nu> r> ■ i uu’uvu o '
ness man. "And heaven knows," she
said to hyself, #1 need an occasional
At 5:30 she telephoned Keith to stop
at the day nursery for Betty. After she
had hung up the receiver she realized
with a sinking heart that Keith's voice
had sounded flat and very, very discour
aged. She did hope that nothing more
than usual had gone wrong at the store
But, she thought, a little bitterly, re
sentfully even, as she hurried back to
the pretty, spotless kitchen, something
doubtless had. Oh, if onl> Keith had
not given up his position with the Jar
son people and gone into business for
himself. She hadn’t wanted him to sur
render the security and dependableness
of the substantial salary he had been
getting. But he had brushed aside her
scruples. Impatiently. Intolerant even,
of her opinion. What did she know of
business? he had demanded. Besides, a
man had to take a chance some time or
other if he was ever to get any place
“Yes,” she had said, “but these are not
the times to be taking chances.”
WHILE she set the dining-room table,
prettily, Margaret decided she would say
nothing about the vase but would let its
exciting and glamorous beauty capture
Keith's imagination as it had hers. She
went to the door to meet Keith and
Betty when they came and. smiling
gayly, kissed them both impulsively.
“Did you get my dress and sweater.
Mother?” Betty wanted to know.
“Yes, dear,” Margaret told her nerv
ously. There was something in Keith's
face—as if he had been whipped; had
the heart out of him. He was
pale, and the lines around his once
smiling mouth and twinkling gray eyes
were deeper than rsual.
“They're on your bed.’’ Margaret said
giving Betty a little push. “Go try them
on quick, while I cook the chops.”
But as Betty skipped away, Margaret,
due to her sudden nervousness and desire
to be saying something, anything, very
foolishly remarked: "Leonard's had some
adorable smocks and embroidered jersey
dresses. I wanted awfully to get one for
Betty for Christmas but I knew it was
out of the question. I had to shop
around a lot to find what I did get with
what money I had.”
“I do wish,” Keith Interrupted, frown
ing. “that you would stop buying things
at Leonard's. They're higher than other
places and I want to get square with
them. I still owe about SBO. What did
they say about the sls payment today?”
“You'd have thought I was handing
them a hundred,” Margaret said, ma
neuvering so that she stood between
Keith and the gleaming vase. “Not many
people are paying bills or making pay
ments on overdue accounts this near
Christmas. The cashier was virtually
obsequious when I told her I expected to
make a bigger payment the first of the
year.”
She pushed a stray black curl behind
an ear and tapped the floor with a
nervous foot. She felt embarrassed and
Tveitn, U you d go at them right and t>e
ruthless, you could make them
come across.” m *
“Its easy for to talk 1 like that,”
Keith said coldly. “You've never had to
deal with the public. You'd find col
lecting a most discouraging business.
Just how can you make a man pay if he
hasn't the money or says he hasn't? You
can't call him a liar; at least, I can't. Os
course, I might stick a gun in his back
or some such persuasive thing, but I’m
not made that way either.”
“Sometimes I almost wish you were,”
Margaret retorted from the dining room.
No money to pay with! My hat. They
are liars all. The Hunters, the Wilsons
and the Browns have all had two or
more big - new cars since we got our old
trouble-buggy, and the Browns have 200
invitations out for a reception in their
home New Year's Day. And they actu
ally had the gall to send us an invita
tion. It's an insult to our intelligence,
if you ask me.”
“Oh, let's skip it,” Keith said wearily
How soon will dinner be ready?”
“Ten minutes!” Margaret called from
the kitchen. Stirring furiously the
.clear brown gravy that Keith liked, she
told herself that she would go into town
first thing in the morning and return
that vase. Perhaps after Christmas she
could buy it back or something equally
beautiful. Maybe her sister in Cali
fornia would send her a check again
this year.
WHILE she was washing the dishes
and standing them in the wire drainer
for the hot rinse, after an unhappy,
practically conversationless dinner, Mar
garet heard a chair or a table fall, along
with the sound of delicate shattered
glass. Her heart stood still. The vase!
Nothing else would have made that
clear, ringing sound. Margaret ran to
the living room. Betty was sitting on
the floor and .crying loudly.
“Oh, Betty!” Margaret wailed, heart
sick and furious. “Why are you so
careless? Always running or kicking
or dancing about and never looking
where you're going. If only just once
you'd walk.”
Betty cried louder and Keith inter
rupted: “Don't scold her. The rug
slipped.” Keith was on his knees now,
beside the child and picking up the
fragments of glass. “I never saw this
before," he said, looking at Margaret
suspiciously. #
Margaret's face turned red, then paled
Her hands, which still held the tea
towel, shook a little. “I bought it today.
