A ROMANTIC LOVER
"" 1 WWTffl illlllllb 1 - The beggar maid had "so sweet a face, such
angel grace," sang the poet In telling the story of
•iH. 1 jjifF' King Cophetua. The present has the story re
it- ' suiter \i peated thus: A German count of exalted rank.
\l!!|! I takes for his wife a peasant washerwoman. The
• Birl, contrary to the type of modern beauty, is a3
V >jfV 'i - good and hard-working as she Is fair. The man
;! ijlwn 112; j|j : has been disinherited, has lost the $1,000,000 a
||!l,i; " jfflf year that would have been his when he became
r||ij|® *ffl|lf rp ' Kn '" B c °unt. The name of our hero is Francis
ffliPv MIOTTHI'iI, Be 11 known that the family of Erbach la a
'jr I Ij "mediatized" family, the members enjoy equality
ot birth with all the royal families of Europe.
Their rank has been held sacred by them, every
h*. \ /r*JS ,na ' e aIU ' female ancestor of the present count
I ' m wfiH H ' nre i n the tenth century has been of noble
iuW wL * ■ birth. Mesalliances have occurred in the family
history, but children of such unions have been
debarred from the succession. Up to his eighteenth year the count who has
just wedded a washerwoman, was kept in guarded seclusion, reared in full
belief in the family greatness, had dinned into his ear the duties incumbent
upon him as eldest son of the reigning count. He knew what happened to
an Erbach that married a woman of low degree. At the age mentioned, the
heir was sent to complete his education at the University of Bonn, and here
learned that there were others in the world besides the Erbachs, was given
a wider outlook on life, doubtless lost some reverence for Erbach traditions.
One day whilst at home on a vacation and out for a ride on the family estate,
he came upon a beautiful young peasant girl. He found her as intelligent and
honest as she was fair; he fell hopelessly in love, persisted in courtship. The
girl's father thrashed him—not dreaming the young man, too, was honest;
his father thrashed him; family and associates boycotted him. The love out
lasted years, outlasted persecution; the other day Count Francis and Anna
Schultz ran away to England and were married by ring and book.
HENRIK IBSEN
IfflffffflWflTM It is hard to believe the wonderful, unron<
I I !; I Querable personality could be conquered even by
• II V'r7^®lipin'i! V ' r7^®lipin' i! mortal '""ess itself, that the invincible old Nor
lllllll/V |! [ wegian, after such bitter, strenuous, immensely
j; ;ijisuccessful struggles, must at last be laid low by
jjlr /<WH " le rea P er - But let us not speak of death, let us
1 • speak of life and force.
?;|'! ; i | !ißW Back in 1866 Ibsen said: "I will and shall
fMm J have a victory some day." And when the victory
j| I jlgf VMfjl i came, a victory beyond his dreams, he was hum
jflj I hly "grateful to be understood." Ibsen is named
II ' one of the greatest literary men of the time, great
i **~J* poet an(l 'l ra matist.
_ Jj He was born at Skien, Norway, 77 years ago, of
•y- : -^payjgjr German stock on his mother's side, some Danish
• By blood from his father. In his youth he was clerk
s . to an apothecary for awhile, and later began tha
study of medicine at the University of Christlania.
He wrote when not at his studies, and the success
•of one of his productions led him to give up medicine for the drama. Ap
pointed stage manager at Bergen, presently he won renown in Scandinavia by
his series of national dramas. Five years he served as director of the Nor
wegian theater at Christiania, but his management brought the theater to
bankruptcy. After this failure he petitioned the strothing for the poet's pen
sion, which was finally granted him. Embittered by the failure, by the polit
ical situation in 1864, he exiled himself from Norway, lived abroad ten years.
In 1891 he returned to Christiania, that city became his home. In 1899 a
bronze statue of Ibsen was placed before the National theater; on the occasion
of his seventieth birthday he received presents and greetings from all over
the world.
Ibsen's dramatic work at first was romantic, then historical, then we have
the social satires, and the later pyschological work. When the work "Ibsen-
Ism" is used, reference is made to the last phase.
