Wilbur's Christmas Gift

Wilbur's Christmas Gift

By Elsie C. Carroll

Walter Wilbur's hand shook a little as it knocked upon the door labeled "President's Office," but the young man squared his shoulders resolutely as he waited for a summons to enter. It was an hour after quitting time, and the second floor offices of the big munition factory were empty. Down below, the night shift was just commencing, and the hum from the great ma- chines floated up to his ears. The young man's mind was far from his surroundings, how- ever, and his smooth brow was drawn into anxious little puck- ers, while his keen, gray eyes shifted restlessly from the window overlooking the autumn splendor of San Madras Gorge, to the inscription upon the door before him. Now and then he flung back with an impatient gesture the lock of dark hair which per- sisted in tumbling down over his forehead, and the thumb and finger of his right hand toyed nervously with the third button of his coat. Wilbur knew that President Harrison disliked being dis- turbed when he was in his private office, but he had determined to have the question settled before another day. Anything else might have waited, but he could not bear the thought of another night of suspense such as the last one. And so much depended upon the coming interview — O, if only he might hope! His life's — happiness was at stake and Nettie's. When the chief's well-known "Come in" echoed through the outer rooms, Wilbur drew in a quick little breath and en- tered. He had never counted himself a coward before, but his knees trembled now. Mr. Harrison was seated at his desk at the far end of the room. The steady scratch of his pen went on. Wilbur looked back at the half-open door. There was still time to retreat. Nothing had ever looked quite so formidable to him as the broad ilightly stooped shoulders of the man who three years ago ha J befriended him. Beads of perspiration came out on his face. Only the thought of Nettie and his love for her kept up his courage. At length the swivel chair wheeled about. — "Well, sir? Oh, it's you, Wilbur. Come in, come in. I was just wanting to see you." Wilbur's nerves relaxed a little at this genial greeting. He advanced and took the chair oppo- site Mr. Harrison. The chief went on,

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"I've just received a big order for those latest army guns from the government. They want 500,000 from us by the first of the year. Do you know, I believe the United States is waking up at last to the fact that she may be forced into this war, and she's beginning to get prepared. Of course, I'd hate to see it come, as much as any one. Still I think we ought to be ready, and naturally I'm glad to get our share of the business. The order was telegraphed in only fifteen minutes ago. It means that likely all the other factories have had similar orders. We'll need a lot of materials and the immediate supply is bound to be a little short so soon after those big shipments to the Allies. You'd better get your orders in at once. Telegraph the Steel Works first. Take all Jenkins will let you have. Then get in orders for the other materials. I wouldn't put it off a minute. I'd have done it myself, but you know more about how much stuff we have on hand and how much we need than I do. And, Wilbur, tell Henderson for me as you go down, that positively no visitors must be admitted about the works. I suppose you saw an account of that explosion at the Garrick Factory over in Scranton. The country's full of German spies and plotters. We'll have to put some extra guards on at night, too. You might mention it to Young tonight, if you see him." The chair wheeled back to the desk and the pen began to scratch again. Wilbur started toward the door as he was accustomed to do when he had received his orders. The orders were important, and he was always prompt to obey. He was almost glad his in- terview had been deferred. But he stopped. It could not be deferred. He must have it out now. He turned back, brushing the rebellious lock of hair from his eyes as he cleared his throat. —— —— "Mr. Harrison I will you I may I speak to you a few moments this evening?" The president whirled and looked at him in surprise. He was unable to imagine what had come over Wilbur. During the first months the young man had been in his employ he had watched him carefully. It is natural that ex- convicts should be regarded with suspicion, perhaps. But that had been more than two years ago. Wilbur had come to be the most trusted man in the plant. "Why, what did you want to speak to me about?" he asked wonderingly. — "It is about Net your daughter." Then the young man's courage returned. The words tumbled out of his mouth rapidly. "I love Nettie, Mr. Harrison, and she loves me. I know I am not worthy of her, but I am more worthy than perhaps you think. I was not guilty of the crime for which I was sent to jail. — If you will let me tell you the story, sir, I "Stop!" thundered Mr. Harrison. "I believe you asked if you might speak to me about my daughter. There is absolutely