It was so lovely, and I was going to ask
you to consider it my Christmas gift.”
“Well, it's a shame it had to get
broken right off, but look, Margaret.”
Keiths voice was suddenly hard and
without pity. “Where'd you get the
money for it? You didn’t have it
charged?”
“I bought It at Parker's. I just
couldn't resist it. I paid for it.”
Without a word Keith picked up the
paper. His significant silence was com
J^'
plete condemnation, and Margaret’s
heart constricted and then suddenly
hardened against him. She pulled the
sobbing child into her arms and, hug
ging her close, wiped the tears from her
face. “Never mind, dear, Mother’s
sorry she spoke so crossly. Go And a
story and get ready for bed. I’ll reac
to you after you're tucked in.”
IT WAS snowing fast when Mar.
garet stopped, as if drawn by a magnet
in front of Wade's gown shop window.-
the following afternoon. Great white
powder-puff flakes that any other time
would have sent a thrill of delight
through every fiber of her being. She
loved the snow, the bracing mile-high
air. All the holiday excitement. Foi
there was something about Christma
that went deep under her skin. She
was still a sentimental person, she had
often told herself, and the old symbol*
and traditions clung in spite of a highly
commercialized era. But today the lilt
and the thrill of it were missing. She
couldn't get into the spirit of the thing
This year Christmas was going to be a
flop. She knew it, and her heart was
heavy with a poignant nostalgia for the
days that were gone.
Belated shoppers, tired office worker.-
were jamming the interurban cars. It
was the rush hour between 5:30 and 6
o'clock. But Margaret had suddenly
lost all sense of time. She had made
three calls. She had stated her case to
Messrs. Hunter, Wilson & Brown
And before she left their offices each
man had said in effect: “I'll see what 1
can do, Mrs. Carter. When you put it
that way—l hadn’t realized things were
like that with you and Mr. Carter. Mr
Carter has not been really insistent.
I'm sorry you've had to do this. I’ll try
to do something about a payment to
morrow. And yes, you may rest assured
that I will not let Mr. Carter know you
had anything to do with it. I under
stand how you feel. Good day. And . .
Merry Christmas!”
Margaret had smiled and said: "And
a merry Christmas to you and your
family.” But descending in the ele
vator, each time, she had experienced
a feeling of doubt. Each man had said.
‘Til see what I can do.” He hadn't
committed himself and, after all. what
was even a promise from any of these
men? Margaret had felt very depressed.
Nevertheless, she made an enchanting
picture in her close-fitting black coat
“If you could choose, young man,
what would you buy?” Margaret
asked softly and with an irre
sistibly friendly smile
with its worn fo\c collar framing her
lovely young face. And gazing now upon
the beautiful dress in Ward’s, her lips
curved unconsciously in a smile.
Abruptly the snow ceased its silent
falling and suddenly an icy wind swept
the Avenue and cut dagger-like at Mar
garet’s smooth cold cheeks. She shivered
and realized that night had come. And
there went a Mississippi Avenue street
car! She would have to wait ten, per
haps fifteen minutes for the next one.
And she’d forgotten the meat for din
ner. Oh, well, they would have scram
bled eggs—if there were enough eggs
which was doubtful —since they seemed
always to be short of something. She
took one last hungry look at the dress
and made a sudden vow. When her
check came, she would buy that dress
and nothing would stop her. Nothing
Not Keith’s demurring or any conscien
tious scruples about unpaid bills. She
simply couldn’t stand it to go on like this
without something new or beautiful to
satisfy her soul; or maybe it was only
her vanity. Anyway, she didn’t care
She was sick of being a good and duty
conscious woman. She w’ould be a bit
selfish and ruthless herself. Like those
other people who managed to get things
they wanted.
In the morning mail the check actually
did come. So it could happen. It had
happened, Margaret exulted. Her eyes
were aflame with joy; her heart pound
ing suffocatingly as she stared at the
figures, sllO. Oh, life was still capable
of dealing out pleasant surprises.
IT SEEMED to Margaret as she
merged with the hurrying, excited crowds
that holly wreaths and Christmas greens
in the windows and for sale on street
corners had never been so beautiful; so
symbolic and gorgeous. And surely the
holiday spirit had never been more joy
ous or people so human and kind.
Margaret smiled companionably at
strangers, old and young, men and
women alike who responded in kind. All
were laden with a heterogeneous assort
ment of bundles, with the easily recog
nizable little red wagon for Johnny, the
sleeping doll for Susan and the tradi
tional long narrow boxes which fairly
shouted ties for uncles, in-laws and big
brothers.
