Evening star., 1928-12-25

'Letty'sfali right, amt she?"
MAYBE so-but I'm mott"
Nov look herel You just ought to
be so thankful that Lefty is happy and
that her new husband is the fine fellow
he is-why-you ought to be overflow
ing with the Christmas spirit!"
Christmas spiritI It's dead and
buried so far as I'm concerned. It's the
first Christmas she's ever been away
from us, and when we have only the
one-why in the world couldn't she
have married somebody around here,
so we could be near her? Look at
Jennie Whitn1an-her mother has five
left at home and still Jennie settled
down right here in Brookville Things
are pretty unevenly divided, seems to
mel"
Would you be willing to exchange
Lettys Jim for Jennie Whitman's
lnan?"
"No-but-"
"Just leave out that but mother,
and make up your mind to be satisfied
with things as they are. Get so busy
planning Christmas for somebody
else that you forget"
Forget! That's a man for you, every
time! Just as well spare your breath.
haven't the heart to plan thing this
year. You and I can go to hotel.
That will be different, and won't remind
us every minute that we are alone"
Christmas dinner in hotel!
GOSH" and father pushed in hotel!
chair noisily. 1t was inconceivable-
yet he knew that If mother made up
her mind to it that was the thing they
would do. The subject being an ex-
tremely difficult one, it was not men
toned again.
The sharp December days followed
each other. Dragged interminably. No
secrets. No big dinner to be planned.
The momentouS question of whether it
should be turkey or goose had faded
away. No tree decorations to be looked
over and rejuvenated. No nothing!
Being the man he was did not make
father Sad-it made him mad instead
boiling, sizzling mad. Yet, being the
man he was, he bottled it up within
him, and quietly proceeded with some
private plans of his own, which helped
considerably. Since mother was so de-
ternined to let Christmas go by un-
noticed, he would not let his right hand
know what his left hand was doing
And If there were some bulky, Sus-
piciouS-lo looking bundles deposited in the
hayloft after dark 1t was nobody'S busi-
ness.
<AbOOb QG4ONA "a tlAC 64bCk11OOLl UC~
fore Christmas an old, rickety truck
turned into the Abbot driveway and
crept toward the rambling farmhouse,
giving last gaSping cough as 1t came
to StandStill A gaunt, haggard man,
the personification of encouragement,
got down Stiffy from the seat and
started toward the woodpile, where
father was strenuously welding the ak
as relief for pent-up feelings.
Two thin little faces peered from be-
tween the curtains of the dilapidated
body of the truck. Spying mother
cat on the porch with her kittens
frisking about her, skinny little legs
were over the wheel in twinkling, and
hands that were blue with cold were
stroking the warm fur Of the little pets
and that was what Mother Abbot saw
when she opened her door a moment
later.
'Why-where did you come from?"
The shy little vagabonds showed an
inclination to run, but the attraction
of the soft little kitten was, too strong
So the Oldest, boy of perhaps four
years, ierked his thumb toward the
truck. The little girl, more talkative,
ventured the information, Mine
mamma there. Her sickl"
/ The cry Of sickness was ever Ito
Mother Abbot like the fire alarm to the
old fire horse. Her big, kind heart
could never bear to see suffering with
out an effort to alleviate it, and hers
were no mean efforts-she was born
nurse.
She reached the truck just as father
and the unknown man arrived from
the woodpile. 1.-The baby there tells
me her mamma is sick-can I help?"
Guess she'll be glad just to. see a
woman" But Mother Abbot waited
to hear no more. In the back of the
mother of two raised herself with diff
ficulty to sitting posture and looked
tnquiringly at the mother of one.
Where are. the children?" she in
quired. weakly. Safe" And as the
sick woman sank back Mother Abbot
called, Father! I'm going in and get
the bed ready. You men get her in
sornehow-but be careful!'
Later, from the depths of the snowy
bed, while the little ones were reveling
In lirnitlesS bread and milk in the warm
kitchen, pair of tear-f1lled brown eyes
looked up at Mother Abbot, and weak,
trembling voice said: 1T isn't about
myself I'm worrying-but what's going
TO become of my babies? No mother
ever loved her children more than T.
or was able to do so little for them,
seems to me. / can't fight much longer
and who's going to take care of
them?" The eyes that looked out from
the face so worn and drawn with
anxiety and illness were like the win
dows of burning house just before its
final fall.
"Just rest tonight-we'll talk about it
later. This is Christmas eve, you know"
There's a box" the weak voice
went on, "a box-Joe will get it for
you--it was all I could do-but they
think Santa Claus is coming"
"And he will comet" mother assured
her. Leave that TO me-I've had q
baby-a long time ago"
The sick woman gave a sigh, and
settled down into the heavenly luxury
of the soft pillows.
The bread and milk finished, father
was in his element with a baby on
each knee as he and the distracted
young husband consulted together. It
was an old story, but one that never
loses one jot of its tragedy. Trying to
get home to the folks before cold
weather, out of work and money. cnly
one loaf of bread left-and Christmas (!
The irony of it!
When at last the babies were sound
asleep, the husband watching from a
cot by his wife's side with doors closed.
mother had mist in her eyes as she
looked at the two forlorn little stockings
dangling from the mantel. Father, -
she began, I'D give my butter-and-
egg money for year If I only had
treel You wouldn't-go to town at
this time of night-would you? The
stores will be open for an hour or two
yet"