OCR Text |
Show (McClure Syndicate A'NU Service.; TAVIE stood at the camp window and looked out over the great frozen lake. "Do you think he'll come right across the ice?" "He?" Mother answered from the kitchen. "Oh, Santa Claus? Why, perhaps, darling. But not this morning, morn-ing, funny boy; not before evening." Such unquestioning five-year-old faith, and she must watch its betrayal. be-trayal. Because there weren't going to be any presents. There wasn't any money. Suddenly Davie screamed with excitement ex-citement and his mother went running run-ning to look out too. "Why, it's a deer, Davie." "Reindeer," said Davie, without any question at all. "One of Santa's, you think? Maybe May-be the sleigh tipped over and all the presents spilled! Isn't that too bad?" They watched the graceful creature crea-ture until it disappeared into the woods on the other side. Then mother moth-er returned to her baking and Davie Da-vie followed. "It's a shame for it to happen just the day before Christmas when there won't be time to make any more. How disappointed all the children chil-dren in the world will be! l3ut you Two small blobs appeared far out against the snow. won't mind so much, will you, Davie darling, because you'll know what happened. Just think, you saw the deer! And wasn't he beautiful?" "Yes," Davie drew a long sigh of rapturous memory. He fell silent, then: "May I go out and play?" The eleven o'clock sun was warm and she bundled him out. Suddenly it was one o'clock and time for lunch. And she had heard no sound from Davie for an hourl No answer when she cafled froro the door. Davie wasn't in the yard. Of course he had gone to find the sleigh, the tipped-over sleigh and the presents. How could she have failed to consider the way a child's mind would work? She dared not leave the baby, who had a slight cold, nor start out with her on a search which might last for hours. Nothing to do, then, but wait for Jock to come in midafternoon. It was three o'clock before a small blob appeared far out against the snow. Two small blobs, in fact. She waited, sobbing with relief. "I didn't find Santa Claus' sleigh, Mama," he explained as soon as he . could speak for her kisses, "but I found his house. She lives there and that was one of his reindeer. The tracks went right into the yard. Santa Claus was gone. There was just a man asleep in the kitchen. I think he's one of the toy-miakers." "No, that was Ned," said Goldilocks. Goldi-locks. "What's your name, dear?" "Phillie." As the afternoon wore on something some-thing familiar about the contour of the little face kept tickling her memory mem-ory until realization struck. Golden curls and a blue zipper suit! Phillie! Ned Ned Cozetti? Of course. This was the Bentley child. Phyllis Bentley, kidnaped Thanksgiving Thanks-giving day and given up for dead! Jock, bending to unlace his snow-shoes, snow-shoes, was met by a whirlwind bundled bun-dled to its ears in shawls and surrounded sur-rounded by three miniature whirlwinds whirl-winds similarly wrapped. "Crank up the car right away. We've got to get into town before the telegraph office closes. Do you know who this child is?" The whirlwind whirl-wind gave a bounce and grasped his arm. "Phyllis Bentley, that's all. And her mother thinks she's dead and this is Christmas eve. Oh, hurry! hur-ry! Davit was gone three hours today to-day and i know just how she must feel. And if we get hauled up for driving without a license, there'll be ten thousand doliars to pay the fine!" |