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Show SYNOPSIS. 10 While trundling the clean washing up Clipper Hill Mary Alice Brown Is set upon up-on by some mischievous boys, who spill the washing Into the dirt. She is rescued and taken to her ho.ne in Calvert street by Francis Willett. a Galahad knight. She Is punished by her drunken father for returning without the wash money. Mary Alice wanders away from home, takes a trolley ride into the country and spends the night at the farmhouse of Sam Thomas. Thom-as. In the morning she meets little Charlie Char-lie Thomas, a cripple. Sam takes Mary Alice home and finds that he and Mrs. Brown are old acquaintances. Sam takes her and Mary Alice to his home for a visit while Lent Brown, the drunken father, fa-ther, is serving a workhouse sentence. Charlie Is made a Galahad knight. Francis Fran-cis visits the farm and is saved from drowning by Mary Alice. Lem Brown gets out of jail and goes to work for Sam Thomas as hired man. Francis Willett Is sent away to preparatory school. Mary Alice gets a job In a department store. The Thomases have a wonderful Christmas Christ-mas dinner. O The disease of liquor-love Is a Q n terrible thing and one of the q O hardest to shake off. Lem Brown, Q K surly beast of a man, gradually K Q steels hft will against the Devil Q q Booze. The first sign that he is es Q wlnninfi the fight appears dur- Q (5 ing th.i Christmas season de- p scribed here. 5J O O CXX3XXXWOQOOQOOOOOCKXOGO CHAPTER VII Continued. "Here's some kind o' note," said Lem, picking up one of the planks wbicb had been wrenched from the top of the case. It says: 'S-l-r Sir Ker-nlght Ker-nlght Charles B. Thomas.' Rip 'er open, chummy; who's she from?" Charlie read: To Sir Knight Charles Brushly Thomas, from a few of his mul-mul-titood-l-nous ad-mirln' friends. "Oh, dear," cried Charlie, looking up with shining, pathetic eyes. "I never invited the girls to my party." "Don't you fret, Charlie-boy." comforted com-forted Mary Alice. "They couldn't have come. They all went out of town for Christmas." Everybody looked at Mary Alice. An explanation was wanted. "It was Francis' Idea," she said. "First be wanted that him and me he and I should give it to you; then the Irls heard about it, and they were just crazy to help. I went to Mr. Wil-lett's Wil-lett's office I had to because for a reason and at first he said he and Mrs. Willett would do it all. But I totd him the girls would be so disap polluted, and we fixed It this way. I twen so nervous, for fear it wouldn't .ome. Mr. Willett said he'd have it eent out, but I was afraid Isn't it a dandy? It's better 'n any Stacey's had in their whole art department. Mr. Willett sent 'way to New York for I It." This was a long speech for Mary Alice. She blushed and retired into the shadows. "You lazy critters, clean up this mess," said Martha. Lera went out with a his armful of rubbish, while Sam followed with the empty case. Charlie sat fingering the shiny instru-f instru-f ments, his eyes glistening with happiness. happi-ness. "He's got a real talent," Martha was always Insisting. Sam returned to the sitting room Blone. There was a deal of puzzling over the exact utilities of the various articles in the outfit. Somebody looked up; it was Mrs.' Brown. "What's become o' Lem?" she queried. quer-ied. Just then the kitchen door swung open and Lem, quite red in the face, replied: "Here I be." He was pushing push-ing before him a big and commodious heel-chair. "That's what I wanted to go to town for." he said. "I wrote in and had it saved out for me; a friend picked it out. He's a storekeeper. When I come home, I druv around the bade way so's 't nobuddy'd see me. Wbaddayou think of 'er. chummy?" Of late Sam had been allowing Lem a little money, in the Interest of clothes and self-respect. He wanted to see what Lem would do with it. This was a part of his "treatment" in the process of reclamation. Now Sam felt a queer, lumpy discomfort in the neighborhood of his Adam's apple, as ( If that member were trying violently , to climb out through bis mouth. He j blinked. j Scrutiny showed Sam that Lem had i pn the same humble suit of clothes 1 which ho had worn on the day he quit fall. He had on the same blue cotton shirt, with its limp collor. It dawned upon the Boss thnt all the clothes Lem had bought consisted of a necktie