The mirror., 1919-12-25

the windowpane. He passed other windows
where warm furs were displayed; others
where jeweled mesh bags Wed with rings and
cigarette cases; and still others where mimic
dining rooms were 11ade ready as for the
feasts of the morrow, or where mimic chill
dren slept in real BIDS amid piles of real
toys and a mimic sailc in real garments was
filling real stockings that hung from MINI
ic chimney place and everywhere there were
wreaths and red ribbons and lights and fall
ing snow that was beginning now to lie upon
the ground unmelting. Truly it was Christ
mas Eve-and Mr.. Clinch hated Christmas.
Again he reached a corner, paused, and
again turned to the right without crossing
a street. This block was darker than the
others, for tall office buildings lined it on
both sides of the way, and their windows
were beginning to grow dark now where all
had been light a short while before. There
were passers-by, but not so many, and Mr..
Clinch was glad of the thinning crowd and
the greater chance to think. For he was
thinking, and thinking very hard. He hated
Christmas, with its ysaste of time and waste
of money, with its memories and its empty
places but there was one thing which, with
an equal intensity, he loved land the one
thing was honesty.
1t takes but match to start bonfire !;
the small matter of a newsboy's honesty had
started new strain of thought in the clear
mind of that human dynamo, Mr.. Silas
Clinch. The lad had been honest at time
when honesty must have been hard. Christ
mas was at hand; and those twenty-three
pennies would surely have been most well
come. Yet the boy had returned them.
That thought Mr.. Clinch, was honesty; the
lad had been honest. Yes, he had been
honest at time when it must have been
particularly hard to be honest.
That was the match which had started
the fire; the question which was burning in
to Mr.. Clinch's mind was whether he him
self were equally honest. Oh, he had prided
himself on his honesty, had Mr.. Clinch.
But-well, he had always known that there
is an honesty of thought as we'll as of deed.
For years he had been telling himself
that he hated this foolish, wasteful holiday
whether he was quite honest, whether it
was really Christmas that he hated, Or
For the fourth time he reached corner,
and found himself in front of the doors of
his own towering building. He entered,
passing through the corridor, and out of the
door he had left some ten minutes earlier.
This time he did not raise an UNI
brella; the snow was white on the pavements
and on the shoulders of the crowding people.
Mr.. Clinch forgot to be annoyed when a
man bumped into him; he did not even
frown when the man smiled and said:
beg pardon And Merry Christmas"
Once more small figure darted from
among the passing throng, stood in front of
him, and asked:
paper, Mister? Paper?"
Then the upward look of inquiry changed
into a friendly grin. Say! I thought you'd
gone home!'' said the boy.
Mr.. Clinch remembered the eight SER
wants who were doubtless awaiting him at
the moment, and said: "No, haven't any
home"
The boys grin vanished. ooh, gee, you
amt gone broke, have your" he asked, in a
tone of anxiety.
Mr.. Clinch shook his head. "No. I'm
not broke. have quite little left. But
look here "-he said, speaking as man to man.
confdentially-" want to ask you some
thing. I believe you are honest, and guess
you've seen good bit of the world, eh
Well, now, tell me-if you hate fellow
what would you do about it, eh?"
The boys eyes did not leave Mr.. Clinch's 5
they took on an introspective look for .
r,,or,,er+ +he,, hriohtered UT xuo,Idn'+ hafs