Who Sent Santa Claus?

"Here's Dad," greeted Mrs. MacBride smiling up into his face. Who Sent Santa Claus? By GRANT ALLYN CAPRONI Illustrated by Nelson White w ONDER what MacBride will do now, 'Stell?" asked Walter Goodhue, calling from his comfortable couch to his wife, busy in the kitchen preparing the Sunday dinner. "I hear they've listed their place with Roylance's. No job, taxes due, fifty dollars a month on that house and no gas for that fine new car." "I feel terrible about it," an- swered Mrs. Goodhue, entering the parlor doorway and looking thoughtfully out across the sparse- ly settled Sudley Springs Addi- tion. I FELT right along that they were spreading too much and wanting to show up their neighbors. Last summer Mac got to telling me all about the invest- ments they were carrying with National Thrift, the building and loan societies, three hundred dol- lars a year on insurance policies and other things. Then he turns suddenly on me and wants to know how much insurance I am carrying." "Showing up their neighbors? Why Walter, you know as well as I do that Mac hasn't a stuck-up hair in his head. His question was one of friendly interest." Mrs. Goodhue continued to wipe a bowl she held in her hand, meditating. "His heart is all wrapped up in that home and family of his," said Mrs. Goodhue, returning to the kitchen sink, "and I admire him for it. Look how Mrs. Mac- Bride went out and nursed when she wasn't well herself, to help meet payments when they were building. It's just a pity if any- thing happens to them." C!)TELL. a draftsman's job in this man's town is a mighty uncertain disease when things are favorable, but when you inject po- litical hazards into it, that's worse yet. Mac was a draftsman in the government's employ. You know what a rotten political mess that is. Before plunging like Mac has, it seems to me that I would surely have pictured in my mind what Mac has had to actually ex- perience in order to see it. Maybe I'm seeing things, but it does seem to me he's been a little higher in the air with his chin than he was when they lived in the cabin." "Why do you persist in saying that, dear? Because he is a college man and a little out of our class there are some on this street who wish they could find something wrong with him. Didn't he jan- itor the meeting house free of charge one winter when he had four hundred gymnasium prpils on his hands? Scrubbing the floor" every Saturday while others who were so ignorant they could hardly sign their names, were holdirg down the offices?" * * *

The Improvement Era for December, 1930 8?* IT was nearly dark when Loring MacBride stopped in front of his house. A heavy fog filled the cold wet air adding gloom to his depressed spirits. In and out of office buildings in the congested business district and through sparsely settled sections to various industrial plants he had tramped through slush and snow all the day, seeking work, with always the same response. "We're laying men off instead of taking them on." And, "Sorry, but we have nothing to offer." Or, "We have a couple of girls who do all our drafting." And Christmas only three weeks away! What would he say to loyal little Katie who lived the whole year waiting for Christmas? And poor little Martha, not old enough to understand. Then again, he wondered, as he had a hundred times before, where and how he might borrow a little money for Christmas. The car was sold. Among his friends there was not one to whom he might go for financial help. He could not raise another cent on the house. OTOICALLY he strode into the house, his senses be- numbed from unending thinking, anxiety and misery, and with no word of greeting, his face expres- sionless except for the same look of dumb suffering it had borne of late, he stood before them. Mrs. MacBride and the two little daugh- ters were huddled about the kitchen stove, the family rendezvous since they left off using the furnace. "Here's Dad," greeted Mrs. MacBride, smiling up into his face. Katie clung to him and little Martha's first words were to in- quire if he had seen Santa Claus. Even the kitchen, he thought, seemed dingy of late, as he looked up dismally at the ceiling light. He glanced at the stove. There would be potatoes and gravy and boiled onions for supper. M, ACBRIDE removed his overcoat and sank heavily into a chair by the stove. His elbows went to his knees and his chin to his palms. No one talked as the children helped their mother set the table. What a different home from this time last year! The shouts of joy which had gone up when he entered the house after work, and the deluge of Christmas prattle. The parlor was dark and cold. The fireplace had not been lighted once this Winter. Where were the childish decorations and laughter and letters to Santa A Christmas Message T -L HE Christmas chimes are telling, In your highly Christian town, Of peace and joy to men — the while Dark night is mantling down. But to! A lonely chorus comes From city streets — so drear, It stirs the soul with bitterness And dims the Christmas cheer. From pavement damp, the rhythm sounds — Through fog and smoky air — Of little children's pattering feet; Stung blue with cold, and bare. Beneath the street lamps glisten- ing— ■ With mist and tears wet through. The hungry little urchins Turn their faces up to you. Kind friends, this joyful Christ- mastide, Christ's love for man display; Give comfort to the needy ones In fellowship today! — Weston N. Nordgren. Claus? The squares on the lin- oleum floor ran together. Mrs. MacBride kissed away a lone for- bidden tear and whispered some- thing to him. "Dad, do you remember," asked Katie suddenly, "the time I prayed that the lights would come on again in that awful storm, and sure enough they did?" "And we're going to have a Christmas and Santa will surely come," interposed little Martha. "Dad," Katie went on, "do you remember the time they made you talk in Church and you said you knew God answered prayers? You still believe it, don't you?" 