Jasper County Democrat, Volume 15, Number 7, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 27 April 1912 — The Little Marcy [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

The Little Marcy

By M. J. Phillips

(Copyright, 1911, by Associated Literary Press) “The little Marey!” John Burden smiled as he said it to himself. Geraldine Marc/' succumbing to the 1 craze and buying Christmas presents! He had supposed her almost as immune to such frailties as himself; but there was no question that she had succumbed. Abrahams’ store had engulfed Burden, drawn him in and tossed him about amon§ the bewildering aisles with thousands of others like a. chip in a whirlpool. He had come in search of his particular brand of drawing pencil. Presently he found himself drifting past the handkerchief counter, where the current of eager women shopperß fairly boiled. There he had seen the familiar little tailormade figure, and his heart gave a throb of recognition. He had passed close to her —had almost brushed her shoulder as he struggled to free himself frdm the entanglement of women. oShe had just completed her purchase. It was a heartshaped box of handkerchiefs, the coyer decorated with sprigs of holly. The clerk was handing ’ her a card for the address—a Christmas card which would inevitably be recognized as coming from the store of the canny Abrahams, siaee one corner had been cut off.

Burden worked his way to the exit and out into the crisp winter air, just fading into dusk. “The Little Marey !” he repeated again. He could not reconcile the Christmas frivoling with her daily air at dinner among the babbling, cheery actor-folk .that made up, with the exception of Miss Marey and himself, their hoardinghouse circle. She would sit there like a weary princess, engrossed in’ her own thoughts, the piquant little face masked by indifference. Occasionally the childish bickerings or equally childish display of vanity of the actor-folk brought a flicker of mischievous mirth to her eyes. When Burden surprised that look he wondered whether he really understood the girl after all. Burden loitered in the streets for a time before going home to dinner.

They were crowded with eager holiday crowds. There was snow underfopt, and an occasional flake was floating down. He had never seen so many smiling faces in the city before. He found himself smiling, too, and feeling vaguely excited, though he expected neither to buy nor to receive any presents. Every one was in high spirits at dinner. The actor-folk had been through a matinee and were soon to hurry back for the evening performance, but they babbled constantly of the Christmas tree which was to be set up in the dining-room “after the show." Even Miss Marcy had a light in her indifferent eyes, and a delicate color in her cheeks. Burden realized with a start that when she looked like that she was pretty. • He did not feel In the mood to go out, so he retired to his room with a book. But in half an hour the landlady came knocking. She demanded his help up the tree, decorate it, and arrange the various presents. “We’ll surprise them poor things,” she said, with more kindli-, ness than grammar; “they’ll be all tired out when they come in, and it’s quite a task to dress a free.”

So they set up the tree, decorated It with candles and geegaws and started to arrange the packages. The sight of a familiar one attracted his attention. It was a light, heartshaped box, decorated with sprigs of bolly. The card on it —a card with one corner lopped off—bore these words: “To Miss Geraldine Marcy, with best wishes for a merry Christmas.” - Burden excused himself - abruptly. Donning hat and coat he went out into the street. So she had to buy her own Christmas presents. No friends to send her, trinkets; no joyous looking forward to the holiday season! In the glow of pity for her loneliness he quite forgot that he was similarly situated, and that there would he no present on the tree for him. He came to a resolution swiftly. It was to buy “the little Marcy” everything which a young man can with

buy for a young woman who is almost a total stranger and who passed him on the stairs or encountered him at dinner with the briefest and most formal of salutations. • V : Firsts there were dowers. He purchased a prodigal box of them. Next candy, plenty of candy, for did not all girls like to nibble at chocolates? Then music; Miss Marey occasionally played on the boarding bouse piano. He invested in half a dozen popular songs, of varying degrees of inanity and tunefulness. And, last of all, he bought a book. Ah, that book! It was a volume of love and dreams and longings in verse. He remembered it from his childhood days. He had wanted to possess a copy, but never dared to buy it, because it seemed incongruous for a man to care for poetry like that. Yesterday it would have seemed incongruous for Miss Marey even. But in the light of that box of handkerchiefs, and all its purchase implied—yes, “the little Marey” would like that book, he felt. • The tired actors and actresses came trooping, home. They whooped with delight at sight of the blazing tree and the heap of presents. Wraps were tossed aside, .Billy Cummins, the comedian, by reason of age and authority, assumed the role of Santa Claus Never did he play a part more unctuously or sympathetically. Burden watched the door furtively until Geraldine Marey came in, head held high, the unwonted color still in her cheeks. There was a little touch of defiance in her manner to receive the box of handkerchiefs. Burden wap afraid she would leave then, but she was a plucky little thing. She sat down, determined to until the end.

When her name was called again, a few minutes later, only Burden noted the start of surprise. Wffen the great box of flowers was placed in her arms by th£ courtly Billy, there was a little clatter of applause. -The of perception where sentiment is concerned, saw something out of the ordinary in the glance of misty brilliancy she turned swiftly on Burden. As for that young man, his heart bumped suffocatingly for a second or two.' How did she know so quickly and so surely it was he who remembered her? How pretty she was!

They encountered each other in the hall when it was all over, and went up the stairs together. With an absurd sense of elation Burden was carrying another copy of the book he had bought for Miss Marey. It had been a wonderful evening—and that was not the least wonderful feature of it —that she should not only have known and loved the book, but guessed unerringly that he knew and loved it, too.

At the first landing she paused and faced him. opposite her owp door. So changed was she by the clear flush In her cheeks and the happy light in her eyes that Burden wondered. He tried to recall and could not howshe had looked in that mask of scornful, weary indifference, which was but lonesomeness after all. Now she was bright with the gayety which is girlhood’s, heritage and very lovable. “I can’t thank you,” she began; “you have made this my happiest Christmas in years. I have been alone so long. I left the old home when my parents died and came to the city—and I’ve been among strangers ever since. And these —” She gazed down on the armful of his gifts. “It was nothing—nothing,” said Burden, hurriedly. “You’ve thought of me. This book, now —I’ve always wanted it, and I couldn’t bring myself to buy it.” There was a pause, awkward on Burden’s part. Then he stumbled on. “By the way, I believe in giving one’s self a treat on Christmas. I have tickets for ‘The Buccaneer’ tomorrow' night—or rather, tonight. Would you care to go?” Miss Marcy did not speak; but she nodded, while her eyes overflowed. With a sudden impulsive gesture she hugged his gifts to her breast and smiled through her tears at him. “The little Marcy!” whispered Burden to himself, tenderly, as he went up the stairs. His heart was singing.