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THE ADVOCATE AND HEWS.
12 DECEMBER 2S. By MABLE DICCS. ONE CHRISTMAS MORNING. An Appropriate Story (or the Holiday. BY l'KRI.K HAI.KY. The tears stood in little Marjorle's eyes and her tiny baby lips trembled pitifully. She wa3 a tiny mite of four years, with large blue eyes and tangled brown curls falling over her pretty face and nestling on her fat little neck. Marjorle's only companion and play mate, her mother, lay deud in their little bare room and would not "wake up," as Marjorio said, when she called her, pat ting the cold cheek and rubbing her chubby hands over the soft curls of her dead mamma. There was no fire, and it waa so cold in their room. Shivers ran over the thinly clad baby and her hands were blue with cold. An old, faded blue shawl was wrapped around the little shoulders. It was the last loVIng act her mamma had done, taking it from her poor wasted form to tie around her baby. She had called Marjorie to her a3 she lay on her hard bed and clasping her to her breast, kissed and murmured her blessings over her darling's head. "Are you cold, my precious?" she asked in her faint, sweet voice. " 'Ess, mamma, and there's no fire, and Marjorle's hung'y, and It's so cold," the child had said, kissing her mamma's thin hand. Mrs. Harlowe was a poor woman and had taken in sewing to support herself and child and pay for the mean little room which was their only shelter, and it was a poor one. She had taken a se vere cold and pneumonia had brought her to her bed, which she soon left ior a colder one in the frozen earth. She had had a doctor's attention, but he could not save her. Marjorie stood by the low window and looked out over the tops of houses and a feeling of desolation crept over her, forcing the ready tears and making them run down the dirty little face, leaving a course of white behind them. She turned and ran to her mother's side, and. throwing herself on her mother's breast, sobbed: "Mamma, mamma, wake up, me's cold. Oor baby's cold, mamma. Tiss me." She sobbed herself to sleep, and the landlady found her when she came up to prepare Mrs. Harlowe for the grave, lying beside her mother with her arm thrown around her neck and her warm face pressed to her mother's cold one. She tenderly lifted her and carried her down stairs for her daughter Amy to take care of.. Tears stood in the good woman's eyes, for she had little ones of her own, and "the Lord knows what would become of them if I should die," she said to herself. When Marjorie awoke she gazed around with wondering eyes. Where was she? This wasn't her mamma's room, for it didn't have a warm carpet on the floor nor a nice, soft bed like the one she was on, and who were those boys and girls staring at her so? "See, Amy, the littl girl has opened her eyes!" cried one of the boys. "Who's oo?" Marjorie asked, sitting up and looking at the strange face beside her. "That's Willie," spoke up Amy, com ing to the bed and sitting down on Its side. "He's a nice little boy. Don't you like him?" Marjorie shook her head and said: "Me don't like boys. Me likes my mam ma. Me's going to see her. She went to sleep and me's going to tiss her and w&ke her up." She climbed off the low bed onto the floor and started for the door. "No, no, Marjorie, dear, you stay here awhile. Your mamma is asleep yet and Marjorie must be good and wait until she wakes up. Does Marjorie like pic tures?" asked the bewildered Amy, who waa afraid she couldn't succeed in keep ing Marjorie quiet. " 'Ess, me like pitters," the child re plied, looking with interest at the book Amy held in her hand. "Well, then, come, and Amy will show you the cows and piggies and Marjorie can have a nice time. Marjorie came over and took the book j and was going to strike up stairs with it Making her way through the toys scattered on the floor she reached the door before Amy could stop her. "Me wants to show mamma the pltty pitters. Me come back," she caid to Amy. "No, you must wait till Marjorle's mamma wakea up, and then we will go and show her the pretty book. Come back here with me and we'll find Willie's little wagon. Would you like to take a ride In It?" Amy said. "Not now. Me wants my mamma. Me knows she wants me for she was so cold, and me's warm now and me wants to go see her. She a nice mamma and 'ou will like her," the little one said. "Won't Marjorie let me tell her a story, then, about Santa Claus? I know a pretty one and I know Marjorie likes to hear about old Santle. Don't you? Come and sit on my lap and let mo tell you one, Amy said, seating herself in a rocking chair. The child looked at her and then went to her. 'Santle Kos? 