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diff --git a/14624-h/14624-h.htm b/14624-h/14624-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..1e6e65f --- /dev/null +++ b/14624-h/14624-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,3341 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="UTF-8"?> +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> + <head> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of Santa Claus's Partner, by Thomas Nelson Page. + </title> + <style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- + p { margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; + } + hr { width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both; + } + + table {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;} + + body{margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + } + + .linenum {position: absolute; top: auto; left: 4%;} /* poetry number */ + .blockquot{margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 10%;} + .pagenum {position: absolute; left: 92%; font-size: smaller; text-align: right;} /* page numbers */ + .sidenote {width: 20%; padding-bottom: .5em; padding-top: .5em; + padding-left: .5em; padding-right: .5em; margin-left: 1em; + float: right; clear: right; margin-top: 1em; + font-size: smaller; background: #eeeeee; border: dashed 1px;} + + .bb {border-bottom: solid 2px;} + .bl {border-left: solid 2px;} + .bt {border-top: solid 2px;} + .br {border-right: solid 2px;} + .bbox {border: solid 2px;} + + .center {text-align: center;} + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + + .figcenter {margin: auto; text-align: center;} + + .figleft {float: left; clear: left; margin-left: 0; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-top: + 1em; margin-right: 1em; padding: 0; text-align: center;} + + .figright {float: right; clear: right; margin-left: 1em; margin-bottom: 1em; + margin-top: 1em; margin-right: 0; padding: 0; text-align: center;} + + .footnotes {border: dashed 1px;} + .footnote {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-size: 0.9em;} + .footnote .label {position: absolute; right: 84%; text-align: right;} + .fnanchor {vertical-align: super; font-size: .8em; text-decoration: none;} + + .poem {margin-left:10%; margin-right:10%; text-align: left;} + .poem br {display: none;} + .poem .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;} + .poem span {display: block; margin: 0; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i2 {display: block; margin-left: 2em;} + .poem span.i4 {display: block; margin-left: 4em;} + // --> + /* XML end ]]>*/ + </style> + </head> +<body> +<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 14624 ***</div> + +<h1>SANTA CLAUS'S PARTNER</h1> + +<h3>BY</h3> + +<h2>THOMAS NELSON PAGE</h2> + +<h3>ILLUSTRATED BY W. GLACKENS</h3> + + +<div class="center"> +<a name='fig1' id='fig1'></a> +<img src="images/fig1.jpg" alt="" title="" /> +<b></b> +</div> + + + +<h4>NEW YORK</h4> + +<h4>CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS</h4> + +<h4>1899</h4> + +<h5><i>Copyright, 1899, by Charles Scribner's Sons</i></h5> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3>TO MY FATHER</h3> + +<p><i>who among all the men the writer knew in his youth was the most +familiar with books; and who of all the men the writer has ever known +has exemplified best the virtue of open-handedness, this little Book is +affectionately inscribed by his son</i>,</p> + +<h3>THE AUTHOR</h3> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<!-- Autogenerated TOC. Modify or delete as required. --> +<p> + <a href="#ILLUSTRATIONS"><b>ILLUSTRATIONS</b></a><br /> + <a href="#CHAPTER_I"><b>CHAPTER I</b></a><br /> + <a href="#CHAPTER_II"><b>CHAPTER II</b></a><br /> + <a href="#CHAPTER_III"><b>CHAPTER III</b></a><br /> + <a href="#CHAPTER_IV"><b>CHAPTER IV</b></a><br /> + <a href="#CHAPTER_V"><b>CHAPTER V</b></a><br /> + <a href="#CHAPTER_VI"><b>CHAPTER VI</b></a><br /> + <a href="#CHAPTER_VII"><b>CHAPTER VII</b></a><br /> + <a href="#CHAPTER_VIII"><b>CHAPTER VIII</b></a><br /> + <a href="#CHAPTER_IX"><b>CHAPTER IX</b></a><br /> + <a href="#CHAPTER_X"><b>CHAPTER X</b></a><br /> + <a href="#CHAPTER_XI"><b>CHAPTER XI</b></a><br /> + <a href="#CHAPTER_XII"><b>CHAPTER XII</b></a><br /> + <a href="#CHAPTER_XIII"><b>CHAPTER XIII</b></a><br /> + <a href="#CHAPTER_XIV"><b>CHAPTER XIV</b></a><br /> + <a href="#CHAPTER_XV"><b>CHAPTER XV</b></a><br /> + <a href="#CHAPTER_XVI"><b>CHAPTER XVI</b></a><br /> + <a href="#CHAPTER_XVII"><b>CHAPTER XVII</b></a><br /> + </p> +<!-- End Autogenerated TOC. --> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="ILLUSTRATIONS" id="ILLUSTRATIONS" />ILLUSTRATIONS</h2> + +<p>FROM DRAWINGS IN COLOR BY W. GLACKENS</p> + + +<p> +<a href="#fig1"><i>Vignette</i></a><br /> +<a href="#fig2"><i>"Guess who it is?" she cried.</i></a><br /> +<a href="#fig3"><i>Livingstone had to dodge for his life.</i></a><br /> +<a href="#fig4"><i>Half a dozen young bodies flung themselves upon him.</i></a><br /> +<a href="#fig5"><i>He took the shopkeeper aside and had a little talk with him.</i></a><br /> +<a href="#fig6"><i>The little form snuggled against him closer and closer.</i></a><br /> +<a href="#fig7"><i>And James with sparkling eyes rolled back the folding doors.</i></a><br /> +<a href="#fig8"><i>Standing in the Christmas evening light in a long avenue under swaying boughs.</i></a><br /> +</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_I" id="CHAPTER_I" />CHAPTER I</h2> + +<p>Berryman Livingstone was a successful man, a very successful man, and as +he sat in his cushioned chair in his inner private office (in the best +office-building in the city) on a particularly snowy evening in +December, he looked it every inch. It spoke in every line of his +clean-cut, self-contained face, with its straight, thin nose, closely +drawn mouth, strong chin and clear gray eyes; in every movement of his +erect, trim, well-groomed figure; in every detail of his faultless +attire; in every tone of his assured, assertive, incisive speech. As +some one said of him, he always looked as if he had just been ironed.</p> + +<p>He used to be spoken of as "a man of parts;" now he was spoken of as "a +man of wealth—a capitalist."</p> + +<p>Not that he was as successful as he intended to be; but the way was all +clear and shining before him now. It was now simply a matter of time. He +could no more help going on to further heights of success than his +"gilt-edged" securities, stored in thick parcels in his safe-deposit +boxes, could help bearing interest.</p> + +<p>He contemplated the situation this snowy evening with a deep serenity +that brought a transient gleam of light to his somewhat cold face.</p> + +<p>He knew he was successful by the silent envy with which his +acquaintances regarded him; by the respect with which he was treated and +his opinion was received at the different Boards, of which he was now an +influential member, by men who fifteen years ago hardly knew of his +existence. He knew it by the numbers of invitations to the most +fashionable houses which crowded his library table; by the familiar and +jovial air with which presidents and magnates of big corporations, who +could on a moment's notice change from warmth—temperate warmth—to ice, +greeted him; and by the cajoling speeches with which fashionable mammas +with unmarried daughters of a certain or uncertain age rallied him about +his big, empty house on a fashionable street, and his handsome dinners, +where only one thing was wanting—the thing they had in mind.</p> + +<p>Berryman Livingstone had, however, much better proof of success than the +mere plaudits of the world. Many men had these who had no real +foundation for their display. For instance, "Meteor" Broome the broker, +had just taken the big house on the corner above him, and had filled his +stable with high-stepping, high-priced horses—much talked of in the +public prints—and his wife wore jewels as handsome as Mrs. +Parke-Rhode's who owned the house and twenty more like it. Colonel +Keightly was one of the largest dealers on 'Change this year and was +advertised in all the papers as having made a cool million and a half in +a single venture out West. Van Diver was always spoken of as the "Grain +King," "Mining King," or some other kind of Royalty, because of his +infallible success, and Midan touch.</p> + +<p>But though these and many more like them were said to have made in a +year or two more than Livingstone with all his pains had been able to +accumulate in a score of years of earnest toil and assiduous devotion to +business; were now invited to the same big houses that Livingstone +visited, and were greeted by almost as flattering speeches as Livingstone +received, Livingstone knew of discussions as to these men at Boards +other than the "festal board," and of "stiffer" notes that had been sent +them than those stiff and sealed missives which were left at their front +doors by liveried footmen.</p> + +<p>Livingstone, however, though he "kept out of the papers," having a +rooted and growing prejudice against this form of vulgarity, could at +any time, on five minutes' notice, establish the solidity of his +foundation by simply unlocking his safe-deposit boxes. His foundation +was as solid as gold.</p> + +<p>On the mahogany table-desk before him lay now a couple of books: one a +long, ledger-like folio in the russet covering sacred to the binding of +that particular kind of work which a summer-hearted Writer of books +years ago inscribed as "a book of great interest;" the other, a smaller +volume, a memorandum book, more richly attired than its sober companion, +in Russia leather.</p> + +<p>For an hour or two Mr. Livingstone, with closely-drawn, thin lips, and +eager eyes, had sat in his seat, silent, immersed, absorbed, and +compared the two volumes, from time to time making memoranda in the +smaller book, whilst his clerks had sat on their high stools in the +large office outside looking impatiently at the white-faced clock on the +wall as it slowly marked the passing time, or gazing enviously and +grumblingly out of the windows at the dark, hurrying crowds below making +their way homeward through the falling snow.</p> + +<p>The young men could not have stood it but for the imperturbable patience +and sweet temper of the oldest man in the office, a quiet-faced, +middle-aged man, who, in a low, cheery, pleasant voice, restrained their +impatience and soothed their ruffled spirits.</p> + +<p>Even this, however, was only partially successful.</p> + +<p>"Go in there, Mr. Clark, and tell him we want to go home," urged +fretfully one youth, a tentative dandy, with a sharp nose and blunt +chin, who had been diligently arranging his vivid necktie for more than +a half-hour at a little mirror on the wall.</p> + +<p>"Oh! He'll be out directly now," replied the older man, looking up from +the account-book before him.</p> + +<p>"You've been saying that for three hours!" complained the other.</p> + +<p>"Well, see if it doesn't come true this time," said the older clerk, +kindly. "He'll make it up to you."</p> + +<p>This view of the case did not seem to appeal very strongly to the young +man; he simply grunted.</p> + +<p>"<i>I</i>'m going to give him notice. I'll not be put upon this way—" +bristled a yet younger clerk, stepping down from his high stool in a +corner and squaring his shoulders with martial manifestations.</p> + +<p>This unexpected interposition appeared to be the outlet the older +grumbler wanted.</p> + +<p>"Yes, you will!" he sneered with disdain, turning his eyes on his junior +derisively. He could at least bully Sipkins.</p> + +<p>For response, the youngster walked with a firm tread straight up to the +door of the private office; put out his hand so quickly that the other's +eyes opened wide; then turned so suddenly as to catch his derider's look +of wonder; stuck out his tongue in triumph at the success of his ruse, +and walked on to the window.</p> + +<p>"He'll be through directly, see if he is not," reiterated the senior +clerk with kindly intonation. "Don't make a noise, there's a good +fellow;" and once more John Clark, the dean of the office, guilefully +buried himself in his columns.</p> + +<p>"He must be writing his love-letters. Go in there, Hartley, and help him +out. You're an adept at that," hazarded the youngster at the window to +the dapper youth at the mirror.</p> + +<p>There was a subdued explosion from all the others but Clark, after +which, as if relieved by this escape of steam, the young men quieted +down, and once more applied themselves to looking moodily out of the +windows, whilst the older clerk gave a secret peep at his watch, and +then, after another glance at the closed door of the private office, +went back once more to his work.</p> + +<p>Meantime, within his closed sanctum Livingstone still sat with intent +gaze, poring over the page of figures before him. The expression on his +face was one of profound satisfaction. He had at last reached the acme +of his ambition—that is, of his later ambition. (He had once had other +aims.) He had arrived at the point towards which he had been straining +for the last eight—ten—fifteen years—he did not try to remember just +how long—it had been a good while. He had at length accumulated, "on +the most conservative estimate" (he framed the phrase in his mind, +following the habit of his Boards)—he had no need to look now at the +page before him: the seven figures that formed the balance, as he +thought of them, suddenly appeared before him in facsimile. He had been +gazing at them so steadily that now even when he shut his eyes he could +see them clearly. It gave him a little glow about his heart;—it was +quite convenient: he could always see them.</p> + +<p>It was a great sum. He had attained his ambition.</p> + +<p>Last year when he balanced his books at the close of the year, he had +been worth only—a sum expressed in six figures, even when he put his +securities at their full value. Now it could only be written in seven +figures, "on the most conservative estimate."</p> + +<p>Yes, he had reached the top. He could walk up the street now and look +any man in the face, or turn his back on him, just as he chose. The +thought pleased him.</p> + +<p>Years ago, a friend—an old friend of his youth, Harry Trelane, had +asked him to come down to the country to visit him and meet his children +and see the peach trees bloom. He had pleaded business, and his friend +had asked him gravely why he kept on working so hard when he was already +so well off. He wanted to be rich, he had replied.</p> + +<p>"But you are already rich—you must be worth half a million? and you are +a single man, with no children to leave it to."</p> + +<p>"Yes, but I mean to be worth double that."</p> + +<p>"Why?"</p> + +<p>"Oh!—so that I can tell any man I choose to go to the d—-l," he had +said half jestingly, being rather put to it by his friend's earnestness. +His friend had laughed too, he remembered, but not heartily.</p> + +<p>"Well, that is not much of a satisfaction after all," he had said; "the +real satisfaction is in helping him the other way;"—and this +Livingstone remembered he had said very earnestly.</p> + +<p>Livingstone now had reached this point of his aspiration—he could tell +any man he chose "to go to the devil."</p> + +<p>His content over this reflection was shadowed only by a momentary +recollection that Henry Trelane was since dead. He regretted that his +friend could not know of his success.</p> + +<p>Another friend suddenly floated into his memory. Catherine Trelane was +his college-mate's sister. Once she had been all the world to +Livingstone, and he had found out afterwards that she had cared for him +too, and would have married him had he spoken at one time. But he had +not known this at first, and when he began to grow he could not bring +himself to it. He could not afford to burden himself with a family that +might interfere with his success. Then later, when he had succeeded and +was well off and had asked Catherine Trelane to be his wife, she had +declined. She said Livingstone had not offered her himself, but his +fortune. It had stung Livingstone deeply, and he had awakened, but too +late, to find for a while that he had really loved her. She was well off +too, having been left a comfortable sum by a relative.</p> + +<p>However, Livingstone was glad now, as he reflected on it, that it had +turned out so. Catherine Trelane's refusal had really been the incentive +which had spurred him on to greater success. It was to revenge himself +that he had plunged deeper into business than ever, and he had bought +his fine house to show that he could afford to live in style. He had +intended then to marry; but he had not had time to do so; he had always +been too busy.</p> + +<p>Catherine Trelane, at least, was not dead. He had not heard of her in a +long time; she had married, he knew, a man named—Shepherd, he believed, +and he had heard that her husband was dead.</p> + +<p>He would see that she knew he was worth—the page of figures suddenly +flashed in before his eyes like a magic-lantern slide. Yes, he was worth +all that! and he could now marry whom and when he pleased.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II" />CHAPTER II</h2> + + +<p>Livingstone closed his books. He had put everything in such shape that +Clark, his confidential clerk, would not have the least trouble this +year in transferring everything and starting the new books that would +now be necessary.</p> + +<p>Last year Clark had been at his house a good many nights writing up +these private books; but that was because Clark had been in a sort of +muddle last winter,—his wife was sick, or one of his dozen children had +met with an accident,—or something,—Livingstone vaguely remembered.</p> + +<p>This year there would be no such trouble. Livingstone was pleased at the +thought; for Clark was a good fellow, and a capable bookkeeper, even +though he was a trifle slow.</p> + +<p>Livingstone felt that he had, in a way, a high regard for Clark. He was +attentive to his duties, beyond words. He was a gentleman, too,—of a +first-rate family—a man of principle. How he could ever have been +content to remain a simple clerk all these years, Livingstone could not +understand. It gave him a certain contempt for him. That came, he +reflected, of a man's marrying indiscreetly and having a houseful of +children on his back.</p> + +<p>Clark would be pleased at the showing on the books. He was always +delighted when the balances showed a marked increase.</p> + +<p>Livingstone was glad now that he had not only paid the old clerk extra +for his night-work last year, but had given him fifty dollars +additional, partly because of the trouble in his family, and partly +because Livingstone had been unusually irritated when Clark got the two +accounts confused.</p> + +<p>Livingstone prided himself on his manner to his employees. He prided +himself on being a gentleman, and it was a mark of a gentleman always +to treat subordinates with civility. He knew men in the city who were +absolute bears to their employees; but they were blackguards.</p> + +<p>He, perhaps, ought to have discharged Clark without a word; that would +have been "business;" but really he ought not to have spoken to him as +he did. Clark undoubtedly acted with dignity. Livingstone had had to +apologize to him and ask him to remain, and had made the amend (to +himself) by giving him fifty dollars extra for the ten nights' work. He +could only justify the act now by reflecting that Clark had more than +once suggested investments which had turned out most fortunately.</p> + +<p>Livingstone determined to give Clark this year a hundred dollars—no, +fifty—he must not spoil him, and it really was not "business."