Cut Bank pioneer press. [volume] (Cut Bank, Mont.) 1909-current, 1913-01-03

Claus is a spirit, son. an ubiquitous
spirit that descends upon us at Christ
mas ume-that fills our hearts and
minds and souls with the desire to
give OF our bounty just as God gave us
Jesus out of his great love. Santa
claus is the spirit of Christmas, Santa
Claus is the love in our hearts, the
peace, the good will that we feel to-
ward our fellow men"
But he don't give us the pres
ents!' l heard my tones shrill through
the echo of his solemn voice. It's our
parents
Son. he put his hands on both my
shoulders, since this has come up, I'm
going to tell you something. Your let
ter that you wrote to Santa a few
weeks ago has worried a poor father.
Had you believed 1 should have made
a frantic effort to get you that bob
sled. But as it is-since you are the
man you are you will realize how poor
we are this year, and how impossible
it is"
Bobby's breath caught. His eyes
fairly stood out from his head. Hadn't
his mother said that very day. Son
we can't afford to spend any money.
so foolishly." A great fear clutched
with icy contraction at Bobby's heart.
"How's the book. SOM" His father
stood in the doorway.
1.-THE book?" There was such a vast
area of emotion making havoc of Bob
by's poise that book" touched his un-
Outstanding only as some sort Of an
echo.
"Oh!-I forgot" Mr.. Crawford smil-
ed a little. you don't care for fairy
stories any more"
There was something in Bobby's
face that spoke straight to the moth
er's heart as she came and joined
them. He was not so grown up after
all. He was her baby, and his eyes
said SO. Silently she gathered him
close. After a long intimate moment
she sair softly, thine for little boys
20 go to bed" And the little boy
didn't resent it one bit the being made
q baby of. In fact he felt u~naccount-
aOAy ohldAA VI III AlOL1C . al IL lOAI
good. He allowed her to lead him of
to bed.
Tucked away in his bed, Bobby's
mind began to work. 1t was much
more fun to believe. Why 1t didn't
seem like Christmas at all not to be-
lieve. He wasn't so big after all, but
what he could still believe. Cor the
time being he quite forgot Tom Bel
lows aunt with her ultra modern
ideas). He-would believe. He didn't
care what anybody said, he would
Having arrived at this decision,
something else occurred to him. He
must also make his father see that he
believed. But how
Bobby stared wide-eyed at the CELL
ing for an inspiration. He heard the
footsteps Of his parents as they pass
ed his door. He Jaw them switch off
the light in the hall-in their room.
He breathed hard in the darkness;
then he crept from his bed. Fright
ened, but determined, he stole down
the dark stairs to the dining room
again. But with the envelope that
contained his letter to Santa in his
hand, panic overcame him. He fairly
flew to the upper floor, stumbling.
tumbling up the stairs. AS if hurled
from a catapult he landed on his moth
er's and fathers bed. And in the dark
ness he thrust the letter into his faith
er's hand.
"'Tisn't only cause I want the toys.
Daddy" he burst out breathlessly.
Truly, 'tisn't that only. I like to be-
lieve. And-and I'm going tot"
Copyright, 1912. by the Mcclure News.
paper S~yndicate.)