The mirror., 1919-12-25

Ot1llWater
it was not true but it made her sadder and
more sad with each recurring year. Little
Miss Hallan had her own ideas concerning
Mr.. Clinch and his moods; but when you
are ffty-three, and have been in place for
fifteen years, and your fingers are not quite
so brisk as they were, and your hair is fading
and you are rather timid and when there
are three small people and one big sick one
depending upon the money you find in your
own little MANILA envelope on Saturdays
we'll, when you are all that, you somehow
learn to keep your ideas to yourself.
So little Miss Hallam said nothing as she
crossed the room to the presidents desk, but
only shivered, and felt very sorry in her
heart, and very sad, and not at all as though
it were Christmas, and the gladdest time of
all the year. 1t wasn't, particularly rly-for
little Miss Hallam any more than for Mr..
Clinch.
But not even human dynamo in bad
humor can keep an entire office force at
work forever; there came moment when
Miss Vail left the room with all the letters
signed, when young Robinson went out to
the elevator putting on his overcoat, when
Thomas made an expressive and inelegant
gesture toward the presidents door, and
Miss Hallam was too intent upon little men,
tai calculations as to how far that extra
half-week's salary could be stretched in
Christmas shopping to reprove him. There
even came a moment when Mr.. Silas Clinch
himself stepped out of the descending eleva-
tor to the street; and for Mr.. Clinch the
moment was not cheered by his being bump
ed into by moist pedestrian while he was
trying to put up his umbrella. He muttered
under his breath, and slipped as he started
forth across the wet pavement; and then he
was suddenly stopped by someone blocking
his way, small someone standing close in
front of him, under one arm bundle of
papers protected by piece of crumpled oil
cloth, hand stretched out toward Mr..
Clinch, and smiling face uplifted.
"Post," said Mr.. Clinch.
But the boys smile widened. "Here's your
change" POST" Mr.. Clinch said again,
more sharply this time.
The boys outstretched hand did not move
toward the bundle under his arm, and Mr..
Clinch was consciously irritated. He had
been supplied for months with the papers he
preferred by newsboy who always remem-
bered his preferences; evidently this young
ster was not the one. Mr.. Clinch was
about to say so, when the boy spoke once
more.
"It's your change" he said, still looking
up with friendly smile. Don't you re-
member you gave me quarter this morn
ing?"
Mr.. Clinch looked down; the small grimy
hand opened, and displayed the coins it held
"a dime, nickle, and eight copper cents.
Mr.. Clinch did remember; he had been
in hurry that morning because of the ne
cessity of getting to the Office early on the
day before one of these fool holidays; it was
only quarter, but the newsboy had gone
deep into his pocket for change, then darted
off. 1t was not worth waiting for, and
Mr.. Clinch had hurried on.
"How did you know me again." he asked
the boy.
"Why, been sellin' you papers for goin'
on two years, amt II" the lad questioned,
with look of surprise. 'You always buy
from your quarter"
Mr. Clinch held out his hand, and the
boy laid the coins upon it. Then he took
back two pennies and drew paper from
under his arm.
Him." said Mr.. Clinch, taking the paper
and walking on.
The boy darted away into the crowd but
not before Mr.. Clinch heard him call, cheer
fully and briskly, over his shoulder:
merry Christmas!'
Mr.. Clinch walked straight on but now
he was oblivious of the jostling crowds and
the humping umbrellas and the wet pave
ments. He saw nothing of them all instead
he saw smiling face uplifted, two friend
ly eyes that looked straight out at the world,
an outstretched, dirty little paw; he saw,
moreover, in memory, what he had not
noticed at the time of actual vision, that the
narrow shoulders shivered, and that the feet
were clad in too large, broken shoes which
had that peculiarly brittle look of old wet
leather.
At the corner Mr.. Clinch stopped still.
His way led straight on, toward State street
but after moments pause he turned to the
right, without crossing the street, and
walked slowly to the corner. There again
he paused, and again turned to the right
but now he was beginning to be aware of
the lights in the shop windows, of the sell
lers of evergreens along the curb of the
grotesque travesty of Santa Claus jangling
bell to attract the pennies of the passers-by.
He passed toyshop, where the lights in the
windows fell upon the impassive faces OF