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Show I A FAR I CRY Tiic Sloty of a Happy Christmas Fly MACl YN DUPREC lOnrlsM, MM. Ur tn Muif I'uMltiilns Co.) tl had not lnin i-dsy for John Wnlllngton, Sr. to snieet his Christmas Christ-mas Hlfls tills your, ijlllimuli his old wf( and one or two wHrvanls wore all for vthnm ho had in provide. It was Christmas Vf nnd ho h.ld been through books) m es. vj'hero handsomely hound volumes of story writers, philosophers nnd imots were displayed on every counti'i : IJirough brilliantly lighted Joweh stores, where precious slonea glennu-il softly against backgrounds back-grounds of rich vsJItot; through the perfumed shoji of the florist, whore delicate blosKotus from famous greenhouses green-houses brenthi'd forth a fragrance that gavo the tie to iho bitter wind and swirling snow outside. With each he had left n generous cheek, but always with an iiniitine(l feeling that he was paying for something he did not care lo hnve. l-'lnally, he hod been lured Into n Shop whoso windows displayed an nttractlvr lot of toys for small boys, and he had selected from Us ntniost endless store of guns, wagons, wonderful wonder-ful nulmals nnd ear-splitting "wind Instruments," In-struments," a red tin horn, costing him only 3f ci-nts. This had given him moie satisfaction satisfac-tion than ihi tmrrhnse ho hnd made for inanv times that amount. The other farcols he had ordered delivered, bin this he had cnrrled himself, him-self, an though It wirc something too precious lo be trusted to other hands. It was this that he unwrapped before ' "I Bought It for a Memory, Mother." 1 the big, old fashioned fireplace where I his wife sat, as soon as he had come In from the storm-swept street As he j held Ii up whero tho red gleam of the firelight was caught on Its rounded surface, n look of surprise swept over tho gentle old fnce near him. "Why, John, you never bought that! Surely they handed you someone olso's purchase." "Xo," he said, his faco growing suddenly sud-denly tender', "I bought it." His wife, with a woman's quick Instinct, In-stinct, divined (lie ronsoii. Mho stepped nearer to him nnd laying her hand on Ms nrm, looked at him with pleading eyes, saying: "Hut why, father?" It was the llrst time tdio had called him fnther for a decode pust, and thero was a pitiful btuak In tho old man's volco as he replied: "I bought It for a memory, mother." That was the llrst time In ten years ho had called her mother, nnd at tho sound of the name, she, too, gave way gave way, womanlike, leaning her head on his arm, ami sobbing out n grief that had silently stolon the roses from her cheeks and tho light from her eyes as the years had gone hy. Tho old man's nnu went round. "herTovor-fashlon, while his hand gently gent-ly stroked hor soft white hair. "There, there, mother, dear. Tho boy's not dead. I'll find him for you. If I havo to hunt tho world over. I was to blamo," ho said, with such indnlto regret re-gret In his volco that tho old wife reached up and drew his head down to her face and whispered: ."Don't tako It so. father. I know you thought you wore doing tho best for tho boy when ou sent him away to do or die on his own account, and somehow 1 feel tonight, to-night, ns I havo never felt before, that he may be found." s she spoke, something In her tonn made lilm feel that at last his wife had forgiven him outlrely for tho decision which, ten years before, had robbed hnr of her only child. Always before this he felt through all hor gentle gen-tle nml kindly care for him, lhat tucked away somewhere In the Bllont rervssoB of her being there was Just n little bitterness against him for tho childless state he had brought upon her Hut now that he, himself, had como to repent It, he know beyond a doubt that the last drop of that bitterness bitter-ness had been swnllowed up In a grlof grown sweet from being Bhnred. 