The Tupelo journal., 1915-12-10

hall rack, and striding into the living
room, he flung himself into a large
leather armchair and tried to read the
evening paper. But the news failed
to interest him somehow tonight; and
as twilight came on and the room
darkened, he found himself staring
into the crate fire.
How many things II can imagine
in the fame of a CRATE fire! And, as
the man sat there all huddled in the
big armchair, all the dear days of the
dead past came trooping out of the
Goals. an Office room he saw first,
with himself sitting at a desk and a
fair-haifed girl at a typewriter in the
corner. The girl was poorly dressed
but the sweetness of her smile capti-
waited the man at the desk. And in
the next picture he heard the man
asking the girl to become his wife. A
hillside flooded with moonlight he be-
held next-the picture of an evening
from out their honeymoon, with them
sitting on that hillside in the
shadow OF the tall, dark, sweet-smell-
INK NltlC0 THAT IOOAlAG1 up Gb q h~C
ground. Here there were no more
visions for a time, while the man sat
staring dry-eyed INTO the fire.
The scene of the next picture was
laid in the sitting She was in
a low rocker by the window, sewing
ON something soft and white. Every
once in a while she looked out OF the
window. Through the window he saw
an auto stop in front of the house, and
the man who got out and entered the
house was himself. She heard his
step and sat with her hands loosely
crossed on the sewing as he entered
the room and stepping behind the
rocker, put his two hands over her
ewes. Then she drew down his face
to hers and kissed him on both cheeks
and then on the forehead n eyes
and mouth. At this, Harlan buried
his head on his arm, while a dry sob
shook his throat.
"Oh, Nadine, Nadine, why did you
leave mel" he sobbed. He turned from
the flaming Goals and his eye fell
upon a Christmas tree all decked with
shining ornaments. 1t was a real tree.
He knew it was there for the child;
and was annoyed at the thought OF
the cause of her death. He lit his pipe
and leaned back for a smoke. But
through the blue smoke haze the tree
became an airy phantom dream-tree.
A ladder leaned up against it and at
the top of the ladder, high up, and
half hidden by the pungent green
boughs, stood a golden-haired woman.
And he was standing beneath the tree,
steadying the ladder with both hands.
She was putting the last touches to
the tree.
She held a shining bright tinsel In
her hand; and God, what was this she
was saying!
Look, sweetheart, how. bright the
star is, All, dear, next Christmas the
baby will be six months old, just old
enough to notice things; and I'm sure
he will notice this star; now won't
he? Don't you think so, dear?"
Come down, Nadine, come down;
| am afraid you will fall" he heard
himself cry, and then as she laughing
ly descended the ladder, he clasped
her in his arms before she reached
the bottom and kissed her again and
again.
You big story teller" she laughing,
ly ~reproved him, you weren't a bit
afraid I'd fall; you just wanted to hug
mel"
What if I did? Now what are you
going 10 do about it" he was demand
ing-when the cir! faded, and that
dream picture of himself in other days
vanished and nothing was left but the
Christmas tree.
Harlan pulled his chair away from
the fire and over to the window, and,
sinking back into it's depths, he
watched the glimmer of the windows
in the houses across the street and
their soft shine on the pavement.
He must have dOZed a long time, for
when he awoke the arc lights in the
street were lit and a bright shaft OF
light fell across the room, and pres.
emily into this shaft of light came
stumbling a little white-robed figure.
1t was a little boy in his n%ightgown.
He walked over to the Christmas tree
and toyed ~playfully with the orna'
ments dangling from the lower
branches.
Pretty, pretty things" he kept say.
ing over and over in a soft little voice.
Awakened from a dreamless slum'
her. the first nil Jack Harlan'S mind
reverted to was the dream picture OF
his wife in the Christmas tree. And
this was the child, his child and hers.
He heard her voice again.
Next Christmas he will be six
months old, just old enough to notice
things, and he will notice the star;
it is so bright
Had he noticed it that first lone
Christmas when everything was so