The Argosy, Vol. 84 No. 1 — page 100: what you’re looking at

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

90 little cottage lying peaceful and still in © the soft light of the twinkling Christmas Stars. These slowly faded as the sun came up. The ground shone dazzlingly white in its fresh holiday attire. The Mullens household was not early astir. The snow-plow had been busy on the road long before the house showed signs of life. “Tt’s Christmas,” was Joyce’s first waking thought, “ and although we can’t spend it with Cynthia and Allen, yet it’s going to be a really, truly Christmas with children and stockings. I wonder— it must be late—why don’t I hear Mary and Larry?” She lay still, listening. “Of course, Mrs. Mullens is keeping them still for fear of disturbing us. I must hurry down so we can _ begin festivities at once or there won’t be time before we leave.” She scrambled into her clothes and quickly opened her bedroom door. She paused, listening eagerly. The house was as still as a desert. She ran lightly down the stairs. “Merry Christmas!” she called as she caught sight of Mrs. Mullens bending over the kitchen stove. The woman did not turn. tered something unintelligible. “ Where are the children? Aren’t they up yet?” Joyce paused, uncertainly, fearing she knew not what. “Mary’s got a cold and I’m not let- ting her get up.” Mrs. Mullens still bent over the stove. “Oh, I’m $0 sorry,” said Joyce, “ and —and—Larry?” | “Larry’s gone off on a visit.” Mrs. ~ Mullens bent still lower over her work. What could the woman mean? Joyce was conscious of something slipping from her. It was always that way. Before she could grasp any happiness, it always vanished. Since her father’s interest in Larry the night before she had pictured a future so different from the past. The silent, gloomy house would waken from its sleep She mut- THE ARGOSY. through the warmth and sunshine of a child’s merry laugh. Larry, Larry! It all depended on Larry—her father’s future—her future —the future of the gloomy old dwelling. “Mrs. Mullens,” fear tugged at her heart, and trembled in her voice, “ what do you mean. Where is Larry?” But Mrs. Mullens’s explanations were incoherent. Joyce felt as if she were batting hopelessly against a stone wall. At last her father appeared. He took the news quietly, expressed no surprise, and waited anxiously for the arrival of the sleigh to take them to the station. Joyce felt dazed. Her thoughts circled around and around. She felt that if something did not interrupt she would spend the rest of her days on the same endless chain. Christmas morning—the stockings still hung—no one to empty them — Mary sick and ERarry gone—the house in the city gloomy and silent—Christmas morn- ing and the stockings still hung— It seemed like days, but it was only hours before the sleigh arrived. Joyce was glad when at last they ° started. The cold air against her hot forehead was grateful. Perhaps by the time they reached the station she would be able to think straight ahead instead of in that hopeless whirl. She wondered what time it was. What train were they taking back to town? She felt for her watch. It was gone. “Father,” she. exclaimed, “I’m sorry, but we'll have to go back. My watch— I must have forgotten to put it on this morning. I can’t lose it; it was mother’s, you know.” So the sleigh turned around and they drove once more to the Mullens cottage. As Joyce rapped on the door she heard shouts and laughter. She knocked again but was unheeded. At last, despairing of making herself heard, she opened the door and entered. She stood speechless, looking at the group around the kitchen chimney. There were some strange children, and EOPMIC WOOKS (E@)