The Washburn leader. [volume] (Washburn, McLean County, N.D.) 1890-1986, 1911-01-13

the last moment some forgotten article
and were hurrying hitiier and th;,her
to supply he deficiency. There were
lovers who had but lately piiyltcl
their ,roth carrying homo gifts.
Big Jim could not escape the hurry,
the laughter. the package laden throng
He hated the bcdiZcncd windows, L
greetings. even the strings Of turkc.. :;
and chickens in the market windows.
He hated Christmas time. And, wor%t
Of all, he hated the word home. And
It was being rubbed in. Why not lc:
bygoncs be: For TWO years he hHG
not even heard of his mother, and
then she had written that Mariana had
married John Foster. That was na;u-
raj, of oursr John had stayed by his
job, and John WAS not dependent rH
cards mainly for Il living.
Big Jim, with his hands in his poe;
cts, fingered the roll of bills and the
loose money, over $500. He had been
lucky last night, hut tonight. like as
not, Shorty or N one would get 1t
away from him. He turned down Il
side street and cursed beneath his
breath as Il little Italian with Il basket
on his shoulder profrcred him n small
plaster Christ. He thrust out his chin
and passed Charley's place. for he had
already reached his limit in drinks.
That chin kept him from passing his
set limit in anything. He was no
weakling. He kept his word and was
bad by choice. not through lack Of
will.
The very slcighbeils jinGled "homc,"
and he hated to think of himself in
that connection. He would have gone
to his boarding house, but no one.
save perhaps Shorty. who had de-
serted his wife, would he theru-tlley
all had wives or kids or mothers or
some girl to make merry with, to be
kind to, If only once a year. Then into
the city clangor came the beat Of a
drum and a singing and stunning
the Salvation Army. In their march
they stopped neal him-he could catch
the words Of the high. oarse tenor:
Come home. Come home!
Why don't you all come homer"
The song finished, he caught words
Nf the harangue begun by a young
girl with a clear voice.
Eyes, come home! Come back to
your real selves! Quit your sin, your
drinkin' an gamblin' an be decent,
boys! 1t pays! 1t pays. girls! Go
home to your mothers! Sin amt pleas.
urc, an 1t costs dear in tears an hui
man misery! Come home" he SUNK
away disgustedly. It seemed there was
no escape.
It wss too early to play poker. Well.
he could go to the postoface Mt least
for his mail. But here. too. was Christ
mas-hu:rying crowds, laughter. And,
escaping Il bevy Of young girls, he raj
into and nearly knocked over a shabby
old woman, sweet faced, wistful eyed,
with trembling ..tttened hands. He
put her on her feet again almost ten
Derby, apologizing, but she peered up
into his face-a kind face with good
eyes in spite of all.
~ was waitin' for my GIRL" she be-
gan with the volubility Of lonely age.
II amt heard from her in q year. my
Molly. She would be sure to come for
letters Christmas time. wouldn't she.
think? P'raps you know her. Mary
Shane?" she asked eageriy, not mind
ing his shake of the head. "She's pref
ty, Is Molly, with big blue eyes an
curly yellow hair, an little. like a doll.
DO you s'pose sometimes happened
Ser? She might-just forget to write.