</p> + +<p>The thought of his liberality brought to Livingstone's mind the +donations that he always made at the close of the year. He might as well +send off the cheques now.</p> + +<p>He took from a locked drawer his private cheque-book and turned the +stubs thoughtfully. He had had that cheque-book for a good many years. +He used to give away a tenth of his income. His father before him used +to do that. He remembered, with a smile, how large the sums used to seem +to him. He turned back the stubs only to see how small a tenth used to +be. He no longer gave a tenth or a twentieth or even a—he had no +difficulty in deciding the exact percentage he gave; for whenever he +thought now of the sum he was worth, the figures themselves, in +clean-cut lines, popped before his eyes. It was very curious. He could +actually see them in his own handwriting. He rubbed his eyes, and the +figures disappeared.</p> + +<p>Well, he gave a good deal, anyhow—a good deal more than most men, he +reflected. He looked at the later stubs and was gratified to find how +large the amounts were,—they showed how rich he was,—and what a +diversified list of charities he contributed to: hospitals, seminaries, +asylums, churches, soup-kitchens, training schools of one kind or +another. The stubs all bore the names of those through whom he +contributed—they were mostly fashionable women of his acquaintance, who +either for diversion or from real charity were interested in these +institutions.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Wright's name appeared oftenest. Mrs. Wright was a woman of fortune +and very prominent, he reflected, but she was really kind; she was just +a crank, and, somehow, she appeared really to believe in him. Her +husband, Livingstone did not like: a cold, selfish man, who cared for +nothing but money-making and his own family.</p> + +<p>There was one name down on the book for a small amount which +Livingstone could not recall.—Oh yes, he was an assistant preacher at +Livingstone's church: the donation was for a Christmas-tree in a +Children's Hospital, or something of the kind. This was one of Mrs. +Wright's charities too. Livingstone remembered the note the preacher had +written him afterwards—it had rather jarred on him, it was so grateful. +He hated "gush," he said to himself; he did not want to be bothered with +details of yarn-gloves, flannel petticoats, and toys. He took out his +pencil and wrote Mrs. Wright's name on the stub. That also should be +charged to Mrs. Wright. He carried in his mind the total amount of the +contributions, and as he came to the end a half-frown rested on his brow +as he thought of having to give to all these objects again.</p> + +<p>That was the trouble with charities,—they were as regular as coupons. +Confound Mrs. Wright! Why did she not let him alone! However, she was +an important woman—the leader in the best set in the city. Livingstone +sat forward and began to fill out his cheques. Certain cheques he always +filled out himself. He could not bear to let even Clark know what he +gave to certain objects.</p> + +<p>The thought of how commendable this was crossed his face and lit it up +like a glint of transient sunshine. It vanished suddenly as he began to +calculate, leaving the place where it had rested colder than before. He +really could not spend as much this year as last—why, there was—for +pictures, so much; charities, so much, etc. It would quite cut into the +amount he had already decided to lay by. He must draw in somewhere: he +was worth only—the line of figures slipped in before his eyes with its +lantern-slide coldness.</p> + +<p>He reflected. He must cut down on his charities. He could not reduce the +sum for the General Hospital Fund; he had been giving to that a number +of years.—Nor that for the asylum; Mrs. Wright was the president of +that board, and had told him she counted on him.—Hang Mrs. Wright! It +was positive blackmail!—Nor the pew-rent; that was respectable—nor the +Associated Charities; every one gave to that. He must cut out the +smaller charities.</p> + +<p>So he left off the Children's Hospital Christmas-tree Fund, and the +soup-kitchen, and a few insignificant things like them into which he had +been worried by Mrs. Wright and other troublesome women. The only regret +he had was that taken together these sums did not amount to a great +deal. To bring the saving up he came near cutting out the hospital. +However, he decided not to do so. Mrs. Wright believed in him. He would +leave out one of the pictures he had intended to buy; he would deny +himself, and not cut out the big charity. This would save him the +trouble of refusing Mrs. Wright and would also save him a good deal more +money.</p> + +<p>Once more, at the thought of his self-denial, that ray of wintry +sunshine passed across Livingstone's cold face and gave it a look of +distinction—almost like that of a marble statue.</p> + +<p>Again he relapsed into reflection. His eyes were resting on the pane +outside of which the fine snow was filling the chilly afternoon air in +flurries and scurries that rose and fell and seemed to be blowing every +way at once. But Livingstone's eyes were not on the snow. It had been so +long since Livingstone had given a thought to the weather, except as it +might affect the net earnings of railways in which he was interested, +that he never knew what the weather was, and so far as he was concerned +there need not have been any weather. Spring was to him but the season +when certain work could be done which in time would yield a crop of +dividends; and Autumn was but the time when crops would be moved and +stocks sent up or down.</p> + +<p>So, though Livingstone's eyes rested on the pane, outside of which the +flurrying snow was driving that meant so much to so many people, and his +face was thoughtful—very thoughtful—he was not thinking of the snow, +he was calculating profits.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III" />CHAPTER III</h2> + + +<p>A noise in the outer office recalled Livingstone from his reverie. He +aroused himself, almost with a start, and glanced at the gilt clock just +above the stock-indicator. He had been so absorbed that he had quite +forgotten that he had told the clerks to wait for him. He had had no +idea that he had been at work so long. He reflected, however, that he +had been writing charity-cheques: the clerks ought to appreciate the +fact.</p> + +<p>He touched a button, and the next second there was a gentle tap on the +door, and Clark appeared. He was just the person to give just such a +tap: a refined-looking, middle-aged, middle-sized man, with a face +rather pale and a little worn; a high, calm forehead, above which the +grizzled hair was almost gone; mild, blue eyes which beamed through +black-rimmed glasses; a pleasant mouth which a drooping, colorless +moustache only partly concealed, and a well-formed but slightly +retreating chin. His figure was inclined to be stout, and his shoulders +were slightly bent. He walked softly, and as he spoke his voice was +gentle and pleasing. There was no assertion in it, but it was perfectly +self-respecting. The eyes and voice redeemed the face from being +commonplace.</p> + +<p>"Oh!—Mr. Clark, I did not know I should have been so long about my +work. I was so engaged getting my book straight for you, and writing—a +few cheques for my annual contributions to hospitals, etc.,—that the +time slipped by—"</p> + +<p>The tone was unusually conciliatory for Livingstone; but he still +retained it in addressing Clark. It was partly a remnant of his old time +relation to Mr. Clark when he, yet a young man, first knew him, and +partly a recognition of Clark's position as a man of good birth who had +been unfortunate, and had a large family to support.</p> + +<p>"Oh! that's all right, Mr. Livingstone," said the clerk, pleasantly.</p> + +<p>He gathered up the letters on the desk and was unconsciously pressing +them into exact order.</p> + +<p>"Shall I have these mailed or sent by a messenger?"</p> + +<p>"Mail them, of course," said Livingstone. "And Clark, I want you to—"</p> + +<p>"I thought possibly that, as to-morrow is—" began the clerk in +explanation, but stopped as Livingstone continued speaking without +noticing the interruption.</p> + +<p>—"I have been going over my matters," pursued Livingstone, "and they +are in excellent shape—better this year than ever before—"</p> + +<p>The clerk's face brightened.</p> + +<p>"That's very good," said he, heartily. "I knew they were."</p> + +<p>—"Yes, very good, indeed," said Livingstone condescendingly, pausing to +dwell for a second on the sight of the line of pallid figures which +suddenly flashed before his eyes. "And I have got everything straight +for you this year; and I want you to come up to my house this evening +and go over the books with me quietly, so that I can show you—"</p> + +<p>"This evening?" The clerk's countenance fell and the words were as near +an exclamation as he ever indulged in.</p> + +<p>"Yes—, this evening. I shall be at home this evening and to-morrow +evening—Why not this evening?" demanded Livingstone almost sharply.</p> + +<p>"Why, only—that it's—. However,—" The speaker broke off. "I'll be +there, sir. About eight-thirty, I suppose?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Livingstone, curtly.</p> + +<p>He was miffed, offended, aggrieved. He had intended to do a kind thing +by this man, and he had met with a rebuff.</p> + +<p>"I expect to pay you," he said, coldly.</p> + +<p>The next second he knew he had made an error. A shocked expression came +involuntarily over the other's face.</p> + +<p>"Oh! it was not that!—It was—" He paused, reflected half a second. +"I'll be there," he added, and, turning quickly, withdrew, leaving +Livingstone feeling very blank and then, somewhat angry. He was angry +with himself for making such a blunder, and then angrier with the clerk +for leading him into it.</p> + +<p>"That is the way with such people!" he reflected. "What is the use of +being considerate and generous? No one appreciates it!"</p> + +<p>The more he thought of it, the warmer he became. "Had he not taken Clark +up ten—fifteen years ago, when he had not a cent in the world, and now +he was getting fifteen hundred dollars a year—yes, sixteen hundred, +and almost owned his house; and he had made every cent for him!"</p> + +<p>At length, Livingstone's sense of injury became so strong, he could +stand it no longer. He determined to have a talk with Clark.</p> + +<p>He opened the door and walked into the outer office. One of the younger +clerks was just buttoning up his overcoat. Livingstone detected a scowl +on his face. The sight did not improve Livingstone's temper. He would +have liked to discharge the boy on the spot. How often had he ever +called on them to wait? He knew men who required their clerks to wait +always until they themselves left the office, no matter what the hour +was. He himself would not do this; he regarded it as selfish. But now +when it had happened by accident, this was the return he received!</p> + +<p>He contented himself with asking somewhat sharply where Mr. Clark was.</p> + +<p>"Believe he's gone to the telephone," said the clerk, sulkily. He +picked up his hat and said good-night hurriedly. He was evidently glad +to get off.</p> + +<p>Livingstone returned to his own room; but left the door ajar so that he +could see Clark when he returned. When, however, a few moments +afterwards Clark appeared Livingstone had cooled down. Why should he +expect gratitude? He did not pay Clark for gratitude, but for work, and +this the clerk did faithfully. It was an ungrateful world, anyhow.</p> + +<p>At that moment there was a light knock at the outer door, and, on +Clark's bidding, some one entered.</p> + +<p>Livingstone, from where he sat, could see the door reflected in a mirror +that hung in his office.</p> + +<p>The visitor was a little girl. She was clad in a red jacket, and on her +head was a red cap, from under which her hair pushed in a profusion of +ringlets. Her cheeks were like apples, and her whole face was glowing +from the frosty air. It was just her head that Livingstone saw first, as +she poked it in and peeped around. Then, as Mr. Clark sat with his back +to the door and she saw that no one else was present, the visitor +inserted her whole body and, closing the door softly, with her eyes +dancing and her little mouth puckered up in a mischievous way, she came +on tiptoe across the floor, stealing towards Clark until she was within +a few feet of him, when with a sudden little rush she threw her arms +about his head and clapped her hands quickly over his eyes:</p> + +<div class="center"> +<a name='fig2' id='fig2'></a> +<img src="images/fig2.jpg" +alt=""Guess who it is?" she cried." +title="" /> +</div> + +<p>"Guess who it is?" she cried.</p> + +<p>Livingstone could hear them through the open door.</p> + +<p>"Blue Beard," hazarded Mr. Clark.</p> + +<p>"No—o!"</p> + +<p>"Queen Victoria?"</p> + +<p>"No—o—o!"</p> + +<p>"Mary, Queen of Scots?—I know it's a queen."</p> + +<p>"No. Now you are not guessing—It isn't any queen, at all."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I am—Oh! I know—Santa Claus."</p> + +<p>"No; but somebody 'at knows about him."</p> + +<p>"Mr. L—m—m—"</p> + +<p>Livingstone was not sure that he caught the name.</p> + +<p>"No!!" in a very emphatic voice and with a sudden stiffening and a +vehement shake of the head.</p> + +<p>Livingstone knew now whose name it was.</p> + +<p>"Now, if you guess right this time, you'll get a reward."</p> + +<p>"What reward?"</p> + +<p>"Why,—Santa Claus will bring you a whole lot of nice—"</p> + +<p>"I don't believe that;—he will be too busy with some other folks I +know, who—"</p> + +<p>"No, he won't—I know he's going to bring you—Oh!" She suddenly took +one hand from Clark's eyes and clapped it over her mouth—but next +second replaced it.—"And besides, I'll give you a whole lot of kisses."</p> + +<p>"Oh! yes, I know—the Princess with the Golden Locks, Santa Claus's +Partner—the sweetest little kitten in the world, and her name is—Kitty +Clark."</p> + +<p>"Umhm—m!" And on a sudden, the arms were transferred from about the +forehead to the neck and the little girl, with her sunny head canted to +one side, was making good her promise of reward. Livingstone could hear +the kisses.</p> + +<p>The next second they moved out of the line of reflection in +Livingstone's mirror. But he could still catch fragments of what they +said. Clark spoke too low to be heard; but now and then, Livingstone +could catch the little girl's words. Indeed, he could not help hearing +her.</p> + +<p>"Oh! papa!" she exclaimed in a tone of disappointment, replying to +something her father had told her.</p> + +<p>"But papa you <i>must</i> come—You <i>promised</i>!"</p> + +<p>Again her father talked to her low and soothingly.</p> + +<p>"But papa—I'm so disappointed—I've saved all my money just to have you +go with me. And mamma—I'll go and ask him to let you come."</p> + +<p>Her father evidently did not approve of this, and the next moment he led +the child to the door, still talking to her soothingly, and Livingstone +heard him kiss her and tell her to wait for him below.</p> + +<p>Livingstone let himself out of his side-door. He did not want to meet +Clark just then. He was not in a comfortable frame of mind. He had a +little headache.</p> + +<p>As he turned into the street, he passed the little girl he had seen +up-stairs. She was wiping her little, smeared face with her +handkerchief, and had evidently been crying. Livingstone, as he passed, +caught her eye, and she gave him such a look of hate that it stung him +to the quick.</p> + +<p>"The little serpent!" thought he. "Here he was supporting her family, +and she looking as if she could tear him to pieces! It showed how +ungrateful this sort of people were."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV" />CHAPTER IV</h2> + + +<p>Livingstone walked up town. It would, he felt, do his head good. He +needed exercise. He had been working rather too hard of late. However, +he was worth—yes, all that!—Out in the snow the sum was before him in +cold facsimile.</p> + +<p>He had not gone far before he wished he had ridden. The street was +thronged with people: some streaming along; others stopping in front of +the big shop-windows, blocking the way and forcing such as were in a +hurry to get off the sidewalk. The shop-windows were all brilliantly +dressed and lighted. Every conception of fertile brains was there to +arrest the attention and delight the imagination. And the interest of +the throngs outside and in testified the shopkeepers' success.</p> + +<p>Here Santa Claus, the last survivor of the old benefactors, who has +outlasted whole hierarchies of outworn myths and, yet firm in the +devotion of the heart of childhood, snaps his fingers alike at arid +science and blighting stupidity, was driving his reindeer, his teeming +sleigh filled with wonders from every region: dolls that walked and +talked and sang, fit for princesses; sleds fine enough for princes; +drums and trumpets and swords for young heroes; horses that looked as +though they were alive and would spring next moment from their rockers; +bats and balls that almost started of themselves from their places; +little uniforms, and frocks; skates; tennis-racquets; baby caps and +rattles; tiny engines and coaches; railway trains; animals that ran +about; steamships; books; pictures—everything to delight the soul of +childhood and gratify the affection of age.</p> + +<p>There Kris Kringle, Santa Claus's other self, with snowy beard, and fur +coat hoary with the frost of Arctic travel from the land of unfailing +snow and unfailing toys, stood beside his tree glittering with crystal +and shining with the fruits of every industry and every clime.</p> + +<p>These were but a part of the dazzling display that was ever repeated +over and over and filled the windows for squares and squares. Science +and Art appeared to have combined to pay tribute to childhood. The very +street seemed to have blossomed with Christmas.</p> + +<p>But Livingstone saw nothing of it. He was filled with anger that his way +should be blocked. The crowds were gay and cheery. Strangers in sheer +good-will clapped each other on the shoulder and exchanged views, +confidences and good wishes. The truck-drivers, usually so surly, drew +out of each others' way and shouted words of cheer after their smiling +fellows.</p> + +<p>The soul of Christmas was abroad on the air.</p> + +<p>Livingstone did not even recall what day it was. All he saw was a crowd +of fools that impeded his progress. He tried the middle of the street; +but the carriages and delivery-wagons were so thick, that he turned off, +growling, and took a less frequented thoroughfare, a back street of mean +houses and small shops where a poorer class of people dwelt and dealt.</p> + +<p>Here, however, he was perhaps even more incommoded than he had been +before. This street was, if anything, more crowded than the other and +with a more noisy and hilarious throng. Here, instead of fine shops, +there were small ones; but their windows were every bit as attractive to +the crowds on the street as those Livingstone had left. People of a much +poorer class surged in and out of the doors; small gamins, some in +ragged overcoats, more in none, gabbled with and shouldered each other +boisterously at the windows and pressed their red noses to the frosty +panes, to see through the blurred patches made by their warm breath the +wondrous marvels within. The little pastry-shops and corner-groceries +vied with the toy-shops and confectionaries, and were packed with a +population that hummed like bees, the busy murmur broken every now and +then by jests and calls and laughter, as the customers squeezed in +empty-handed, or slipped out with carefully-wrapped parcels hugged close +to their cheery bosoms or carried in their arms with careful pride.