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nothing for you to talk with me about her, an<J how have you dared to approach her in any way, much less insult her with an offer of your love?" The older man had risen and was towering above Wilbur, his face white with anger. Some men would have cowered beneath such scorn and wrath, but the gray eyes of Walter Wilbur met the eyes above him unflinchingly. "Nettie asked that she might be the first to tell you the story of our meeting. I will only say that I met her through a littlecrippled friend of mine whom she befriended. When I told her of my love I did not know she was your daughter. She believes I am an innocent man. You told me once you be- lieved it. At any rate, God knows I am innocent. Haven't I suffered enough for another man's weakness? Must I give up everything in life for another's mistake?" "You must at least give up all thought of my daughter. Granting you were not guilty of that crime, who are you to come courting my daughter? You are a man with a shadowed name. You are a jail-bird. Fool that I was to befriend you and make you prominent in my business. This is the way you reward me for all that I've done for you." James Harrison's face was now crimson with rage. His hands were clenched and he trembled from head to foot. Wilbur's face had gone white. He stood perfectly still, looking his employer in the face, not with challenge or defiance, but with pain and disappointment. The lock of black hair hung unheeded over his forehead. Presently the older man broke out again: "I am through with you. I had fooled myself into think- ing you might be trusted, and you serve me with a treachery like this. You ask my daughter's hand You, a jailbird. I suppose !

I should take it as a good joke and let it pass, but I warn you to get from my sight. I'm not in a joking humor." He wheeled about and walked rapidly to a window. The lash of his words had cut deep into Wilbur's sensitive soul. For a moment he stood half-dazed where the other had left him, then he turned and slowly groped his way from the office. A half hour before, the world had at least been a place of hope and promise; now it was a dungeon of black despair. As he stumbled half -blindly down the stairs he met Macky, the night foreman. "Hello, Wilbur," the good-natured Irishman called. "I was iust hunting you. Can you tell me when that shipment from Detroit will be in? And say, we'll need some more powder and lead soon." "You'd better go and talk things over with Mr. Harrison, Macky," Wilbur answered, in a tone that made the foreman

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lo< k at him quizzically as he brushed past, out to the street. "Why, the lad's sick," Macky muttered solicitously, as he ti.rned back to his work.

It was Christmas eve. San Madras Gorge had lost some of its autumn splendor, but the weather was still mild enough to be pleasant, and here and there small splashes of crimson and gold could be seen among the dominating brown of the land- scape. Walter Wilbur made his way slowly up the trail leading to San Madras. As he reached the top of the gorge the first glimpse of the town showed him the towering smokestacks of the Har- rison Munition Factory. The sight naturally filled him with bitterness. Three months had passed since his discharge from the plant. During that time he had learned the crushing power with which one man, strong in wealth and influence, may push down another who is friend- less and poor. True to his word, James Harrison had warned all the fac- tories against Wilbur and he had been unable to get permanent work. He had gone as far east as Farrington, thinking he could surely find something to do there in the Arlington factories, but he found that Mr. Harrison was as thorough in his work of hate as he was in the business which had made him famous. Where- ever he applied, Wilbur was met by the same cruel rebuff: "You're that jail-bird from Harrison's plant, aren't you? He says you're dangerous. Nothing doing here. The country's full of your kind, I guess, but a munition factory's no place for 'em. Wilbur had been driven to any kind of work he could find, but even odd jobs were not plentiful. He had managed to earn enough to feed and clothe himself, but he had Wally to think of. To be sure Nettie had declared her intention of looking after the little fellow permanently, but perhaps her father had t'irned her even against Wally. The young man's bitterness and despondency was not alone due to his failure to find work. It was keener because he had converted himself that Nettie's father had been right in his attitude toward their love. He was sure she had loved him, and it would always be a balm to his troubled life that she be- lieved in him and was willing to share his name. But he could see now how selfish and blind he had been ever to think of allowing her to do so. He had reasoned that as long as he was innocent he was as good as any other man in the world, but there was that stigma of the penetentiary upon his name. He could never live it down! That was clear to him now, though he had been blind to the fact for a time. That he had suffered

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unjustly for a friend was of a little consolation to him now. He could see exactly how it was with the world. It didn't matter at all what a man really was. All that mattered was what he was thought to be. Perhaps Mr. Harrison had even converted Nettie into the belief that he was a criminal and an imposter. At this thought Wilbur's heart grew still harder. He had never before come so near regretting the thing he had done for his chum. He almost hated George Chatwin's memory this after- noon. He wondered if he didn't even hate Wally. No, he couldn't hate Wally. No one could do that. Besides it was Wally who had brought Nettie into his life. Even though she was lost to him now, the memory of her love would always be a precious treasure. No he could not hate Wally It was to make sure that the ; !

