20
'C? trjrcAJ?" /JS*
U. PETERS brung
-wr yr I you some mail, Miss
y\/I 1 Pam >" announced
llf I 1 Aunt Sally, coming
I into the cozy sitting
room with four damp
I Pamela looked
them over ktiowingr
ly, felt of their soft
a i contents and smiled
"Tlie regular
wK*l Christmas donations
i •>«_ of handkerchiefs has
fßrmaamimmm begun," she ob
served in a dry but humorous voice.
"This is from I.ottie Preston. This,"
lingering a thinner envelope ginger
ly, "is probably a pin cushion cover
from Geraldine, and this very fat
envelope contains a linen initial
handkerchief from Molly Drew.
"Last year, Aunt Sally, 1 received
17 handkerchiefs and three em
broidered cushion tops that bore
unmistakable marks of previous
Christmas travels. I received, three
Invitations to spend Christmas with
relatives—Salina and Pauline, of
course, and the Prestons—all of
whom had gaps to be filled in.and
I filled them as usual. I spent $32
for Christmas gifts that I didn't en
joy giving because I knew they
were expected, and made three trips
to the city for the express purpose
of suiting everybody as nearly as
possible, and in consequence I grew
so tired that I was cross to you for
two whole days before I left on my
Christmas tour.
"This year I shall not make a
single present outside of niy imme
diate family—which means just us
two. Aunt Sally, for I intend to
make myself a handsome Christmas
present instead of wasting my mon
e> on the relatives who dump all
their left-overs on me. I shall not
accept a single invitation, either. I
have lost the Christmas spirit."
Aunt Sally's honest black face
took on a look of perplexity, where
upon Miss Pamela went onto ex
plain the situation.
"I am tired of being a Christinas
scapegoat," she declared with spirit.
"Everything unpleasant is loaded
on my shoulders because I happen
to be unmarried."
"I do wish to goodness sake you
had-a-married!" exclaimed Aunt
Sally in a tone that gave Pamela
to understand that all hope had
been relinquished.
"You never was cut out for an
old maid," Aunt Sally maintained,
sorrowfully, whereupon Pamela shrugged her
well-set shoulders in half humorous despair.
She dearly loved her faithful old servant
and tiiend, who had descended to her together
with the little country home which was the
most undesirable of "effects" mentioned in the
paternal will to be equally divided among my
three daughters."
Pamela being unmarried, had no need of
the negotiable proper-ty which her sisters' hus
bands eagerly desired for the purpose of en
larging their business operations, so Pamela
had accepted the country house and a third
of a maternal income, which barely sufficed to
cover the taxes and repairs.
Now we shall see what Salina has to say,"
observed Pamela as she opened her sister's
hurriedly scrawled letter.
"Dear Pamela," she read aloud. "Please
don't take offense at what I have done, for I
simply had to take advantage of your irrespon
sibility at a pinch. The Kensingtons—you re
member them, don't you, Jim's sister and fam
ily?—have just come back from Texas, of
course expecting to he invited here for Christ
mas. That is what we'd have to do if I
didn't have you to fall back on. I'm sending
them all down to you to spend the holidays,
as we simply can't have them here, for the
reason that we've invited the Masons, Jim's
business friends, you know. It is likely that
Tom Mason will be here if he can get away
from a pressing business engagement, and as
he was rather attentive to Geraldine last sum
mer at the mountains something may come of
this Christmas visit. You know how fastidi
ous Tnin is and how a crowd of noisy children
would annoy him. I know men of his kind—
they are as sensitive as girls, and I don't pro
pose to spoil my daughter's prospects for the
sake of the Kensington's.
"Geraldine is packing a box of things for
the Kensingtons which we will send by ex
press to-day. so you needn't goto any expense
buying Christmas presents for them. 1 hope
you'll have a real pleasant Christmas and
come to see us as soon after the holidays as
possible."
Pamela threw down the letter with a deter
mined gesture and for a few moments she
thought deeply, painstakingly, with her smooth
forehead puckered in a very unusual frown.
"Aunt Sally," she said suddenly, "could you
possibly make out to spend Christmas week in
the pasture cabin?"
"For what. Miss Pam?" asked the negress
in a puzzled voice.
"For peace— I'm going to spend Christmas
as 1 please. The Kensingtons can come if they
like and make merry in my house, but I am
not going to be a Christmas scapegoat any
longer. Can you make the cabin do, Aunt
Sally?"
"Deed an' I can," was the confident answer.
"I can cook the bestes' kind in a fireplace, jes'
like my old mammy could. Ben can haul us
down all the bed close an' things we need."
Fortunately Salina was at home when Pam
ela's telephone call reached her, so there was
»o delay. She was surprised to receive a mes
CAMERON COUNTY PRESS. THURSDAY, DECEMBER 16, 1909.
sage from her sister and still more surprised
at its purport.