THE FRENCH PRESIDENT
l ||l l l|l|!!";V J £ITO President Ix>ubet had repeatedly refused to be
j! ■ '. ' considered a candidate to succeed himself; it is ob
• viously unnecessary to say that he had been re
l;;| illjf peatedly urged to succeed himself.
/112 _ , C "'l'ln!!' Sincere regret is voiced at his retirement, on
Y/J§| N jjt . 'he sudden death of his predecessor the national
tIW ! : jr/W| j|| assembly elected him on the first ballot. As a
illi'iillli A "'••Mr president Loubet has not been exactly a Roosevelt,
Hi illlv 'WF ■ ,J -'' fm l[|! j bllt F ra »ice would scarcely know what to do with
;! j'! ! 11 j! 11 a Roosevel He has conquered hatred and preju-
Ijj |j | J';jm j dice ' cl °ses his presidency with dignity and pres
'li'l!! 1 ■ A 112" Some newspaper man remarks that his term
\ ± Y/\ I is endin S In a blaze of glory. "Sovereigns have
ft —/ \ I honored him, and the position of France, thanks
/ Wl to the friendly understanding with England, the
° / / greatly improved relations with Italy and Spain,
/ /U and the apparently undiminished financial strength
of her thrifty population, is better than in a gen
eration." Under his administration there- blic has been strengthened, the
monarchists seem to have disappeared.
A GREAT NEWSPAPER MAN
An authority on things Russian, Dr. Dillon's
ill lil ll j II name has been si & ne(l to numerous recent news-
II!! \jf tII U PPI paper and Ina sazine articles of wide publicity.
II l ill v" Dr ' L>illon has live<l in Russia 25 years, is married
ij'jPlt! t jjgs v!y3 illll to a Russian lady, is a personal friend of many
m fjfli i ; Russians of note. He is a man of rare ability and
PililHKF* * 112 rare °Pl )ort unities, eminently fitted for his high
■ jßL*k |! place in journalism.
# sY Dr. Dillon is an Irishman—lt would seem that
ill ''llllsSr' 1 ■ J'l IPl'lill nowada >' 8 to be markedly successful one must bo
Hp •' JmP ; l'l 'P cl,her Jew or Ir,Bh - Mls education was begun in
111 Dublin; he continued studies at various European
112 JiNiyili universities. Dr. Dillon is a scholar of renown,
-J* as we " as a J° urna list; a friend says he is by na
lure soho,ar ancl Philosopher. And when we add
/ ,I,al the scholar is a man of unusual physical cour
/ ase ' a boltl atlv 'enturer, we surely have a picture
Uv a mws t interesting personality.
" ** 11 lvet us speak of Dr. Dillon as war correspond
ent, of his noteworthy work in this field. He visited China after the Boxer
insurrection, which visit led to some plain speaking in regard to the conduct
of the troops of the allies; and American and European was called upon to
squirm. He was In France during the Dreyfus agi ation. Disguised as a monk
he worked his way into Crete with the insnregents, at no inconsiderable risk.
He was in Spain before and during the Spanish-American war, saw Weyler
and his work. The sultan refused permission for him togo to Armenia in
1895, but he entered the country in disguise, traveled about as a Cossack oili
er, a native woman, a Kurd chief —observed first-hand the atrocities, gave
relief where he could, sent forth reports that stirred the world. In Armenia
he was poisoned once, several times barely escaped with his life.
BELOVED MARK TWAIN
;ii:;:,:; 'i!li;iM!||.!,l, . ' Mark Twain 70 years Old the last day of
i| November Thanksgiving day this year. And lie
! /.IJiIT us a Thanksgiving sermon in the true Twain
'jj i 1 ~ «iliil'lj|i| f'i-'hlon, the three-score ami-ten arrival has not
I 'c / Iffif ,li,lU " p,, 'be luster of his wit or weakened tli"
Hi sureneas of his aim. lie bits hs straight from the
C h fi li't Shoulder as and with as hard a bl<.w
il ' Mark Twalu's new 1 (Mjk, "Editorial Wild
V ffl'• „i Da's." tells Ihe story of his early wanderings from
uV t 1 printing offl-~ to printing ..fflee: 11 mind's eye w»
htin 511 thp Hannibal, at Keokuk. Mus
h . catlne, St Louis. And then comes "No 1 York."