of '.tot red, elaborately etched by machinery machin-ery with lloral decorations as modest s the wallpaper iu a country hotel. Loin's soul had waked up. indeed! Behind the oxprossiouloss eyes dwelt ; cenlinicnt. tenderness, huiti.it) sympathy. sympa-thy. Letn had gone humbly without a penny of his own for four mouths, and (hen with his lirst few dollars he had benight a two-hit necktie for himself, and this princely offering to lay upon the a!:!r ef ufieetion "Oh, Lem, how could you?" Martha said, blowing her nose. "Lookut this," said Lem, spinning the chair about like a top. "That there little trallin' wheel is swiveled. see? And this kind of a hoop thing on both wheels is to grab with your hands, so's 't you can push 'er 'round and steer 'er any place you want to go. It works just as easy don't take no effort at all." He looked about, proud as a boy; then he suddenly picked up Charlie, cushions and all, and deposited him gently in the new chair. Charlie was speechless, gazing from one face to another an-other in a blissful daze. "Makes that other old homemade thing look like thirty cents, don't It?" said Sam. "No it don't, no it don't," cried the little boy. " 'S no such a thing. I ain't never goin' back on my old chair. You come 'ere, Boss; come 'ere, Lem." The two great fellows went and stood awkwardly by the little boy. He reached up and laid a hand on the coat of each, clutching both with the grip of a great affection. "Lem understands, don't you, Lem? You don't expect me to go back on my old chair, do you, Lem?" "You bet I don't Charlie. If you'd rather have it, I'll take this new rat trap and " "No you won't. I'm goin' to keep 'em both, long's I live, even when I get so I can walk good as anybody. Maybe I'll use the new one more, to get used to travelin' around. But I'm goin' to sit some In the Boss' every day. It's awful comf'table. Gee! I'm a tumble lucky boy. There ain't nobody no-body ever comes near me that don't do somethin' nice for me. I guess It's Merry Christmas every day, all the year 'round with me." He paused for breath. Into his cheeks had crept the delicate, warm ash j,jL M ) "There Ain't Nobody Ever Comes Near Me That Don't Do Something Nice for Me." pink. His great eyes swam and shone, his aureate curls shook vigorously, an animated and genial halo about his clear-cut little face. "Gee!" he said again. "I'm a tnr-rible tnr-rible lucky little boy. Three cheers for Christmas!" Everybody laughed; there had been a tension, a constraint. Lem's big, white teeth glistened, his mouth widened, wid-ened, and the little lines of good humor hu-mor spread away up to his eyes. "Haw, haw!" he shouted. "Haw, haw! That's a good one three cheers for Christmas. Hoo-raw!" The laughter waked up and scared the drowsy Dick, who failed to catch the humor of the situation and howled dismally, only to get laughed at nnd squeezed, and kissed and tucked away with another warm bottle. It paid to be cross, then, even on Christmas. "Now, folks," said Sam, beginning to fidget and pull with large, futile fingers fin-gers at his collar; "it's gettiu' late, and I ain't sprung my part of this celebration cele-bration yet. The young-ones has had their presents and some surprises has happened I got a word to say. it's about this Lem, here, and you other Browns. "Now, Lem's be'n with me quite some time, and I'm gettin' more or loss dependent on him; ain't I. Lem?" "I don't know," said Lem. "Be you 5" j "Sure be. T' other day I bought a little addition to the farm. That's the five-acre piece on the Sheffield road, down tow-ard the car line. There's a riiht good little house on it. Waters, the feller I bought the property from, lias got a job somowheros else. I jest wondered, loner's Lem seems to like ii-folks ii-folks and contented with his job. how yeu Browns 'd like to move out here handy to us, all be together, and set up housekeepin'. This bein' Christmas, I didn't know bnt if the idea pleased ye, I'd give ye a year's rent. That suit you. Lottie? How 'bout it, Mary Alice? Car line's handy. You can gn to town every day" And so it bad come around again, the little cottage with the green grass. Mrs. Brown had never dared dream of It. Two children, a home, and a husband, hus-band, good, clean, industrious; the bitter bit-ter years rolled up like a dingy and soiled curtain. Mary Alice's arm stole