'Yes, darling, when it'sfor the best. Of course sometimes we are carried away by our impulses and ask for things we later see would not have been. right and then God has to get us straightened out again." "Is it right to ask for Santa to come?" 'Yes, darling. Yes, Katie." BRAVELY, each morn- ing Mr.. MacBride would go forth searching for work. He no longer confined himself to his own pro- fession as he sought work but would inquire wherever likelihood of employment was possible. Walking south on State street he turned suddenly into a restaurant with a sign in the front window "Dishwasher Wanted." The po- sition was already filled but the proprietor had forgotten to remove the sign. Then he went to a ware- house down near the railroad yards where work had been partially promised to him. But the man who was to cause a vacancy had decided to retain his job. He had not gone far from the warehouse when he was hailed by a hearty young voice. Harry Holler drove up to the curb, stopped short and threw a leg over the Ford door. He once took mechanical drawing in MacBride's class in one of the local high schools. "Say, Mac, I was coming over to see you tonight. I want to get your advice on something. I have a couple of offers and I'm stuck which to take. They're both draft- ing jobs with one-fifty per, and promise of a permanent job with a raise after I've learned the biz." A SHADOW crossed Mac's face. And in that shadow, silhouetted againt the sunshine of happier days stood the little family with the smiles he had always looked forward to seeing when re- turning home from work, The scene dissolved into the somber gray of the present moment. He could see the hole in the sole of dear little Katie's shoe, discovered by her mother. He tried to choke down the bitterness that rose with- in him. Girls and high school lads getting, almost without effort, jobs which married men with families would be glad to have. Inwardly he cursed the man who was always saying that life is what we make it. The lad rattled on while Mac meditated. After

84 The improvement Era for December? 1930 he had finished and MacBride had duly weighed the facts as presented, he advised him the position to ac- cept. "Harry." "Yes, Mac." "If I remember correctly, you took less than a half a year in the three-year drafting course, or was it the four-year one?" 'The four-year course." "And have you had any further training or experi- ence since?" "No, Mac. I haven't." "We 1 1, Harry, how do you get these jobs? I have been to both of those firms and they told me they had nothing in sight." "I'll tell you how it is Mac. Both of the men who are of- fering me these jobs owe my dad politi- cal debts and that is the way they want to pay them off." He turned to the coal bin. Would the coal hold out till after Christ- mas? That eight MacBride West into the children's chamber to fust their bedtime prayers. Little Martha's first utterance was to ask God to send Santa Qbus, and Katie prayed M. LACBRIDE walked dejectedly down the street. Of what value was his college degree and years of experience in such a situation? Christmas only four days away! Dark thoughts crowded in on him. He walked over to one of the railroad pas- senger stations to watch a train pull in, and idle away his time for he knew well the futility of seeking work with so forlorn a counte- nance as his. Mac _ had never learned to hide his feelings. Returning home early that after- noon, he entered the basement and went to his den. There stood his guitar, untouched the past two months, and dusty. He stared at it without seeing it. His experi- ments on valve gears, turbines and link mechanisms lay there too, un- touched, forgotten. He went into the provision room. There were a scant few bottles of fruit left over from the year before last. Tfm/i Womb in their tracks — stajp^ed. too, for Santa to come, laying before the Lord her reasons why he should be sent, what he should bring and that he must not forget Mrs. Cox who was always doing a kind deed for others. "And Fa- ther." concluded little Katie, "we'll leave the front d'oor un- locked so Santa can get in with a big pack, and don't forget the poor blind lady on Seventh street." E,ARLY in the fore- noon of the day before Christmas it began to snow and by noon the landscape lay under a heavy blanket ©f white'.- There were muffled sounds of voices passing in the street. Ones a horse went trotting by with two sleds hitched behind. Mrs. MacBride could make out two figures on the sled, and the horse's sleigh bells made a soft far-away sound. She made' molasses candy and! baked some cakes and cookies, after which she gave a. few final touches to two small dresses she made out of her wedding dress ; the dress poor Mac liked so much. For a moment the bronze and blue of love's memories lent glory to the sky and she forgot the pres- ent. Then the ter- ror of reality began .to overtake her. To- night would b e Christmas E v e. From the playroom m the basement came the sounds of Martha's sweet lit- tfre voice in song — happy, trusting, un- suspecting, and un- touched by the des- peration eating at her mother's heart. For the first time, June MacBride gave way to despair. Crumpled up at the foot of the couch, she shook with con- vulsive sobbing.. Oh, the naked disil- lusionment of shat- tered faith. What would she do Christmas morning when the children ran into the parlor? Would they stop short at the door, unable to believe their eves? No tree!" Empty stockings! There would be two little parcels done up in newspaper and a dish of miserable molasses candy on the mantel! 3|E 3fC 5p "Well, good land!" I HE distracted woman looked up with a start, her eyes two great red circles. "What's all this mean?" It was Mrs. Ash who had walked quietly in. Mr. MacBride had often de-