!' '»ut the great city doea not hold the wanderer.
<> "» Itnmortalwe H>- plays pilot till the l>r<ak
.nit of the war. <ntt-i i the conl ••!»-1.»»« army
1 oldU-r tor the h<>rt period of two w
he became o\>rfu!|gued in cuiiHtant re
tri-allng Next he becomes iirhate secretary for his brother, u> wly aptiolnted
1 ■ cret •1 - of the territorial >manient of Nevada, th- private 1-•. r» t». > i litv .
Ittg "nothlnu to do and n. alriry.' tint the Impre-stuns gathered her« are
later to bring h!tn f#m WblUt Idllii .in the fsr west, he a'U a <M»rr*4|uiiiit
ent fur the Ni v \-ir;. Trlbun an I Ms,, California, pick* up a precarious lii.
ing I>> tin ins of his Journalistic work
In l' ".t "Inr.r eni* Abroad Is j.i i„. j an >l i»r«*sently Unu fur
thT we«Hl for newspaper |Ntt t.oilera, tl».- t»«>>k brmglßK author and pubiisner
h ' '• ' " >• elasjlea "Roughing It, ro»
' K rt'-u ' p.l 'I ten couii-h tti. if duuua
'•«.* t l , Old aji l ' ana .dark l>«atu' U*uieh the thought!
CAMERON COUNTY PRESS, THURSDAY, DECEMBER 21, IQOS.
Leppy's
Christmas Carol
Bu MYRTLE KOON CHF.RRYMAN
"God rest ye, merry «i ntlemen,
I.et nothlns you dismay."
—l4 .j-iT was the voice of I.ep
MrjWl I py Sanders, errand boy
for Hardman & Son,
who was practicing a
carol for the choirboys'
Christmas festival at
St. Luke's. Leppy had
the sweetest of voices,
the most restless of
bodies, and the most
freckled of faces. The
first had won him a
place in St. Luke's
vested choir; the sec
ond had kept him from learning nis
carol until he was in danger of being
discharged by the long-suffering choir
master; and tlie third had won him
the name of Leppy, which is the di
minutive of "Leopard," and was giveu
him by his friends because of the spots
which he could not change—those en
during freckles.
As he opened the door of Hard man
& Son's office, and sang, "God Rest »'e,
Merry Gentlemen," the sense of humor
which sometimes accompanies freckles
brought a whimsical look to his face,
for the idea of calling Hardman & Son
"merry gentlemen" was distinctly in
congruous.
Hardman was rubbing his eyes and
saying to himself: "To be blind —
blind! To be shut in darkness, and
one's life work not half done. I shall
never get the courage to see an oc
ulist and hear that doom pronounced."
Son, at his desk, was looking fixedly
out of the window, and saying to him
self: "To be dishonored! To have got
ten the firm's affairs into such a mud
dle that there's no clear way out un
less I throw myself on father's mer
cy, and I shall never get the courage
to tell him."
"Let nothing you dismay," sang
Leppy, stumbling on. boy fashion,
toward the rear office.
Hardman suddenly looked up, and
with unusual intex-est in his voice,
said:
"Come back here, Leppy. Can you
sing the whole of that?"
"Do'n' know if I can, Mr. Hardman,
but I'm tryin' to get it, 'cause if I
don't have it straight by to-nig'it, I'll
be discharged from the choir. It's the
last rehearsal, you see. I don't want
to get bounced, because 1 get a quar
ter a week, and that helps out."
"Well. I'll give you a quarter now.
if you'll sing it through for me. 1
used to sing that thing myself when I
was a kid, and —"
Hardman had stopped speaking, and
seemed to have forgotten all about
Leppy, who hardly knew what to do,
until Son nodded to him, and s?id,
kindly:
"Sing it, Lep. if yon can."
Then Leppy began, and—marvel of
marvels—he sang it perfectly from be
ginning to end. What would the choir
master have said if he could have
heard it? Leppy was much impressed
with his achievement, and when he
stopped, his look of mingled pride and
astonishment would have been funny,
if there had been anybody to see it.