</p> + +<p>Livingstone finally was compelled to get off the sidewalk again and take +to the street. Here, at least, there were no fine carriages to block his +way.</p> + +<p>As he began to approach a hill, he was aware of yells of warning ahead +of him, and, with shouts of merriment, a swarm of sleds began to shoot +by him, some with dark objects lying flat on their little stomachs, +kicking their heels high in the air; others with small single or double +or triple headed monsters seated upright and all screaming at the top of +their merry voices. All were unmindful of the falling snow and nipping +air, their blood hot with the ineffable fire of youth that flames in the +warm heart of childhood, glows in that of youth, and cools only with the +cooling brain and chilling pulse.</p> + +<p>Before Livingstone could press back into the almost solid mass on the +sidewalk he had come near being run down a score of times. He felt that +it was an outrage. He fairly flamed with indignation. He, a large +taxpayer, a generous contributor to asylums and police funds, a +supporter of hospitals,—that he should be almost killed!</p> + +<p>He looked around for a policeman—</p> + +<div class="center"> +<a name='fig3' id='fig3'></a> +<img src="images/fig3.jpg" +alt="Livingstone had to dodge for his life." +title="" /> +</div> + +<p>"Whoop! Look out! Get out the way!" Swish! Swish! Swish! they shot by. +Livingstone had to dodge for his life. Of course, no policeman was in +sight!</p> + +<p>Livingstone pushed his way on to the top of the ascent, and a square +further on he found an officer inspecting silently a group of noisy +urchins squabbling over the division of two sticks of painted candy. His +back was towards the hill from which were coming the shouts of the +sliding miscreants.</p> + +<p>Livingstone accosted him:</p> + +<p>"That sliding, back there, must be stopped. It is a nuisance," he +asserted.—It was dangerous, he declared; he himself had almost been +struck by one or more of those sleds and if it had run him down it might +have killed him.</p> + +<p>The officer, after a long look at him, turned silently and walked slowly +in the direction of the hill. He moved so deliberately and with such +evident reluctance that Livingstone's blood boiled. He hurried after +him.</p> + +<p>"Here," he said, as he overtook him, "I am going to see that you stop +that sliding and enforce the law, or I shall report you for failure to +perform your duty. I see your number—268."</p> + +<p>"All right, sir. You can do as you please about that," said the officer, +rather surlily, but politely.</p> + +<p>Livingstone walked close after him to the hilltop. The officer spoke a +few words in a quiet tone to the boys who were at the summit, and +instantly every sled stopped. Not so the tongues. Babel broke loose. +Some went off in silence; others crowded about the officer, +expostulating, cajoling, grumbling. It was "the first snow;" they +"always slid on that hill;" "it did not hurt anybody;" "nobody cared," +etc.</p> + +<p>"This gentleman has complained, and you must stop," said the officer.</p> + +<p>They all turned on Livingstone with sudden hate.</p> + +<p>"Arr-oh-h!" they snarled in concert. "We ain't a-hurtin' him! What's he +got to do wid us anyhow!"</p> + +<p>One more apt archer than the rest, shouted, "He ain't no gentleman—a +<i>gentleman</i> don't never interfere wid poor little boys what ain't a-done +him no harm!"</p> + +<p>But they stopped, and the more timid or impatient stole off to find new +and less inconveniently guarded inclines.</p> + +<p>Livingstone passed on. He did not know that the moment he left and the +officer turned his back, the whole hillside swarmed again into life and +fun and joy. He did not know this; but he bore off with him a new thorn +which even his feeling of civic virtue could not keep from rankling. His +head ached, and he grew crosser and crosser with every step.</p> + +<p>He had never seen so many beggars. It was insufferable. For this +evening, at least, every one was giving—except Livingstone. Want was +stretching out its withered hand even to Poverty and found it filled. +But Livingstone took no part in it. The chilly and threadbare +street-venders of shoe-strings, pencils and cheap flowers, who to-night +were offering in their place tin toys, mistletoe and holly-boughs, he +pushed roughly out of his way; he snapped angrily at beggars who had the +temerity to accost him.</p> + +<p>"Confound them! They ought to be run in by the police!"</p> + +<p>A red-faced, collarless man fell into the same gait with him, and in a +cajoling tone began to mutter something of his distress.</p> + +<p>"Be off. Go to the Associated Charities," snarled Livingstone, conscious +of the biting sarcasm of his speech.</p> + +<p>"Go where, sir?"</p> + +<p>"Go to the devil!"</p> + +<p>The man stopped in his tracks.</p> + +<p>A ragged, meagre boy slid in through the crowd just ahead of +Livingstone, to a woman who was toiling along with a large bundle. +Holding out a pinched hand, he offered to carry the parcel for her. The +woman hesitated.</p> + +<p>—"For five cents," he pleaded.</p> + +<p>She was about to yield, for the bundle was heavy. But the boy was just +in front of Livingstone and in his eagerness brushed against him. +Livingstone gave him a shove which sent him spinning away across the +sidewalk; the stream of passers-by swept in between them, and the boy +lost his job and the woman his service.</p> + +<p>The man of success passed on.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_V" id="CHAPTER_V" />CHAPTER V</h2> + + +<p>If Livingstone had been in a huff when he left his office, by the time +he reached his home he was in a rage.</p> + +<p>As he let himself in with his latch-key his expression for a moment +softened. The scene before him was one which might well have mellowed a +man just out of the snowy street. A spacious and handsome house, both +richly and artistically furnished, lay before him. Rich furniture, +costly rugs, fine pictures and rare books, gave evidence not only of his +wealth but of his taste. He was not a mere business machine, a mere +money-maker. He knew men who were. He despised them. He was a man of +taste and culture, a gentleman of refinement. He spent his money like a +gentleman, to surround himself with objects of art and to give himself +and his friends pleasure. Connoisseurs came to look at his fine +collection and to revel in his rare editions. Dealers had told him his +collection was worth double what it had cost him. He had frowned at the +suggestion; but it was satisfactory to know it.</p> + +<p>As Livingstone entered his library and found a bright fire burning; his +favorite arm-chair drawn up to his especial table; his favorite books +lying within easy reach, he felt a momentary glow.</p> + +<p>He stretched himself out before the fire in his deep lounging-chair with +a feeling of relief. The next moment, however, he was sensible of his +fatigue, and was conscious that he had quite a headache. What a fool he +had been to walk up through the snow! And those people had worried him!</p> + +<p>His head throbbed. He had been working too hard of late. He would go and +see his doctor next day and talk it over with him. He could now take his +advice and stop working for a while; he was worth—Confound those +figures! Why could not he think of them without their popping in before +his eyes that way!</p> + +<p>There was a footfall on the heavily carpeted floor behind him, so soft +that it could scarcely be said to have made a sound, but Livingstone +caught it. He spoke without turning his head.</p> + +<p>"James!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir. Have you dined, sir?"</p> + +<p>"Dined? No, of course not! Where was I to dine?"</p> + +<p>"I thought perhaps you had dined at the club. I will have dinner +directly, sir," said the butler quietly.</p> + +<p>"Dine at the club! Why should I dine at the club? Haven't I my own house +to dine in?" demanded Livingstone.</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir. We had dinner ready, only—as you were so late we thought +perhaps you were dining at the club. You had not said anything about +dining out."</p> + +<p>Livingstone glanced at the clock. It was half-past eight. He had had no +idea it was so late. He had forgotten how late it was when he left his +office, and the walk through the snow had been slow. He was hopelessly +in the wrong.</p> + +<p>Just then there was a scurry in the hall outside and the squeak of +childish voices. James coughed and turned quickly towards the door.</p> + +<p>Livingstone wanted an outlet.</p> + +<p>"What is that?" he asked, sharply.</p> + +<p>James cleared his throat nervously. The squeak came again—this time +almost a squeal.</p> + +<p>"Whose children are those?" demanded Livingstone.</p> + +<p>"Ahem! I thinks they's the laundress's, sir. They just came around this +evening—"</p> + +<p>Livingstone cut him short.</p> + +<p>"Well! I—!" He was never nearer an outbreak, but he controlled himself.</p> + +<p>"Go down and send them and her off immediately; and you—" He paused, +closed his lips firmly, and changed his speech. "I wish some dinner," he +said coldly.</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir."</p> + +<p>James had reached the door when he turned.</p> + +<p>"Shall you be dining at home to-morrow, sir?" he asked, quietly.</p> + +<p>"Yes, of course," said Livingstone, shortly. "And I don't want to see +any one to-night, no matter who comes. I am tired." He had forgotten +Clark.</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir."</p> + +<p>The butler withdrew noiselessly, and Livingstone sank back in his chair. +But before the butler was out of hearing Livingstone recalled him.</p> + +<p>"I don't want any dinner."</p> + +<p>"Can have it for you directly, sir," said James, persuasively.</p> + +<p>"I say I don't want any."</p> + +<p>James came a little closer and gave his master a quick glance.</p> + +<p>"Are you feeling bad, sir?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"No, I only want to be let alone. I shall go out presently to the club."</p> + +<p>This time James withdrew entirely.</p> + +<p>What happened when James passed through the door which separated his +domain from his master's was not precisely what Livingstone had +commanded. What the tall butler did was to gather up in his arms two +very plump little tots who at sight of him came running to him with +squeals of joy, flinging themselves on him, and choking him with their +chubby arms, to the imminent imperiling of his immaculate linen.</p> + +<p>Taking them both up together, James bore them off quietly to some remote +region where he filled their little mouths full of delightful candy +which kept their little jaws working tremendously and their blue eyes +opening and shutting in unison, whilst he told them of the dreadful +unnamed things that would befall them if they ventured again through +that door. He impressed on them the calamity it would be to lose the +privilege of holding the evergreens whilst they were being put up in the +hall, and the danger of Santa Claus passing by that night without +filling their stockings.</p> + +<p>The picture he drew of two little stockings hanging limp and empty at +the fireplace while Santa Claus went by with bulging sleigh was +harrowing.</p> + +<p>At mention of it, the tots both looked down at their stockings and were +so overcome that they almost stopped working their jaws, so that when +they began again they were harder to work than ever. To this James added +the terror of their failing to see next day the great plum-pudding +suddenly burst into flame in his hands. At this, he threw up both hands +and opened them so wide that the little ones had to look first at one of +his hands and then at the other to make sure that he was not actually +holding the dancing flames now.</p> + +<p>When they had promised faithfully and with deep awe, crossing their +little hearts with smudgy fingers, the butler entrusted them to some one +to see to the due performance of their good intention, and he himself +sought the cook, who, next to himself, was Livingstone's oldest servant. +She was at the moment, with plump arms akimbo on her stout waist, laying +down the law of marriage to a group of merry servants as they sorted +Christmas wreaths.</p> + +<p>"Wait till you've known a man twenty years before you marry him, and +then you'll never marry him," she said. The point of her advice being +that she was past forty and had never married.</p> + +<p>The butler beckoned her out and confided to her his anxiety.</p> + +<p>"He is not well," he said gloomily. "I have not see him this a-way in +ten years. He is not well."</p> + +<p>The cook's cheery countenance changed.</p> + +<p>"But you say he have had no dinner." Her excessive grammar was a +reassurance. She turned alertly towards her range.</p> + +<p>"But he won't have dinner."</p> + +<p>"What!" The stiffness went out of her form in visible detachments. "Then +he air sick!"</p> + +<p>She made one attempt to help matters. "Can't I make him something nice? +Very nice?—And light?" She brightened at the hope.</p> + +<p>"No, nothink. He will not hear to it."</p> + +<p>"Then you must have the doctor." She spoke decisively.</p> + +<p>To this the butler made no reply, at least in words. He stood wrapt in +deep abstraction, his face filled with perplexity and gloom, and as the +cook watched him anxiously her face too took on gradually the same +expression.</p> + +<p>"I has not see him like this before, not in ten year—not in twelve +year. Not since he got that letter from that young lady what—." He +stopped and looked at the cook.—"He was hactually hirascible!"</p> + +<p>"He must be got to bed, poor dear!" said the cook, sympathetically. "And +you must get the doctor, and I'll make some good rich broth to have it +handy.—And just when we were a-goin' to dress the house and have it so +beautiful!"</p> + +<p>She turned away, her round face full of woe.</p> + +<p>"Ah! Well!—" The butler tried to find some sentence that might be +comforting; but before he could secure one that suited, the door bell +rang, and he went to answer it.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VI" id="CHAPTER_VI" />CHAPTER VI</h2> + + +<p>It was Mr. Clark, who as soon as the door was opened stepped within and +taking off his hat began to shake the snow from it, even while he +greeted James and wished him a merry Christmas.</p> + +<p>James liked Mr. Clark. He did not rate him very highly in the matter of +intelligence; but he recognized him as a gentleman, and appreciated his +kindly courtesy to himself. He knew it came from a good heart.</p> + +<p>Many a man who drove up to the door in a carriage, James relieved of his +coat and showed into the drawing-room in silence; but the downcast eyes +were averted to conceal inconvenient thoughts and the expressionless +face was a mask to hide views which the caller might not have cared to +discover. Mr. Clark, however, always treated James with consideration, +and James reciprocated the feeling and returned the treatment.</p> + +<p>Mr. Clark was giving James his hat when the butler took in that he had +come to see Mr. Livingstone.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Livingstone begs to be excused this evening, sir," he said.</p> + +<p>"Yes." Mr. Clark laid a package on a chair and proceeded to unbutton his +overcoat.</p> + +<p>"He says he regrets he cannot see any one," explained the servant.</p> + +<p>"Yes. That's all right. I know." He caught the lapels of the coat +preparatory to taking it off.</p> + +<p>"No, sir. He cannot see <i>anybody</i> at all this evening," insisted James, +confident in being within his authority.</p> + +<p>"Why, he told me to come and bring his books! I suppose he meant—!"</p> + +<p>"No, sir. He is not very well this evening."</p> + +<p>Mr. Clark's hands dropped to his side.</p> + +<p>"Not well! Why, he left the office only an hour or two ago."</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir; but he walked up, and seemed very tired when he arrived. He +did not eat anything, and—the doctor is coming to see him."</p> + +<p>Mr. Clark's face expressed the deepest concern.</p> + +<p>"He has been working too hard," he said, shaking his head. "He ought to +have let me go over those accounts. With all he has to carry!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir, that's it," said James, heartily.</p> + +<p>"Well, don't you think I'd better go up and see him?" asked the old +clerk, solicitously. "I might be able to suggest something?"</p> + +<p>"No, sir. He said quite positive he would not see <i>anybody</i>." James +looked the clerk full in the face. "I was afraid something might 'ave +'appened down in the—ah—?"</p> + +<p>Mr. Clark's face lit up with a kindly light.</p> + +<p>"No, indeed. It's nothing like that, James. We never had so good a year. +You can make your mind easy about that."</p> + +<p>"Thank you, sir," said the servant. "We'll have the doctor drop in to +see him, and I hope he'll be all right in the morning. Snowy night, +sir."</p> + +<p>"I hope so," said Mr. Clark, not intending to convey his views as to the +weather. "You'll let me know if I am wanted—if I can do anything. I +will come around first thing in the morning to see how he is. I hope +he'll be all right. Good-night. A merry Christmas to you."</p> + +<p>"Good-night, sir. Thankee, sir; the same to you, sir. I'm going to wait +up to see how he is. Good-night, sir."</p> + +<p>And James shut the door softly behind the visitor, feeling a sense of +comfort not wholly accounted for by the information as to the successful +year. Mr. Clark, somehow, always reassured him. The butler could +understand the springs that moved that kindly spirit.</p> + +<p>What Mr. Clark thought as he tramped back through the snow need not be +fully detailed. But at least, one thing was certain, he never thought of +himself.</p> + +<p>If he recalled that a mortgage would be due on his house just one week +from that day, and that the doctors' bills had been unusually heavy that +year, it was not on his own account that he was anxious. Indeed, he +never considered himself; there were too many others to think of. One +thought was that he was glad his friend had such a good servant as James +to look after him. Another was pity that Livingstone had never known the +joy that was awaiting himself when at the end of that mile of snow he +should peep into the little cosy back room (for the front room was +mysteriously closed this evening), where a sweet-faced, frail-looking +woman would be lying on a lounge with a half-dozen little curly heads +bobbing about her. He knew what a scream of delight would greet him as +he poked his head in; and out in the darkness and cold John Clark smiled +and smacked his lips as he thought of the kisses and squeezes, and +renewed kisses that would be his lot as he told how he would be with +them all the evening.</p> + +<p>Yes, he was undoubtedly sorry for Livingstone, a poor lonely man in that +great house; and he determined that he would not say much about his +being ill. Women did not always exactly understand some men, and when he +left home, Mrs. Clark had expressed some very strong views as to +Livingstone which had pained Clark. She had even spoken of him as +selfish and miserly. He would just say now that Livingstone on his +arrival had sent him straight back home.</p> + +<p>No, Mr. Clark never thought of himself, and this made him richer than +Mr. Livingstone.</p> + +<p>When Mr. Clark reached home his expectation was more than realized. From +the way in which he noiselessly opened the front door and then stole +along the little passage to the back room, from which the sound of many +voices was coming as though it were a mimic Babel, you might have +thought he was a thief.