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Show watching him curiously, he asked humbly, "Can I have son,j coffee?" Meanwhile Donald was t .urniug the pages of his book. "Herd's a funny picture," he announced, pointing with his fat little finger, "but it's 'bout a dreadful naughty bey. I'll read 'bout him," and, in a very solei'in and impressive im-pressive tone, he repeated the tale of 'Tom, Tom, the Piper's Son." "It's dreadful bad to steal, you know," he commented, gravely. "My1 mamma says so, and, of course, she knows mammas know most everything, every-thing, don't they? Once what do you think? I stole! I didn't steal a pig like Tom, but I stole some little cakes, and my mamma talked to1 me a long time, and she told me so many things so- I'd grow to be a good man. Did your mamma want you to be a good man, too?" The man choked on a hasty cup of coffee, but made no reply. Donald did not seem to expect one, but chatted on. "I was 'fraid my mamma d'id not love me any more when I stole those cakes, 'cause she looked so sorry, but," with a happy little laugh, "seemed like she loved me more'n ever after. But I don't want to see her look sorry like that again. Did you ever make your mamma look sorry out of her eyes, you know?" A smothered groan from the stranger and, with a child's intuition of "something wrong," Donald sought to cheer and console, and said, reassuringly, reas-suringly, "Well, you just go an' tell her you're sorry an' see if she don't be glad and love you. I most know she will." The man had ceased eating and sat motionless with his head bowed on his breast until Mary approached and curtly asked if he were "done eatin'." "Yes," he answered absently, and, looking wistfully at the child, he reached for his hat. "Is you goin' to see your mamma?" questioned Donald, eagerly. "Yes, my little man," came the answer, an-swer, in a clear, ringing voice that made Mary jump and drop a basin. "That's just where I am going. But first, tell me your name." "I'm little Donald Robert Tracy, and my papa's big Donald Robert!" "Good-by, little preacher. You're the best one I've ever heard," and just brushing the golden head with his lips, the tramp passed out of the door and went down the street, not with the slouching, hang-dog air with which he had approached the house, but with head erect and shoulders squared, he swung along with long, easy strides. fir 4 fXuffi e was such an un" ?t- j f 1 lemPt' sad lokinS wrff f L f 1 creature when he ' rW I "ir" I presented himself ' V K I I lif I ftt tne Dack door 't -l.iLtfiTi j that Christmas AvTTjr 'j J j morning asking for fjtfi I n! 1 something to eat 'Jr?lf I that Mary was ; more than half in-It in-It t 1 clined to disobey 2KStf5ithe rule of the Tracy household, which stood good at all seasons of the year as well as at Yuletide, and refuse his request. re-quest. Before she could do so, however, how-ever, Mrs. Tracy herself came into the kitchen, and, with scant show of hospitality, hos-pitality, Mary allowed the tramp to enter. She had always secretly grumbled because Mrs. Tracy would allow no one to be turned away hungry, and today to-day there was no excuse, for the fam- ly had just finished breakfast and there was plenty of food left to give i the man ji substantial meal. "Goin' to come and roD the '"House to-night, like's not," was Mary's inward in-ward comment as she put the coffee pot on the stove, and she watched the man narrowly to see if he were making mak-ing a mental plan of the house, but her suspected burglar did not once look up from the floor as he sat nervously ner-vously twirling his hat. book he was holding in his arms. "You know Mother Goose, don't you?" The man shook his head, but something some-thing like a smile flitted across his sullen features. "Well, I'll show you the pictures and read you 'bout 'em. This one," and Donald slid along the table as near to the man as the dishes would allow, al-low, "this one is about 'Blue Boy.' I'll read 'bout him," and, in a chanting, high-pitched voice, he repeated the rhyme of "Little Boy Blue." "Did you ever sleep under -. haymow?" hay-mow?" he asked, suddenly, at the conclusion con-clusion of his recitation. The man frowned slightly at the childish query, bit his lip and nodded his head. "Was it nice?" went on his interrogator. inter-rogator. "Did your mamma let you?" The man's lower lip was pressed cruelly by his teeth at this question, but a surly shake of his head was his only reply. "Oh, was you naughty and runned away?" the boy asked, slowly. Had Mary been an observing girl, she would have seen, under the scrubby beard and grime on the haggard hag-gard face, a dull red flush spread to the roots of his shaggy, neglected hair. "Didn't your mamma come to look tor yu?" continued the little tormentor. tor-mentor. "She didn't know where I was," the tramp answered, in a strange, muffled voice. "Then you hided from her!" exclaimed ex-claimed the child, with blue eyqes wide open. The man was , looking out of the 'He's young and able to