"You have made other Christmas plans!"
she repeated in blank amazement.
"Yes, I'm real sorry you will be put out Sa
lina," came the brisk, businesslike'answer—
"What did you say?—O. no, Salina, I couldn't
possibly do that, but my house will be here,
open to your guests, so send them right along
just as you planned, only tell them that 1 have
made arrangements to be away over Christ
mas—What?—They can't cook? Then I don't
see but that you'd better send Geraldine down
to entertain them, as she is such an excellent
manager and hostess."
Salina's answering voice was exceedingly
sharp. "Geraldine can't possibly be spared,"
she snapped. "1 wrote you that the Masons
are going to be with us, and we hope to have
Tom if he can possibly get off, and I really
think something definite may come of his visit,
for I'm almost certain he admires Geraldine.
Just give the Kensthgtons a sort of a camp
Christmas and they'll be perfectly satisfied."
"Very well," Pamela answered, cheerfully,
"send them down and let them have a camp
Christmas, as you say. I'll see that the house
is well stocked with provisions and will leave
the key under the doorstep—don't forget to
tell them that, Salina, or they won't be able
to get in, mind."
Pamela dropped the receiver to choke off
Salina's parting protest, and hurried away
fearful of being recalled. She went the rounds
of the village stores, ordering what she need
ed to tide herself and the Kensingtons through
the holiday week.
It was a snowy morning and walking was
very disagreeable and tiring, so by the time
Pamela reached her own gate she was glad to
climb up beside old Ben on the bob sled that
was taking the last consignment of household
stuff to the cabin in the pasture where Aunt
Sally already held cheerful sway.
The next morning was clear and very cold.
Pamela, in her warm but humble cabin sitting
room, thought of the Kensingtons.
"Ben had better lay the fires up at the
house so that it won't take too long to warm
up after they come," she said. "You tell him
about it, Aunt Sally, when he brings down the
groceries."
Pamela settled herself to a pleasant task,
which was nothing less than the ordering of
a long-wished-for winter coat with fur trim
mings, which was to be her Christmas present
to herself. She had a S3O check saved to pay
for it, and was about to inclose it in the care
fully written letter, to which she had pinned
a clipping from the cloak maker's catalogue,
when Aunt Sally called to her from the front
door.
"Dey's come!" she announced. "Why, dey's
most all growed up! I expected for to see a
passel of chilluns."
"They're just big, Aunt Sally, not grown,"
Pamela explained, watching the stumbling de
scent of the six Kensingtons from the station
hack. "The oldest girl can't be over 15, for
she was born while Salina was spending the
summer with us when Geraldine had her third
birthday. I remember Sa
lina told us the whole Ken
singtons' history when she
received her sister-in-law's
announcement of the
child's birth—four girls and
a boy."
"That last un walks ter
rible puny," Aunt Sally ob
served with something akin
to pity.
"That must be the moth
er. She has had a lot of
sickness, I understand. The
father died three years ago,
but according to Jim and
Salina he wasn't of much
account anyway—a profes
sor, or something bookish,
I believe."
Pamela went back to her
writing, but seemed unable
to finish it to her satisfac
tion. She could not put
her mind to it; instead, she
kept thinking of the Ken
singtons, of Salina and Ger
aldine, and lastly of Tom
Mason, whose supposed
fancy for the former sur
prised and rather irritated
Pamela, who had always considered Tom
thoroughly sensible.
"I suppose his money has spoiled him,"
she said to herself as her mind went back to
the days when Tom was her school friend,
before the Masons made their fortune in
Pennsylvania oil lands.
"Certainly Tom Mason of old would not
have thought of marrying an affected, vain
girl like Geraldine. How Salina has spoiled
that girl! Whew, there goes the ink all over
my letter. Now I shall have to write an
other!"
But she didn't even begin another letter.
Instead she rose and flung on her coat and
hood preparatory to going out.
"I'm going up to the house, Aunt Sally,"
she announced to her surprised servant. "I'll
pretend I'm a neighbor who wants to see the
lady of the place."
Pamela rang her own doorbell rather tim
idly, and was admitted by a tall, rather pale
girl in a skimpy plaid dress.
The girl led her to the dining room, where
the other four were seated before an open
fire. In a deep-seated rocker, with a well
worn shawl about her thin shoulders, sat a
gaunt-looking woman of middle age, who in
troduced herself as Mrs. Kensington, a rela
tive-in-law of Miss Pamela.
"You are not very well, are you?" Pamela
asked, as she accepted a chair beside the fire.
"I'm a great deal better than I was last
year," was the cheerful answer.
Miss Pamela left such a kind note of wel
come for us. She must be a very nice per
son.