</p> + +<p>And when he opened the door softly and, with dancing eyes, poked his +head into the room, you might have thought he was Santa Claus himself. +There was one second of dead silence as a half-dozen pair of eyes +stretched wide and a half-dozen mouths opened with a gasp, and then, +with a shout which would have put to the blush a tribe of wild Indians, +a half-dozen young bodies flung themselves upon him with screams and +shrieks of delight. John Clark's neck must have been of iron to +withstand such hugs and tugs as it was given.</p> + +<div class="center"> +<a name='fig4' id='fig4'></a> +<img src="images/fig4.jpg" +alt="Half a dozen young bodies flung themselves upon him." +title="" /> +</div> + +<p>The next instant he was drawn bodily into the room and pushed down +forcibly into a chair, whilst the whole half-dozen piled upon him with +demands to be told how he had managed to get off and come back. No one +but Clark could have understood them or answered them, but somehow, as +his arms seemed able to gather in the whole lot of struggling, +squeezing, wriggling, shoving little bodies, so his ears seemed to catch +all the questions and his mind to answer each in turn and all together.</p> + +<p>"'How did I come?'—Ran every step of the way.—'Why did I come +back?'—Well! that's a question for a man with eight children who will +sit up and keep Santa Claus out of the house unless their father comes +home and puts them to bed and holds their eyelids down to keep them from +peeping and scaring Santa Claus away!</p> + +<p>—"'What did Mr. Livingstone say?'—Well, what do you suppose a man +would say Christmas Eve to another man who has eight wide-awake children +who will sit up in front of the biggest fire-place in the house until +midnight Christmas Eve so that Santa Claus can't come down the only +chimney big enough to hold his presents? He would say, 'John Clark, I +have no children of my own, but you have eight, and if you don't go home +this minute and see that those children are in bed and fast asleep and +snoring,—yes, snoring, mind,—by ten o'clock, I'll never, and Santa +Claus will never—!'</p> + +<p>—"'Did I see anything of Santa Claus?' Well, if I were to tell +you—what I saw this night, why,—you'd never believe me. There's a +sleigh so big coming in a little while to this town, and this street, +and this house, that it holds presents enough for—.</p> + +<p>"'When will it be here?' Well, from the sleigh-bells that I heard I +should say—. My goodness, gracious! If it isn't almost ten o'clock, and +if that sleigh should get here whilst there's a single eye open in this +house, I don't know what Santa Claus might do!"</p> + +<p>And, with a strength that one might have thought quite astonishing, John +Clark rose somehow from under the mass of little heads, and, with his +arms still around them, still talking, still cajoling, still +entertaining and still caressing, he managed to bear the whole curly, +chattering flock to the door where, with renewed kisses and squeezes and +questions, they were all finally induced to release their hold and run +squeaking and frisking off upstairs to bed.</p> + +<p>Then, as he closed the door, Clark turned and looked at the only other +occupant of the room, a lady whose pale face would have told her story +even had she not remained outstretched on a lounge during the preceding +scene.</p> + +<p>If, however, Mrs. Clark's face was pale, her eyes were brilliant, and +the look that she and her husband exchanged told that even invalidism +and narrow means have alleviations, so full was the glance they gave of +confidence and joy.</p> + +<p>Yet, as absolute as was their confidence, Mr. Clark did not now tell his +wife the truth. He gave her in a few words the reason of his return. Mr. +Livingstone was feeling unwell, he said. He had not remembered it was +Christmas Eve, he added; and, turning quickly and opening the door into +the front room he guilefully dived at once into the matter of the +Christmas-tree which was standing there waiting to be dressed.</p> + +<p>Whether or not Mr. Clark deceived Mrs. Clark might be a matter of +question. Mr. Clark was not good at deception. Mrs. Clark was better at +it; but then, to-night was a night of peace and good-will, and since her +husband had returned she was willing to forgive even Livingstone.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII" />CHAPTER VII</h2> + + +<p>Livingstone, at this moment, was not feeling as wealthy as the row of +figures in clean-cut lines that were now beginning to be almost +constantly before his eyes might have seemed to warrant. He was sitting +sunk deep in his cushioned arm-chair. The tweaks in his forehead that +had annoyed him earlier in the evening had changed to twinges, and the +twinges had now given place to a dull, steady ache. And every thought of +his wealth brought that picture of seven staring figures before his +eyes, whilst, in place of the glow which they had brought at first, he +now at every recollection of them had a cold thrill of apprehension lest +they might appear.</p> + +<p>James's inquiry, "Shall you be dining at home to-morrow?" had recurred +to him and now disturbed him. It was a simple question; nothing +remarkable in it. It now came to him that to-morrow was Christmas Day, +and he had forgotten it. This was remarkable. He had never forgotten it +before, but this year he had been working so hard and had been so +engrossed he had not thought of it. Even this reflection brought the +spectral figures back sharply outlined before his eyes. They stayed +longer now. He must think of something else.</p> + +<p>He thought of Christmas. This was the first Christmas he had ever been +at home by himself. A Christmas dinner alone! Who had ever heard of such +a thing! He must go out to dinner, of course. He glanced over at his +table where James always put his mail. Everything was in perfect order: +the book he had read the night before; the evening paper and the last +financial quotation were all there; but not a letter. James must have +forgot them.</p> + +<p>He turned to rise and ring the bell and glanced across the room towards +it. What a dark room it was! What miserable gas!</p> + +<p>He turned up the light at his hand. It did not help perceptibly. He sank +back. What selfish dogs people were, he reflected. Of all the hosts of +people he knew,—people who had entertained him and whom he had +entertained,—not one had thought to invite him to the Christmas dinner. +A dozen families at whose houses he had often been entertained flashed +across his mind. Why, years ago he used to have a half-dozen invitations +to Christmas dinner, and now he had not one! Even Mrs. Wright, to whom +he had just sent a contribution for—Hello! that lantern-slide again! It +would not do to think of figures.—Even she had not thought of him.</p> + +<p>There must be some reason? he pondered. Yes, Christmas dinners were +always family reunions—that was the reason he was left out and +forgotten;—yes, forgotten. A list of the people who he knew would have +such reunions came to him; almost every one of his acquaintances had a +family;—even Clark had a family and would have a Christmas dinner.</p> + +<p>At the thought, a pang almost of envy of Clark smote him.</p> + +<p>Suddenly his own house seemed to grow vast and empty and lonely; he felt +perfectly desolate,—abandoned—alone—ill! He glanced around at his +pictures. They were cold, staring, stony, dead! The reflection of the +cross lights made them look ghastly.</p> + +<p>As he gazed at them the figures they had cost shot before his eyes. My +God! he could not stand this! He sprang to his feet. Even the pain of +getting up was a relief. He stared around him. Dead silence and stony +faces were all about him. The capacious room seemed a vast, empty +cavern, and as he stood he saw stretching before him his whole future +life spent in this house, as lonely, silent, and desolate as this. It +was unbearable.</p> + +<p>He walked through to his drawing-room. The furniture was sheeted, the +room colder and lonelier a thousand-fold than the other;—on into the +dining-room;—the bare table in the dim light looked like ice; the +sideboard with its silver and glass, bore sheets of ice. "Pshaw!" He +turned up the lights. He would take a drink of brandy and go to bed.</p> + +<p>He took a decanter, poured out a drink and drained it off. His hand +trembled, but the stimulant helped him a little. It enabled him to +collect his ideas and think. But his thoughts still ran on Christmas and +his loneliness.</p> + +<p>Why should not he give a Christmas dinner and invite his friends? Yes, +that was what he would do. Whom should he ask? His mind began to run +over the list. Every one he knew had his own house; and as to +friends—why, he didn't have any friends! He had only acquaintances. He +stopped suddenly, appalled by the fact. He had not a friend in the +world! Why was it? In answer to the thought the seven figures flashed +into sight. He put his hand to his eyes to shut them out. He knew now +why. He had been too busy to make friends. He had given his youth and +his middle manhood to accumulate—those seven figures again!—And he had +given up his friendships. He was now almost aged.</p> + +<p>He walked into his drawing-room and turned up the light—all the lights +to look at himself in a big mirror. He did look at himself and he was +confounded. He was not only no longer young—he was prepared for +this—but he was old. He would not have dreamed he could be so old. He +was gray and wrinkled.</p> + +<p>As he faced himself his blood seemed suddenly to chill. He was conscious +of a sensible ebb as if the tide about his heart had suddenly sunk +lower. Perhaps, it was the cooling of the atmosphere as the fire in his +library died out,—or was it his blood?</p> + +<p>He went back into his library not ten minutes, but ten years older than +when he left it.</p> + +<p>He sank into his chair and insensibly began to scan his life. He had +just seen himself as he was; he now saw himself as he had been long ago, +and saw how he had become what he was. The whole past lay before him +like a slanting pathway.</p> + +<p>He followed it back to where it began—in an old home far off in the +country.</p> + +<p>He was a very little boy. All about was the bustle and stir of +preparation for Christmas. Cheer was in every face, for it was in every +heart. Boxes were coming from the city by every conveyance. The +store-room and closets were centres of unspeakable interest, shrouded in +delightful mystery. The kitchen was lighted by the roaring fire and +steaming from the numberless good things preparing for the next day's +feast. Friends were arriving from the distant railway and were greeted +with universal delight. The very rigor of the weather was deemed a part +of the Christmas joy, for it was known that Santa Claus with his +jingling sleigh came the better through the deeper snow. Everything gave +the little boy joy, particularly going with his father and mother to +bear good things to poor people who lived in smaller houses. They were +always giving; but Christmas was the season for a more general and +generous distribution. He recalled across forty years his father and +mother putting the presents into his hands to bestow, and his father's +words, "My boy, learn the pleasure of giving."</p> + +<p>The rest was all blaze and light and glow, and his father and mother +moving about like shining spirits amid it all.</p> + +<p>Then he was a schoolboy, measuring the lagging time by the coming +Christmas; counting the weeks, the days, the hours in an ecstasy of +impatience until he should be free from the drudgery of books and the +slavery of classes, and should be able to start for home with the +friends who had leave to go with him. How slowly the time crept by, and +how he told the other boys of the joys that would await them! And when +it had really gone, and they were free! how delicious it used to be!</p> + +<p>As the scene appeared before him Livingstone could almost feel again the +thrill that set him quivering with delight; the boundless joy that +filled his veins as with an elixir.</p> + +<p>The arrival at the station drifted before him and the pride of his +introduction of the servants whose faces shone with pleasure; the drive +home through the snow, which used somehow to be warming, not chilling, +in those days; and then, through the growing dusk, the first sight of +the home-light, set, he knew, by the mother in her window as a beacon +shining from the home and mother's heart. Then the last, toilsome climb +up the home-hill and the outpouring of welcome amid cheers and shouts +and laughter.</p> + +<p>Oh, the joy of that time! And through all the festivity was felt, like a +sort of pervading warmth, the fact that that day Christ came into the +world and brought peace and good will and cheer to every one.</p> + +<p>The boy Livingstone saw was now installed regularly as the bearer of +Christmas presents and good things to the poor, and the pleasure he took +then in his office flashed across Livingstone's mind like a sudden +light. It lit up the faces of many whom Livingstone had not thought of +for years. They were all beaming on him now with a kindliness to which +he had long been a stranger; that kindliness which belongs only to our +memory of our youth.</p> + +<p>Was it possible that he could ever have had so many friends! The man in +the chair put his hand to his eyes to try and hold the beautiful vision, +but it faded away, shut out from view by another.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VIII" id="CHAPTER_VIII" />CHAPTER VIII</h2> + + +<p>The vision that came next was of a college student. The Christmas +holidays were come again. They were still as much the event of the year +as when he was a schoolboy. Once more he was on his way home accompanied +by friends whom he had brought to help him enjoy the holidays, his +enjoyment doubled by their enjoyment. Once more, as he touched the soil +of his own neighborhood, from a companion he became a host. Once more +with his friends he reached his old home and was received with that +greeting which he never met with elsewhere. He saw his father and mother +standing on the wide portico before the others with outstretched arms, +affection and pride beaming in their faces. He witnessed their cordial +greeting of his friends. "Our son's friends are our friends," he heard +them say.</p> + +<p>Henry Trelane said afterwards, "Why, Livingstone, you have told me of +your home and your horses, but never told me of your father and mother. +Do you know that they are the best in the world?" Somehow, it had seemed +to open his eyes, and the manner in which his friends had hung on his +father's words had increased his own respect for him. One of them had +said, "Livingstone, I like you, but I love your father." The phrase, he +remembered, had not altogether pleased him, and yet it had not +altogether displeased him either. But Henry Trelane was very near to him +in those days. Not only was he the soul of honor and high-mindedness, +with a mind that reflected truth as an unruffled lake reflects the sky, +but he was the brother of Catherine Trelane, who then stood to +Livingstone for Truth itself.</p> + +<p>It was during a Christmas-holiday visit to her brother that Livingstone +had first met Catherine Trelane; as he now saw himself meet her. He had +come on her suddenly in a long avenue. Her arms were full of +holly-boughs; her face was rosy from a victorious tramp through the +snow, rosier at the hoped-for, unexpected, chance meeting with her +brother's guest; a sprig of mistletoe was stuck daringly in her hood, +guarded by her mischievous, laughing eyes. She looked like a dryad fresh +from the winter woods. For years after that Livingstone had never +thought of Christmas without being conscious of a certain radiance that +vision shed upon the time.</p> + +<p>The next day in the holly-dressed church she seemed a saint wrapt in +divine adoration.</p> + +<p>Another shift of the scene; another Christmas.</p> + +<p>Reverses had come. His father, through kindness and generosity, had +become involved beyond his means, and, rather than endure the least +shadow of reproach, gave up everything he possessed to save his name +and shield a friend. Livingstone himself had been called away from +college.</p> + +<p>He remembered the sensation of it all. He recalled the picture of his +father as he stood calm and unmoved amid the wreck of his fortune and +faced unflinchingly the hard, dark future. It was an inspiring picture: +the picture of a gentleman, far past the age when men can start afresh +and achieve success, despoiled by another and stripped of all he had in +the world, yet standing upright and tranquil; a just man walking in his +integrity; a brave man facing the world; firm as an immovable rock; +serene as an unblemished morning.</p> + +<p>Livingstone had never taken in before how fine it was. He had at one +time even felt aggrieved by his father's act; now he was suddenly +conscious of a thrill of pride in him.</p> + +<p>If he were only living! He himself was now worth—! Suddenly that +lantern-slide shot before his eyes and shut out the noble figure +standing there.</p> + +<p>Livingstone's mind reverted to his own career.</p> + +<p>He was a young man in business; living in a cupboard; his salary a bare +pittance; yet he was rich; he had hope and youth; family and friends. +Heavens! how rich he was then! It made the man in the chair poor now to +feel how rich he had been then and had not known it. He looked back at +himself with a kind of envy, strange to him, which gave him a pain.</p> + +<p>He saw himself again at Christmas. He was back at the little home which +his father had taken when he lost the old place. He saw himself +unpacking his old trunk, taking out from it the little things he had +brought as presents, with more pride than he had ever felt before, for +he had earned them himself. Each one represented sacrifice, thought, +affection. He could see again his father's face lit up with pride and +his mother's radiant with delight in his achievement. His mother was +handing him her little presents,—the gloves she had knit for him +herself with so much joy; the shaving-case she had herself embroidered; +the cup and saucer from the old tea-service that had belonged to his +great-grandfather and great-grandmother and which had been given his +mother and father when they were married. He glanced up as she laid the +delicate piece of Sèvres before him, and caught her smile—That smile! +Was there ever another like it? It held in it—everything.</p> + +<p>Suddenly Livingstone felt something moving on his cheek. He put his hand +up to his face and when he took it down his fingers were wet.</p> + +<p>With his mother's face, another face came to him, radiant with the +beauty of youth. Catherine Trelane, since that meeting in the long +avenue, had grown more and more to him, until all other motives and aims +had been merged in one radiant hope.</p> + +<p>With his love he had grown timid; he scarcely dared look into her eyes; +yet now he braved the world for her; bore for her all the privations and +hardships of life in its first struggle. Indeed, for her, privation was +no hardship. He was poor in purse, but rich in hope. Love lit up his +life and touched the dull routine of his work with the light of +enchantment. If she made him timid before her, she made him bold towards +the rest of the world. 'T was for her that he had had the courage to +take that plunge into the boiling sea of life in an unknown city, and it +was for her that he had had strength to keep above water, where so many +had gone down.