Hardman partially roused himseii!
and handed the boy a silver dollar,
then turned back to his desk without
a word.
"Shall —shall I get It changed, Mr.
Hardman?"
There was no answer from Hardman.
and Son. coming once more to the
rescue, said:
"No. Leppy—it's all right. Kun
along.
"Gee!" exclaimed the boy. And then,
without thinking to say "thank you,"
so appalled was lir by this sudden af
fluence—he went out of the office, anil
soon his silvery tones could be heard
echoing down the wide hall:
"Cod rest ye, merry Kentlemen,
I.et notliliiK you dismay."
Son rose suddenly from his chair,
and laid his hand 011 llardman's shoul
der. "Father," he said, "I have some
thing to tell you."
"Son." said Hardman. unsteadily but
bravely, "i have something to tell
you."
It doesn't matter who began first,
or how much each one hesitated and
looked out of the window to hide Ihe
embarrassment of a man's confidence
to a man. At last, both stories were
told, somehow, and when Hardman
and Son started out to lunch lo;e:iier,
they looked several degrcis more likt
"merry gentlemen" than they had two
hours b-fore.
Hardman was . aying: "We'll
Straighten that out in a week's limf,
Sou. You tlid rii'ht to tell me now
And in the nr-uiitiuic -"
"In the meantime, dad. we'll see tha'
oculi. 1 together, and I know your
tan b» liftvi d."
And m> it was not only the physical
sic,hi. but that t.ni r sense which
ma!.l • l" tee Ihe struggles of those
we love, ami under Imd and help
them At thai mo in Int there was
only the l - oj of this in tlarilnian ■>
eyes, bill thai wai enoiiKll to m>tke
th world alri-adv brlehu-r, ami when
1 hey encountered Leppy near the
•'H I door, litrdmaii .till IHi | n
the way. 1.1 t 1 i' y- I forgot to (.-He yon
that quarter lure It Is," and to the
boy s »-,!•.iilshinent another silver coin
win !l|i|ied lulo hU baud
Tin time Li'tipy fairly choked with
am*/ in u bui as he .miiicrwd
aw a> be ft cud voice !•> trill out a "aid
In a t t '»> I" |iu ft of joy
(.»' »tt»'.hit h >t.u iluiicmo "
And i.otlitu did dlants> hem!
RULES FOR CANDY-MAKING.
Mrs. Borer's Receipts for Home-Made
Christmas Confections—Lays
Down Culinary Laws.
Mrs. S. T. Rorcr tells how to make
candies at home for Christmas in the
Ladies' Home Journ'al. and gives the
following rules, which insure the suc
cess of the work: "Never stir the sugar
and water after the sugar has dissolved.
Wipe down constantly the granules
forming 011 the side of the saucepan.
Do not shake nor move the saucepan
while the sirup is boiling. As soon as
the sugar begins to boil watch it care
fully, having in your hand a bowl of ice
water, so that you may try the sirup
almost constantly. Have everything in
readiness before beginning. If the
sugar grains use it for old-fashioned
cream candy or sugar taffy. 11 cannot be
used for fondant. Use only the best
granulated sugar for boiling,and confec
tioners' XXX for kneading. If your
fondant grains without apparent cause
you may have boiled it a little too long.
A few drops of lemon juice or a little
cream of tartar will prevent this.
Fondant is the soft mixture which
forms both the inside of the French
candies and the material in which they
are dipped, and it is to obtain this that
the sugar is boiled.
"After the sugar has reached the 'sol't
ball,' a semi-hard condition, it must be
poured carefully into a large meat-plate
or on a marble slab. Do not scrape the
saucepan or you will granulate t he sirup.
Make your fondant one day and make it
up into candy the next. Never melt
fondant by placing the saucepan imme
diately on the stove. Prevent the dan
ger of scorching by standing the pan
containing it in a basin of water. If the
melted fondant is too thick add water
most cautiously, a drop at a time. A
half teaspoonful more than is necessary
will ruin the whole. To cool candy
place it in a cool, dry place. To keep
candy put it between layers of waxed
paper in tin boxes. If the day is bright
and clear the sugar loses its stickiness
quickly, therefore select a fine day for
your candy-making."