little fellow was being cared for that he had come hack to San Madras. He knew that if Nettie's assistance had been with- drawn the amount he had saved for the child would not last long. He had come to see Wally, then he would leave the west and go to New York perhaps, or some place and start all over again where it was not known that he was a "jail-bird." It was a little after sundown when he reached the small home of Mrs. Ewell, the lady Nettie had hired to care for Wally when he had been able to leave the hospital. Mrs. Ewell met him at the door. "Why, Mr. Wilbur! Whatever is the matter!" She was struck by the man's changed appearance. "Wally and I have been wondering why you didn't ever come any more." Wilbur had left San Madras immediately after his discharge without seeing anyone. "Miss Nettie has almost stopped coming, too," the good woman went on, little knowing how the mention of the girl's name hurt the listener. He wanted to ask when she was there last, and if there was any change in her, and if she asked about him, but he kept back these eager questions and asked for Wally. "He has learned to walk with his crutches, Mr. Wilbur, and he's so anxious for you to see him ! He goes down by the factory every evening to watch for you. That is where he is now. He's grieving his heart out that you don't come any more, and he 'specially wanted to ask you to come to-morrow to see the Christmas tree Miss Nettie has promised to send him." "I will go and find him," Wilbur said. His heart was beat- ing with mingled emotions. He was overjoyed at the news that Wally could walk. He would always have Nettie to thank for that. The operation which had made it possible cost more than he could have saved for many years. He regretted the anxiety and disappointment he had caused his little friend. He should have seen Wally before his going away that night.

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He went off with long, swinging strides towards the factory. As the big plant loomed before him in the distance of the gather- ing twilight, he thought bitterly of the man whose name it bore. Rebellion at the cruel injustice in the world burned with- in him, and for a moment IwPwas conscious of a fiend-like desire to smash that great throbbing, humming structure to the ground. He felt that he would like to stand and exult over James Harrison there beside the ruins. This unnatural meditation was interrupted by the sight of a halting little figure coming toward him in the path. Quickly his emotions changed. He gulped hard at the sight of Wally walking, and running forward he caught the frail little fellow in his arms. "Wally, man! Wally!" he exclaimed joyously, and W ally's thin little arms held him tight. "Uncle Walt, I been watchin' and watchin' for you. It seemed like all the men must a corned out o' the factory and I got so tired waitin'. I didn't want to go home without seem' you tonight, cause tomorrow's Christmas, an' I'm goin' t' have a tree, Miss Nettie says." The little fellow paused a moment and then went on. "When I got too tired waitin' I went over by the edge of the grove to sit down and rest. Then I was goin' back to the factory to watch again, but I got scared. Why don't you never come to see me, Uncle Walt?" The little fellow was looking searchingly into the man's changed face. "I asked Miss Net- tie why you didn't, and she just bited her lips and said she did- n't know." "I've come to see you now, Wally, man. And to think you can walk! That's splendid!" "Yes, and Doctor says in a year or two I can walk without crutches and can run and play with the boys. Won't that be fun? Oh, won't it, Uncle Walt?" Wilbur was still holding the child in his arms. "Uncle Walt, let's go over in the grove where Miss Nettie used to wheel me, and we'd wait for you to come from the fac- tory and then eat lunch and tell stories and play games." For a moment Wilbur hesitated. It seemed he could not bear the pain that memory -haunted spot would bring. It was in the little grove just east of the factory that he had first met Nettie. She had come in answer to the advertisement in which he had asked the help for little Wally he was unable to give. She had found the little cripple and had brought him out for an airing in his small wheel-chair. Wilbur had run across them as he was hurrying home from work. He did not know she was Mr. Har- rison's daughter of whose arrival at San Madras he had read in the papers a few days before. He did not know this for many days. She had let him believe she was a nurse employed

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by a wealthy lady who had read of his need for help and had be- come interested in the case. That is how he came to confide to her the whole story of Wally's pathetic little life. He remembered how interested and sympathetic she had been and how her questions had drawn out details of his own connection with the story which he modestly would have with- held. Before they parted that afternoon, she knew all about that mistake Wally's father had made in borrowing without per- mission, money from the bank in which he and Wilbur worked. She knew, too, how urgent it had been that he should have the money for the girl-wife who was ill in the hospital waiting to be Wally's mother; she knew about the later critical time when it was thought that the little mother would not live to see her baby, and how George was called from the bank to go to her. She had somehow made him dwell on the lagging days of sus- pense, and his own fear that George's embezzlement would be discovered while Virginia was still ill. She had blinked hard to keep back her tears during his narration of the rest of the story: How the "borrowing" had been discovered, and to save George and Virginia he had managed to throw suspicion upon himself. George, of course, would release him as soon as Virgie was better. He told her about George's note of gratitude which was smuggled into his cell ancT how he had destroyed it for fear the truth would be found out too soon. Then there was the saddest part of the whole story, when George and Virgie returning home with their baby, were killed in a train accident and Wally was left a cripple. He hurried over the rest of the story How he had told !