</p> + +<p>He had faced all for her and had conquered all for her. He recalled the +long struggle, the painful, patient waiting, the stern self-denial. He +had deliberately chosen between pleasure and success,—between the +present and the future. He had denied himself to achieve his fortune, +and he had succeeded.</p> + +<p>At first, it had been for her; then Success had become dear to him for +itself, had ever grown larger and dearer as he advanced, until now—A +thrill of pride ran through him, which changed into a shiver as it +brought those accursed, staring, ghastly figures straight before his +eyes.</p> + +<p>He had great trouble to drive the figures away. It was only when he +thought fixedly of Catherine Trelane as she used to be that they +disappeared. She was a vision then to banish all else. He had a picture +of her somewhere among his papers. He had not seen it for years, but no +picture could do her justice: as rich as was her coloring, as beautiful +as were her eyes, her mouth, her <i>riante</i> face, her slim, willowy, +girlish figure and fine carriage, it was not these that came to him when +he thought of her; it was rather the spirit of which these were but the +golden shell: it was the smile, the music, the sunshine, the radiance +which came to him and warmed his blood and set his pulses throbbing +across all those years. He would get the picture and look at it.</p> + +<p>But memory swept him on.</p> + +<p>He had got in the tide of success and the current had borne him away. +First it had been the necessity to succeed; then ambition; then +opportunity to do better and better always taking firmer hold of him and +bearing him further and further until the pressure of business, change +of ambition and, at last, of ideals swept him beyond sight of all he had +known or cared for.</p> + +<p>He could almost see the process of the metamorphosis. Year after year he +had waited and worked and Catherine Trelane had waited; then had come a +time when he did not wish her to wait longer. His ideals had changed. +Success had come to mean but one thing for him: gold; he no longer +strove for honors but for riches. He abandoned the thought of glory and +of power, of which he had once dreamed. Now he wanted gold. Beauty would +fade, culture prove futile; but gold was king, and all he saw bowed +before it. Why marry a poor girl when another had wealth?</p> + +<p>He found a girl as handsome as Catherine Trelane. It was not a chapter +in his history in which he took much pride. Just when he thought he had +succeeded, her father had interposed and she had yielded easily. She had +married a fool with ten times Livingstone's wealth. It was a blow to +Livingstone, but he had recovered, and after that he had a new incentive +in life; he would be richer than her father or her husband.</p> + +<p>He had become so and had bought his house partly to testify to the +fact. Then he had gone back to Catherine Trelane. She had come +unexpectedly into property. He had not dared quite to face her, but had +written to her, asking her to marry him. He had her reply somewhere now; +it had cut deeper than she ever knew or would know. She wrote that the +time had been when she might have married him even had he asked her by +letter, but it was too late now. The man she might have loved was dead. +He had gone to see her then, but had found what she said was true. She +was more beautiful than when he had last seen her—so beautiful that the +charm of her maturity had almost eclipsed in his mind the memory of her +girlish loveliness. But she was inexorable. He had not blamed her, he +had only cursed himself, and had plunged once more into the boiling +current of the struggle for wealth. And he had won—yes, won!</p> + +<p>With a shock those figures slipped before his eyes and would not go +away. Even when he shut his eyes and rubbed them the ghastly line was +there.</p> + +<p>He turned and gazed down the long room. It was as empty as a desert. He +listened to see if he could hear any sound, even hoping to hear some +sound from his servants. All was as silent as a tomb.</p> + +<p>He rubbed his eyes, with a groan that was almost a curse. The figures +were still there.</p> + +<p>He suddenly rose to his feet and gave himself a shake. He determined to +go to his club; he would find company there,—perhaps not the best, but +it would be better than this awful loneliness and deadly silence.</p> + +<p>He went through the hall softly, almost stealthily; put on his hat and +coat; let himself quietly out of the door and stepped forth into the +night.</p> + +<p>It had stopped snowing and the stars looked down from a clearing sky. +The moon just above the housetops was sailing along a burnished track. +The vehicles went slowly by with a muffled sound broken only by the +creaking of the wheels in the frosty night. From the cross streets, +sounded in the distance the jangle of sleigh-bells.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IX" id="CHAPTER_IX" />CHAPTER IX</h2> + + +<p>Livingstone plodded along through the snow, relieved to find that the +effort made him forget himself and banished those wretched figures. He +traversed the intervening streets and before he was conscious of it was +standing in the hall of the brilliantly lighted club. The lights dazzled +him, and he was only half sensible of the score of servants that +surrounded him with vague, half-proffers of aid in removing his +overcoat.</p> + +<p>Without taking off his coat, Livingstone walked on into the large +assembly-room to see who might be there. It was as empty as a church. +The lights were all turned on full and the fires burned brightly in the +big hearths; but there was not a soul in the room, usually so crowded at +this hour.</p> + +<p>Livingstone turned and crossed the marble-paved hall to another +spacious suite of rooms. Not a soul was there. The rooms were swept and +garnished, the silence and loneliness seeming only intensified by the +brilliant light and empty magnificence.</p> + +<p>Livingstone felt like a man in a dream from which he could not awake. He +turned and made his way back to the outer door. As he did so he caught +sight of a single figure at the far end of one of the big rooms. It +looked like Wright,—the husband of Mrs. Wright to whom Livingstone had +sent his charity-subscription a few hours before. He had on his overcoat +and must have just come in. He was standing by the great fire-place +rubbing his hands with satisfaction. As Livingstone turned away, he +thought he heard his name called, but he dashed out into the night. He +could not stand Wright just then.</p> + +<p>He plunged back through the snow and once more let himself in at his own +door. It was lonelier within than before. The hall was ghastly. The big +rooms, bigger than they had ever seemed, were like a desert. It was +intolerable: He would go to bed.</p> + +<p>He slowly climbed the stairs. The great clock on the landing stared at +him as he passed and in deep tones tolled the hour—of ten. It was +impossible! Livingstone knew it must have been hours since he left his +office. To him it seemed months, years;—but his own watch marked the +same hour.</p> + +<p>As he entered his bedroom, two pictures hanging on the wall caught his +eye. They were portraits of a gentleman and a lady. Any one would have +known at a glance that they were Livingstone's father and mother. They +had hung there since Livingstone built his house, but he had not thought +of them in years. Perhaps, that was why they were still there.</p> + +<p>They were early works of one who had since become a master. Livingstone +remembered the day his father had given the order to the young artist.</p> + +<p>"Why do you do that?" some one had asked. "He perhaps has parts, but he +is a young man and wholly unknown."</p> + +<p>"That is the very reason I do it," had said his father. "Those who are +known need no assistance. Help young men, for thereby some have helped +angels unawares."</p> + +<p>It had come true. The unknown artist had become famous, and these early +portraits were now worth—no, not those figures which suddenly gleamed +before Livingstone's eyes!—</p> + +<p>Livingstone remembered the letter that the artist had written his +father, tendering him aid when he learned of his father's reverses—he +had said he owed his life to him—and his father's reply, that he needed +no aid, and it was sufficient recompense to know that one he had helped +remembered a friend.</p> + +<p>Livingstone walked up and scanned the portrait nearest him. He had not +really looked at it in years. He had had no idea how fine it was. How +well it portrayed him! There was the same calm forehead, noble in its +breadth; the same deep, serene, blue eyes;—the artist had caught their +kindly expression;—the same gentle mouth with its pleasant humor +lurking at the corners;—the artist had almost put upon the canvas the +mobile play of the lips;—the same finely cut chin with its well marked +cleft. It was the very man.</p> + +<p>Livingstone had had no idea how handsome a man his father was. He +remembered Henry Trelane saying he wished he were an artist to paint his +father, but that only Van Dyck could have made him as distinguished as +he was.</p> + +<p>He turned to the portrait of his mother. It was a beautiful face and a +gracious. He remembered that every one except his father had said it +was a fine portrait, but his father had said it was, "only a fine +picture; no portrait of her could be fine."</p> + +<p>Moved by the recollection, Livingstone opened a drawer and took from a +box the daguerreotype of a boy. He held it in his hand and looked first +at it and then at the portraits on the wall. Yes, it was distinctly like +both. He remembered it used to be said that he was like his father; but +his father had always said he was like his mother. He could now see the +resemblance. There were, even in the round, unformed, boyish face, the +same wide open eyes; the same expression of the mouth, as though a smile +were close at hand; the same smooth, placid brow. His chin was a little +bolder than his father's. Livingstone was pleased to note it.</p> + +<p>He determined to have his portrait painted by the best painter he could +find. He would not consider the cost. Why should he? He was worth—at +the thought the seven gleaming figures flashed out clear between his +eyes and the portrait in his hand.</p> + +<p>Livingstone turned suddenly and faced himself in the full length mirror +at his side. The light caught him exactly and he stood and looked +himself full in the face. What he saw horrified him. He felt his heart +sink and saw the pallor settle deeper over his face. His hair was almost +white. He was wrinkled. His eyes were small and sharp and cold. His +mouth was drawn and hard. His cheeks were seamed and set like flint. He +was a hard, wan, ugly old man; and as he gazed, unexpectedly in the +mirror before his eyes, flashed those cursed figures.</p> + +<p>With almost a cry Livingstone turned and looked at the portraits on the +wall. He half feared the sharp figures would appear branded across those +faces. But no, thank God! the figures had disappeared. The two faces +beamed down on him sweet and serene and comforting as heaven.</p> + +<p>Under an impulse of relief Livingstone flung himself face downward on +the bed and slipped to his knees. The position and the association it +brought fetched to his lips words which he used to utter in that +presence long years ago.</p> + +<p>It had been long since Livingstone had prayed. He attended church, but +if he had any heart it had not been there. Now this prayer came +instinctively. It was simple and childish enough: the words that he had +been taught at his mother's knee. He hardly knew he had said them; yet +they soothed him and gave him comfort; and from some far-off time came +the saying, "<i>Except ye become as little children, ye shall not +enter</i>—" and he went on repeating the words.</p> + +<p>Another verse drifted into his mind: "<i>And he took a child and set him +in the midst of them, and said, * * * Whosoever shall humble himself as +this little child, the same is greatest. And whoso shall receive one +such little child in my name receiveth me. But whoso shall offend one of +these little ones which believe in me, it were better for him that a +millstone were hanged about his neck, and that he were drowned in the +depth of the sea.</i>"</p> + +<p>The events of the evening rose up before Livingstone—the little girl in +her red jacket, with her tear-stained face, darting a look of hate at +him; the rosy-cheeked boys shouting with glee on the hillside, stopped +in the midst of their fun, and changing suddenly to yell their cries of +hate at him; the shivering beggar asking for work,—for but five cents, +which he had withheld from him.</p> + +<p>Livingstone shuddered. Had he done these things? Could it be possible? +Into his memory came from somewhere afar off: "<i>Inasmuch as ye have done +it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto +me.</i>"</p> + +<p>There flashed through his mind the thought, might he not retrieve +himself? Was it too late? Could he not do something for some +one?—perhaps, for some little ones?</p> + +<p>It was like a flash of light and Livingstone was conscious of a thrill +of joy at the idea, but it faded out leaving him in blanker darkness +than before. He did not know a single child.—He knew in a vague, +impersonal way a number of children whom he had had a momentary glimpse +of occasionally at the fashionable houses which he visited; but he knew +them only as he would have known handsomely dressed dolls in show +windows. He had never thought of them as children, but only as a part of +the personal belongings of his acquaintances—much as he thought of +their bric-à-brac or their poodles. They were not like the children he +had once known. He had never seen them romp and play or heard them laugh +or shout.</p> + +<p>He was sunk in deep darkness.</p> + +<p>In his gloom he glanced up. His father's serene face was beaming down on +him. A speech he had heard his father make long, long ago, came back to +him: "Always be kind to children. Grown people may forget kindness, but +children will remember it. They forgive, but never forget either a +kindness or an injury."</p> + +<p>Another speech of his father's came floating to Livingstone across the +years: "If you have made an enemy of a child, make him your friend if it +takes a year! A child's enmity is never incurred except by injustice or +meanness."</p> + +<p>Livingstone could not but think of Clark's little girl. Might she not +help him? She would know children. But would she help him?</p> + +<p>If she were like Clark, he reasoned, she would be kind-hearted. Besides, +he remembered to have heard his father say that children did not bear +malice: that was a growth of older minds. It was strange for Livingstone +to find himself recurring to his father for knowledge of human +nature—his father whom he had always considered the most ignorant of +men as to knowledge of the world.</p> + +<p>He sprang to his feet and looked at his watch. Perhaps, it was not yet +too late to see the little girl to-night if he hurried? Clark lived not +very far off, in a little side street, and they would sit up late +Christmas Eve.</p> + +<p>As he turned to the mirror it was with trepidation, his last glance at +it had been so dreadful; but he was relieved to find a pleasanter +expression on his face. He almost saw a slight resemblance to his +father.</p> + +<p>The next moment he hurried from the room; stole down the stair; slipped +on his overcoat, and hastily let himself out of the door.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_X" id="CHAPTER_X" />CHAPTER X</h2> + + +<p>It was quite clear out now and the moon was riding high in a cloudless +heaven. The jingle of sleigh-bells had increased and just as Livingstone +turned the corner a sleigh dashed past him. He heard the merry voices of +young people, and amid the voices the ringing laughter of a young girl, +clear as a silver bell.</p> + +<p>Livingstone stopped short in his tracks and listened. He had not heard +anything so musical in years—he had not heard a young girl's laughter +in years—he had not had time to think of such things. It brought back +across the snow-covered fields—across the snow-covered years—a +Christmas of long ago when he had heard a young girl's musical laughter +like a silvery chime, and, standing there in the snow-covered street, +for one moment Livingstone was young again—no longer a gray-haired man +in the city; but a young man in the country, somewhere under great +arching boughs; face to face with one who was also young;—and, looking +out from a hood that surrounded it like a halo, a girlish face flashed +on him: cheeks like roses, brilliant with the frosty air; roguish eyes, +now dancing, now melting; a laughing mouth from which came such rippling +music that there was no simile for it in all the realm of silvery sound, +the enchanting music of the joy of youth.</p> + +<p>With a cry, Livingstone sprang forward with outstretched, eager hands to +catch the vision; but his arms enclosed only vacancy and he stood alone +in the empty street.</p> + +<p>A large sleigh came by and Livingstone hailed it. It was a livery +vehicle and the driver having just put down at their homes a party of +pleasure-seekers was on his way back to his stable. He agreed with +Livingstone to take him to his destination and wait for him, and +Livingstone, giving him a number, sprang in and ordered him to drive +rapidly.</p> + +<p>The sleigh stopped in front of a little house, in a narrow street filled +with little houses, and Livingstone getting out mounted the small flight +of steps. Inside, pandemonium seemed to have broken loose somewhere +up-stairs, such running and shouting and shrieks of joyous laughter +Livingstone heard. Then, as he could not find the bell, Livingstone +knocked.</p> + +<p>At the sound the noise suddenly ceased, but the next moment it burst +forth again louder than before. This time the shouts came rolling down +the stairs and towards the door, with a scamper of little feet and +shrieks of childish delight. They were interrupted and restrained by a +quiet, kindly voice which Livingstone recognized as Clark's. The father +was trying to keep the children back.</p> + +<p>It might be Santa Claus himself, Livingstone heard him urge, and if they +did not go back to bed immediately, or into the back room,—or even if +they peeped, Santa Claus might jump into his sleigh and drive away and +leave nobody at the door but a grocer's boy with a parcel. This direful +threat had its effect. The gleeful squeals were hushed down into subdued +and half-awed murmurs and after a little a single footstep came along +the passage and the front door was opened cautiously.</p> + +<p>At sight of Livingstone, Clark started, and by the light of the lamp the +caller could see his face pale a little. He asked Livingstone in with a +voice that almost faltered. Leaving Livingstone in the little passage +for a moment Clark entered the first room—the front room—and +Livingstone could hear him sending the occupants into a rear room. He +heard the communicating door close softly. Every sound was suddenly +hushed. It was like the sudden hush of birds when a hawk appears. +Livingstone thought of it and a pang shot through him. Then the door +was opened and Clark somewhat stiffly invited Livingstone in.</p> + +<p>The room was a small front parlor.</p> + +<p>The furniture was old and worn, but it was not mean. A few old pieces +gave the room, small as it was, almost an air of distinction. Several +old prints hung on the walls, a couple of portraits in pink crayon, such +as St. Mimin used to paint, and a few photographs in frames, most of +them of children,—but among them one of Livingstone himself.