Evening star., 1926-12-12

OuIlSLdnS. les, many years IN the
profession" That was a record to be
proud of.
Good. Then you'll see what I'm
driving at" The doctor was speaking
rapidly, like a stage director sketch
ing a situation before it is rehearsed
Up there, we have boy who is con-
sctous at times, but at others he slips
into a sort of stupor. That's a condi-
tion l want to hold in check, because
when he's in it he goes the way Of
least resistance. He doesn't make an
effort to live--and we need that eff
fort even in a child. Well. we've been
trying to hold his attention In little
ways. But it's difficult. Santa Claus
ought to catch his interest, though
If you can get him to notice you and
keep him noticing
Pop Dunstane began to see what
was expected of him.
Il don't ask you to gyrate around
the place and excite the patient eau
toned the doctor IN try you alone
with him, except for the nurse. Then
we'll see what happens. If the thing
doesn't work-well, I'll put stop to
it. But il it does-well have pulled
the child over these few hours and
put the worst behind us
A ROOM with Mother Goose pic
1 lures on the walls. The windows
open. A trained nurse, wearing
sweater over her uniform. A small
bed, and on the pillow a snub-nosed
face with brown eyes. Slowly the
eyes fixed themselves on the new
conner. Hello, Santa Claus said
Hughie, quite unconcerned. Only he
caught his breath between the words
Hello, Hughle." No stupor now
thought Santa Claus. This wasn't so
bad.
"I'm-sick." Evidently a distinc-
mas?--I'll bet it is!-The iceman says
christmas eve. That's why I'm
here"
"Oh." Hughie considered this. If
want a skooter-'n' roller-skates-
n an aer'plane--, III"
The words trailed off. The brown
eyes grew daZed, as though everything
in front Of them were fading. They
had a look which Pop Dunstane had
seen before when people were very Ill.
His knees felt weak. 1t was the
sensation you had when you heard the
curtain going up on an opening night.
Now you were in for 1t! He stepped
me, Hughie?"
The boy shook his head ever so little.
Tired, eh? Well. never mind. Just
watch me. Remember!
Santa Claus moved back from the
bed and took his spectacles out of his
breast pocket. He put them on and
looked at Hughie over them. This
had always been good for laugh.
A flicker Of interest in the child's
face. but 1t died out.
There were other pieces of "busi-
ness" with the spectacles. The per-
former tried them. But Hughes gaze
wandered. You couldn't be sure
whether he noticed at all. To make
him notice. Just a child, and life
ahead of him. It was different il
you were old and no one cared. But
there were a father and mother walt
ing in the hall, out there.
Hughes father came to the door.
His arms were full Of toys-a shooter
and an aeroplane, games in bright-col-
ored boxes.
my, my! I'm getting absent-mind-
ed" chuckled Santa Claus, as he went
over to takel the toys. Left my pack
out in the hall. And Hughes pres
ents in it."
He arranged them with great care
on a table where the boy could see
them.
Hughie was watching now. There's
a skooter-r' He sighed happily.
After that, though, the half-vacant,
half.wild look came back. Then,
slowly, the eyelids dropped.
John Dunstane's heart sank. He
was losing the fight. But the rule of
his profession held him. Keep on
with the performance, no matter
what happens.
So Santa Claus busted himself at
inspecting the airplane. AS he did
so, he began to whistle-a jolly little
Jig tune The sound made Hughie
open his eyes.
'I can whistle-too," he announced.
But the lips would not shape them
selves.
Don't try, Hughie. Just listen!"
AS Pop Dunstane repeated the
tune, it's words ran through his mind:
Johnny get your hair cut,
Johnny get your hair cut,
Johnny get your hair cut pompa-
dourv'
Hughes gaze never left him till the
tune was over. Then he began to set
tie back into the dullness which made
no effort.
Santa Claus started again. With
more assurance, this time.
Johnny get your hair cut"
How long he whistled, as he sat at
that table examining the toys one
after another, he did not know. He
only knew that while he kept doing 1t,
the child watched him.
A clock struck somewhere In the
house. After a long while it struck
again. And again. after another in
terval. Sometimes Pop Dunstane
changed the tune to, I'm Called Lit
tie Buttercup."
Or, perhaps to, isabella! Oh,
Isabella, You Are a Daisy Queen OF
SPAIN"
But always a song of the past. He
were prettier, too.
He kept on whistling, Johnny, get
your hair cut" But now the tune was
contending with a greater one, drift
ing in through the open windows. A
carol. Many voices, from some
church.
"Oh, come, all We faithful,
Joyful and triumphant!'
The doctor stepped over. You
needn't wait any longer" he said.
His temperature is dropping, and
think he'll go to sleep"
X
JOYFUL and triumphant! Pop Dun
stane walked out of the room
and down the stairs, to the majestic
rhythm. For him. the silence of the
house was singing. He had given
good performance. Hughie was bet
ter