the real facts about the "borrowing" only to be jeered at, and how he had befriended the orphaned child of his old pal as soon as he was released from prison; his struggle to find work and the subsequent kindness of Mr. Harrison in giving him a place in the factory. He explained how he realized that med- ical aid might do much for the child and of his inspiration to adverstise for help since it would be a long time before he could afford the operation necessary. He wondered after he had parted with the nurse how he had come to confide so much to a perfect stranger. But as the discovered that she days passed and their acquaintance grew, he had an intuitive sympathy and understanding which invited con-

fidence. .11 A few weeks after their first meeting he became aware that*u *

sweet, tender he loved this girl with the serious brown eyes and little charge. lips, who came daily to care for his Then had come that glorious day when he had discovered that his love was returned. He had come upon Wally and the unexpectedly there in the grove. They were playing a nurse

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new game. As he approached, he heard Wally's little voice sing- ing, "If I were Uncle Walter, Uncle Walter, Uncle Walter; If I were Uncle Walter now, what would you do?" The setting sun was shining on the child's delicate profile and he looked like a fairy child there against the background of dark forest trees. There was something always strongly ap- pealing about Wally, but especially so at that moment. The nurse must have felt it as much as Wilbur, for she caught him in her arms and covered his face with kisses. Just then Wally had discovered Wilbur. The significance of the child's song in connection with her own action sent a crimson flood to the girl's face, and she was unable to co ntrol her emotions. For an instant only in that confusing moment her eyes were raised to Wilbur's but that glance was a divine revela- tion and created a new world for him. That night he had confessed his love, only to find his new joy almost extinguished when he learned that she was not the mere nurse, Nettie Lawrence, he had supposed her to be, but was Donetta Lawrence Harrison, the only daughter of James L. Harrison, the president of the munition factory. He had looked upon his case as hopeless in view of these facts, but Nettie had insisted that he speak to her father. She was sure that her father was a man capable of judging men, she had said, and she felt confident that he would not ruin the happiness of her life by refusing her the man she loved. But the girl was not wholly acquainted with her father, as has been seen from the interview which took place that October evening three months past. Wilbur was walking with Wally in his arms toward the grove. They reached the old stump seat in the small clearing where they had sat many times before. "Now if Miss Nettie was only here!" sighed Wally, as he leaned against his friend with a happy sigh. "Tell me about Daddy and Mother," he began, "was Mother's hair brown and goldie like Miss Nettie's, and was Daddy big and stout like you?" Before Wilbur had time to answer this double question the child sat up with sudden alertness and clutched the man's arm. "See, Uncle Walt?" he whispered. "Them's the men that scared me over by the factory." He was pointing to the west of the clearing and Wilbur's eyes caught sight of two masked men skulking cautiously through the shrubs, toward the factory. Rapidly his mind put certain facts together. "Did you see those men over by the factory, Wally?" he demanded almost gruffly. "Yes. They were talking with that Mr. Young who ate lunch with us once. They were in the bushes and they put those black things on their faces. Why do they do that, Uncle Walt?"

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"Did you hear what they said, Wally? Tell me quick!" "Mr. Young said everything will be O. K., and they said they would put it on the south side of the works at eight sharp and for him to be clear, and then they were going up and do the big Guy's mansion. Was mother's hands soft and white like Miss Nettie's, Uncle Walt?" The question was unheeded. Wilbur had taken pencil and paper from his pocket and pencilled a few hurried words. He took out his watch and looked at it there in the dim moonlight. "Wally, do you know where Miss Nettie lives?" he de- manded, in a tone that startled the child. "Yes, up in the big white house on the hill. She wheeled me up ther».- once and we had supper on the lawn." "Can you take this note to her. It may save her life, Wally." The little fellow looked over his shoulders into the shadowy distance, then up into the face of his friend. "I'll take it if you want me to, Uncle Walt." He knew instinctively that it was a critical moment. "That's the soldier! Ring the bell and ask for Miss Nettie. If she is not there give it to someone else. Those men were spies who are going to try to blow up the factory and Miss Net- tie's home. We must not let them. We must be brave, Wally, man We must be mighty brave tonight to save Miss Nettie and !