</p> + +<p>All this Livingstone took in as he entered. The room was in a state of +confusion, and a lounge on one side, with its pillows still bearing the +imprint of an occupant, showed that the house held an invalid. In one +corner a Christmas-tree, half dressed, explained the litter. It was not +a very large tree; certainly it was not very richly dressed. The things +that hung on it were very simple. Many of them evidently were of +home-manufacture—knots of ribbon, little garments, second-hand books, +even home-made toys.</p> + +<p>A small pile of similar articles lay on the floor, where they had been +placed ready for service and had been left by the tree-dressers on their +hasty departure.</p> + +<p>Clark's eye followed instinctively that of the visitor.</p> + +<p>"My wife has been dressing a tree for the children," he said simply.</p> + +<p>He faced Livingstone and offered him a chair. He stiffened as he did so. +He was evidently prepared for the worst.</p> + +<p>Livingstone sat down. It was an awkward moment. Livingstone broke the +ice.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Clark, I have come to ask you a favor—a great favor—"</p> + +<p>Clark's eyes opened wide and his lips even parted slightly in his +astonishment.</p> + +<p>"—I want you to lend me your little girl—the little girl I saw in the +office this afternoon."</p> + +<p>Clark's expression was so puzzled that Livingstone thought he had not +understood him.</p> + +<p>"'The Princess with the Golden Locks,'" he explained.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Livingstone!—I—I don't understand." He looked dazed.</p> + +<p>Livingstone broke out suddenly: "Clark, I have been a brute, a cursed +brute!"</p> + +<p>"Oh! Mr. Liv—!"</p> + +<p>With a gesture of sharp dissent Livingstone cut him short.</p> + +<p>"It is no use to deny it, Clark,—I have—I have!—I have been a brute +for years and I have just awakened to the fact!" He spoke in bitter, +impatient accusation. "I have been a brute for years and I have just +realized it."</p> + +<p>The face of the other had softened.</p> + +<p>"Oh, no, Mr. Livingstone, not that. You have always been +just—and—just;" he protested kindly. "You have always—"</p> + +<p>—"Been a brute," insisted Livingstone, "a blind, cursed, selfish, +thoughtless—"</p> + +<p>"You are not well, Mr. Livingstone," urged Clark, looking greatly +disturbed. "Your servant, James, said you were not well this evening +when I called. I wanted to go in to see you, but he would not permit me. +He said that you had given positive orders that you would not see—"</p> + +<p>"I was not well," assented Livingstone. "I was suffering from blindness. +But I am better, Clark, better. I can see now—a little."</p> + +<p>He controlled himself and spoke quietly. "I want you to lend me your +little girl for—" He broke off suddenly. "How many children have you, +Clark?" he asked, gently.</p> + +<p>"Eight," said the old clerk. "But I haven't one I could spare, Mr. +Livingstone."</p> + +<p>"Only for a little while, Clark?" urged the other; "only for a little +while.—Wait, and let me tell you what I want with her and why I want +her, and you will—For a little while?" he pleaded.</p> + +<p>He started and told his story and Clark sat and listened, at first with +a set face, then with a wondering face, and then with a face deeply +moved, as Livingstone, under his warming sympathy, opened his heart to +him as a dying man might to his last confessor.</p> + +<p>"—And now will you lend her to me, Clark, for just a little while +to-night and to-morrow?" he pleaded in conclusion.</p> + +<p>Clark rose to his feet. "I will see what I can do with her, Mr. +Livingstone," he said, gravely. "She is not very friendly to you, I am +sorry to say—I don't know why."</p> + +<p>Livingstone thought he knew.</p> + +<p>"Of course, you would not want me to compel her to go with you?"</p> + +<p>"Of course not," said Livingstone.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XI" id="CHAPTER_XI" />CHAPTER XI</h2> + + +<p>The father went out by the door that opened into the passage, and the +next moment Livingstone could hear him in deep conference in the +adjoining room; at first with his wife, and then with the little girl +herself.</p> + +<p>The door did not fit very closely and the partition was thin, so that +Livingstone could not help hearing what was said, and even when he could +shut out the words he could not help knowing from the tones what was +going on.</p> + +<p>The mother was readily won over, but when the little girl was consulted +she flatly refused. Her father undertook to coax her.</p> + +<p>To Livingstone's surprise the argument he used was not that Livingstone +was rich, but that he was so poor and lonely; not well off and happy +like him, with a house full of little children to love him and make him +happy and give him a merry Christmas.</p> + +<p>The point of view was new to Livingstone—at least, it was recent; but +he recognized its force and listened hopefully. The child's reply dashed +his hopes.</p> + +<p>"But, papa, I hate him so—I just <i>hate</i> him!" she declared, earnestly. +"I'm <i>glad</i> he hasn't any little children to love him. When he wouldn't +let you come home to us this evening, I just prayed so hard to God not +to let him have any home and not to let him have any Christmas—not +<i>ever!</i>"</p> + +<p>The eager little voice had risen in the child's earnestness and it +pierced through the door and struck Livingstone like an arrow. There +came back to him that sentence, "<i>Whoso offendeth one of these little +ones, it were better for him that a millstone were hanged about his +neck</i>—."</p> + +<p>Livingstone fairly shivered, but he had able defenders.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Kitty!" exclaimed both her father and mother, aghast at the child's +bitterness.</p> + +<p>They next tried the argument that Livingstone had been so kind to the +father. He had "given him last year fifty dollars besides his salary."</p> + +<p>Livingstone was not surprised that this argument did not prove as +availing with the child as the parents appeared to expect.—Fifty +dollars! He hated himself for it. He felt that he would give fifty +thousand to drop that millstone from his neck.</p> + +<p>They next tried the argument that Livingstone wanted to have a +Christmas-tree for poor children and needed her help. He wanted her to +go with him to a toy-shop. He did not know what to get and wished her to +tell him. He had his sleigh to take her.</p> + +<p>This seemed to strike one of the other members of the family, for +suddenly a boy's eager voice burst in:</p> + +<p>"I'll go with him. I'll go with him in a sleigh. I'll go to the +toy-shop. Maybe, he'll give me a sled. Papa, mamma, please let me go."</p> + +<p>This offer, however, did not appear to meet all the requisites of the +occasion and Master Tom was speedily suppressed by his parents. Perhaps, +however, his offer had some effect on Kitty, for she finally assented +and said she would go, and Livingstone could hear the parents getting +her ready. He felt like a reprieved prisoner.</p> + +<p>After a few moments Mr. Clark brought the little girl in, cloaked and +hooded and ready to go.</p> + +<p>When Livingstone faced the two blue eyes that were fastened on him in +calm, and, by no means, wholly approving inspection, he felt like a +deep-dyed culprit. Had he known of this ordeal in advance he could not +have faced it, but as it was he must now carry it through.</p> + +<p>What he did was, perhaps, the best that any one could have done. After +the cool, little handshake she vouchsafed him, Livingstone, finding that +he could not stand the scrutiny of those quiet, unblenching eyes, threw +himself on the child's mercy.</p> + +<p>"Kitty," he said earnestly, "I did you this evening a great wrong, and +your father a great wrong, and I have come here to ask you to forgive +me.—I have been working so hard that I did not know it was Christmas, +and I interfered with your father's Christmas—and with your Christmas; +for I had no little girls to tell me how near Christmas was. And now I +want to get up a Christmas for some poor children, and I don't know how +to do it, so I have come to ask you to help me. I want you to play Santa +Claus for me, and we will find the toys, and then we will find the +children. I have a great big sleigh, and we will go off to a toy-shop, +and presently I will bring you back home again."</p> + +<p>He had made his speech much longer than he had intended, because he saw +that the child's mind was working; the cumulative weight of the +sleigh-ride, the opportunity to play a part and to act as Santa Claus +for other children, was telling on her.</p> + +<p>When he ended, Kitty reflected a moment and then said quietly, "All +right."</p> + +<p>Her tone was not very enthusiastic, but it was assent and Livingstone +felt as though he had just been redeemed.</p> + +<p>The next moment the child turned to the door.</p> + +<p>Livingstone rose and followed her. He was amused at his feeling of +helplessness and dependence. She was suddenly the leader and without her +he felt lost.</p> + +<p>She stepped into the sleigh and he followed her.</p> + +<p>"Where shall we go first?" she asked.</p> + +<p>This was a poser for Livingstone. All the shops of which he knew +anything were closed long ago.</p> + +<p>"Why, I think I will let you select the place," he began, simply seeking +for time.</p> + +<p>"What do you want to get?" she asked calmly, gazing up at him.</p> + +<p>Livingstone had never thought for a second that there would be any +difficulty about this. He was hopelessly in the dark. Stocks, "common" +or "preferred," bonds and debentures, floated through his mind. Even +horses or pictures he would have had a clear opinion on, but in this +field he was lost. He had never known, or cared to know, what children +liked.</p> + +<p>Suddenly a whole new realm seemed to open before him, but it was +shrouded in darkness. And that little figure at his side with large, +sober, searching eyes fixed calmly on him was quietly demanding his +knowledge and waiting for his answer. He had passed hundreds of windows +crowded with Christmas presents that very evening and had never looked +at one. He had passed as between blank walls. What would he not have +given now for but the least memory of one glance!</p> + +<p>But the eyes were waiting and he must answer.</p> + +<p>"Why—ah—you know,—ah—<i>toys!</i>"</p> + +<p>It was an inspiration and Livingstone shook himself with self-approval.</p> + +<p>"Yes—ah—TOYS! you know?" he repeated.</p> + +<p>He glowed with satisfaction over his escape.</p> + +<p>The announcement, however, did not appear to astonish his companion as +much as he felt it should have done. She did not even take her eyes from +his face.</p> + +<p>"How many children are there?"</p> + +<p>"Why—twenty." Livingston caught at a number, as a sinking man catches +at a twig.</p> + +<p>As she accepted this, Livingstone was conscious of elation. He felt as +though he were playing a game and had escaped the ignominy of a wrong +answer: he had caught a bough and it held him.</p> + +<p>"How old are they?"</p> + +<p>Livingstone gasped. The little ogress! Was she just trifling with him? +Could it be possible that she saw through him? As he looked down at her +the eyes fastened on him were as calm as a dove's eyes.</p> + +<p>"Why—ah—. How many brothers and sisters have you?" he asked.</p> + +<p>He wished to create a diversion and gain time. She answered promptly.</p> + +<p>"Seven: four sisters and three brothers. John, he's my oldest brother; +Tom, he's next—he's eight. Billy is the baby."</p> + +<p>This contribution of family history was a relief, and Livingstone was +just trying to think of something else to say, when she demanded again,</p> + +<p>"What are the ages of your children?"</p> + +<p>"I have no children," said Livingstone, thinking how clever he was to be +so ready with an answer.</p> + +<p>"I know.—But I mean the children you want the toys for?"</p> + +<p>Livingstone felt for his handkerchief. The perspiration was beginning to +come on his brow.</p> + +<p>"Why,—ah—the same ages as your brothers and sisters—about," he said +desperately, feeling that he was at the end of his resources and would +be discovered by the next question.</p> + +<p>"We will go to Brown's," said the child quietly, and, dropping her eyes, +she settled herself back in the furs as though the problem were +definitely solved.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XII" id="CHAPTER_XII" />CHAPTER XII</h2> + + +<p>Livingstone glanced at the little figure beside him, hoping she would +indicate where "Brown's" was, but she did not. Every one must know +"Brown's."</p> + +<p>The only "Brown" Livingstone knew was the great banker, and a grim smile +flickered on his cheek at the thought of the toys in which that Brown +dealt. He shifted the responsibility to the driver.</p> + +<p>"Driver, go to Brown's. You know where it is?"</p> + +<p>"Well, no, sir, I don't believe I do. Which Brown do you mean, sir?"</p> + +<p>"Why—ah—the toy-man's, of course."</p> + +<p>The driver stopped his horses and reflected. He shook his head slowly. +Livingstone, however, was now equal to the emergency. Besides, there was +nothing else to do. He turned to his companion.</p> + +<p>"Where is it?" he began boldly, but as he saw the look of surprise in +the little girl's face he added, "I mean—exactly?"</p> + +<p>"Why, right across from the grocer's with the parrot and the little +white woolly dog."</p> + +<p>She spoke with astonishment that any one should not know so important a +personage. And Livingstone, too, was suddenly conscious of the +importance of this information. Clearly he had neglected certain +valuable branches of knowledge.</p> + +<p>Happily, the driver came to his rescue.</p> + +<p>"Where is that, Miss?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"You go to the right and keep going to the right all the way," she said +definitely.</p> + +<p>Livingstone was in despair; but the driver appeared to understand now.</p> + +<p>"You tell me when I go wrong," he said, and drove on.</p> + +<p>He must have children at home, thought Livingstone to himself as the +sleigh after a number of turns drew up in front of one of the very +windows Livingstone had passed that evening on the back street. He felt +as though he would like to reward the driver. It was the first time +Livingstone had thought of a driver in many years.</p> + +<p>Just as they drove up the door of the shop was being closed, and the +little girl gave an exclamation of disappointment.</p> + +<p>"Oh, we are too late!" she cried.</p> + +<p>Livingstone felt his heart jump into his throat. He sprang to the door +and rapped. There was no answer. The light was evidently being turned +off inside. Livingstone rapped again more impatiently. Another light was +turned down. Livingstone was desperate. His loud knocking produced no +impression, and he could have bought out the whole square!</p> + +<p>Suddenly a little figure pushed against him as Kitty slipped before him, +and putting her mouth to the crack of the door, called, "Oh! Mr. Brown, +please let me in. It's <i>me</i>, Kitty Clark, Mr. Clark's little girl."</p> + +<p>Instantly the light within was turned up. A step came towards the door, +the bolts were drawn back and half the door was opened.</p> + +<p>Livingstone was prepared to see the shopkeeper confounded when he should +discover who his caller was. On the contrary, the man was in nowise +embarrassed by his appearance. Indeed, he paid no attention whatever to +Livingstone. It was to Kitty that he addressed himself, ignoring +Livingstone's presence utterly.</p> + +<p>"Why, Kitty, what are you doing out at this time of night? Aren't you +afraid Santa Claus will come while you are away, and not bring you +anything? You know what they say he does if he don't find everybody +asleep in bed?"</p> + +<p>Kitty nodded, and leaning forward on her toes, dropped her voice to a +mysterious whisper:</p> + +<p>"I know who Santa Claus is." The whisper ended with a little chuckle of +delight at her astuteness. "I found it out last Christmas."</p> + +<p>"Kitty, you didn't! You must have been mistaken?" said the shopkeeper +with a grin on his kindly countenance. "Who is he?"</p> + +<p>"Mr.—Brown, and Mr. and Mrs.—Clark," said Kitty slowly and +impressively, as though she were adding up figures and the result would +speak for itself. She took in the shop with a wave of her little hand +and a sweep of her eyes.</p> + +<p>"I'm playing Santa Claus myself, to-night," she said, tossing her hooded +head, her eyes kindling at the thought. The next look around was one of +business.</p> + +<p>"This is Mr. Livingstone, papa's employer." She indicated that +gentleman.</p> + +<p>Mr. Brown held out his plump and not wholly immaculate hand.</p> + +<p>"How d'ye do, sir? I think I've heard of you?"</p> + +<p>He turned back to Kitty.</p> + +<p>"Who for?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"For him," Kitty nodded. "He's got a whole lot of little children—not +his own children—other people's children—that he's going to give +Christmas presents to, and I've come to help him. What have you got +left, Mr. Santa Claus?"</p> + +<p>She stood on tiptoe and peered over the shelves.</p> + +<p>"Well, not a great deal, Miss Wide-awake," said the shopkeeper dropping +into her manner and mood. "You see there's lots of children around this +year as don't keep wide-awake all night, and Santa Claus has had to look +after 'em quite considerable. I can't tell you how many sleighs full of +things he's taken away from this here very shop. He didn't leave nothing +but them things you see and the very expensive things in the cases. He +said they were too high-priced for him."</p> + +<p>He actually gave Livingstone a wink, and Livingstone actually felt +flattered by it.</p> + +<p>The reply recalled Kitty to her business. She turned to Mr. Livingstone.</p> + +<p>"How much money have you got to spend?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"Umhm—I don't know," said Livingstone.</p> + +<p>"As much as a dollar?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"More?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"How much more?"</p> + +<p>"As much as you want. Suppose you pick out the things you like and then +we can see about the price," he suggested.</p> + +<p>"Some things cost a heap."</p> + +<p>She was looking at a doll on whose skirt was pinned a little scrap of +card-board marked, "<i>25c.</i>"</p> + +<p>"Yes, they do," assented Livingstone. "But they are worth it," he +thought. "I tell you what!—Suppose you look around and see just what +you like, and I'll go off here and talk with Mr. Brown so as not to +disturb you."</p> + +<p>He was learning and the lesson was already bringing him pleasure.</p> + +<div class="center"> +<a name='fig5' id='fig5'></a> +<img src="images/fig5.jpg" +alt="He took the shopkeeper aside and had a little talk with him." +title="" /> +</div> + +<p>He took the shopkeeper aside and had a little talk with him, learning +from him all he could of Clark's family and circumstances. It was an +amazement to him. He had never known what a burden Clark had carried. +The shopkeeper spoke of him with great affection and with great respect.</p> + +<p>"He is the best man in the world," he said.</p> + +<p>He treated Livingstone with familiarity, but he spoke of Clark with +respect.</p> + +<p>"He ought to be on the Avenue," he asserted; "and if everybody had their +rights some would be where Mr. Clark is and Mr. Clark would be in their +place."</p> + +<p>Livingstone was not prepared just then to gainsay this.</p> + +<p>He explained to Mr. Brown his wishes. He wanted to get many things, but +did not know how to keep the child from suspecting his plan. The +shopkeeper gave him a suggestion. Close association and sympathy with +children had given Brown knowledge.