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PAGE TWO o $ I <9 7-::, &Men fibs? Jj MERCER had -f • pj * p been unusually si- V* || § lent throughout ® jg dinner and when at ® ■ last the butler nfv 5 * withdrew and the 1* two were alone, he reached over and took his daughter’s ffK. hands “ Paula,” he said - Sj W'* Quietly, “I’m afraid you w r on’t like my Christmas present this year. I —” . ~“Never mind, fa ther,” interrupted the smiling girl, “if it has one dia mond less that you wished, I’ll survive the shock.” “If it were only that! Paula, I have always respected your common sense too highly to deceive you about business matters, so I will not con ceal from you that the Casten deal went against me, and I am penniless. Every newspaper in town will have the details within a few days. I am an old man and do not care, but natu rally my keenest regret is for you, though nobody can say that your old daady didn’t give up every cent he possessed for w r hat he knew to be right and just.” Paula covered her eyes with her hand, while the father w r atched her anxiously. “Don’t take it hard, dearie,” he begged. “We’ll not starve, though it will be a struggle for a while.” “Father,” she said calmly, “I am not taking it hard; I was only won dering how much w# could scrape to gether to continue fighting. Men like Casten have no right on this earth. I’m ashamed to admit it, but as far as I am concerned, I’m glad, truly glad. It’s a blow for you, but don’t worry about me. You know I always desired to make my own way, hut it’s next tc impossible for a rich man’s daughters. Then when I had to take mother’s place, my hands were too full. All 1 care about is that we get enough to ,?o after Casten. There’s a Christmas party at Barham’s tonight, but I’d rather stay here and talk things over with ypu ; ” ~“Pollie girl, you have no idea hoW you have lightened my worry,” said Mr. Mercer huskily. “I know you’d rather not, hut by rII means go to your party. It’s important that the true state of affairs is not sus pected until absolutely necessary. I’ll spend the evening across the street with Judge Simms. When your moth er was alive, the judge and his wife and she and I never failed to cele brate Christmas eve together, and they’d be hurt if I stayed away,” ; Paula kissed him absently and ran upstairs to dress. She was far from underestimating the disaster, and the suddenness of it startled her. “It’s one thing to talk about earn* ing vour living and another thing to do It,” she told herself. “You are a success so far because you are your father’s daughter. It’ll mean hard Avork. Still, work overcomes heart aches and teaches one to forget!” She brushed the powder-puff across her nose, and descended. At the door of the library stood Mr. Mercer. “I forgot to tell you, Paula, that I found it necessary to put Dr. Grant in possession of the facts.” Paula turned away at mention of the young physician, and started tow ards the door. “Good-night, dearie —have a jolly time!” called her father. Paula swept into the waiting auto mobile and settling down for the long drive into the suburbs, rapidly evolved numerous plans, meanwhile noting the Christmas gayety on all sides. The air rang with the excited chatter of children returning from belated shop ping or sight-seeing tours, and min gled with their merry voices were the subdued conversations of their elders. The sparkling snow, sleighbells, bright lights and holiday decorations struck a sympathetic note in her heart. The huge motor purred softly, and as Paula reached up to arrange the rich red ribbons which held holly wreaths against the glass doors and windows, her conscience smote her because of her real gladness. “I’m forgetting what it means to poor father,” she soliloquized. “It’s no fun for a man of his age to start all over again.” A quick stop threw her on the floor, and by the time she had regained her feet and jumped out to investigate, the chauffeur was lifting a prostrate body from beneath the wheels. An awed crowd gathered swiftly. The chauffeur was exonerated from blame, as several men had seen the little newsboy run in front of the automo bile and slip and fall on the snowy street. “That’s Tim Brown —he lives in Rose alley—just over there, ma’am.” volunteered another white-faced newsy, stooping to pick up the scat tered papers. “I’ll take him home,” Paula bravely. The sea of hard, strange faces un nerved her. and she felt sick and nau seated, but she quietly held out her arms for the poor child who lay groan ing in the chauffeur’s gentle grasp. A tall young man stepped briskly through the crowd, and made his way to her side. “Oh. Doctor Grant —I’m so glad you’re here!” exclaimed Paula im pulsively. “More terrified than injured,” an nounced the doctor after a hurried ex amination. Then turning to Paula. “I saw it happen from a distance up the screei. and recognized your car.” Assisting Paula into the motor, he made the child comfortable on her lap and stepped In with her. “I’ll report to you later, Peters,” he called to the policeman, who immedi ately permitted them to drive away. In a few minutes they were at the stricken home. A tired, resigned wo man opened the dc-or, and after the doctor’s tactful explanation, she mute ly accepted this last blow which un kind fate had seen fit to administer. While Doctor Grant and the mother were working over the boy, Paula’s quick eyes took in every detail of the bare home. Christmas for the many little Browns promised to be scanty. A kind neighbor had taken the other