Life — December 8, 1887 — page 8: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

-LIFE- GRASSLETREE'S CHRISTMAS CRIME, BY WILLIAM HENRY BISHOP. ISS DE GILBERT was a stately-looking girl, in a soft white gown, with a scarf of the same lightly tied about her shoulders. There was a sort of Marie Antoinette suggestion in her aspect, and also, as it were, the shadow of a brooding sorrow hanging over her. She was from somewhere or oth- er; we haven't all time in this world to find out where everybody is from. ‘There was, too, an impression that shehad lately come back from abroad. She was visiting in town, She was a friend of our host- ess, Mrs. Gram- bold, or had been particularly recom- mended toher, and that lively young matron had invit- ed her for this din- ner, People came rather late, and Mrs. Grambold, busy with a hun- dred things at once, as was her way, hadn't time to tell much about this guest in ad- vance. Mr. Grassletree, who took her in, showed him- self particularly impressed ; in- deed, it is possible that he had induced the hostess to change some arrangement already established, and give her to him, Her. manner to- ward him, on the contrary, was marked by perhaps as much asperity as polite- ness permitted. If he drew from her occasionally a rare pale smile, it was only by the utmost exertion of his powers of entertaining. Grassletree was a kind of law unto himself, one of those persons such as we meet with in our journey through the Club end of town, ‘The time was Christmas Eve, After dinner a couple of the standard young banjo players of North America gave their selections. Miss Amy Goboy, of the Amateur Comedy Company, recited a sweet thing or two, and then the party settled down upon the floor to tell ghost stories, They spread cushions all around, and in the midst set a large tin pan, containing a plate in which was burned a mixture of salt and alcohol, casting a pale flickering light upon the faces. But the ghost stories rather languished. , “Speaking of Christmas presents,” said Samuel Grassle- tree, with a heavy sigh, and keeping Miss Ernestine de Gilbert well under observation, ‘if a person had bought something for another, and yielded to the temptation of keeping it himself, what would you think of him ?” “Mr, Grassletree has yielded to a temptation; he has a confession to make," exclaimed Miss Elsie Ten Stroke, “The confession! the confession!" clamored all the company at once. “Well, that is what I have done. You see before you one who—I am whom, which—but let that pass. Despise me if you will. I know not why I speak to you of this now, but there comes a moment to the conscience-burdened criminal when all considerations of prudence are cast aside.” Here he dodged a sofa-pillow thrown at him by viva- cious Mrs. Grambold. “I bought the nicest thing I could think of for a Christ- mas present fora friend, and then couldn't bear to give it up. I robbed my friend, and could never look him in the face again without an abject feeling of guilt. “It was only between you and yourself,” commented Miss Amy Goboy, ‘‘and besides a person has a right to change his mind.” “Alas! no, there were witnesses who heard me say I was going to buy the thing for him, and knew afterwards I actually had bought it. Oh, what a time I had in circum- venting those witnesses! But the worst thing about it was that my old friend came to grief for the want of that very thing, and I was the author of all his woes.” “Will you go on without further circumlocution ?" com- manded Mrs, Grambold. “* Lused to see the article in the show-window, day after day, as I passed by. I thought I could get it at any time, and was inno hurry. ‘It's the very best thing for old Fred,’ I said to myself and the others. ‘It suits him toa dot. He shall have it as sure as my name is Samuel Grassletree.’ One day it was missing and I had a regular panic. But I found it had only been taken out of the window to be shined up a bit, That decided me; I bought it at once. Some poor devil of a mechanic had got it up for himself originally, and it was the only one of the kind. The beauty of it was that it was exactly adapted to Fred's case.” At the name of Fred, Miss de Gilbert perceptibly started. “« What was it ?" demanded a chorus of voices. “It was a most ingenious invention. I returned to America with it about three weeks afterwards,” “Do you want to drive us mad ?— article,’ ‘thing, ‘in- vention,’ what was it ?” “What was it? It was an anfol-aphobo-takistaferon ; that’s what it was—the very best thing of the kind you ever saw, “Oh, do you get a commission on it? Shall we leave our orders at the grocer's or the stationer’s? Does every family cry for one? Tell us instantly what you mean by it, and cease this aggravating conduct.” “That's only a small part of it; what it really was, was a musical-earl, ing-without-alarm traveling clock.” “Oh, indeed ! “Yes. Instead of springing at you in the usual fero- cious way, like a kind of moral rattlesnake, it began gently, soothingly, with soft mellifiuous notes, and gradually in- creased the pressure, till presently it thrilled you all over with the grandeur and glory of getting up to breakfast and your day's work, If it was dark, it also lighted a candle for you, When you once knew it, it was an invaluable thing ; but at first, I had hesitated between it and a ¢A/o- pil-akoustikon.” ** Is that all of it, and would your friend have liked that ? comicbooks.com