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIII" id="CHAPTER_XIII" />CHAPTER XIII</h2> + + +<p>They returned to Kitty. She was busy figuring on a little piece of +paper, moistening her little stub of a pencil, every other second, with +her tongue. Her little red mouth showed streaks of black. She was +evidently in some trouble.</p> + +<p>Livingstone drew near.</p> + +<p>"How are you coming on?" he asked.</p> + +<p>She looked up with a face full of perplexity.</p> + +<p>"Oh! I've spent nearly the whole dollar and I haven't but nine presents +yet. We must get something cheaper.—But they were so pretty!" she +lamented, her eyes glancing longingly towards the articles she had +selected.</p> + +<p>"Let's see. Maybe, you have made a mistake," said Livingstone. He took +the bit of paper and she handed him the pencil.</p> + +<p>"I'm not very good at making figures," she observed.</p> + +<p>"I'm not either," said Livingstone, glancing at the paper. "I'll tell +you what let's do," he said. "Let's get Mr. Brown to open all his cases +and boxes, and let's look at everything and just see what we would +select if we could have our choice?"</p> + +<p>The little girl's eyes opened wide.</p> + +<p>"You mean, let's make pretense that we are real sure-enough Santa Claus +and just pick out everything we want to give everybody, and pretend that +we could get it and give it to them?"</p> + +<p>Livingstone nodded.</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>That was just what he ought to have meant, he knew.</p> + +<p>The inquiry in Kitty's big eyes became light. She sprang to her feet and +with a little squeak of delight marched to the middle of the shop and +taking her stand began to sweep the shelves with her dancing eyes.</p> + +<p>Livingstone gave a nod to the shopkeeper and he drew back the curtains +that protected the cases where the finer and more expensive goods were +kept and began to open the boxes.</p> + +<p>Kitty approached on tiptoe and watched him with breathless silence as +though she were in a dream which a word might break.</p> + +<p>Then when she had seen everything she turned back to Livingstone.</p> + +<p>"Well!" she said slowly.</p> + +<p>"Well, what do you say?" He too was beginning to feel a spell.</p> + +<p>"Well, if I were a real, sure-'nough Santa Claus, I'd just +get—everything in those cases." The spread of her little arms took it +all in.</p> + +<p>"And what would you do with it?" asked Livingstone in the same low tone, +fearful of breaking the reverie in which she stood wrapped.</p> + +<p>He had never before in all his life been taken into partnership by a +little girl, and deep down beneath his breast-pocket was a kindling glow +which was warming him through and through.</p> + +<p>"I'd carry that doll—to Jean, and that—to Sue, and that—to Mollie, +and that—to Dee, and those skates to Johnny, and—that sled to Tom, +and—that woolly lamb to little Billy, 'cause he loves squshy +things.—And then—I'd take all the rest in my sleigh and I'd go to the +hospital where the poor little children haven't got any good papas and +mammas like me to give them anything, and where Santa Claus can't ever +go, and I'd put something by the side of every bed—of every one, and, +maybe, they'd think at first it was only a dream; but when they waked up +wide they'd find Santa Claus had been there, sure enough!"</p> + +<p>In her energy she was gesticulating with earnest hands that seemed to +take each present and bear it to its destination, and she concluded +with a little nod to Livingstone that seemed to recognize him as in +sympathy with her, and to say, "Wouldn't we if we only could?"</p> + +<p>It seemed to Livingstone as though a casing of ice in which he had been +enclosed had suddenly broken and he were bathed in warmth.</p> + +<p>The millstone round his neck had suddenly dropped and he shot upward +into the light.</p> + +<p>The child was leading him into a new and vernal world. He wanted to take +her in his arms and press her to his heart. The difference between the +glance she now gave him and that she had shot at him at the door of his +office that evening came to him and decided him. It was worth it all.</p> + +<p>"Yes. Is there anything else you wish?" he asked, hoping that there +might be, for she had not mentioned herself.</p> + +<p>"Yes, but it's not anything Santa Claus can give," she said calmly; "I +have asked God for it."</p> + +<p>"What?" asked Livingstone.</p> + +<p>"Something to make mamma well: to help papa pay for the house. He says +it's that 'at keeps her ill, and she says if she were well he could pay +for it: and I just pray to God for it every day."</p> + +<p>Livingstone caught his breath quickly as if from a sudden pain. The long +years of Clark's faithful service flashed before him. He shivered at the +thought of his own meanness. He was afraid those great eyes might see +into his heart. He almost shrivelled at the thought.</p> + +<p>"Well, let's take a sleigh-ride and see if any other shops are open. +Then we can return."</p> + +<p>He spoke a few words aside to Mr. Brown. The shopkeeper's eyes opened +wide.</p> + +<p>"But you say you haven't money enough with you, and I don't know you?"</p> + +<p>Livingstone smiled.</p> + +<p>"Why, man, I am worth—" He stopped short as a faint trace of seven +figures appeared vaguely before his eyes. "I am worth enough to buy all +this square and not feel it," he said, quickly correcting himself.</p> + +<p>"That may be all so, but I don't know you," persisted the shopkeeper. +"Do you know anybody in this part of the town?"</p> + +<p>"Well, I know Mr. Clark. He would vouch for me, but—."</p> + +<p>The shopkeeper turned to the child.</p> + +<p>"Kitty, you know this gentleman, you say?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. Oh, he's all right," said Kitty decisively. "He's my papa's +employer and he gave him <i>fifty</i> dollars last Christmas, 'cause my papa +told me so."</p> + +<p>This munificent gift did not appear to impress Mr. Brown very much, any +more than it did Livingstone, who felt himself flush.</p> + +<p>"Business is business, you know?" said the shopkeeper,—an aphorism on +which Livingstone had often acted, but had never had cited against him.</p> + +<p>The shopkeeper was evidently considering.</p> + +<p>Livingstone was half angry and half embarrassed. He felt as he had not +done in twenty years. The shopkeeper was weighing him in his scales as +he might have done a pound of merchandise, and Livingstone could not +tell what he would decide. There was Kitty, however, her eyes still +filled with light. He could not disappoint her. She, too, felt that he +was being weighed and suddenly came to his rescue.</p> + +<p>"He's an awful kind man," she said earnestly. "He hasn't got any little +children of his own, and he's going to give things to little poor +children. He always does that, I guess," she added.</p> + +<p>"Well, no, I don't," said Livingstone, looking at the shopkeeper +frankly; "but I wish I had, and I'll pay you."</p> + +<p>"All right. She knows you and that will do," said Mr. Brown.</p> + +<p>Kitty, with the light of an explorer in her eyes, was making new +discoveries on the shelves, and the two men walked to the back of the +shop where the shopkeeper wrote a list of names. Then Livingstone and +Kitty got into the sleigh and drove for a half-hour or so.</p> + +<p>On their return Mr. Brown was ready.</p> + +<p>His shop looked as though it had been struck by a whirlwind. The floor +and counters were covered with boxes and bundles, and he and Livingstone +packed the big sleigh as full as it would hold, leaving only one seat +deep in the furs amid the heaped up parcels. Then suddenly from +somewhere Mr. Brown produced a great, shaggy cape with a hood, and +Livingstone threw it around Kitty and getting in lifted her into the +little nest between the furs.</p> + +<p>Kitty's eyes were dancing and her breath was coming quickly with +excitement.</p> + +<p>It was a supreme moment.</p> + +<p>"Where are we going, Mr. Livingstone?" she whispered. She was afraid to +speak aloud lest she might break the spell and awake.</p> + +<p>"Just where you like."</p> + +<p>"To the Children's Hospital," she panted.</p> + +<p>"To the Children's Hospital, driver," repeated Livingstone.</p> + +<p>Kitty gave another gasp.</p> + +<p>"We'll play you're Santa Claus," she said, in a voice of low delight.</p> + +<p>"No. Play you are Santa Claus's partner," said Livingstone.</p> + +<p>"And you?"</p> + +<p>"You are not to say anything about me."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIV" id="CHAPTER_XIV" />CHAPTER XIV</h2> + +<div class="center"> +<a name='fig6' id='fig6'></a> +<img src="images/fig6.jpg" +alt="The little form snuggled against him closer and closer." +title="" /> +</div> + +<p>Livingstone had not had such a drive in years. The little form snuggled +against him closer and closer and the warm half sentences of childish +prattle, as the little girl's imagination wove its fancies, came to him +from amid the furs and made him feel as though he had left the earth and +were driving in a new world. It was like a dream. Had youth come back? +Was it possible?</p> + +<p>The sleigh stopped in front of a great long building.</p> + +<p>"You have to ring at the side door at night," said the driver. He +appeared to know a good deal about the hospital.</p> + +<p>Livingstone sprang out and rang the bell and then stepped back.</p> + +<p>"When they open the door, you are to do all the talking," he said to +Kitty as he lifted her down.</p> + +<p>"Who shall I say rang?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"Santa Claus's partner."</p> + +<p>"But you—?"</p> + +<p>"No. You are not to mention my name. Remember!"</p> + +<p>Before the child could reply the door opened a little way and a porter +looked out.</p> + +<p>"Who's there?" he called to the sleigh, rather overlooking the little +figure in the snow.</p> + +<p>"Santa Claus's partner," said Kitty.</p> + +<p>"What do you want?" He peered out at the sleigh. He was evidently sleepy +and a little puzzled. "We don't take in anything at this hour except +patients." He looked as if he were about to shut the door when a woman's +voice was heard within speaking to him and the next moment the door was +opened wide and he gave way as a matronly figure came forward and stood +in the archway.</p> + +<p>"Who is it?" she asked in a very pleasant voice, looking down at the +little figure in the snow before her.</p> + +<p>"Santa Claus's partner," said Kitty, gazing up at her.</p> + +<p>"What do you want, dear?" The voice was even pleasanter.</p> + +<p>"To leave some presents for the children."</p> + +<p>"What children?"</p> + +<p>"All the good children—all the sick children, I mean—all the +children," said Kitty.</p> + +<p>The matron turned and spoke to the porter, showing to Livingstone, as +she did so, a glimpse of a finely cut profile and a comely figure +silhouetted against the light within. The bolts were drawn from the gate +of the driveway and the doors rolled back.</p> + +<p>"Come in," said the matron, and the little figure enveloped in the +shaggy cape and hood walked in under the big arch followed by the +sleigh, whilst Livingstone withdrew a short distance into the shadow.</p> + +<p>It was some time before the doors opened again and Kitty reappeared, +but Livingstone did not mind it. It was cold too, but neither did he +mind that. He was warm. As he walked up and down in the empty street +before the long building his heart was warmed with a glow which had not +been there for many and many a long year. He was not alone. Once more +the memory of other Christmases passed through his mind in long +processional, but now not stamped with irretrievable opportunity, to +mock him with vain regret for lost happiness; only tinged with a sadness +for lost friends who came trooping about him; yet lightened by his +resolve to begin from now on and strive as best he might to retrieve his +wasted life, and whilst he bore his punishment do what he could to make +atonement for his past.</p> + +<p>Just then across the town the clocks began to sound the midnight hour, +and as they ceased, from somewhere far-away church bells mellowed by +the distance began to chime the old Christmas hymn:—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span><i>"While shepherds watched their flocks by night,</i><br /></span> +<span><i>All seated on the ground,</i><br /></span> +<span><i>The angel of the Lord came down,</i><br /></span> +<span><i>And glory shone around."</i><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Livingstone stood still to listen, in a half-dream.</p> + +<p>Suddenly before him in the snow stood a little figure muffled in a +shaggy cape with hood half thrown back. The childish face was uplifted +in the moonlight. With lips half parted she too was listening, and for a +moment Livingstone could hardly take in that she was real. She seemed—!</p> + +<p>Could she be—?</p> + +<p>"<i>The angel of the Lord came down,</i>"—chimed the mellow bells.</p> + +<p>The chiming died out.</p> + +<p>"Christ is born," said the child. "You heard the bells?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Livingstone humbly.</p> + +<p>"It's all done," she said; "and I prayed so hard that not one of them +stirred, and now when they wake they'll think it was real Santa Claus. +They say he always comes at twelve and I counted the clocks.—I wonder +if he went home?" She was speaking now to herself; but Livingstone +answered.</p> + +<p>"I'm sure of it," he said.</p> + +<p>"<i>The angel of the Lord came down,"</i> still chimed in his ears.</p> + +<p>Suddenly a little warm hand was slipped into his confidingly.</p> + +<p>"I think we'd better go home now." The voice was full of deep content.</p> + +<p>Livingstone's hand closed on hers and as he said "Yes," he was conscious +of a pang at the thought of giving her up.</p> + +<p>He lifted her to put her in the sleigh. As he did so the little arms +were put about his neck and warm little lips kissed him. Livingstone +pressed her to his breast convulsively and climbed into the sleigh +without putting her down.</p> + +<p>Neither spoke and when the sleigh stopped in front of Mr. Clark's door +the child was still in Livingstone's arms, her head resting on his +shoulder, the golden curls falling over his sleeve. Even when he +transferred her to her father's arms she did not wake. She only sighed +with sweet content and as Livingstone bent over and kissed her softly, +muttered a few words about "Santa Claus's partner."</p> + +<p>A half-hour later, Livingstone, after another interview with Mr. Brown +who was awaiting him patiently, drove back again to Mr. Clark's door +with another sleighful of packages which were all duly transferred to +the small room where stood the little Christmas-tree.</p> + +<p>The handshake Livingstone gave John Clark as he came down the steps of +the little house was the warmest he had given any man in twenty years. +It was so warm that it seemed to send the blood tingling through +Livingstone's heart and warm it anew.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XV" id="CHAPTER_XV" />CHAPTER XV</h2> + + +<p>Livingstone drove home through silent streets, but they were not silent +for him. In his ears a chime was still ringing and it bore him far +across the snow-filled streets and the snow-filled years to a land of +warmth and light. The glow was still about his heart and the tingle +which the pressure of Kitty Clark's arms about his neck, and John +Clark's clasp of his hand had started still kept it warm.</p> + +<p>At his door Livingstone dismissed his driver and as he cheerily wished +him a merry Christmas the man's cheery reply showed that Livingstone had +already found the secret of good cheer.</p> + +<p>"The same to you, your honor; the same to you, sir," said the driver +heartily, as he buttoned up his pocket with a pat of satisfaction. +"We've had a good time to-night, sir, haven't we? And I wish you many +more like it, sir. And when Christmas comes along next time I hope +you'll remember me, for I'll remember you; I've had a little child in +that 'ere same horspital. God took her to Himself twelve years ago. +They're good to 'em there, rich and poor all alike;—and 't isn't every +night I can drive 'Santa Claus's partner.'"</p> + +<p>Livingstone stood and watched the sleigh till it drove out of sight. +Even after it had disappeared around a corner, he still listened to the +bells. It seemed to him he had a friend in it.</p> + +<p>Livingstone let himself in noiselessly at his door, but the softness +with which he turned the key this time was to keep from disturbing his +servants, not to keep them from seeing him.</p> + +<p>He stopped stock still on the threshold. The whole house seemed +transformed. The hall was a bower of holly and mistletoe, and the +library, as Livingstone entered it, with its bright fire roaring in the +hearth and its festoons and wreaths, seemed once more a charming home: a +bower where cheer might yet make its abode.</p> + +<p>As quietly, however, as Livingstone had entered, his butler had heard +him.</p> + +<p>As Livingstone turned to take in all the beauty of the room, James was +standing before him. His face showed some concern, and his voice, as he +spoke, had a little tremor in it.</p> + +<p>"When we found you had gone out, sir, we were afraid you might be sick, +and the cook has got something hot for you?"</p> + +<p>Livingstone glanced about to find a phrase with which to thank him for +the trouble they had taken; but the butler spared him the pains.</p> + +<p>"We thought we would try to make the house look a little cheery, sir. +Hope you don't mind, sir?"</p> + +<p>"Mind!" said Livingstone, "I am delighted; and I thank you very much. +Mind? I should think not!"</p> + +<p>The tone of his voice and the light in his eye showed that there was a +change in him and it acted like a tonic on the butler. The light came +into his eyes too. He drew a breath of deep relief as though a mountain +of care had rolled off him, and he came a step nearer his master, who +had flung himself into a chair and picked up a cigar.</p> + +<p>The next minute Livingstone plunged into the subject on his mind. It was +a plan which made the butler's eyes first open wide and then sparkle +with pleasure.</p> + +<p>The difficulty with Livingstone, however, was that the next day was a +holiday and he did not know whether what he wanted could be got.</p> + +<p>The butler came to his rescue. It was no difficulty to James. Such an +emergency only quickened his powers. He knew places where whatever was +wanted could be got, holiday or no holiday, and, "If Mr. Livingstone +would only allow him—?"</p> + +<p>"Allow you!" said Livingstone, "I give you <i>carte blanche</i>, only have +everything ready by five o'clock.—Ask the cook to send up whatever she +has; I'm hungry, and we'll talk it over whilst I'm taking supper."</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir; yes, sir; yes, sir;" and James withdrew with a step as light +as air.</p> + +<p>"Extraordinary servant!" thought Livingstone. "Wonder I never took it in +before!"</p> + +<p>Ten minutes later Livingstone was seated at the table with an appetite +like a schoolboy's.</p> + +<p>It was the happiest meal Livingstone had eaten in many a long day; for, +all alone as he was, he was not alone. Thought-of-others sat at the +board and a cheery companion it is.</p> + +<p>"Tell the laundress to be sure and bring her children around to-morrow, +and be sure you make them have a good time," he said to James, as he +rose from the table. James bowed.</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir."</p> + +<p>"And ascertain where policeman, No. 268, is to be found to-morrow. I +want to send a contribution to make a good slide for some boys on his +beat."