She felt a warm inner glow when she
dropped a silver dollar in the Salvation
Army’s Christmas kettle and received a
grateful acknowledgment from the
black-bonneted woman, standing red
faced and patient in the increasing cold.
“Peace on earth, good will to men,”
caroled a trio of voices from a sidewalk
radio in front of a music store. The
snow made a crunchy sound beneath
Margaret’s swinging steps. Blithely she
bought a sprig of holly, pinned it to her
fur collar and told the boy to keep the
change.
Her head was a happy whirl of plans.
She would get the dress, then a buggy
and a silken-haired, beautiful sleeping
doll and a pretty set of dishes for Betty.
For Betty was domestic in her tastes and
never tired of playing house and sur
rounding herself with a family of dolls.
SHE must not forget a string of larger
lights and some of the newer electric or
naments for the tree. She had promised
Betty that they would decorate the tree
directly after dinner tonight. She would
then purchase a soft, warm, English wool
sweater—a maroon or deep bright blue
for Keith.
In front of a toy-shop window she
paused and became instantly aware of a
small, inadequately clad and very tense
little boy close beside her. His face was
pressed to the plate-glass window and in
his brown eyes there was such a wistful
look of longing that Margaret’s throat
tightened.
The child's nose was red, his thin face
blue with cold. Scrutinizing him more
closely, Margaret saw that there were
holes in both his shoes and his worn
coat was at least two sizes too small
for him. His hands were thrust into his
pockets. He couldn’t, Margaret decided,
be more than 7 years old, maybe only 6
She touched his shoulder gently. “If you
could choose, young man, what would
you buy?” she asked softly and with an
irresistibly friendly smile.
Startled, the child gazed into Mar
garet’s mistily sympathetic eyes. “The
skates,” he announced. And before his
look, Margaret’s heart wept. “But we
can’t have any Christmas presents this
year,” he finished.
“And how does that happen, Jimmy?”
“Robert’s my name,” he told her se
riously. “My Daddy had the flu and
died and Mother’s sick. My Aunt Jane's
takin’ care of us but we haven’t got any
when Keith came Into the warm
• kitchen, bright with cl*erry red. Spring
and old ivorv-painted furniture
and walls. “Christmas gift, from n%
to thee!” She closed his cold fingers
around a receipted bill. From Leon
ard’s. Paid in full.
“Margaret!” Keith exclaimed, his gray
eyes incredulous. “How could you do
this?”
Tears sprang to Margaret’s eyes when
she saw the look in Keith’s face after she
had told him.
He snatched her to him. "My girl!”
he cried hoarsely, chokingly. “I haven’t
been so happy for—-well, for a couple of
years, I guess. I had been thinking I
had lost my little pal along with—other
things these last few desperate years.”
Suddenly he pushed her away and
his eyes filled with excited laughter.
“Wait!” he commanded. Then h®
dashed from the kitchen, ran bare
headed down the snowy walk to th®
garage and was back in a twinkling.
“Close you eyes,” he shouted from out
side the door, “and no peeking until I
say open. Now! Christmas gift!”
“Oh mother!” Betty shouted. “It’s a
wedding dress!”
Laughing, trembling, crying all at
once, Margaret threw her arms around
Keith and the incomparable whit®
chiffon dress that she had seen in
Ward’s. “But Keith, how in the world?”
she finally managed.
“I was passing Ward’s just about
closing time; saw it in the window.
Crazy notion. I reckon, but somehow it
looked like you. They told me it was
your size.”
“It’s wonderful! But you shouldn’t
have. It must have cost a lot. And my
taffeta’s still quite—wearable.”
“Christmas gifts,” Keith interrupted,
“should never be criticized and never
returned. And this one is all paid for
and a nice balance in the bank.”
“But how?” Margaret asked, although
suddenly she knew.
“Oh, there’s something about thi*
Christmas idea I suppose. Not Just
the singing of ’Jingle Bells,’ the mistle
toe and holly wreathes on the front
door or the gaudy trimmed trees or even
the giving of silver and fine linen. It’s
something down inside us.
“BUT so much for the sermon. And
I know you’re going to be taken oft
your feet, but Brown, Hunter and Wil
son all came in today and handed me
checks; shortly after I had sold a SSO
bond to buy you a blue vase and some
trinkets for Betty. Now, don’t ever let
me hear you say there isn’t a Santa
Claus or that practically all debtors
are liars and deadbeats if they think
they can get away with it.”
“I won’t,” said Margaret very sol
emnly. “I won’t ever, dear.”
Keith’s lips came down on hers in a
caress that made Margaret’s heart leap.
“Peace on earth, good will to men,” she
murmured in a voice tremulous with
happiness.