her father. Good-bye!" he gripped the slender little hand as he pressed the note into it. Something choked within him as he saw the little fellow go thumping off on his crutches, towards the great house gleaming faintly through the trees. Wilbur turned toward the factory. It was a quarter to eight. Would he have time to make it? He remembered with a sense of sickening guilt his wish of an hour ago that the Harrison factory might be crushed to the earth and that he might stand and exult over the man who had brought it into existence. He quickened his steps with a vague sense that his unChristian emo- tion had in some way produce the impending calamity. As he emerged from the grove he saw the plant towering before him. He heard the whirr of the machinery, and the forms of the workmen were discernible through the windows. There was a light in the President's office. There were a hundred men at work in that building. Young had sold that many lives for a handful of money. He hadn't thought it of Young. He wondered if that were the night watchman now moving hurriedly away from the building to save his cowardly self, or was it one of the plotters? Would he have time to give the warning. He was very near the grey walls of the factory now. It must be but a few minutes until eight. Evidently that was the time the fuse was to be lighted. He thought of Wally trudging painfully up toward the big house

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and wondered if he should have gone there himself. After all Nettie's safety was worth more than anything else in the world to him. Suddenly he saw her figure appear in the window of the second floor office. For an instant his head reeled. He felt rooted to the spot. The movement of a dark figure near the south wall restored him to action. He saw a man stoop and place an object against the rocks of the foundation. A moment he bent above it. Then he gave a low whistle and darted away in the direction of the San Madras Gorge. There was no doubt as to what it all meant. That dark object lying there was a bomb. The man had lighted the fuse. In a moment the munition plant would be a mass of ruins. Three — hundred bodies would be blown to atoms. Nettie the thought was sickening. There was no time to give the alarm. There was no time for anything. He must stand and watch the ruin for — which he had wished. And Nettie how sweet and pale she was there against the window pane. He must do something There was but one thing to do. He dashed toward that black object with its spitting fuse. All sense of fear had left him. He was seized with but one thought. He must save Net- tie and the factory. He thought of stamping out the fuse, but saw at a glance it was too late. The sputtering sparks were within an inch of the bomb itself. He stooped and grasped the deadly thing in his arm. He staggered a few steps with it to- ward the gorge, then sent it rolling in the direction the culprits had taken. As he flung it from him a mighty roar filled his ears. The air was thick with smothering smoke and dust. The earth shook and some of it came up and struck him in his face.

************ Then everything became still and dark.

Wilbur opened his eyes. Everything seemed strange and still. Pale sunbeams were pouring through the white curtains of the window at his right, and were playing with a cluster of bright holly leaves and berries on the dresser which stood at the foot of his bed. Where was he, he wondered! He had a vague feeling that something had happened. He attempted to bring his hand to his forehead to brush away the mystery. But his hand could not move. This mystified him more than ever. There were also queer pains in his head. He moved uneasily. There was a rustle in another part of the room and a white-capped nurse bent over him. "You're feeling better, aren't you? No, you mustn't try to move your hands. You won't be able to move them for some- time. They're pretty badly burned and your left shoulder was

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struck by a piece of shell and you have a slight bruise on your head, but you'll soon be all right. It's a wonder you're here at all. Perhaps it will make you feel even better to know they caught the spies." Wilbur's mind was beginning to clear. "Nettie and Wally?" he began, suddenly recalling all that had happened. "Everybody's safe and sound but you, and they're all anx- ious to see you. I promised Mr. Harrison he should be first. You may see them all for just a few minutes afterwards, but you must not talk." She disappeared and a moment later Mr. Har- rison was standing beside the bed. His face was working and he found it difficult to speak. —— — "Wilbur I I can't say much now. I'll have to leave the saying and most of the doing for some other time. There's just one thing I must say. That's to ask you to forgive me. And there's one thing I want to do. That's to send you in a little Christmas gift as a token of my deep regard for a real man." He placed his hand gently on the younger man's head for a moment, then he went out. There was a slight flutter near the door. Wilbur thought it was the nurse coming in with the gift his old employer had promised. He wondered if it would be a check, or a new con- tract for his old job. He was not left long to wonder, for the next instant Nettie was kneeling beside him. "I am Papa's Christmas gift," she said simply, as she buried her face in the pillow beside his.

This Side and the Other

This side the Alps, the ice and snow, The other, foaming waters flow; This side, forbidding, silent, grand, The other, Italy's fair land Impassable may seem the height, The dazzling snows may blind the sight. O'er there, where flowers and verdure teem, Lies Italy, one life-long dream. Lydia D. Alder.

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