Part 7 (1/2)

_Ninth Episode_

HERR BAUMGaRTNER'S ESTABLISHMENT CHRISTMAS DAY

Herr Baumgartner's first impulse, on finding out what had become of his Christmas puddings, was to send at once to the Widow M'Carty's and have them returned to him. Had it not been for the lateness of the hour, doubtless this is what would have happened.

But the night brings counsel, even in the matter of plum puddings, and by morning the baker had concluded that it was wiser to let the unlucky gifts remain in their misfit quarters. Perhaps Katrina's remark, that his customers would be wroth if they found they had eaten puddings that had been stored for a night, even, in so well-inhabited an abode, influenced his decision.

However that may be, the baker said to Katrina as he sat down to his breakfast:

”Vell, Katrina, if we haf given somedings away in the wrong place, we will not now take it back. But Katrina, dose beautiful puddings, and dose M'Cartys! ach! ach!” and he shook his head sorrowfully at the thought that these culinary triumphs should have fallen to those so incapable of appreciating a wonderful Baumgartner plum pudding.

In the eyes of the baker, to give twelve Christmas puddings to the M'Cartys was indeed to cast one's pearls before swine.

Herr Baumgartner could not remain out of sorts for any length of time, and when he found by his plate a gift from his beloved Katrina of a long meerschaum pipe from the Fatherland, he smiled and said:

”Ven I smokes dat pipe den I forget dose plum puddings.”

The pipe, indeed, performed a placatory mission, for as the first rings of its smoke curled upward, it became a veritable pipe of peace.

Later the baker and Katrina attended church together, and at the close of the service Herr Baumgartner left his daughter and wended his way to the bakery.

He tarried in front of the window occupied by the Christmas tree, whose gaily trimmed branches recalled to him so vividly the years when his little Fritz had furnished the joy and merriment of the holiday season. How the wee baby had bounded,--almost out of his mother's arms,--at sight of his first tree! Now the baker had only Katrina to cheer him, while he, in turn, was devoted to his daughter. His present errand to the bakery was to get some of her favorite Marzipan for their Christmas dinner, it having slipped his mind the night before in the distraction of the pudding calamity.

As he unlocked the door and entered the store, almost the first object to claim his attention was the last Christmas pudding ”left standing alone; all its nut-brown companions labelled and gone.” None of his clerks had dared to risk his position by meddling with that package.

Herr Baumgartner picked up the package, saying with a sigh, as he unwrapped it:

”Oh, well, you might as well go in the window and make a good show.

Maybe I can sell you for New Year's day.”

While the baker was busy arranging his wares to make room for the pudding, a man came sauntering slowly up the street, pausing as he came to the window. He was clad in a rough suit which here and there showed the want of a prudent feminine st.i.tch. The first glance showed him to be simply an honest Hibernian laborer. Further scrutiny disclosed the fact that he was a man who had pa.s.sed through unusual experiences, for his bronzed face told of hards.h.i.+p and exposure. At each footfall he looked up imploringly at the pa.s.ser-by, only to turn away with a sigh of disappointment. As he looked at the good things in the baker's window, he said to himself:

”Ah, my poor Bridget and the little ones are likely fasting, when they ought to be having the fill of the table. And myself looking every place for them till the feet of me is wore off entirely. The cottage is empty, and the priest is a new one, and can't tell me nothing.

Mebbe they've gone to the old country, or mebbe they're all--” and here he shuddered and shut his lips tightly, for he would not admit the worst.

”Be jabers,” his thoughts taking on a new turn, as he caught sight of a pudding being placed in the window before him, ”if I could just find them, wouldn't I make the mouths of them water with that pudding. Like enough Patsy and Maggie and Norah and Katy ain't had a bite to eat of anything decent these six months. Heaven bless the spalpeens, how they would fall on that pudding! And me darling Biddy, bedad, ain't tasted one since she was living with the Church of Ireland minister in Limerick. And here I be, with money enough to buy them everything good, and not one out of them left to be buying for. Oh, well, I've no mind in me to eat myself, but I might as well step in and buy them two buns,” and thereupon he entered the store.

The new customer did not look especially promising; still, the baker had known far shabbier individuals to invest a dollar, even, on a holiday, so he advanced with a smile and said:

[Ill.u.s.tration: ”HIS GLANCE FELL UPON SOMETHING WHITE THAT LAY ON THE COUNTER”]

”Vat can I do for you, my friend?”

Pointing to the large, well-sugared buns, the man began, ”Give me two--” when his glance fell upon something white that lay on the counter,--that ubiquitous card that had wrought so much mischief; the card bearing the name and address of Mrs. Michael M'Carty.

”Vat's the matter mit you?” said the baker impatiently, anxious for him to complete his order.