Jasper County Democrat, Volume 13, Number 73, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 21 December 1910 — JACK PENFIELD'S CHRISTMAS EVE. [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

JACK PENFIELD'S CHRISTMAS EVE.

Clarissa Mackie

[Copyright, 1910, by American Press Asso elation.] “A TE LE GRA M froTn Chris ‘ /W topher." said Mrs. Latimer, thrusting her head within the . open library door and reading from the yellow slip in her hand. < “ ‘Snowbound. Will arrive late this evening. Don't sit up?” ‘■Thoughtful Christopher,” murmured Dick Mason from the depths of his easy chair. "Poor old Chris—what luck!” cried Amy. while Alice murmured to her lover, "I am so anxious that you Should meet Christopher. Dick ” ‘‘Pray, who is Christopher? Tell me, that I, top, may be distraught at his ndnarrival,” drawled Penfield, surveying the love stricken Dick and his betrothed with some disgust and turning to Amy. who was viewing him with unmistakable relish. ‘‘Christopher Browning is our cousin,” she replied. with a wicked look at her sister. “The dearest fellowl Writes, you know.” - \A;." “I didn’t know.” murmured Penfield apologetically. ' “Well. Chris does write for the papers, magazines or anything that will take the stuff.” “H-m-m!” Amy looked at him from mirth brimmed eyes. She was dressing a doll for the cook’s little niece, and she tied a pink bow on the flaxen curls and then admired the effect with audible satisfaction. “Isn’t she too sweet? Now I’m going down to the village to leave this at Mrs. Lee’s, and you may cbme, too, Mr. Penfield, for the way is long and the night is stormy.” Penfield arose with alacrity. Anything was better than sitting before the cheery fire and staring at the photograph of the girl he loved unwisely and trying to summon courage to ask carelessly whom the picture represented. Didn’t he know? When they reached the front door Amy ran back to the library, and he heard the rise and fall of her shrill girlish voice as she expostulated with her sister. It was evident that she gained her point, for when she re- ■ turned she was smiling and her eyes were as bright as the snow crystals sparkling under the radiance from the wide open door. • They plunged into the softly falling Whiteness, and Penfield bared his head to the cold fresh air and endeavored to thrust-aside the burden that lay heavily upon his heart. “Such an ideal Christmas eve!” said Amy. “When I was a little girl”— “Oh, WHEN!” interrupted Jack mockingly. “WHEN I was a little girl,” insisted Amy serenely. “I used to believe that something wonderful must happen on Christmas eve. I would watch at the window and look fbr a messenger to arrive with marvelous news or expect that a long lost uncle would appear and shower gifts upon us. But it never happened. Nothing wonderful ever does happen to me,” she added, with a 'sigh that was muffled in a mist of flying flakes. “Time enough for things to happen when you are grown up. child,” Jack said gravely, and then, arousing himself from the unpleasant thoughts that, vampire-like, seemed to cling to him, he added: “Come! A race to the corner!” , They reached it laughing and breathless. , ■ Later, when they had returned and were sitting before the fire, each waiting for the other to make a bedtime start, Jack remarked lazily: “When do you expect Mr. Browning to arrive?" Amy giggled. Dick looked amused, and Alice and her mother exchanged glances of distress. “Oh. any time before midnight. I suppose,” replied Alice, with evident constraint “We will not sit up—the arrival of the train is too uncertain. One of us will hear the bell and come down.” “I was about to volunteer to sit up and wait for him,” said Jack. “I am in a wakeful mood tonight,” “Really, Mr. Penfield.” began Mrs. Latimer anxiously, when Amy Interrupted her eagerly: “Oh, mother, let him sit up if he wishes to. We can get up and greet Chris afterward, but there is no use in all of us sitting here like owls until that train comes in. It may hot arrive for hours yet, and Peters will be waiting at the station with the sleigh, so Chris will be all right” “Very well. dear. It doesn’t seem quite fair to Chris,” remarked Mrs. Tati mor gravely, “but you may settle that between yourselves.” “Perhaps I’d better go with Peters," said Dick. “I am ashamed that J did not think of doing so before.” “Oh, Peters has gone,” said Mrs. Latimer! “I thought it -best for him to be there in case the train should arrive earlier than expected?’ “It's not a particularly bad night. Mrs. Latimer,*’ said Penfield reassur