The Improvement Era for December, 1930 85 clared that Mrs. Ash was a good- luck sign, and Mrs. MacBride in- wardly rejoiced at the sight of her good neighbor. Mrs. MacBride said little but the discerning eye of Mrs. Ash saw much. "Well," said the good neighbor, "I don't know how it will hap- pen, but I feel that it will all come out all right, somehow." IT was with renewed hope that Mrs. MacBride got to her feet after Mrs. Ash had gone. When Katie returned from school the mother and two girls played together for a long while. Even Baby John caught the spirit and cooed his part with vigor. Mr. MacBride was later getting home. Where was he? His wife felt sure his delay meant something hope- ful. At last he came. How des- pairing to have one's hopes buoyed up only to fall to earth again! One glance at the broken-spirited man was enough. At the supper table Katie gradually sensed the situation. Both parents were look- ing down at their plates when Katie spoke. "Don't feel bad, Mother dear. We've said our prayers, you know. Tomorrow we will all be laugh- ■ing/" "Darling." "Yes, Daddy dear." "This year Santa has found many, many lit- tle tots who are far worse off than we are. Now if poor Santa tries hard but does not suc- ceed in getting this far, Dad's own little girls won't feel too bad, will they?" A faint "No, Daddy dear" came from Katie. "You know, Katie, poor Dad has been out of work so long that he hasn't a cent to give Santa — " "Oh, _ that's all right," interrupted the trustful child, "Heaven- ly Father can get all the money in the world if he wants it and he is the one who will send Santa!" * * * lies deep in great billowy expanses and the great bright moon lends stern reality to the biting cold. The wind is rising. The branches of the naked trees are shaking and swaying in a wild fandango. The door of a neighboring shed bangs and bangs, and a tub or a bucket, suddenly loosened from its moorings, goes tum- bling noisily down the back steps of a nearby house, losing itself in the fast drifting snow. Mrs. Mac- Bride has not so much as dozed for an instant. Her feet are cold, though she perspires, and her brain seems burning away. She listens to the heavy troubled breathing of her husband. Once she has caught a broken fragment of a half smothered groan, the subcon- scious hysteria of a man. Listen! What was that? Has the time come? Are the children slipping into the parlor? She raises on an elbow. The children's room is dark and still. Gratefully she drops back on her comfortless pil- low. Listen! Surely that is a noise. She raises her head slightly. In- voluntarily her breathing stops. Someone is walking in stockinged feet. No, it must be only her heart beating. Her hand clutches at her throat. There is no mistak- ing it this time. She sits upright, staring with wild eyes. The crev- I morning. is almost The snow They see a tree with mounds of parcels heaped about it. ice between the parlor door and its jamb discloses a light. There is a low strange noise as though papers were being untied. Panic- stricken she is about to rouse her husband, but another sound arrests her attention — the unmistakable whine of a mama-doll. She strug- gles to throw the thought out of her mind. How foolish to believe! The inevitable disappointment to follow will be more than she can stand. Wait! That is a queer brushing sound with tinklings. The same noises he made last year when she arranged the tree. A SWITCH snaps. The light in the crevice is brighter. Cautiously Mrs. MacBride slips over the foot of the bed and peers through the keyhole. Sure enough, someone is filling the stockings. Now he has turned partly her way. He is smiling and chuckling as he surveys his work. The switch snaps again, leaving the room ut- terly dark. Then a great hoarse shout rends the night air: "Merry Christmas! Merry Christmas!" The front door slams. Loring Mac- Bride springs to his feet. Mrs. MacBride throws her arms about him and in fits of sobbing tells him Santa has come and Katie's prayers are answered. Together they steal into the room, switching on the light and looking back to make sure the chil- dren are not awake. They stand in their tracks — stupefied. Speechless, they look upon a beautiful tree with mounds of parcels, packages, bundles and toys heaped about it. MacBride is first to re- cover. He steps up to the tree and takes hold of an envelope. There is writing on both sides of it. "Do not open until after breakfast." Mrs. MacBride makes toward one corner of the room. There, in a heap, are groceries, a dressed turkey and ev- erything to go into a Christmas dinner. * * * At breakfast the let- ter, opened, read: "Dear Sir: "On my way down from [Continued on page 123]