children so her home, so Paula’s pres ence was unnecessary. She slipped out of the house, gave the chauffeur a few instructions and as he drove off rapidly, she sought a nearby telephone booth and after ten very satisfactory minutes, was back at the house. Her ’phone calls were to certain toy deal ers and caterers, and long before the doctor was ready to go, the chauffeur had shyly dragged baskets and bun dles of all sizes and shapes into the wee kitchen. At last Dr. Grant was ready to leave. “May I ask for a lift, Paula?” he asked wearily. “I have had a hard day. I told Mrs. Brown that you jpgpSg|gig^ “That’s Tim Brown —He Lives in Rose Alley,” would be around to see her tomorrow, and also io watch Tim eat his Christ mas dinner. In a week he will have forgotten what happened.” As they turned into the brilliantly lighted ave nue, he happened to glance at her eve ning cloak. “Oh, how stupid of me! to let you go so far out of your way when you are going to the Barhams.” “No, I’m going home. I’ve had enough for one night,” answered Paula with averted face. Now that she remembered her own trouble, she felt a strange shyness with this man who was in the secret of their financial wreck. The silence became awkward —somehow there seemed nothing to say. “Paula,” began the doctor abruptly, “I have heard of your misfortune, and now I feel free to ask you to be my wife. I realize —please don’t interrupt until I have finished —I realiza that you will take steps to support your self at once, but I need you too much to allow that.” Paula’s heart leaped violently, but the elation w r as brief. The sweetness speedily turned to bitterest misery. “Why does this occur to you to night of all nights? It would seem as if you were doing this out of char ity,” commented Paula coldly. “No, Paula, out of esteem. I am poor, but I have enough for two. You certainly understand why I have not spoken before; —a Paula Mercer could hardly be expected to share a young physician’s precarious income.” He appropriated her reluctant hand. “And so you allowed your pride to come between us! No, I thank you for the honor. Dr. Grant, but I have some pride, too.” “Paula,” pleaded the young man miserably, “if you only knew the bat tles there have been between my wretched pride and my love. I need you so much, Paula.” “If I were you I’d engage a compe tent housekeeper,” Paula remarked sarcastically. But her heart ached as she said it. “Don’t, don’t, dear,” entreated the doctor. “Those things hurt too much from you! Can’t you love me, Paula? Please see how Infinitely I worship you.” “Why didn’t you say that before,” Paula whispered unsteadily. “You said esteem, and what girl in her right senses desires esteem when she’s yearning for love?” “And I’m yearning for a kiss; we’ll soon be at your home, but I can’t wait until then!” exclaimed the doctor hap pily. GRANT (JOUiSTY HERALD, LANCASTER, WISCONSIN, DECEMBER 11, 1912 CHRISTMAS'WI BENTON’S DAY Jessie Benton Fremont’s Description of a Celebration of Long Ago. The Christmas of eighty years ago was once described by Mrs. Jessie Benton Fremont, wife of General John C. Fremont and daughter of Thomas H. Benton. The time was that of President Jackson’s adminis tration, and the scene was Mrs. Ben ton’s ancestrai home, near Staun ton, Va. Grouped about the roaring log fire are Mrs. Benton's father and mother, herself and her two little girls, of whom Jessie was one. The mother is reading to the grandfather, and a black servant, “Uncle Ralph,” is hover ing about and replenishing the fire. The children were not to make a sound, for it would disturb grandfa ther. And now we will let the future Mrs. Fremont tell her own story: “Imagine, then, the strong impres sion made on me by the upset of all this ordered calm. Noises came from the front door, noises of horses and of people, cheerful, vigorous noises of snow stamped off, laughing aud the thump of baggage. “And our mother was actually run ning into the hall, while my grandfa ther, not minding the noise, but look ing all pleased, was standing up and holding out his hands to the big man in the snowed on clothes! For it was our father, our dear, loving father, who had come to us for Christmas and brought a big trunk full of Christmas gifts for everybody. “I can see it all so well. “The opening of that trunk took place in the warm rooms that my grandfather, too, might see. We, lib erated imps, laughed and noised all we wanted without rebuke over our two big wax dolls—‘London dolls’—and there was a London cloak for my moth er, of black silk lined with fur. “But the feature of the presents to us after our dolls was the oranges my father had brought, carefully wrapped and packed warmly in the trunk for our sick grandfather. “A smile that is very close to tears rises as I remember our gathering in admiring silence about those oranges. I can see my mother’s beautiful hands as she carefully peeled and divided one into slim little sections, when we all solemnly took each one bit, the peel carefully saved to flavor things. “This is what I see yet. But new feelings stirred in me eveD then and grew and went on growing as I learn ed later all that sudden, brief visit through the stormy winter weather meant.” Christmas Treasures. I count my treasures o’er with care— A little toy that baby knew, A little sock of faded hue. A little lock of golden hair. Long years ago this Christmas time My little one—my all to me— Sat robed in white upon my knee And heard the merry Christmas chime. "Tell me, my little golden head. If