ingly. “Miss Amy and 1 got along famously. The sijajv is very light and soft, and it is not particularly cold. Of course down in the valley at Sanderson, where the train is stalled, it has drifted, and that has caused the blockade. Mr. Browning will not mind the adventure unless he is an invalid," he added doubtfully. “Oh. Chris is quite robust,” replied Alice sweetly. "Now that it is settled Mr. Penfield is to remain up to greet our cousin suppose we hang the stockings and go to bed. We must deposit our gifts on the table here, and mother will fill the stockings at some we sma" hour, as usual. When Chris arrives mother and I will come down and give the child something to eat. You must keep up a rousing fire. Mr. Penfield.” “Depend on me for that.” returned Jack. There was much running to and fro and a great deal of merriment as the stockings were hung in the wide old chimneypiece. Then each one brought gifts carefully wrapped, and labeled, and with many attempts at secrecy they were heaped upon the library taFinally, with warm exchanges of Christmas wishes. Mrs. Latimer and her daughters withdrew, leaving the two men alone before the fire. > When Dick Mason had finished hi, cigar he. too, sought his room, and then Penfield kept his lonely vigil. It was 11 o’clock, and the storm was abating. The soft spat of snow against the window panes bad ceased, and

(here was an occasional tinkle of sleighbells from the highway which proclaimed that belated Christmas shoppers were venturing out. Penfield stared moodily at the picture of the girl be loved. It stood on the mantelshelf, framed in silver. Jt portrayed a girl in riding dress with one arm thrown over the neck of a horse, whose nose muzzled her other, hand. She was a wide eyed, soft featured girl. witb dark<air parted in the middle and topped, by a broad felt hat. tier round chin was lifted above the low collar of her white blouse, and from the crown of her hat to the tips of her riding boots she appeared the embodiment of life, health and love. Yet love she had withheld from Jack Penfield. He was thinking of that now as be sat there —thinking how strange it was -that ie should have found her picture in the home of his cousin’s fiancee, among jieople whom he had never before met. but who had greeted him warmly as Dick Mason's cousin and had taken him into their midst as one of thetDselves, He had come out pf the west a fortnight before— ouf of the west where he had made his home for ye: as c- ’-y frem !’:? <r o- ; ]j' c the plains, the free air of iiohtana, where be was king on his qwn ram lip to the over ivi!ized east, where to simple heartied Jack Penfield God seemed shut up in the stuffy brick and stone churches. Jn the wild free

west God was everywhere. That was bis fancy. He had come east because a girl had implanted the germ of restlessness within him—a restlessness that forbade him peace of mind until he could persuade her to reconsider her decision. The picture before him was an enlargement of one be had taken himself with a pocket camera. Its duplicate in miniature was folded in his letter case next his heart. In the spring Kitty Brown had come to the west to visit his neighbors. the Clarks. She was a writer, one who was tired and whose body and Soul needed relaxation. She found it under the free blue sky as she skimmed over the ranges side by side with Jack Penfield, their fleet horses ever in harmony with the spirits of the young riders, and it is true she foun 1 something besides relaxation in the eyes of Jack Penfield when the day came for her to return to her enslaving pen. “You do not understand." she had told him. “I could not jgive up my work, and I do not love you as much as I love that. You can see.” she had added with that frank smile of hers, “that my love is a divided one, and yon cannot accept that?" “No,” he had replied gravely, “I cannot accept a divided love.” And so they had turned their horses’ beads homeward, and their parting had been a warm band clasp and—that was all. That was all Jack Penfield bad to think and dream about. The great