work," Mary soliloquized, as she bustled to and fro putting eatables on one end of the kitchen table. "Might, 'be tolerable tol-erable good lookin', too, if he was shaved and dressed up and washed." "There!" she snapped, setting a cup ot coffee down on the table with as much force as she could without spilling spill-ing its contents. "Your vitual's set." The man, scarcely raising his eyes, dropped his hat and hitched his chair near the table. Just as he eagerly clutched the cup of fragrant coffee, a door opened, a pair of merry blue eyes peered into the kitchen and a shrill little voice piped out, "Hello, man, merry Christmas!" The "man" started, shifted uneasily in his chair, but made no reply. Un- "Of all the ungrateful wretches!" exclaimed Mary, . angrily, to Mrs. Tracy, who had slipped in through the half-open door. "He never even said 'thank you.' " Her mistress did not seem to hear, but, with shining eyes, gathered her little son up in her arms, and, as she pressed him closely to her, she whispered brokenly, "And a little child shall lead them." A "year" passeu; a'ii: little Donald's " 'taining" the tramp was forgotten by all save Mrs. Tracy. She often wondered won-dered what fruit the good seed sown by the innocent child last Christmas morning had borne. That he had been God's chosen instrument for working out some great end, her gentle heart never doubted. It was, therefore, a great pleasure and satisfaction to her to receive a long letter from the "man." It was written from his home in a far eastern city, and told, in a simple, straightforward straight-forward manner, the story of his downfall down-fall and how, moved by Donald's childish child-ish prattle, he had worked his way back home, resolved to begin life anew; how kind friends had helped him and encouraged him, and how he was doing well at his old trade of bookbinding. "I was going from bad to worse," the letter ran, "and nothing is easier for a young fellow to do, and the road down to being a 'common tramp' is a short one when one gets started. When I came to your house that Christmas morning I was bitter, hard and desperate. des-perate. No one living could have touched my heart as did that little blue-eyed boy. His little sermon, with its text taken from 'Mother Goose,' snatched this poor brand from the burning. Tell the little chap that I found my mamma, and she was glad as he said." Accompanying the letter was a package pack-age of Christmas gifts, addressed to Donald. Among other things it contained con-tained a book a copy of "Mother Goose" exactly like the one from which he had "read" to the man to " 'tain him," exquisitely bound in wMte vellum. On the cover in gold letters was Donald's name, and below it, "From his grateful Blue Boy, Christmas 189 ." aauntea Dy nis cnimng reception, the door was burst open, and a golden-haired golden-haired little boy burst into the room. With the unquestioning confidence ot childhood, he walked up to the stranger and said gravely, "I said merry Christmas." "Run into the other room, Donald," Mr.ry put in hastily. The man shot a half-defiant glance at her, but did not look at the child. "I don't want to," the little fellow replied. "He's company, and mamma said I could 'tain him. I bringed the new Mother Doose book dat I dot from Santa Claus to show he," and, pushing push-ing a chair close to the table, from It be mounted the end of the table opposite the man, and sat there like a sweet, rosy - cherub observing some dark spirit. The tramp, who seemed almost famished, paused just long enough to . look wonderingly at his strange Mule companion, and then gave his full attention at-tention to the meal. "Don't jou want to talk?" Donald demanded. "I'm not fit that is, 'er, I don't know ho-,- to talk to such a little kid," the man answered. "All right. I guess you want to eat," the child observed, graciously. "I guess I'll read to you," opening the "YOU KNOW MOTHER GOOSE, DON'T YOU?" window now, forgetful of his good breakfast. "I was naughty once and runned away," Donald prattled on, "and when my mamma found me she l was just awful glad, but she cried, too wasn't that funny? , And she said mothers was always glad when they got their boys back, even when they was big and runned awful far off, 'strayed into the paths' I forget just what that part was, but she said I must always come back to her an' an' I don't 'member any more, but I guess if you'd go back to your mamma she'd forget the naughty and be glad. Do you think she'd cry?" The man cast one fierce look over his shabby person. "Cry!" he exclaimed, ex-claimed, bitterly. "Oh " he drew his breath hard between his teeth as the sight of the baby face choked back the oath that nearly escaped him. "Isn't you goin' to eat any more?" chirped the little fellow, with awakened awak-ened hospitality, noticing that his guest, sitting with his. head on his hand, seemed to have lost his appetite. appe-tite. The child's voice roused him from his thoughts, and, seeing that Mary had paused in her work and was |