'Ehs, me likes him and me likes stories. Mamma telled me one about the free bears. Will you tell me one? Is Santie Kos turning here? Will my mamma see Santle Kos? Will sh'j tell him me want a dollle? ' "Yes, mamma will tell old Santle to bring Marjorie a dollle. Won't that be nice?" "'Ess. Mamma will tell him. Ho3 her gone. to tell him now?" Marjorie asked, gaily clapping her hands. "I expect she has, dearie. Shall I tell you a story now? Amy asked. " 'Ess, me will listen," and nestllu? down In Amy's arms Marjorie was ready to hear the story. "Well, once upon a time there lived in a beautiful woods a lovely fairy, with golden curls that reached to the ground and a face like an angel's. She was the most beautiful lady that ever lived In fairyland, and, of course, she was the queen. They called her the Queen Beau tiful. She was as good as she was beau tlful, and she loved little children and would fly around them and whisper good thoughts Into their ears and they would listen and smile and always try to do right "She carried a bag made of finest spun cobwebs, and in it were sunbeams and pretty dreams. She would go where some little sick boy or girl lived and take out a sunbeam and let it dance In through the door or window and up onto the bed and right across their faces until they would begin to blink their eyes and at last fall to sleep. Then the Queen Beautiful would seat herself on the pillow and take out a dream and read it to them. Wasn't that nice?" '"Ess, but me want to hear about Santle Kos," Marjorie said, Impatiently. "Well, one day an old, old man came through the woods and he was so tired he sat down on a log to rest As he sat there he thought he heard his name called. He looked around and up in the trees, but could see no one, bo he bowed his gray head on his cane again. Then he heard his name called again, and this time it was louder, nearer. " 'Claus, Claus, do you like little boys and girls?' "Poor old Claus thought of the dear little children he used to have, and al though he could see no one he answered, quickly: " 'Yes, indeed, I do. But who Is it talk ing to me? I see no one.' " 'Look down at your feet and you will see me,' said the voice. "Claus looked down and saw the lovely little fairy and a look of astonishment came over his face. It was the first fairy he had ever seen. "He pulled off his cap and said: 'I beg your pardon, ma'am, but was it you I heard calling me?' " 'Yes, Claus, and I have come to talk to you. Iet me get up on your knee. There, that's all right Now I cantalk. I know you are an old man and that you are alone in the world, and I have come to ask you if you wouldn't like to be a fairy. You say you like children. Well, so do I, and I want to make them as happy as I can, and I can't find anyone that will be as much help to me as you, and now I want you to tell me whether you will be willing to become one of us and I will give you the name of Saint Claus, or, Santa Claus, Will you do as I wish?' "Claus thought a minute or two and then laughed. " 'How can you make me a fairy? I am so large he asked. " 'That is all right Will you be one? the queen said. " 'Well, I guess so. I've nothing to do here and I'd like to help you.' " 'All right, then. Shut your eyes and I will turn you into a fairy.' The queen repeated a fairy song and waved her magic wand over old Claus. Claus felt a little tingling all over him and could feel himself growing smaller. At last the fairy told him to open his eyes and when he did so he found himself as little as she was, and his old clothes changed Into nice warm ones with fur trimmings. "And there stood the prettiest little sleigh, with six reindeer to pull It " 'And now,' said the fairy, 'you can drive me home. The reindeer know where to go. I will tell you what you are to do. You are to make the children hap py; and in your house there is a room where you are to make wagons and drums and dolls and candles for them. Are you satisfied?' " 'Ha! Ha! Ha! I should say so. Is it really me, or am I somebody else?" "The fairy laughed merrily and said: "Why, Claus! Don't you know your self? The very Idea!' " 'Yes, I believe it's myself. I feel 30 happy. I guess I'll always be Jolly now, won't I?' " 'Yes, you are going to be happy all the rest of the time, and nothing will trouble you any more. But here we are at home now. That palace yonder is my home, and the big building on this side is yours. You will have time to load your sleigh before dark and then you must go the world over and leave pres ents to every little child you can find. Here is the list of nameR. Oo, before it is too late. But, stop. You must be back just as the first streak of dawn appears or you will be lost. This is Christmas eve and you will have lots to do. Good night' "Santa Claus ran in the house after he saw that his reindeers were fed, and looked around in amazement There were toys of every description everywhere. He rubbed his hands together and laughed heartily. "'Well! Well! Queen Beautiful is surely going to give me plenty to do. But it's all right. It will be fine sport for me. How I will make the children smile. They'll wake up in the morning and be so happy and surprised. Well. here goes.' "He called the fairies who were to help him and they soon had the sleigh packed. Then he jumped in, cracked his whip and off they went through the air, over mountaines and valleys, and every where a child lived he stopped and rus tled down the chimney and left a pres ent. "He was gone all night, and Just as dawn appeared in the east he drove up U his door, a tired but happy old man. 