1 1 t j , . . i and looked up with misty eyes ot his wife You're right, mothor. I did think It best I would rather have seen him dead than worthless, nnd I knew If he had worth, ha would conquer con-quer himself, and rise without my aid. more of a man than with IL" She put her arm around his neok and patted his cheek He has risen somewhere, father I know It He oould not bo your sou and fall," she said, the loyalty loy-alty and love of a ltroUme lighting her faco with a soft rndlance He took ui' tbi. no in.rn from thu table whew hyrtjdlald it, and fondlod It as If It were fraught with memories, I Instead of merely recalling them. "It's ten years since ho left," ho , said, "whnt a man ho must be now l .11 to-night Hut I was thinking, when I I bought this, of Ihe time when ho ; was such a lllllo jcllow-halred toddler, and almost drove us wild with Just such a horn as this at Christmas ! time. ' " v ! She took the horn fronu him. and looking dreamily at It, said: "Well i kcpji this, father;, maybe Jack s bov will sonio dme mnko these old walls rle," lh It at Chrlslmnn lime as ho made them ring, himself, so many i yenrs ago." "God grant that he may!" said the old man. "Do you remember, mother, how ho used to come chasing down the street after me when I would start, off to my work In the morning'?" "Yes, and how you would pick him up nnd carry him back to me," she said. "And do you lememher the time wo came nenr losing him, the day ho ran away to hunt you In Ihe city?" "Who lhat saw you then could forget for-get It. mother?" and he took her hand In his and drew her down lo the chair beside him. They sat hand In hand In tho silence, given over to voiceless memories of the past, only the ticking of Ihe old clock keeping nn accompaniment accom-paniment to their dreams of olhct Christmas Kves. They were sitting thus an hour later when a servant opened the door and said, respectful ly: 'There Is a telephone call for Mr Wellington." "Can't you answer II, .Mary?" tha old man asked, loath to leave his comfortable com-fortable chair and dreams. "No, sir. It is especially for you. A longdlBtnnrc call, I think." "Who the deuce wants lo talk lo mi from a distance," he said, as he rosn and went to the telephone In the hall Hello, who Is this? he asked. a he picked up the receiver. "Yes, thlJ Is John Wellington." "A party in Chicago wants to talk lo you," sold the longdistance operator. oper-ator. "All right, put him up. Who In thunder do I know In Chicago," ho ejaculated to himself, pressing the ro celver closer lo his ear. A peculiar walling sound was all he heard, and a puzzled expression crept over his face. "Talk a Utile louder. I can't understand n thing you "are saying," and he listened moro Intently. Intent-ly. Tho wailing grew a Utile louder, but still It wan nothing but nn Inarticulate Inartic-ulate wall, and for a moment tho old man looked thoroughly disgusted. "Confound It!" ho shouted nt last. "You sound exactly like a mowilng Infant. In-fant. I don't know whnt you are saying." say-ing." Then n man's laugh was heard, followed fol-lowed by "A merry Christmas, father. You know exactly what he sounds like, but you don't know what ho Is saying," and there was another laugh, ringing Joyful, as In his boyhood days, and the old man know he had found his own, "Jnck, Jack, my boy, Is that you?" ho shouted, staggered by tho unexpected unex-pected Joy of his sudden discovery. "N'ono other, father, but what you Just heard was another Jack, tho second sec-ond Jack Wellington, Jr. Ho has Just arrived, and his command of Kngllsh Is somewhat limited, hut he was doing his best to Introduce himself, mid Invite In-vite you and grandma to Christmas dinner with him, and " "Oh, Jack, Jack, where havo you been all these years?" sobbed tho old man. "Catch the Lake Shore Limited tonight, to-night, father, bring mother with you, and I'll tell you all about It when you get hore. You've got time. You soo, father, I've kept track of you and mother all along. I wasn't going to let anything happen to tho old folks, and" there was a catch In his volco, "I've got the right kind of n report to moke, father. Novor fear that." The old man could scarcely contain himself ns ho listened, pressing the receiver re-ceiver closer and closer lo his ear, as though he feared some bit of the precious news might escnpe him. Then he shouted: "All right, "son, we're coming on the next train." He loft the receiver dangling on tho wall, and started on a rffn to the room whero his wife sat, shouting ns ho went: "Mother, mother. It's Jack ,onr boy. Get roady, mother. I'm going go-ing to have a call here In 20 minutes lo catc.li the train for Chicago." She had risen with a wild look on hor face, and had started to question him, bilt ho shook his head, saying: "No, no, I'll explain later, 'Not got tlmo now. We're going to spend Chrlstmns with Jack and his boy." He started for the 'phone again, imTHuTt"uTsTrea mtT-k, tfrflaTlYnngT "Pack the tin horn If you don't pack another thing. Any child that can cry loud enough to be heard all thu way from Chicago ought to havo breath enough to blow that horn," nnd ho dashed again to the 'phone to order a cab. |