"O, yes," said Pamela, with a flush of
shame as she remembered the indifferent
wording of that reluctant note. "Well, I must
go. Thank you for letting me warm up. I
hope you'll have a real nice Christmas here."
She rushed out into the keen, wintry day
in a rage against herself and Salina and Jim,
who had combined in that shabby treatment of
the needy Kensingtons.
Outside of her gate she narrowly escaped
being run over by a trig little cutter with two
occupants, one of whom she recognized with
a start of amazement as her old friend, Tom
Mason.
He looked exceedingly well-to-do in his fur
great coat and his smooth, blond faco had a
fresh, boyish charm that made him look
much younger than he really was, for Pamela
knew that he was exactly her own age—3l.
"May I stop?" he asked, as he threw back
the lap robes. "The south-bound train ran off
the track just below the station here and I
took that opportunity to give myself the
pleasure of calling on you."
"I'm not living there just at present," said
Pamela, with a backward nod of her head,
"but I'll be glad to have you go down to rny
cabin with me. And O, I do need sensible
advice just this moment, and I'm awfully glad
to see you, Tom."
Seated before Aunt Sally's nicely laid table
in the lean-to kitchen, Pamela poured out the
story of the Kensingtons.
"Do tell me what I can do to ease my con*
science and give those people a real good
time," she begged.
"Why, give them a rousing good Christmas
tree. I'll help," Tom offered cheerfully.
"Geraldine is sending a Christmas box for
the Kensingtons, but I don't believe there'll be
enough in it to make the tree look real fes
tive," said Pamela, "so we'd better do what
we can at the village."
The tree trimming began that evening with
great gusto. Tom opened Geraldine's Christ
mas box expectantly and out tumbled a lot
of antiquated toys, half a dozen summer hats,
stained and crushed beyond repair, some
worn and none too clean waists and two drag
gled, silk-lined skirts. In the bottom of the
box were two baskets of cheap candy and a
cake and a few shopworn Christmas cards.
Tom's wholesome face had taken on a
look of deep disgust. He caught up the arm
ful of rumpled finery and flung It violently on
the glowing coals of the big fireplace.
"So much for Geraldine's generosity!" ho
exclaimed in a voice that would have made
Geraldine's ears burn furiously, had she
heard it.
At 10 o'clock Tom took his cheerful leave,
promising to return by 10 o'clock on Christ
mas morning.
Tom reappeared promptly at the appointed
hour, with additional packages, which he
stotwed in a corner, for they did not seem de
signed for the tree.
At 11:30 the jangle of sleigh bells an
nounced the arrival of the guests, who trooped
in rather timidly, bewildered by the littleness
and humbleness of the cabin, evidently, but
Tom soon put them at ease.
By the time dinner was over the guests
were as happy as birds, even to the pale, weak
looking mother, who glowed with the reflected
happiness of her children.
And the Christmas tree surprise! It was
almost too much to be quietly borne by chil
dren who had known so very little of Christ
mas lavishness. Laden with gifts, they de
parted all a-quiver with gratitude.
"It has been a great success!" Tom de
clared when the jangle of sleigh bells had died
away on the icy night air. "One phase of it
is regrettable, though, and that is the dissat
isfaction it has left in my mind."
"What do you mean?" Pamela asked, frank
ly surprised.
"It has made me feel dissatisfied with my
bachelor existence. It is lonely at best and a
pretty selfish way of living."
"So unmarried men are selfish and Irre
sponsible as well as unmarried women, are
they?" mused Pamela. "I'm rather glad to
hear that because I have so often been cen
sured for selfishness and obstinacy and —"
"Do you ever think seriously of getting
married, Pam?" Tom broke in.
"I haven't for years," was the frank an
swer.
"I have thought of it a good deal lately
very lately," he declared, significantly. "If you
could make up your mind to marry me, Pam
ela, we could have many a Christmas like thin,
for we certainly—"
"Marry you!" Pamela echoed, turning her
crimsoning face toward the speaker. "Why, I
never once thought of—not for years, that is,"
she interrupted herself to say truthfully.
"But once you did think of me," Tom cried,
triumphantly. "I wanted you years ago, Pam,
but now I want you a great deal more. At 31
a man knows his mind perfectly, especially if
it concerns a woman that he has known and
cared for all his life."
1 hen for the first time the remembrance
of Geraldine's expectations surged through
Pamela's mind. She spoke of it in a confused,
embarrassed way, whereupon Tom laughed
and said he guessed the Clydes would survive
the disappointment, especially as he had never
given them any grounds for such expectations.
"Come, Pam, give me my answer," he
urged, and don t forget that the season
called for —a joyous one to me."