eastern city swallowed her up. He had not asked for her address, but as the months went by and brilliant autumn claimed the land, and the broad plain and distant ranges changed color under her hard, cold touch, he grew restless, and finally in December he arranged bis affairs, and, leaving his foreman in charge of the Bar T outfit, he had come to New York to find Kitty Brown. He had been too proud and reserved to ask for information from her friends, the Clarks, and his quest for the girl he loved had been quite hopeless. Then he had dropped in upon his cousin Dick Mason, who had picked him up and carried him off for the holidays to the country home of the Latimers, and here he was, with the first clew, to Kitty Brown staring him in the face. He felt no elation now, for with the nearness of her discovery came the thought that she would send him away again. Nev ertheless he determined that he would unbosom himself .to sweet, motherly Mrs. ‘Latimer in tfie morning. There was a tinkle of sleighbells drawing nearer, the faint sound of an arrival at the door, and he hastened tp his feet to greet the coming stranger. whom he had almost forgotten. The hall door closed softly, and then the door of the library was pushed gently open and a slim, dark clad figure, with arms brimming over with packages, slipped Into the room and

then paused abruptly as Penfield ad vanced. ; ■■■. . ■ “Mr. Browning”— Jack stopped short and stared with unbelieving eyes. . The girl laughed softly, and there was joy in her eyes as she raised them to his. “WHERE did you come from?’ she asked, dropping her parcels to the table and extending botb gloved little hands. ’ “From the Bar T,” he replied laconically. holding her hands firmly in his great [irown palms. “Explain why you are here of all places. 1 left you rid mg the ranges in Montana, and I see you again in the country home of iny cousins, and you call me MR. Browning!” she said, withdrawing her hands and removing the heavy cloak that enveloped her. “I was expecting Christopher Browning. I was sitting up for him. 1 was > surprised when you entered.” i “1 am Christopher Browning,” she : said saucily. • Don’t dare th tell me , that you did not know THAT!” 1 “1 didn’t know it,” he admitted humbly. “I knew you as Kitty Brown”— “Oh. the Clarks always abbreviated it. And so you did not know you were waiting for me?" she said musingly, drawing nearer the fire and holding her hands to the comforting warmth. “I’ve been waiting for you ever since you left the ranges, Kitty,” he said gravely. She turned away suddenly, and her voice shook slightly as she replied, “I told you that you must not.” “I cannot help it, Kitty. You must know”— he began, drawing nearer to her. “You may help me distribute my gifts," she said quickly, recovering her composure, “and while we are filling the stockings you must tell me how you came to make the mistake in my name and why you, instead of my affectionate cousins, are waiting for me now.” Jack told his story while the girl distributed the parcels she had brought among the limp stockings. There was even a gift for the capacious sock that represented Dick Mason's Christmas. “1 have nothing for yours, Mr. Penfield," spe said, regretfully surveying the remaining empty seek. "A little note saying that you had changed your mind"— be began. “But I haven't changed my mind,” she murmured faintly. ’ “Are you sure?” he insisted. “Your eyes, Kitty, betrayed you when you came into this room. You WERE glad to see me. Say that you will go back to the Bar T with me in the spring.” She hesitated. “Oh. there is something in the sock," she said evasively, and she stepped forward and, thrusting a hand into the toe. brought forth a small card.-which she extended toward Penfield. He took it and glanced at the opposite side. He uttered an exclamation of surprise. Then he held it out to her. She took it reluctantly. As she looked a warm flush spread over her face, and she cried impulsively, “Why. that's mine!” It was a snapshot of the master of the Bar T ranch standing in the corral, surrounded by hundreds of Jiorned cattle. “Did you take that picture, Kitty?” asked Jack eagerly. She nodded shamefacedly. “How did it get in there?” he asked, with a puzzled look. A merry voice called from the doorway: “I found it on the floor of your room, Christopher Kit, carefully wrapped in tissue paper, after you went home at Thanksgiving. Of course I recognized Mr. Penfield when be arrived yesterday, and—and I wanted something wonderful to happen on Christmas eve. and for the first time in my life it has happened. And that's all, except merry Christmas both!” “Bless the child!” murmured Jack happily, gathering the abashed Christopher into his arms. “That’s what I say, too,” she whispered softly.

“DID YOU TAKE THAT PICTURE, KITTY?”