DECORATIONS FOR HOLIDAY
All Manner of Pretty Fixtures, from
Peanuts in Tissue Paper to
Rea Cranberries.
Peanuts wrapped in yellow, red and
white fringed tissue paper and tied
on pendant lengths of strings, three
or four to each, are splendid decora
tions when tied to the limb 3 of the
Christmas tree.
Red strings of cranberries, with
knots of narrow satin ribbons tied
here and there on the strands, are
about as pretty as anything that could
be bought for either tree, table or room
ornamentation.
Gilding English walnuts becomes a
delightful frolic if several young peo
ple are in the secret. Crack open the
nuts so there will be two perfect half
shells to each. Inside the empty nuts
place a mottto or device which will
tell the fortune of the one receiving
it. Then glue the shells firmly to
gether. When dry work a tack in the
end where the stem grew, inserting it
slowly that the shell may not break.
Gild the entire nut, fasten a string
around the tack and hang the interest
ing nuts on the tree.
When Christmas Comes.
When Christmas comes by all means
have the house dressed with holly and
pine and fir, and don't forget the'
mistletoe, says Margaret E. Sangster,
in Ladies' Home Journal. Go out and
mingle with the Christmas throngs.
There is an exhilaration in forming a
part, if only a unit, in the crowd that
is so gay and so merry, in hearing
bits of bright talk, in greeting friends
and acquaintances and seeing the over
flowing joy of the children. Never
let a single Christmas pasn without
reading a Christmas story and singing
a Christmas song, and do not overlook
the sweet significance of the day itself.
Remember that it is for all the world
the anniversary of Christ's birth. Be
as happy as you can and make othei-s
as happy as you can.
WISE GUY.
He t.iiclr.'i un> bnrk account,
liir I i' wan rati • r i-niurl;
j to il.t- iii irixM ci.rUimai
M<- gave 1 i« hand and heart.
—Chlciiif < I' 11. > News
Stocking Up.
"What are you buying all that stuft
for, old man?"
"Oh, I am just locking up for the
CurWtmu* Mocking up." Houston
Po»t
Squelched.
lii I with that I was Hanta Clatin,
my In art I'd give you, d»nr
HI.!• I wt»h that you were fhrl*t
lua. 4 . too; you'd come but once a year.
—N Y. Tkait*
Chr let in an Holi 'ay in Chiua.
The native til th« I'hiliMiiim «. a»
well MS 111 I' III: battt public hull
day* lilch lu linlu coincilo tvu'tly
Willi g .11 Chruvuiau.
HE WANTED TO KNOW MUCH
An. Inquisitive Youngster's Efforts to
Obtain Information About
Christmas Day.
"Papa!"
It was two o'clock in the morning,
anil Higgins was as sleepy as the aver
age man is at that hour, but the little
lad of four in his little bed near by
was just as wide awake as some chil
dren are apt to be at any hour of tha
night, relates the Detroit Free Press.
"What is it?" asks papa.
"When's Christmas?"
"Oh, before long."
"When is 'before long?'"
"Well, it's soon. You goto sleep."
"I don't want to. I'm all waked up.
How soon is Christmas?"
"Next week."
"Monday?"
"No—you goto sleep."
"The day after Monday?"
"No—not until Saturday. Now. you
shut up your peepers right away. 1
want togo to sleep."
"I don't. Say, papa!"
"What do you want?"
"What you going to buy me?"
"I can't tell yet."
"I wouldn't want you to, if you
could, papa."
' Why not?"
"I'd rather be s'prised."
"Well, supposing you 's'prise me by
going to sleep."
"That wouldn't be any s'prise, 'cause
you'd know I was going to do it. Sav\
papa, papa!"
"What now?"
"Sammy Smithers says there ain't
no such thing as a Santy Claus. Thero
is, isn't there?"
"Oh, I suppose so."
"Sammy he said you and my mam
ma was all the Santy Claus there'd be
in this house. He was a big old liar,
wasn't he?"
"There! there! Don't you ever call
anyone a liar."