</p> + +<p>James bowed again, his eyes somewhat wider than before.</p> + +<p>As Livingstone mounted the stair, though he was sensible of fatigue it +was the fatigue of the body, so delicious to those who have known that +of the mind. And he felt pity as well as loathing for the poor, worn +creature who had climbed the same stair a few hours before.</p> + +<p>As he entered his room the warmth and home feeling had come back there +also. The portraits of his father and mother first caught his eye. Some +one had put a wreath around each and they seemed to beam on him with a +pleased and tender smile. They opened afresh the flood-gates of memory +for him, but the memories were sweet and tender.</p> + +<p>He glanced at a mirror almost with trembling. The last time he had +looked at himself he had seen only that old, haggard face with the +ghostly figures branded across the brow. Thank God! they were gone now, +and he could even see in his face some faint resemblance to the +portraits on the wall.</p> + +<p>He went to bed and slept as he had not slept for months, perhaps for +years—not dreamlessly, but the dreams were pleasant.—Now and then +lines of vague figures appeared to him, but a little girl with a smiling +face came and played bo-peep with him over them, and presently sprang up +and threw her arms about his neck and made him take her in a sleigh to a +wonderful shop where they could get marvellous presents; among them +Youth, and Friendship, and Happiness. The door was just being shut as +they arrived, but when he called his father's name it was opened +wide—and his father and mother greeted him—and led him smiling into +places where he had played as a child.—And Catherine Trelane in a +shaggy coat and hood pulled the presents from a forest of +Christmas-trees and gave them to Santa Claus's partner to give to +others. And suddenly his father, with his old tender smile, picked the +little girl up in his arms and she changed into a wonderful child that +shone so that it dazzled Livingstone and—he waked to find the bright +sun shining in through the window and falling on his face.</p> + +<p>He sprang from bed with a cry almost of joy so bright was the day; and +as he looked out of the window on the sparkling snow outside it seemed a +new world.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVI" id="CHAPTER_XVI" />CHAPTER XVI</h2> + + +<p>All the morning Livingstone "rushed" as he had never "rushed" in the +wildest excitement of "the street." He had to find a banker and a lawyer +and a policeman. But he found them all. He had to get presents to +Sipkins and Hartly and the other clerks; but he managed to do it.</p> + +<p>His servants, too, had caught the contagion, and more than once big +wagons driven by smiling, cheery-faced men drove up to the door and +unloaded their contents. And when the evening fell and a great sleigh +with six seats and four horses, and every seat packed full, drove up and +emptied its shouting occupants out at Livingstone's door everything was +ready.</p> + +<p>It was Livingstone himself who met the guests at the door, and the +driver, in his shaggy coat, must have been an old friend from the +smiling way in which he nodded and waved his fur-gloved hands to him, +as he helped Mrs. Clark out tenderly and took Kitty into his arms.</p> + +<p>When Kitty was informed that this was Santa Claus's Partner's party, and +that she was to be the hostess, she was at first a little shy, partly, +perhaps, on account of the strangeness of being in such a big, fine +house, and partly on account of the solemn presence of James, until the +latter had relieved her in ways of which that austere person seemed to +have the secret where children were concerned. Finally she was induced +to take the children over the house, and the laughter which soon came +floating back from distant rooms showed that the ice was broken.</p> + +<p>Only two rooms, the library and the dining-room, were closed, and they +were not closed very long.</p> + +<p>Just as it grew dark Kitty was told to marshal her eager forces and +James with sparkling eyes rolled back the folding doors.</p> + +<div class="center"> +<a name='fig7' id='fig7'></a> +<img src="images/fig7.jpg" +alt="And James with sparkling eyes rolled back the folding doors." +title="" /> +</div> + +<p>The children had never seen anything before in all their lives like +that which greeted their eyes. The library was a bower of evergreen and +radiance. In the centre was a great tree of crystal and stars which +reflected the light of a myriad twinkling candles. It had undoubtedly +come from fairy-land, if the place was not fairy-land itself, on the +border of which they stood amazed.</p> + +<p>Kitty was asked by Mr. Livingstone to lead the other children in, and as +she approached the tree she found facing her a large envelope addressed +to,</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span><i>Santa Claus's Partner, Miss Kitty Clark.</i><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>This she was told to open and in it was a letter from Santa Claus +himself.</p> + +<p>It stated that the night before, as the writer was engaged in looking +after presents for some poor children, he saw a little girl in a shop +engaged in the same work, and when he reached a certain hospital he +found that she had been there, too, before him, and now as he had to go +to another part of the world to keep ahead of the sun, he hoped that she +would still act for him and look after his business here. The letter was +signed,</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span><i>Your partner, Santa Claus.</i><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>The postscript suggested that a few of the articles he had left on the +tree for her were marked with names, but that others were unmarked, so +that her friends might choose what they preferred, and he had left his +pack at the foot of the tree as a grab-bag.</p> + +<p>This letter broke the spell and next moment every one was shouting and +rollicking as though they lived there.</p> + +<p>In all the throng there was no one so delighted as Mr. Clark. +Livingstone had had no idea how clever he was. He was the soul of the +entertainment. It was he who discovered first the packages for each +little one; he who, without appearing to do so, guided them in their +march around the tree, so that all might find just the presents that +suited them. He seemed to Livingstone's quickened eye to divine just +what each child liked and wished. He appeared to know all that +Livingstone desired to know.</p> + +<p>At length, he alone of all the guests had received no present. The +others had their little arms packed so full that Livingstone had to step +forward to the tree to help a small tot bear away his toppling load.</p> + +<p>The next moment Kitty discovered a large envelope lying at the foot of +the tree. It was addressed,</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span><i>John Clark, Esq.,</i><br /></span> +<span><i>Father of Santa Claus's Partner.</i><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>It was strange that Kitty should have overlooked it before.</p> + +<p>With a spring she seized it and handed it to her father with a little +shout of joy, for she had not been able to keep from showing +disappointment that he had received nothing.</p> + +<p>Clark smiled at her pleasure, for he knew that the kisses which she had +given him from time to time had been to make amends to him, and not, as +others thought, from joy over her own presents.</p> + +<p>Clark knew well the hand-writing, and even as he opened the envelope he +glanced around to catch Livingstone's eye and thank him. Livingstone, +however, had suddenly disappeared; so Clark read the letter.</p> + +<p>It was very brief. It said that Livingstone had never known until the +night before how much he owed him; that he was not sure even now that he +knew the full extent of his indebtedness, but at least he had come to +recognize that he owed much of his business success to Mr. Clark's +wisdom and fidelity; and he asked as a personal favor to him that Clark +would accept the enclosed as a token of his gratitude, and would +consider favorably his proposal.</p> + +<p>Opening an enclosed envelope, Clark found two papers. One was a full +release of the mortgage on Clark's house (Livingstone had spent the +morning in securing it), the other was a Memorandum of "Articles of +Partnership" between Berryman Livingstone and John Clark, beginning from +that very day,—indeed, from the day before,—all ready, signed by +Livingstone and wanting only Mr. Clark's signature to make it complete.</p> + +<p>Mr. Clark, with his face quite white and looking almost awed, turned and +walked into the next room where he found Livingstone standing alone. The +old clerk was still holding the papers clutched in his hand and was +walking as if in a dream.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Livingstone," he began, "I can never—I am overwhelmed!—Your +letter—your gifts—" But Livingstone interrupted him. His face was not +white but red.</p> + +<p>"Nonsense!" he said, as he turned and put his hand on the other's +shoulder. "Clark, I am not giving you anything. I am paying.—I mean, I +owe you everything, and what I don't owe you, I owe Kitty. Last night +you lent me—" He stopped, caught himself, and began again.</p> + +<p>"It was more than even you knew, Clark," he said, looking the other +kindly in the eyes, "and I'll owe you a debt of gratitude all my life. +All I ask is, that you will forget the past and help me in the future +and sometimes lend me Kitty. I never knew until now how good it was to +have a partner."</p> + +<p>Just then he became conscious that someone else was near him. Kitty, +with wide-open, happy eyes, was standing beside them looking up +inquiringly in their faces. The child seemed to know that something +important had happened, for she put up her arms, and pulling her father +down to her kissed him, and then turning quickly she caught Livingstone +and, drawing him down, kissed him too.</p> + +<p>"I love you," she said, in a whisper.</p> + +<p>Livingstone caught her in his arms.</p> + +<p>"Let's go and have a game of blind-man's buff. I am beginning to feel +young again," he said, and linking his arm in Clark's, he dragged him +back to the others, where, in a few minutes they were all of one age, +and a very riot of fun seemed to have broken loose.</p> + +<p>Matters had just reached this delightful point, and Livingstone was down +on his hands and knees trying with futile dexterity to avoid the clutch +of a pair of little arms that apparently were pursuing him with +infallible instinct into an inextricable trap, when he became conscious +of a presence he had not observed before. Some one not there before was +standing in the doorway.</p> + +<p>Livingstone sprang to his feet and faced Mrs. Wright.</p> + +<p>He felt very red and foolish as he caught her eyes and found them +smiling at him. The idea of being discovered in so ridiculous a +situation and posture by the most fashionable and elegant woman of his +acquaintance! But Mrs. Wright waved to him to go on with his game and +the next moment the little arms had clutched him, and, tearing off her +bandage, Kitty, with dancing eyes, declared him "caught."</p> + +<p>"Well, this is my final triumph over Will," exclaimed Mrs. Wright, +advancing into the room, as Livingstone, drawing the little girl along +with him, approached her. And she began to tell Livingstone how they had +particularly wanted him to dine with them that day as an old friend of +his had promised to come to them, but they had supposed, of course, +that he had been overrun with invitations for the day and, as they had +not seen him of late, thought that he had probably gone out of town, +until her husband saw him at the club the night before where he had gone +to find some poor lone bachelor who might have no other invitation.</p> + +<p>"You know Will has always been very fond of you," she said; "and he says +you have been working too hard of late and have not been looking well. +When I didn't get my usual contributions from you this Christmas I +didn't know what to make of it, but I think that on my round this +morning I have found out the reason?"</p> + +<p>Livingstone knew the reason, but he did not tell her. The knowing smile +that lit her face, however, mystified him and he flushed a little under +her searching eyes.</p> + +<p>"Will was sure he saw you in the club last night," she persisted, "and +he tried to catch you, but you ran off; and now I have come for you and +will take no refusal."</p> + +<p>Livingstone expressed his regret that he could not come. A wave of his +hand towards the curly heads and beaming faces clustered before them and +towards the long table gleaming in the dining-room beyond explained his +reason.</p> + +<p>"I am having a Christmas dinner myself," he said.</p> + +<p>"Then you will come in after they go?" insisted Mrs. Wright, and as +Livingstone knew they were going early he assented.</p> + +<p>"Who are your friends?" she asked. "What a pleasant-looking man, and +what lovely children! That little girl,—I thought it was Cupid when she +had the bandage on her eyes and now I am sure of it."</p> + +<p>"Let me present them to you," said Livingstone, and he presented Mr. +Clark as his partner and Kitty as Santa Claus's partner.</p> + +<p>"I did not know you had a partner?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"It is my Christmas gift from Santa Claus," he said. "One of them; I +have many."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVII" id="CHAPTER_XVII" />CHAPTER XVII</h2> + + +<p>When Livingstone walked into Mrs. Wright's drawing-room that evening he +had never had such a greeting, and he had never been in such spirits. +His own Christmas dinner had been the success of his life. He could +still see those happy faces about his board, and hear those joyous +voices echoing through his house.</p> + +<p>The day seemed to have been one long dream of delight. From the moment +when he had turned to go after the little child to ask her to show him +the way to help others, he had walked in a new land; lived in a new +world; breathed a new air; been warmed by a new sun.</p> + +<p>Wright himself met him with a cordiality so new to Livingstone and yet +so natural and unforced that Livingstone wondered whether he could have +been living in a dream all these years or whether he was in a dream +to-night.</p> + +<p>Among the guests he suddenly came on one who made him think to-night +must be the dream.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Wright, with glowing eyes, presented him to a lady dressed in +black, as "an old friend, she believed:" a fair, sweet-looking woman +with soft eyes and a calm mouth.</p> + +<p>The name Mrs. Wright mentioned was "Mrs. Shepherd," but as Livingstone +looked the face was that of Catherine Trelane.</p> + +<p>The evening was a fitting ending to a happy day—the first Livingstone +had had in many a year. Even Mrs. Shepherd's failure to give him the +opportunity he sought to talk with her could not wholly mar it.</p> + +<p>Later, Livingstone heard Mrs. Wright begin to tell some one of his act +of the night before, in buying up a toy-shop for the children at the +hospital.</p> + +<p>"I always believed in him," she asserted warmly.</p> + +<p>Livingstone caught his name and, turning to Mrs. Wright, with some +embarrassment and much warmth, declared that she was mistaken, that he +had not done it.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Wright laughed incredulously.</p> + +<p>"I suspected it this morning when I first heard of it; but now I have +the indisputable proof."</p> + +<p>She held up a note.</p> + +<p>"'I think I've heard of you before,'" she laughed, with a capital +imitation of Mr. Brown's manner.</p> + +<p>"I still deny it," insisted Livingstone, blushing, and as Mrs. Wright +still affirmed her belief, he told her the story of Santa Claus's +partner.</p> + +<p>Insensibly, as he told it, the other voices hushed down.</p> + +<p>He told it well; for his heart was full of the little girl who had led +him from the frozen land back to the land of light.</p> + +<p>As he ended, from another room somewhere up-stairs, came a child's +clear voice singing,</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span><i>God west you, mer-wy gentle-men,</i><br /></span> +<span><i>Let nossing you dismay;</i><br /></span> +<span><i>For Jesus Chwist our Sa-wiour</i><br /></span> +<span><i>Was born this ve-wy day.</i><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Livingstone looked at Mrs. Shepherd.</p> + +<p>She was standing under the long evergreen festoons just where they met +and formed a sort of verdant archway. Two of the children of the house, +attracted by Livingstone's story, had come and pressed against her as +they listened with interested faces, and she had put her arms about them +and drawn their curly heads close to her side. A spray of holly with +scarlet berries was at her throat and one of the children had +mischievously stuck a sprig of mistletoe in her hair. Her face was +turned aside, her eyes were downcast, the long, dark lashes drooping +against her cheek, and on her face rested a divine compassion; and as +Livingstone gazed on her he saw the same gracious figure and fine +profile that he had seen the night before outlined against the light in +the archway of the gate of the Children's Hospital. It was the +reflective face of one who has felt; but when she raised her eyes they +were the eyes of Catherine Trelane. And suddenly, as Livingstone looked +into them, they had softened, and she seemed to be standing, as she had +stood so long ago, in the Christmas evening light in a long avenue under +swaying boughs, in the heart of the land of his youth.</p> + +<div class="center"> +<a name='fig8' id='fig8'></a> +<img src="images/fig8.jpg" +alt="Standing in the Christmas evening light in a long avenue under swaying boughs." +title="" /> +</div> + +<p>While still, somewhere above, the child's voice carolled,</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span>—<i>Let nossing you dismay;</i><br /></span> +<span><i>For Jesus Christ our Sa-wiour</i><br /></span> +<span><i>Was born this ve-wy day.</i><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>FINIS</h4> + +<div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 14624 ***</div> +</body> +</html> diff --git a/14624-h/images/fig1.jpg b/14624-h/images/fig1.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..3b924c0 --- /dev/null +++ b/14624-h/images/fig1.jpg diff --git a/14624-h/images/fig2.jpg b/14624-h/images/fig2.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..e75f6cb --- /dev/null +++ b/14624-h/images/fig2.jpg diff --git a/14624-h/images/fig3.jpg b/14624-h/images/fig3.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..b1357a5 --- /dev/null +++ b/14624-h/images/fig3.jpg diff --git a/14624-h/images/fig4.jpg b/14624-h/images/fig4.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..87edf1e --- /dev/null +++ b/14624-h/images/fig4.jpg diff --git a/14624-h/images/fig5.jpg b/14624-h/images/fig5.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..cb5d08c --- /dev/null +++ b/14624-h/images/fig5.jpg diff --git a/14624-h/images/fig6.jpg b/14624-h/images/fig6.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..140c21b --- /dev/null +++ b/14624-h/images/fig6.jpg diff --git a/14624-h/images/fig7.jpg b/14624-h/images/fig7.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..4559aef --- /dev/null +++ b/14624-h/images/fig7.jpg diff --git a/14624-h/images/fig8.jpg b/14624-h/images/fig8.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..fed7ef1 --- /dev/null +++ b/14624-h/images/fig8.jpg |