Aunt Sally, listening eagerly behind the
half-shut kitchen door, saw rather than heard
what followed. She smiled a big, intensely
gratified smile as she turned back to her fra
grant old pipe.
"Thank the good Lord, she's settled at
last!" she exclaimed, gratefully.
Then, after a long, delicious pull at her
faithful pipe, she added, triumphantly, "An'
she's done better'n any of 'em, too, if she is
a Christmas scapegoat."
CHRISTMAS COMING
HOW THE HOLIDAY IS REGARDED
BY DIFFERENT PEOPLE.
It Depends Entirely on One's View
point as to What the Day Brings
to Each—The Child and
Pater Differ.
A;"-. 13 coming!"
yTIWtX s^ou^s th® schoolboy,
flinging his cap in the
air." "Turkey and 'pud-
ding! Mince pie, Jolly
pantomimes, and 'par-
ties! Hurrah for Christ
'"J mas!"
• • • 1
"Christmas is coming," says the
draper. "Turn one of our showrooms
into a toy bazar and get out the list of
tickets required for the New Year's
sale. What a good job Christmas has
not followed in the steps of other
old institutions. Thank goodness for
Christmas!"
• • •
"Christmas Is coming," murmurs the
employe of the latter. "Hours of extra
unpaid labor; bullying, A
sweating, hurry scurry to
catch the train, then
heigo! for home and hoi- (ffl
idays. If it only came
quicker and stayed long
er we should say 'Wei- X 1
come Christmas.'" |1
* * * HVB
"Christmas is com- V
lng," says busy mother. I
"There's the pudding, cakes and
mincemeat to make. And the shop
ping there Is to do! Presents for
the little ones' stockings, not forget
ting something warm for father to
wear, and some new curtains to make
the house look gay. Christmas Is com
ing—the busiest time of all the year—-
and the happiest."
* • •
"Christmas is coming," muses the
child, gazing dreamily into the fire.
Ciaus will bring me this
igßßr>. year? Let's see, I've wrlt
ten out 'doll,' 'perambu
lator,' and 'picture book,'
and all three pieces of pa-
IT MB per went U P tbe chimney
all right—though I'm not
quite sure whether I
spelt 'perambulator' just right. Still,
Santa Claus will understand. Oh! I
do hope he'll be quick and come. Dear
old Father Christmas!"
* * •
"Dear, indeed!" echoes Pater.
"Thank goodness he does only come
once a year, for I should
soon find myself in the M
bankruptcy court were he
a frequent visitor. No
wonder the abbreviation of
the word 'Christmas'
starts with 'X,' for It is
the period of the 'ex's.' VI
The young folk may hang w J I •
their stockings, but I
say hang Christmas!" v
• • •
"Christmas is coming," reflects the
errand boy as he fixes the sprig of
mistletoe to his cap. "I must be on>
my best behavior for the next few
days, no loitering on my errands, no
back-answers when I'm grumbled at,
then great shall be the number of my
Christmas boxes."
• * •
"Christmas is coming," sneers the
dyspeptic. "The time for over-feed
ing and drunkenness,
cheap sentiment and ever
k greens. Turkey and mince
meat! Ugh! the combina
tion makes me shudder.
How thankful I shall be
when Christmas is gone!"
Christmas is coming."'
She murmurs the word as
she stoops reverently over a tiny pair
of shoes, a little white frock and blue
sash, lying in a sacred corner of the
drawer. Many Christmases ago these
shoes pattered lightly hither and
thither under a pair of eager,,
restless feet, that ribbon encir
cled a fairy form that danced In.
and out helping and hinder
ing in a thousand ways the
numerous preparations for
Yule-tide. A film of tears
suddenly spreads over moth
ar's eyes as she shuts the
:1 rawer and turns sharply
away. Cruel Christmas!
svhen you bring such mem
ories as this for your gift.
Christmas Crackers.
Do "plants" for making pretty gifts*
grow up to Christmas trees?
And are "the sea-sons' greetings" Bent
by salt sons of the seas?
Are Yule-logs cut from snowdrift wood by
Yule-tide washed asliore?
And could you stub a mistletoe against a.
parlor door?
If Eve had tried from holly-twigs a par
ty-gown to weave,
Do you suppose that Adam would have
called her "Christmas Eve?"
Saint Nicholas In autoslelgh defies police
and laws:
Do regulations as to speed contain a San
ta clause?
—Lipplncott's.
Yule Cake.
On Christmas night, if a maiden
place a piece of the Yule-cake under
her pillow she will dream of her fu
ture husband. Also a portion of the
cake should be kept for the next year,
as it brings luck in the house. The
plum pudding must always be kept
and again partaken of on New Year's
day it one would have a successful
year.
Burning the Yule Log.
The ancient Saxons burnt the yule
log as a symbol of th® turning of the
sun toward spring.