' Not even when they are one?"
"Not at all."
"You can, if they're littler'n you are,
can't you?"
"No; you must never call anyone a
iiar."
"Well, he is one, all the same, isn't
he?"
"You goto sleep."
"You're not Santy Claus, are you,
papa? If Sammy Smithers says so
again, I'll —well, I guess I'll break h'.a
jaw."
"Don't you ever let me hear you say
such a thing again. Now you goto
sleep, or maybe you'll not And any
thing at all in your stocking Christ
mas morning."
"What you s'pose I'd find there if
I'm good?"
"Oh, I don't know."
"Then you're not Santy Claus, and
Sammy Smithers is a big, old liar.
Goody, goody, gout! I s'pect me an'
Sammy'll fight about it, and—"
"No, you'll not. But you'll goto
sleep light now, because —"
"Do you s'pose I'd get a bike in my
stocking?"
"No. I do not."
"Why?"
"Because you're not big enough to
have one."
"But I'm getting bigger an' bigger
all the time, an' my legs is getting
longer an' longer, an—"
"Now, that will do. You shut right
up, or—"
"Sammy he thinks he'll get a tri
cycle, but I'll bet he don't. I wouldn't
want one. They're only fit for girls!
Glad I ain't a girl, because —you
s'pose I'll get a railroad train with
real smoke an' steam coming out of
it?"
"No, 1 do not, but—"
"I'd rather have a steamboat to float
in the bathtub, or a real gun to shoot
with. I know a boy I'd kill if I ha-1
a gun. Won't you buy me a gun?"
"No, and I'll not buy you anything,
if you don't go right to sleep."
"Well, I guess I will. I don't want
to know, anyhow. I'm asleep now,
papa. My eyes are shut just as tight!
I'm all asleep. Are you, papa?"
"Yes."
"So am I."
He is at least still, and Higgins is
thankful that he does not hear any
thing more from him thai night.
The Mystic Mistletoe.
For many generations after the last
Druid was dust the mistletoe had Its
votaries. The plant had almost every
medical property, according to early
physicians. It was believed to be a
remedy for all ills, physical, mental
and sentimental. In pagan days it
was dedicated to Olwen, the Celtic
Venus, and through the ages the plant
and the tender passion were rather
intimately entwined, say 3 the Cincin
nati Knquirer. Kissing beneath it be
gan so far back in history that no one
lias ever attempted to trace the cus
tom to its youth.
Put Trees on Tables.
For the royal family in Germany
Christinas trees are placed upon ta
bles of different heights. That for the
emperor is the highest, the empress'
table is uext In si/.e, and the small
est is for ihe baby of tin? family.
Carp Is served for the Imperial din
ner, u traditional dish for the Christ
mas feast throughout Germany.
VrivncUjr Advice.
'Can you m. m»i something for ui«
i mi f< i iu> wife tor Christinas?" he
ask< d of ilte sho. keeper.
"You'd U»it' r T her a IMIX uf cigars,
I expeet." »at.i lit' »ho|.ke> |• r. "Sue
was lu liHv tins biori Mig ;."d bought
late ('Si'Usol for )uU. liuiliuiol'u
A ni«rliß.
l)nequal«(i.
k! • H»nii i' i < n>'i uinti roun<i
i
Ai-l» 1I • I • H ■ >tir ■! fc :*» tip,
» ti. i « i,i iti, t 4 :« bfo'.t
—j li t.!l«
The Mistletoe
Girl
By I ZOLA L. FORRESTER
~jT paused on the
' last stei> and drew on
her gray suede gloves
thoughtfully. The only
touch of relief In her
gray fostUHie was the
spray of scarlet holly
berries that lay against
jfIWK. her squirrel stole.
"But if he should
i come while we are
gone," she said.
Mrs. Dexter looked
up at her inquiringly,
also admiringly, as a contented moth
er may look at a debutante daughter
who has fulfilled every expectation.
"lie might wait, ' she suggested.
Isabel frowned slightly.
"He doesn't like to be kept waiting."
"Not by others," murmured Mrs.
