Jasper County Democrat, Volume 15, Number 2, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 10 April 1912 — UNESSENTIALS [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

UNESSENTIALS

By MAUD J. PERKINS

(Copyright, 1911, by Associated Literary Press) ‘“Truth is stranger’—l won’t finish that; It’s banal. But it’s the only thing that fits the case.” Nora Melbright resumed the study of two letters that had come, by the morning’s post. One was from DeLancey Crane, the sculptor, the other from John Withington, manufacturer. Each was a proposal of marriage. The two men were to be over-Chris-mas guests at her ' brother-in-law’s home and each had asked for a sign on Christmas eve to indicate whether he had been accepted or rejected. “It’s positively uncanny,” mused ■Miss Melbright, “that both of them should be struck by the same idea at ti e same instant. Here we are, an. hour from th© city, DeLancey cduld have run down and stated his case—though ! don’jt know what I’d said if he had. And Jwk Withington lives here !-rookhurst. He’s been away for a ie-.,- days, bitt he could have a bed me any time Aithin the past three .months.’’ . ■ . ' They were, if not remarkable men, at least above the herd. Grizi Had called DeLancey Crane “the most premising American sculptor.” For ire past two years he had been making great strides in his art. Success had not spoiled him in the ordinary sense of the term. but. and she sighed, if he were only not so fond of money! ■ls only ho cared more for? sculpture and less for wha* it brought him! There- were eycus.es for him. He had never, until now, known anything but poverty. He had scrimped and toiled for his high school education, economized to the last penny to make his way through college, and had starved for his art education in Paris. Could he be blamed for seeing only motor cars and country houses in each, block 0/ marble? And Jack Withington—-if only he were not so clumsy! His rare forays into society were agonizing to Withington and embarrassing to his friends. An irrepressible smile curved her lips i at the memory of Withington’s last martyrdom. It was at Mrs. Millister’s—“Mrs. Mil- 1 lionbucks,” they had privately caUed i her. The lady was exhibiting a

she had picked up abroad, and of which she was very proud. One after another examined it with murmured compliment for Mrs. Millister’s taste until it reached wfthington. Somehow it slipped through his fingers and tinkled musically into hundreds of pieces on the polished floor. She recalled the misery on Jack’s face, and the horried “it is of no consequence,” more cutting than a dag. ger-thrust, from the outraged Mrs. Millister. "If it weren’t for Jack’s clumsiness— ’’ said Nora. Of the two young men, Whithington was most in her mind during the week that followed —the week before Christmas. .His deeds spoke for him, as she made her charity calls. There was the case of the Biggses. The husband and father, a droopy, discouraged young man, seemed always out of work. It had been, for some time, Nora’s unavoidable duty to pro. vide them a Christmas dinner. Tfiis year* however, the house was swept and garnished, and Mrs. Biggs was singing to the baby. “Abner’s at work,*’ she proudly informed Nora. “He’s at Mr. Withington’s factory and likes it ever so much. Mr. Withington told him not to worry about Christmas, because he always gives his men a basket with turkey and things. Oh, we’ll have a fine Christmas dinner this year!’’ she exclaimed. Nbra braced herself for the next call —on old Mrs. Slovak, whose son Benny was oftener in trouble than out. Today, however, the youngster, khown to the police as “Benny the Rat,” was absorbing gratefully the heat of his mother’s kitchen. , ’ “Why, Mrs. Slovak!” cried Nora in glad surprise. “I thought Benny was—•” : “In jail?” completed the woman in her broken English. “He was. But last night Mr. Withington sent bail and got him out.” “The Rat” himself, whose furtive eyes harbored most frequently fear for the lust of stealing looked up briefly with quite a new expression. “He’s a good guy!” he said. "The Gang” gathered the day before Christmas for its annual frolic. There were Sam Wallace, the illustrator, DeLancey Crane, Withington, the Cameron girls, Mr. and Mrs. Tom-1

my Mullane. This year they were guests of the Catlins and Nora at Brookhurst. Christmas eve was the big Time; t tings happened so satisfying then. I- irst, there w r as the joy of arriving; then the noble dinner and the Christmas tree—not to mention “The Jinx.” The Jinx” w r as the big feature of the reunion. It was a peculiar institution, taking a different form each year. It might be a song, set to a popular air, a poem or a satirical story, or even a.painting. But it always must be clever and illustrate the foibles of some member of the g oup. ■Nora’s secret misgivings ptfDved groundless. She had dreaded the c< rning of Christmas eve. She feared the two young men would watch her foolishly for sign or token. DeLancey Crane had been elected to manufacture “The Jinx,” and there was keen anticipation when dinner h 1 been cleared away and a brown p;.per parcel placed before him. .With a mischievous smile he cut the cords, st ipped off the paper and pushed “The Jinx forward into public view. There. was an immediate shout of appreciation and laughter. “The Jinx” v s a wooden figure about a foot in height, beautifully carved. It was a likeness of Jack Withington—a likem ss sb patent as to be instantly discernible. There-was a smile on his face and his hands were outstretched. Below, suspended in midair on a y. re all but invisible, was the falling tape of “Mrs. Millionbucks,” The little statue passed from hand to hand amidst delighted comment. “That’s just the way you looked, Jack!” cried Tommy Mullane. | ' I'.eally. DeLancey, it's a splendid piece of work,” said Mrs. Catlin, admiringly. ■ “It's a wondor be hasn't sold it sor 1 a thousand dollars!” contributed Wai-' lace, and they laughed at Crane's ex-: ptnse. He laughed, too, good-natured- ' ly enough, for he made no secret of his determination to secure from art the last cent it would yield. ' Nellie Cameron was shy, bierself; she knew the tortures of shyness. None but she and Nora saw’ the pain back of Jack Withington’s smile as he balanced the manikin in his palm. I “Really, DeLancey.” she said, sharp- ! ly, “you put too much emphasis on' unessentials.”

“A Danieless come to judgment,” grinned Crane. “Meaning the vase, I presume?” . “Yes —that’s just what I mean! It would be perfectly lovely without that old thing tumbling down there.” “Why,” shouted Crrtne, “the vase is its excuse for being! Without that, you little simpleton, it wouldn’t be a Jinx!” <' That was it, thought Nora: “Putting too much emphasis in unessentials!” They were all doing that; she had been doing it until Nellie’s inspired sentence lighted her path like a lightning flash. DeLancey Crane was putting too much emphasis on the unessential oi money. She had been putting too much emphasi? on the unessential of Withington’s clumsiness and unease. She had permitted, it to blind her to the fact that he was a kind-hearteu, generous gentleman—and that she loved him. The manikin came to her, amidst a little bush. “I agree with you, Nellie,” she smiled. “Let us forget the unessentials.” With deft fingers she twisted free the wire and vase, and tossed them into the grate. The statue stood alone —Withington at his best, as he appeared tonight, as he appeared always among his friends —dignified, friendly, and companionable. And both men had their answer.