Part 6 (1/2)

When hubby began to realize this an individual reformation was at the dawning. The very next morning no breakfast arrived by private parcel post.

”Harry,” she exclaimed, ”bring me my porridge and hot cakes; I am starving.”

”If you are starving get up and eat in your stall at the table,” said Harry, sarcastically, although it pained him.

”Harry!” she shouted, ”you selfish beast!”

For diplomatic reasons Harry was silent.

Harry made an abrupt exit without waiting for adjournment, and went up town. A new life seemed to be dawning upon him. It was the emanc.i.p.ation from slavery. He went into the drug store, into the hardware store, into the hotels and all the other stores--he talked and laughed as he had never done before.

It was 3 a.m. the following morning when he found himself searching for the door-k.n.o.b in the vicinity of the front window. Having gained an entrance, he was accosted by his wife, who exclaimed: ”Harry, you drunk?”

”Well, y'see, it was the pioneer shupper,” said Harry, and he tumbled into bed.

This was Harry's first ruse. His next move was an affinity. He would cease to pose as a piece of household furniture--a dumb waiter sort of thing.

At that time there was a vision waiting table at the ”Best” who had most of the fellows on a string. Harry threw his grappling irons around her and took her in tow. This went on for some time without suspicion being aroused on the part of the ”invalid,” but the wireless telegraphy of gossip whispered the truth to her one day when she was wondering what demon had taken possession of her protector. She dropped her artificial gown in an instant and rushed up Railway Avenue like a militant suffragette. Just about the local emporium Harry was sailing along under a fair and favorable wind, hand in hand with his new dream, when he saw his legal prerogative approaching near the ”Next Best” hotel. He dislodged his grappling-hooks in an instant, stepped slightly in advance, and feigned that he had been running along on his own steam.

But she saw him and defined his movements. They met like two express engines in collision, and what followed had better be left buried underneath the sidewalk of the local emporium. There were dead and dying left on the field, and they reached home later by two rival routes of railway.

The stringency endured some days, which time she huffed and he read Charles Darwin. At the end of that period the ice broke, as it always does; the clouds rolled away, and the sun began to s.h.i.+ne, and they began to negotiate for peace. They had a long sitting of parliament, and it was moved and seconded, and unanimously carried, that each give the other a reprieve. It meant the amalgamation of two hearts that became so intertwined with roots that nothing earthly could pull them asunder. It was the founding of one of the happiest homes in Ashcroft. He left his affinity--she left her bed. They became active working partners. Long years after he told her of his ruse. She laughed.

”You saved me,” she said.

He endorsed the note, and they had one long, sweet embrace which still lingers in their memory.

Of the Real Santa Claus

I.

CHRISTMAS EVE

Once upon a time it was Christmas eve in Vancouver, B.C., and the snow was falling in large, soft flakes. The electric light plants were beating their lives out in laborious heart-throbs, giving forth such power that the streets and shop windows had the appearance of the phantom scene of a fairy stage-play rather than a grim reality; they were lighter than day. There was magic illumination from the sidewalk to the very apex of the tallest sky-sc.r.a.per. Being Christmas eve, the streets were thronged with pleasure seekers, and eager, procrastinating, Christmas gift maniacs. They were all happy, but they were temporarily insane in the eagerness of their pursuit. They all had money, plenty of it; and this was the time of year when it was quite in order to squander it lavishly, carelessly, insanely--for, is it not more blessed to give than to receive?

The habiliments of the hurrying throng were exuberant, extravagant and ostentatious in the extreme. Everyone seemed to vie with every other, with an envy akin to insanity, for the laurels in the fas.h.i.+on world, and they were talking and laughing gaily, and some of them were singing Christmas carols. They did not even seem to regret the soft wet snow that was falling on their costly apparel and soaking them--they seemed rather to enjoy it. Besides, they could go home at any time and change and dry themselves--and, was it not Christmas, the one time of the year when the whole world was happy and lavish? The persons of the ladies were bathed in perfume, and the clothing of the gentlemen was spotless, save where the large, white snowflakes clung for a moment before vanis.h.i.+ng into fairyland. Vancouver was certainly a city of luxury, a city of ease, a city of wealth, and it was all on exhibition at this time of approaching festival. Everyone was rich, and money was no obstacle in the way of enjoyment.

But we have seen one side of the picture only. We have been looking in the sunlight; let us peer into the shadows. There was a reverse side. A girl of about thirteen years of age was standing at the corner of Hastings and Granville offering matches for sale to the stony world. She was bareheaded, thinly clad, s.h.i.+vering. Her clothing was tattered and torn. Her shoes were several sizes too large, and were some person's cast-off ones. It was Christmas, and no one was seeking for matches.

They were all in search of gold and silverware, furs and fancies, to give away to people who did not require them.

”Matches, sir?” The solicitous question was addressed to a medium-sized, moderately dressed man who was gliding around the corner and whistling some impromptu Christmas carol; and she touched the hem of his garment.

This unit of the big world paused, took the matches, and began to explore his hemisphere for five cents. In the meantime he surveyed the little girl from head to foot, and then he glanced at the big world rus.h.i.+ng by in two great streams.

”Give me them all!” he said with an impulse that surprised him, and he handed her one dollar. ”Now, go home and dry yourself and go to bed,” he continued. He did not stop to consider that she might not have a home and a bed, but continued on his way with his superfluity of matches. His home was bright, and warm, and cheery when he arrived there, and his wife welcomed him. ”I have brought you a Christmas present,” he said, and he handed her the matches. When she opened the package he found it necessary to explain.

II.