The mirror., 1919-12-25
HE HATED CHRISTMAS
On One Day of the Year an Otherwise Cheer
full Man Seemed a 'Crab"
By Edith B. Delano, in Woman's World

y 1t was Christmas Eve, and showing,
IA and the afternoon was wearing itself
~ away toward a bleak twilight which
needed every bit of Christmas cheer that there
was in the air to make it endurable. The
snow was not of the proper Christmas vari-
ETY. at all it was wet, and melted asst fell,
leaving the pavement a glistening succession
of skatingrinks and dissolving itself by the
aid of the east wind into the very marrow of
peoples bones. Men and women, and even
excited children, shivered as they hurried
along with their arms full of bundles hugged
close under umbrellas that had to be held
down over faces, to be any protection at all.
The street lamps were lighted two hours be-
fore the time which the almanac gave as the
hour of sunset their pale yellow glow seemed
rather to deepen the gloom than to Tighten
it, and their rays, unable to pierce the fog
of wet snow, broke into oddly shaped spark
les and flashes and CLEANS on the wet mud
of the streets and the surfaces of passing
vehicles, on the rubber capes of policemen
and the shining tops of umbrellas.
Inside of one of the towering buildings
whose windows were already an unbroken
succession of squares of light against the dim
surfaces of the walls, little Miss Hallam,
passing one of the big panes of plate glass
on her way to the presidents desk, looked
out and saw that horse had fallen at the
corner of the street below; but not even the
animals struggles drew the attention of the
shivering, slipping crowds passing along the
sidewalks. Little Miss Hallam shivered, as
though she were out in the bleakness; but
the atmosphere of the presidents office was
far from bleak. Heated air was driven in
to it from one point, cool fresh air from
another; and from third there was drawn
away the air which had been sufficiently
breathed. Moreover, the room was fitted
with every possible detail of luxury. Yet
little Miss Hallam shivered, and was con-
scions of something in the atmosphere of the
room which was making everyone who had
business within its walls very uncomfortable
indeed. 1t was curious, all-pervading tense
ness, and it was particularly rasping to the
nerves; it emanated from the human dynamo
who sat at the big mahogany desk. Miss
Hallam, having felt it fourteen times before,
thought of it as part of the presidents
Christmas humor. For whereas, on the three
hundred and three workdays of the year Mr..
Silas Clinch irradiated the dynamic forces of
human energy, on one day of the year that
force was surcharged with something else.
Gee, the old man does hate Christmas"
said Thomas, the office boy. "Ain't he the
old crab, thought"
"You amt got ny KICK" said the man
with the pay envelopes. This year Christmas
fell upon Saturday, and each small MANILA
envelope contained just half as much again
as its usual amount-Mr. Clinch's invari-
able munifcent present to his employees.
"Here's yours" the bookkeeper added, and
passed on.
But Thomas grinned. "Oh, I should
worry" he said. "But just the same l ain t
goin' into the old mans room less l can't
help it."
And that was the feeling of all the Office
force; and young Thomas deduction was
quite correct; "the old man" did hate Christ
mas. He hated having to give the half
weeks extra salaries he hated having to close
the office for day; he hated the holiday
itself, holiday when even the club was apt
to be deserted of all save a few old derelicts
he hated the wreaths in the windows and the
crowds in the streets and the foolish phrases
that people insisted upon shouting at him; he
hated the memories that were nothing more
and he hated there being nothing but memo
ries. Thomas was right; and although he
alone possessed the temerity to say it every
one else in the office knew that he was right
everyone knew that Mr.. Clinch hated
Christmas. The oldest bookkeeper had good
reasons to know it, having gone into the
presidents room to wish Mr.. Clinch a
Merry Christmas, when he was leaving early
in the afternoon to go to his daughters in
the country; Mr.. Clinch had bitten down
hard on his long black cigar, and grunted
by way of return. Young Robinson knew it.
for Mr.. Clinch had given him so much work
to do that his little wife, Maysie, would
have to wait for him on the corner an hour
or more-and it was wet and cold outside
and they could not afford telephone, ano
Maysie was none too strong. Miss Val
knew it, for Mr.. Clinch had given her more
letters to write than she could possibly finish
before closing time; and the elevator mar
had known it since morning, when Mr.
Clinch had hurried in full half-hour earlier
than usual, to make up for part of the time
that would have to be lost on the morrow
And little Miss Hallam knew it. She hae
known it for so many years that she hac
long ago accepted the futility of hoping tha