The Catholic bulletin. [volume] (St. Paul, Minn.) 1911-1995, 1914-12-19


wants to knowif she can borrow some
lcream. The man didn't come with il
and company's In for dinner
I Prudence Stannard looked straight
at the child.
You're an Irish Catholic, aren't
Eyou"
I '''Yes'm."
/ Go back and tell your mother that
1--we have neither cream nor anything
Eelse for her. When she wants to Dor
Erow, let her go to her own kind"
Prudence closed the door, snapped
the bolt into place and turned again
Ito the preparation of her dinner.
The. smiles of happy, laughing chill.
Edren, the pleasure in their Christmas
toys, the spirit of the day will soften
3natures even more hard than those of
1.-THE Stannard sisters. When sunset
Ecame, no member OF the little house
party at the Stannard home was gay
er than the hostesses. Grace, whose
early widowhood had proved sore
trial to her sisters, beamed with joy
lewhen she looked on the radiant hap
lpiness of her boys.
| They had Christmas tree. The
aunts installed it in the front chamber,
where it won't muss UP the whole
house." Prudence explained. In the
center of sheet, tackled over the car
pet, the tree stood between the two
lace-curtained front windows. At it's
| top was a silver tinsel star, and
streaming from the summit a score
of paper festoons led to the lowest
branches. Money was none too plen-
tifur in the Stannard home, so the
sisters did not buy expensive tree
ornaments, but cut strings of paper
dolls and made many colored rosettes
from crepe tissue.
Little David was the merriest of the
party. A Teddy-bear, hiding under the
shadows of the tree, was for him.
Long before nightfall, his sleepy eyes
refusing to stay open longer, he was
| put to bed in rear room of the Sec
ond floor. Fast asleep, he still Rugged
his bear tight At dusk the tree
would be lighted. The minutes
seemed long to James, the elder boy,
just turned eight years. But the sun
set at last. Grey smoke curling from
a hundred chimney-tops was evidence
of as many cheerful hearth fires and
Suggestive of the families gathered
about them.
| A lighted Christmas tree-the last
Eof the illuminated sign-posts in the
ldear land of childhood's illusions!
Who does not remember the thrills
the sheer delight of the hour when
the tree at home sparkled with life?
EThere may have been weary hours and
years ahead, but, somehow, the beams
of the Christmas tree still shine softly
through them Something of the feel
ling of the Catholic who waits for the
Ealtar to spring into light came into
the hearts of the sStannard sisters as
they prepared to illumine their neph,
eWs' Christmas tree.
One by one the tiny red candles on
the green boughs caught from the
wax taper Prudence Stannard held out
Soon the entire number was lighted
and score of sparkling dots of glory
twink1ed in the tree. James was a
little too old to clap his hands and
shout his glee, but he sat by, wide
eyed, transported to wonderland
There was no other illumination in
the room, so the white walls appeared
to recede into infinity. In his magma.
ton, James was in the vastness OF
the desert, in a trackless expanse, and
every light on the tree was another
Star of Bethlehem pointing the way
to the manger.
On one of the-boughs a sprig OF
green cracked when a candle flame
blew against it. The twig was dry;
although the sisters did not know it,
their tree had been cut month before
they bought it. The twig sputtered
and shot little tongues of burning,
resinous gas in every direction.
Why had they used so much paper
among the decorations? Why had
they reconsidered their first decision
to buy an electric lighting outfit for
the tree? Why had they put the tree
midway between the tinder-dry lace
curtains of the front windows? Every
one of these questions darted through
their minds in the few minutes that
followed.
| Continued on Page 6.1