Iowa state bystander. [volume] (Des Moines, Iowa) 1894-1916, 1914-12-18


uted his customary gold
pieces to the bells" the telephone
girls, the check-room boys, his waiter
and the head waiter, and the cham
bermaid on his floor; he felt oddly
disturbed
Garter, my boy" he told the tall,
gray-haired image in the mirror
You're getting sentimental. You're
thoroughly disappointed because there
isn't soul in the world who can
call out Merry Christmas to you,
and mean it from the bottom OF his
heart You're like boy with nothing
In his stocking I'm ashamed OF YOU
sir; am indeed"
Yet that didn't help matters. He
wandered around the deserted hotel
corridors in the morning feeling ut
terly lost. Nearly every one seemed
to be going out to dinner to some
place where he was urgently desired.
Four times he strolled over to the
desk and looked casually up at MS
box, but there were no mail and no
presents for Mai. Robert Lee Carter.
The last time he had really de-
cided to give up and ring up some
business associate to take dinner with
him at the hotel But he saw a let
ter in his box, and the clerk handed
him curiously shaped parcel, rather
bulky and oval. He took it up to his
own rooms, and opened 1t with
funny little thrill of anticipation.
BY George, he was wrong. There
was somebody, he didn't know who
it was, but there was somebody who
had remembered him. The last wrap
per fell off, and he stood staring down
at little homemade willow basket,
filled with mistletoe. A card on top
read, Love and Merry Christmas
from Pam"
Pam? He remembered no Pam.
He opened the letter for enlighten-
ment, and as he read, his heavy gray
eyebrows drew closer together, and
every now and then he CALCULATED
God bless my heart and soul!"
you won't remember me at all, but
I'm Pamela Grayson, and my mother
was your sisters daughter, SO I'm
your grandniece, see? Mother died
about a year ago, just after we came
north, and l have been here alone
ever since. l didn't even know you
were alive until cousin Florrie, Of
Carriers Landing, down home, wrote
and told me to share this mistletoe
with you, for she had gathered it In
the old oak grove where you used to
go when you were little boy. Here's
wishing you a merry, merry Christ
mas, and wish l knew you, because
it does certainly get fearfully lone
some here in New York holiday time
when you haven't any one Of your
very own"
The telephone bell rang sharply
just as the major was about to say
God bless my heart and soul" once
again. But he lifted the receiver, and
smiled at the voice that answered his
hail.
Delighted, Ralph, delighted, my
boy, but you see, l am going to have
young lady guest here to dinner
with me, my grandniece. sir, from
Virginia. Now, instead of my joining
you in your bachelor apartments, sup
posing you join US. and try and COM
pensate to her for having surely old
chap for a dinner partner. Names
Miss Pamela Grayson. Come right
down."
Then he smiled, and kept on smil-
ing in the oldest, happiest way. And
he leaned back in his deep leather
chair, and lit cigar, and watched the
smoke rings form overhead, and
tiers. PANS grandmother had been
the youngest. And now somehow,
they were all gone, as he thought,
"the way of the roses," and he was
alone. He had rather lost track of
all the nieces and nephews and grand
nieces and grandnephews. Sentiment
does not thrive in the New York at
mosphere, yet as he looked at the
letter, he felt an odd glow of pride,
and he held the little basket of mis-
tletoe out at arms length, smiling
retrospectively. Many time he had
gone up to the old oak grove to gather
1t for his mother to decorate the great
hall at Christmas. And now this lit
tie Pam
The major rose suddenly with quick
intention. Five minutes later he was
on his way up to the address in the
letter. Upstairs two flights he climbed,
and tapped at the low top door with
it's modest card:
Pamela Grayson."
She stood at the easel with her
back to him, a big blue apron on, and'
she was singing,
"Oh, holy town of Bethlehem,
How still we see thee lie.
Above thy deep and dreamless sleep
The silent stars go Bly,"
The major stood at attention, but
when she turned and caught sight Of
him, she gave little cry Of Joy.
Uncle Bob! How did you come so
soon to me?"
Eth, but she was bonnie, thought
the major approvingly; very much
like herr, grandmother in her girlhood,
soft brown bands of hair around her
small head, and wistful, childish gray
eyes. 1t took him about ten minutes
to coax her into real" dress, as
she said, and down into the waiting
taxi.
And how fast she talked. There
were years to catch up. she told him.