'Next morning all the boys and glrl3 were surprised, and such a shouting and clapping of hands! They were wild with joy and many were the letters old Santle Claus got that day, thanking him for the beautiful things he had brought them "Now, to-morrow will be Christmas and to-night will be Christmas eve. Old Santa will be around to-night and per haps he will find a nice, big dollle for Marjorie. Won't that be fine?" Amy said, looking down into the big blue eyes which were fixed so intently on hers. ' 'Ess, that's a pitty story. Me tell It to mamma sometime." Amy thought Marjorie could be left to herself while she finished the work, so she gave her a book and a few toys and left her. Marjorie played by herself for awhile and seemed contented, but before long she became restless, and tucking the book under her arm she said: "Me go tell mamma the bootlful story. She be glad to hear it" Quietly opening the door she maao her way out and closed It behind her. Crawling up the steps she reached the room where she had left her mother and opened the door. All waa dark and still in there. She called to her mother sev eral times, and then a happy thought struck her. Mamma's done to fin' Santle Kos! Me go too!" she cried, clapping hiT hands. Down stairs she crept, hugging the A, B, C book tightly and talking to her self. No one saw her and at last she was on the street It waa entirely de serted, for the people were down town buying Christmas gifts. The wind cut fiercely through her thin garments and her little hands and feet were aching with cold. She shivered, hugged her book closer, but kept persist ently on. "Mamma, mamma, me's told. Where is Santie Kos and where is 00?" The snow began to fall In icy bitterness and beat unmercifully in the little purple face. She arrived in the busier streets and looked around her wonderingly. "Where are you going, little girl?" asked a stylishly dressed woman. "To mamma," Marjorie Bald, running on. She had a faint fear that someone would stop her and carry her back, bo she kept next to the houses and tried to go faster than ever. In front of her stood a handsome stone house with wide steps leading down to the Btreet. In a corner by the Bteps it looked warm, and she was so cold. She huddled herself in It and, with the name "Mamma" on her lips, fell asleep. She was awakened by a hand shaking her gently. An old man and a policeman stood by her. She looked up and said, faintly smiling: "You are Santle Kos. Is my mamma wlf you?" Then the curly head dropped on her shoulder. Strong arms lifted her and carried her Into the big, warm house. There pitying hands gently worked with her trying to bring her back to warmth and life. AfUr an hour's work the labor wa3 rewarded and Marjorie breathed naturally again and sank into a deep sleep. "Poor little lamb. Where did she come from?" the old housekeeper said. When Marjorie awoke she found her self in a dainty little bed in a pretty room where there was a bright fire burn ing in the grate. She smiled and closed her eyes In sleep again. She dreamed her mamma was calling her and, waking up, cried: "Mamma, mamma, here me is." "What Is It, dear?" said a sweet voice beside her. Marjorie looked up and saw a lady standing beside her. She stretched out her arms and laughed with glee. "Me knowed me'd find 00, mamma, for me's been huntin' 00," she said. "My darling, I'm not your mamma. Where is she, dear?" the lady asked. " 'Ess, 00 is me mamma. I know 00 Is," Marjorie Insisted. The lady smiled and asked Marjorie if she would like to get up. On saying yes she was taken up and dressed in warm clothes and then carried down stairs. "There's Santie Kos," Marjorie cried when she saw the old gentleman who had found her. "Papa, she calls me 'mamma " safd the young lady, going over to her father. He took Marjorie on his knee and be gan to talk to her. She looked around the room and hap pening to see two pictures hanging side by side, she cried: "Two mammas! Me sees two mam mas!" The old gentleman looked at his daughter and said in surprise: "What can the child mean, Blanche? She sticks to It that you are her mother and calls those two pictures 'mamma.' Perhaps her mother looked like you." "Me's got mamma In here, too," Mar jorie said, pulling a little locket on a lit tle gold chain around her neck. "Papa, it's the mate to mine!" cried Blanche. They examined it and opened it by a little secret spring. "It s Bertha!" she exclaimed. There, inside, waa a picture, and be neath it waa written, "Bertha L. Stat son, age 19." Blanche opened one just like it and be neath her picture was written, "Blanche L. Statson, age 19." "Oh. papa, this is Bertha's child!" she cried, hugging Marjorie and kissing her. Mr. Statson watched for the evening paper and read where a child had strayed from No. 19 Peck street. He drove there in haste and asked for the landlady. They had a long talk and she told him how the mother of Marjorie had lived with her for five years. The first year her husband died and a week after his death Marjorie was born. She tol'' of the hard time Mrs. Marlowe had to make a living, and Mr. Statson cried with heart-broken sobs as he listened. The past rose before him and he saw his twin daughters Bertha and Blanche as young girls around him. Then trouble had come. Bertha ran away with a young musician and sent word of her marriage to him back home. Her fa ther stormed and swore vengeance, and her name waa hushed forever on his lips. The young couple had asked for help only once and that was when the poor young husband lay dying and his little