around her mother's neck, and one hand groped out for the big paw of Lem Brown, as hard and knobby as the field stones he juggled so earnestly, but, unlike them, quite warm, and capable of giving giv-ing a comforting and cheerful squeeze. CHAPTER VIII. Mr. Stubbs and Doctor Billy. In the early spring of every year the city of Sheffield elected a new mayor and council. Under the law of the state, too, the cities decided for the ensuing en-suing year the question of "license" or "no license." For many years Sheffield, Shef-field, an Industrial town, had voted to permit liquor selling under a system of high license. But of late the no-license no-license element had gained ground. Now it appeared that, after years of struggle, public opinion had so far swung to the cold-water side that the saloon-brewery-distillery faction would have difficulty in holding its majority of vr-tes. From the ranks of the no-license forces a leader had arisen, a young man with an incisive way of thinking, think-ing, a lawyer, whose eloquence, not inconsiderable, in-considerable, was matched by cool judgment and practical shrewdness. He was astute, resourceful, adroit. Some of his own followers were inclined in-clined to squirm at his exceedingly practical methods, but they had to admit ad-mit that he got results. Early in January a clerk brought to John Willett's desk the card of Amos K. Stubbs. Willett smiled, directed the clerk to admit the caller, and also to bring him his personal checkbook. "Hello. Amos," said he. "How goes the battle?" "Great," said Stubbs. "Glad to hear it. Have a cigar?" "No, thanks, Mr. Willett. Smok ing makes me so nervous I've cut It out." "So have I," said Willett, "but for a different reason. My boy's growing up, and I don't want him to say th old man sets him the example." The young politician viewed John Willett with an admiring eye. "You certainly are a fine man, Mr. Willett," he said. "I wish we had twenty men in Sheffield like you." Stubbs spoke from the heart. He was capable of using flattery where it would do the most good, but his appreciation ap-preciation of Willett's qualities was so genuine that his praise came forth unbidden. un-bidden. Recognizing the young man's sincerity, Willett felt a pleasant glow of glorification. He smiled his thanks, a trifle embarrassed by the outspoken compliment. "We've got 'em on the run," went on Stubbs. "They're scared to death of us. Our wagon's just at the top of the hill; a good, strong push, and she's nicely over. That's what I came to see you about." Willett reached for his checkbook. "How much this time, Amos?" Stubbs held up a hand. "That's all very nice," he said. "We'll come to that later. But it's your personality we need to win this fight." "But, Stubbs, you know I never have meddled In politics In my life; besides " "Merely the knowledge that you have voted for no-license all these years has been of great value to us," said Stubbs eagerly. "How much more valuable It will be If you will take an active " "Listen, my dear Amos," lnteriupt-ed lnteriupt-ed Willett. "Even If I were willing to go into this thing personally, I couldn't think of it. Mrs. Willett and I sail for Europe next week." "Oh," said Stubbs, abashed. "That's too bad." He got up and began pacing pac-ing the floor restlessly. "Couldn't you reconsider? Couldn't you postpone your trip? It's most important, most important." "I'm afraid not, Amos. My plans have all been made. Besides. I'd be of no use to you. anyhow. I should distinctly dis-tinctly refuse to do any personal work. I'm not that sort of a man. I' can't see that I would be of any value to you: I'm no speech mak " "You don't understand," said Stubbs. 'Tolitics isn't a game of oratory any more. Politicians make speeches, of course; that's for effect, for publicity. The real work is done by more telling and practical methods. If you would stay home until after election " "Now, Amos, stop right there. What's the use of your wasting breath? Let me " OCKXX5000000COOOOOOOOOOOOOO H And Isn't Stubbs telling ex- (5 actly the truth? Still if every O Q family that has suffered directly q Q and indirectly from the use of C? liquor entered the fight against the traffic, doesn't it seem that Q !j two-thirds of the pecple in this O country would be lined up with 5? o O X the "dry" forces? a O O tTO 13 B COXTlNfl-.U) |
