or noticed the CLINT of shy yearning I
n his pale eyes. Only once in his life |
had Hiram Barton asserted himself. /