Chatterbox, 1906 Part 109

SANTA CLAUS.

A while ago the silent house Re-echoed with their voices sweet-- The music that their laughter made, The patter of their little feet.

Outside, the wintry winds blew shrill, And all around the snow lay white; But little cared they for the storm, For 'Santa Claus will come to-night.'

We heard them running to and fro, So eager in their merry glee To hang their stockings, limp and long, Where 'he' will be most sure to see.

Such wondrous fairy-tales they weave, Such pictures of those far-off sh.o.r.es From whence each Christmas-tide there comes Their unknown friend, and all his stores.

Now they are all in Slumberland, And Mother comes, with noiseless tread, For one last kiss; the shaded light Gleams softly o'er each curly head.

A rustle, and a murmur low; Half-opened are the dreaming eyes.

'Hush! hush! it's only Mother, dear!'

''Tis Santa Claus!' the sleeper sighs.

To-morrow, when the dawning light Breaks through the wintry eastern skies, What joy will greet the morning bright, What happy hearts and sweet surprise!

And we, whose childhood long since fled, Would fain entreat old Time to pause, To give us back our childish faith, And simple trust in Santa Claus.

THE GIANT OF THE TREASURE CAVES.

(_Continued from page 347._)

Shocked beyond measure at the change in the fine, handsome d.i.c.k Peet he remembered years ago, Jack looked at him. His heart died within him. He had not, thank Heaven, killed his friend; but, alas! how little short of that was the mischief he had done! Could d.i.c.k ever forgive him? Even if he should, Jack could never forgive himself. Never should he forget his first sight of the changed, ruined d.i.c.k, nor that it was his hand which had wrought the change and ruin.

Estelle's touch roused him. 'Jack, dear Jack, come and speak to him. He is ready to forgive. See, he is waiting to do so. Be very gentle, and speak low. He will understand then.'

Jack's face was ashen, and his stalwart frame trembled as he approached the chair in which the invalid reclined. d.i.c.k's eyes shone with some of their old intelligence when he saw his former enemy, and his hands were held out in eager welcome. It almost seemed as if he looked upon Jack, not as an enemy to be pardoned, but as an old comrade with whom there had been a grievous misunderstanding.

'I wonder if he remembers there is anything to forgive?' thought Estelle, as she watched him.

Jack took the hands held out to him. He could barely mutter the word--'Forgive!'

'As I hope to be forgiven!' came in clear, steady tones, such as d.i.c.k had not been known to utter since his misfortune. There was a long silence. Estelle's eyes were full of tears. Jack, his head raised, was looking at d.i.c.k. But d.i.c.k's face was radiant with a joy that was not of this earth. His great desire had been granted. He was lying back, still clasping the hand of his enemy, but with his eyes on the blue sky he could see above the trees. Presently, as no one moved, he looked again at Jack, murmuring in his usual half-inarticulate way, but with a smile which meant a great deal to the sailor, 'My friend!'

'To the end of my life, if you will let me!' answered Jack, fervently.

'Thank Heaven you are alive! But that you can treat me so, receive me as a friend, after---- '

'Have waited--hoped--thankful!'

'What can I do for you? Let me do something!'

'You have come! All--clear--now!'

He began to look so faint that Estelle said hastily: 'We will come and see you again, d.i.c.k. You must rest now.'

'Come--again!' repeated d.i.c.k, his eyes appealing to Jack.

'I will,' replied Jack, getting up to go into the cottage.

'How do you do, Mrs. Peet?' said Estelle, as d.i.c.k's mother appeared.

'Poor d.i.c.k is quite startled and faint at the sight of us.'

'Lady Estelle!' she exclaimed, lifting her hands in amazement. 'Wherever did you come from? No wonder d.i.c.k is startled! Why, you might knock me down with a feather! And how bonnie you look! Not at all the worse for all you've been so long away.'

'I am coming to tell you all about it, but I must first go and see Aunt Betty.'

'Well, it will do her good to see you. It is a sight for old eyes to see your sweet face again, Missie!' Then, glancing at Jack, 'Is that the man who has taken care of you, and brought you home?'

'Yes, Mrs. Peet, it is; and you shall hear some day how good and kind he and his mother have been to me. But I have not time now, and you had better see how poor d.i.c.k is.'

Jack had wandered down to the gate in a stunned frame of mind, and here Estelle joined him, to beg him to walk up to the house with her.

'No, no, Missie, I could not--not after what has happened. I couldn't have people thanking me, and all that. I should feel a brute!'

Estelle looked distressed, but Jack went on, his hand on the gate:

'You see the business is not over yet. I must tell d.i.c.k's father. Where do you think I can find him?'

'Must you tell him to-day--just to-day?'

'It is best got over at once.'

'Then come up with me and find him, and we can see Aunt Betty at the same time.'

The gate at which they were standing was some dozen yards or so from the road, and, as Estelle spoke, some one rode round the bend and came towards them.

'Father!' cried Estelle, springing towards him, her face radiant, and forgetting everything in the joy of seeing him.

'My little girl!' he cried, springing from his horse.

He clasped her in his arms with a force which at any other time would have startled the child. Neither could speak, for at such an hour speech fails. Who shall describe the meeting? After nearly a year the lost had been found! A year which had laid its mark on all their lives, but which, now that it had pa.s.sed, seemed to Lord Lynwood as 'a dream when one awaketh.' His child back in his arms, looking well and strong as ever, with every evidence of having been well cared for, her sweet eyes looking up into his!--is it wonderful that for some moments he could think of no one else, look at nothing but the face of his only child?

Jack remained quite still lest he should disturb them, his eyes on the distant hills; he would not, even unnoticed, intrude on their meeting.

It was enough that he had seen a light--radiant, beautiful--break over his 'Little Missie's' face before he turned away.

There was a swift question and answer after the silence, and then Lord Lynwood, recovering himself, spoke.

'How can I thank you, my good fellow?' he said, holding out his hand to Jack.

'No thanks required, thank you, sir' returned the sailor, gravely; 'but if you'd be so kind as to tell me where I can find Mr. Peet, the gardener?'

It sounded so very commonplace that Lord Lynwood gave a laugh.

'Do you think he will be more grateful than we are?'