Santa Claus should come tonight, What shall he bring my baby bright, What treasure for my boy?” I said. And then he named the little toy. While in his round and truthful eyes There came a look of glad surprise That spoke his trustful, childish joy. And as he lisped his evening prayer He asked the boon with baby grace, And, toddling to the chimney place. He hung his little stocking there. That night as lengthening shadows crept I saw the white winged angels come With music to our humble home And kiss my darling as he slept. He must have heard that baby prayer, For in the morn, with glowing face. He toddled to the chimney place And found the little treasure there. They came again one Christrr.astide, That angel host so fair and white, And, singing all the Christmas night, They lured my darling from siy side. A little sock, a little toy. A little lock of golden hair, The Christmas music on the air, A-watching for my baby boy. But if again that angel train And golden head come back for me To bear me to eternity My watching will not be in vain. —Eugene Field. Economy. “Write me a cheek, Alfred, to buy Christmas presents with.” “Make it as small as you can this time, dear! How much must you have to buy presents for the children, your mother, the maid and the rest?” “Here is the list. I can’t get along with less than $75.” “Nonsense! Well, at least leave out the present for me! Figure it again— I don’t want anything!” (A long pause, during which the wife makes a new computation.) “Well, Alfred, it’s now s74.2s!”—Flie gende Blatter. Christmas Compassion, Christmas is the one day of the year when we remember the failures, the men and women who have fallen short of the mark, the human derelicts. In the fierce commercial race we crowd these to the wall without thought and without compunction for 304 days of the year, but through the Salvation Army and other charitable agencies give them dole on the three hundred and sixty fifth. Well, it is good that we catch even that much of the Christ •pirit for one brief day. Undertaking Too Much. Do not go into Christmas so hard there is no hope of getting through. Curb your notions. Better give your friend a small centerpiece this year than intend to give her a dozen plate and tumbler doilies which may reach her in 1915. Where there is a large list Christmas giving should be simple. The Brute. Mrs. Crawford—Wake up. dear! I’m sure there’s a burglar downstairs. Crawford—l hope there is. Perhaps he’ll take those useless Christmas pres ents your friends sent you. 4 c fffu* As. i ADMINISTRATOR’S PUBLIC SALE The undersigned administrator will sell at public auction, on the George E. \\ ard farm, miles west of Hurricane Corners, commencing at 10 o’clock a. m., on Thurs., December 12th The following described property: NINE HORSES spectively 12 and 15 years; one span bay mares 5 and 12 years old, one bay horse coming 5 years old, weight 1100; two yearling colts, two suckling colts—one sired by Royal Custer, first dam by Major Mason, second dam by Mack Wilkes, one black gelding 9 years old. A LOT OF CHICKENS FARM MACHINERY and HOUSEHOLD GOODS One Deering binder, one Deering hay loader, one Deere 16 in. riding plow, one Deere 14-in. gan plow, one 16-in. walking plow, two McCormick mowers, one new; one side delivery hay rake, one potato plow, three corn plows—two walking and one riding; one weeder, one pulverizer, one corn planter, one manure spreader, one grain drill, one iron truck wagon, three iarm wagons, one new; one single top buggy, almost new; one2-seated buggy, two carts, fanning mill, corn shelter, U. S. cream separator, 11 h. p. gasoline engine, 4-bottle Babcock milk tester, water tank, two iron ket tles—one 75 gallon; two hog racks, two hay racks, two scoop boards, pitch forks, log chains, milk cans, milk pails, 150 fence posts, beef hanger, hay fork and rope, post hole digger, wire stretcher, grind stone, spades and shovels, set of 3-horse eveners, one saddle, ladders, sap buckets and spiles; sap pan, feed cooker, two sets 1 h in. harness, one single harness, one set light driving harness, one set H in. harness, two pairs bobs, horse blankets, grain sacks, telephone and share if not sold be fore the sale, one 50-gal. iron gasoline tank, one 20 gal. churn, etc- One good steel range, one cook stove, one oil stove, one ice box, extension table, chairs, bedsteads, springs, mattresses, cur tains, cupboards, wash tubs, washing machine, stone jars, fruit jars, etc. Terms as Usual WML W. WARD, Admr. R. N. HOSKINS, Auctioneer BIG DANCE AT THE RINK in Lancaster Christmas Night GIBSON HARP ORCHESTRA FROM APPLETON, WIS. C. W. KNAPP A. G. KNAPP C. W. KNAPP & SON Wish you all a Merry Christmas and Happy New Year JTT If it snows and you should need any- Tll thing on runners, remember we have got a large stock and finest assortment of CUTTERS acd 808 SLEIGHS we have ever had. Stoughton Anti-Tip and Ruka Bobs; Fine Cutter with and without springs and side doors: Cutter Gears; Light Bobs. Have a look anyway, it costs you nothing, and get your new calendar. C. w. KNAPP & SON, Lancaster A o K TTJ p 19 good milch cows, 1 J. LuiLt to freshen in spring, one straight Scotch Durham bull, H yearlings —ten steers, one heifer; 12 calves —6 steers, six heifers. If O p • 20 tons hay, more or ilay Oc vJIicxIH less; one straw stack, 300 bu. oats, more or less; 300 bu. more or less wheat and oats mixed, some timothy seed, etc. This is a clearing up sale—everything will be sold. 35 SPRING SHOATS foflf Fti Lunch at Noon GEO. A. MOORE, Clerk