The St. Mary banner., 1922-12-23

"o" paHes were StufIed with old
rags and the window curtains we're of
paper, dirty muslin or pieces of faded
red tablecloth
Ihe heavenly Messenger plodded
| down a side street, stamping his feet
to keep the snow from caking on his
shoes. He came out of the dark under
the rustling trees, whose ice-coyered
limbs creaked and cracked in the wind
dolefully, past an electric light,
dimmed by millions of swirling white
flakes, then into the dark again.
Suddenly house loomed up before
him that seemed to be settling into the
snow like a ship ON the brink Of
foundering. Even as the Christmas
Angel lit the first match, shielding it
from the wind, and holding it close to
see the house number, the door was
opened. He had been expected. An
old negro man bowed him In. His face
was sad and wrinkled, and his hair
the color of wood ashes. He wore
enormous carpet slippers and a check
cred shirt, open at the neck, showed
underwear Of coarse red flannel.
Veal been 'spectin' you, sab 7"
he quavered. "Lil granchil' sick In
Chicago hospital. Ellen! Elem" he
called, shrilly.
A slow, heavy movement In the room
beyond, and stout nanny" came
into view, breathing heavily as her
weight threw her slightly from side to
SIDE as she walked.
'De lettah Gomez" asked the old
woman, haltingly. She rubbed her eyes
and blinked for a full minute before
she could see the writing. Woman
like, she turned the pages and read
the last paragraph first
''Its from de nurse" she announced.
SCUM; out OBJ all dangah, 1t say Now
it suah will be Christmas Joy wifi u.s."
Although he could not write, the old
negro man proudly touched the pencil
as his name was written in the boys
receipt book. Quite warm. now, and
minus one of his glad tidings, the
Heavenly Messenger departed into the
falling snow, which soon swallowed
him up, and then quickly covered over
his foot prints, as If in fear he might
be followed, and some harm come to
him.
The next message Of glad tidings
was delivered to stenographer tucked
away in back room of rather
dilapidated-looking roOming-house. 1t
was a letter from home. She knew 1t
would come at the last moment. Yes,
she had been crying, and it wouldn't
have been like Christmas at all, had
it not been for the Christmas mes
zenger.
I'm so tired of the Office grind" she
cOnfided, more to herself, than to the
boy. "Ive written Dear Sir a hun
dred and fifty thousand times this
week, I'm sure"
Then she Strengthened his necktie,
patted him on the head, and the angel
trudged down stairs and out into the
night again.
Next came a letter for the head Of
family in magnificent home
where the Heavenly Messenger passed
relay Of servants before reaching
the person named in the address. That
worthy held the portieres aside and
stepped forth in evening dress-a seri-
Gus man, with gray hair. He signed
for the letter, then looked at the
Christmas Messenger. inquiringly.
"Come in here son." he directed, and
led the boy into the library. The room
was a confusion Of dazzling women
and holiday decorations. An ever
green tree that reached almost to the
ceiling was loaded with toys and
Christmas presents Of every color and
kind, while other parcels and pack
ages were heaped on the floor, at the
foot of the tree.
"A little girl" the man was saying,
"our daughter, an only child; she
seems Notwithstanding makes
her happy. Now, just suppose you
were she; do you think she will like
all this?" And all the women listened
eagerly to hear what the boy would
say.
81 would, but maybe-well, there's
too much of this'-pOinting to the
gaudy toys. 81 remember my baby
sister got a lot Of fine toys when dad
was living, and she left them all and
went into the kitchen to play with
some new tin pans and things mother
had Just got from the store"
The star of the New York Opera
company dabbed at her face with
rabbits foot. A fine Christmas, this,