Dexter, discreetly, "but. when it is you,
dear—"
Isabel laughed and shrugged her
shoulders as she fastened the last but
ton.
As the carriagp went down the av
enue Isabel bent forward to watch the
crowd of Christmas promenaders.
"I ordered the holly and mistletoe
yesterday," Mrs. Dexter was saying,
ruminatively. "The flowers came last
night, all except the table decorations.
They are to be there by 11. Betty said
she would look after them."
"She has my chiffon dress to change
before dinner," said Isabel.
Mrs. Dexter bowed her head in com
fortable abstraction.
"She can do both."
Isabel smiled quizzically at her tone.
Suddenly the smile vanished and she
leaned toward the window eagerly to
catch a glimpse of a tall figure as it
turned into Fifth avenue.
"There is Mr. Wade now," she said.
"Shall we go back?"
She hesitated, a slight flush tinting
her face as she sank back against the
maroon cushions.
"No," she continued. "I think he will
wait."
The carriage passed without Wade'a
recognition of its occupants. He
walked on up the avenue, his hands
deep in his pockets, his chin uplifted
belligerently.
He would see her at all costs. If he
asked for her alone, they could not
keep her from him. Heretofore in his
calls it had been Isabel, as a matter of
course, who received him. But to-day
was Christmas, and he carried a
Christmas greeting to the girl he
loved.
The ladies were both out, Gifford
told him at the door. Would he wait?
"Miss Betty is hanging mistletoe in
the study for the ball to-night," ex
plained Gifford.
"I will wait there," said Wade, and
Gifford stood alone in the hall, looking
at a $5 gold piece which had reached
his palm suddenly.
She was trying to hammer a small
brass hook into the archway, and was
singing softly. Wade thought as he
let the portieres fall behind him that
he had never heard "Hark, the Herald
Angels Sing," sound quite so sweet in
all his life.
"Merry Christmas," he said, and
Betty dropped the hammer.
"I said Merry Christmas," he re
peated, laughing up at her.
"Please pick up the hammer," said
Betty, sedately. "You mustn't bother
me."
Wade laid the hammer on the table.
"You can't hammer in a hook. It
screws in. Let me do it."
Betty sat down on top of the ladder.
"Everybody's out," she remarked,
irrelevantly.
"I'm glad of it," responded Wade,
composedly.
"Isabel's out, too."
There was a long silence. Betty's
chin was resting on one hand. The
other held a bunch of mistletoe ready
for hanging on the hook, and she
looked down at the tiny, pearly berries
meditatively. Wade walked to the
window and back again to the base of
the footladder.
"Don't you know that I want to see
only you, Betty?" he asked.
Betty hung the bunch of mistletoe in
place with unsteady lingers. He could
not see her face.
"I'm very busy, Mr. Wade. You
know Aunt Octavia gives a ball to
night. The decorators did all the
rooms except for the mistletoe, and 1
am to put all of thai up."
"You are always busy."
A trace of sadness came over the
lovely girlish face.
"They are uli very kind to me," she
said. I ravely. "I like to help, and feel
that I am needed."
There was the count! of carriage
wheels on the avenue outside. As they
stopped before the house Wade's Jaws
squared with determination. 11.* held
up his arms to the figure in blac* on
the stepladdrr.
"Betty, I need you inost, sweetheart,"
hi* s tid. "Won't >ou come to rue?"
The portieres ui the end of th<» room
parted, and for an instant Mrs. I>• xter
and ! :»!>« 1 patte d ut slfiht of Ili • pic
ture tel'ore theiu. At the full* of th*
ladder stool Wade, wiih Bitty held
•lot I in his ai in 111 lln-. )' >' 'I to
hers,
"Kllxabeth!" ex. lalnied Mrs. lie-.ter,
as she caught her I reutii.
\\ ID"* T.IIM I| hi tuad his eyes H: ire
ful of iu«rt Itu lit.
"li s all i: h Mr* !>• xter," he sai l,
cheerily. "We're ur.der tin* mistletoe,
mid Her hi -t pro«J«i'd to b ihn
tnl> mis . ,)» JFHI |II the v,«rl I for
ma. Merry t'lu Uunaj! ' HoMon Oloba.