FATHER CHRISTMAS UNMASKED.

New Zealand Herald, Volume XLVI, Issue 14250, 22 December 1909, Page 2 (Supplement)

FATHER CHRISTMAS UNMASKED.

"l&O iSßf' FiKRY Christmas to you. sir, ®J|| merry Christmas." "Merry—!" 441 The solitary waiter of the little country hotel paused in the act of adjusting a scraggy morsel of holly to its position in the immediate centre of an advertisement for the huge local brewery. " Yes, sir." lie looked doubtfully at the tail, lean young man in the well-worn riding breeches who was standing with his back to the smoking tire. "A nice Christmas, indeed!" He flicked the snow oft' his boot* with an old hunting crop. " Get me something to eat," lie added, "and get it IVD.Q.— if you can guess what that means. And look here, no idiotic nonsense about a plum pudding on lire, or any other quaint old custom. I've enough to bear without that. I want to forget that I'm in England—to forget it, d'you hear?" This malignant sentiment not only plunged the waiter into a certain gaping incredulity, but caused a fat, good-humoured looking young man to halt at the open door as though transfixed with astonishment-. The other, however, went on savagely with his grievance. " I ought to have chucked it"; I ought to have known that it was no go after the last time. But somehow the feeling of Christmas coming on and all that tickled me into trying it, and I thought that I'd manage to touch them up a bit after all." "Mr. Wedgeworth, sir," put in the waiter, "you'll be 'aving dinner 'ere, sir?" The fat man at the door grinned. " Well, you needn't call it- dinner, Binns, but bring what you've got. And, I say, you might bring my portmanteau in. There's something in it. that I want to l ook at presently. I shall want a room to dress in. Binns,"though I'm not putting up here to-night." The waiter dragged in the much-labelled portmanteau, which had been blocking up the narrow hall outside the coffee-room. " 'Ow about wine, gents?"' lie questioned, insinuatingly, glancing curiously at the lean visitor, who took no notice. " Wine r sir?" he continued; "a bottle of No. 4, Mr. Wedgworth—the usual, if I may say it?" "No, 110, Binns, I'm not. up to a bottle of No. 4. I've got something rather special on for to-night." "Maybe, sir, if there was another gent to 'clp you out, like, it might be more seasonable for the time of year. "Oh, rather, certainly." He turned to the stranger with his quick, boyish smile. "If you don't think it an intrusion, I'm sure I don't." The man at the other side of the fireplace made an effort to' brighten'up. " Not a bit of it. But I'm not very good company to-day. The fact is— Waiter, are we the only people in this infernal inn?" Binns, hurt but lucid, explained that the Bull did a very quiet business during Christmas week, the old residents straggling off for holidays, and the "commercials" being done with Ranleigh for the year. The coffee-room, in short, would be probably in the possession of the two gentlemen for as long as they cared to occupy it. Then he left them to themselves, after which Wedgeworth turned to his gloomy companion: . . " I say, it's a pity to have such a hump at Christmas, isn't it? You'll feel right enough after a bit. I remember being a bit humpy myself oue Christmas —influenza, I think it was, with a touch of conscience, | feeling stewy about one's misdeeds, you know-—rotten feeling. I don't often get it myself." The other, however, declined to be drawn, and dinner found them polite but distinctly constrained, though the fat man was obviously willing to make the best of things. Binns plied them conscientiously with -No. 4, which he called a sound port, and the second bottle did work a change in the man who disliked Christmas. "I say," he began, "you mus'n't think me scroogy, or that sort of thing, but the fact is I was a bit hard hit this morning." "I'm devilish sorry," said Wedgworth. jabbing at the black, surly plum pudding that Binns had set before him with an air. "Yes. It's the fourth time I've tried it on, and I suppose it put their backs up. There was no fatted calf for me, at all events, and that's the truth, though I only landed yesterday afternoon." "Ahj" said Wedgeworth, "I suppose you're a remittance man? I've met lots of them. Deuced good fellows, too," he added, hurriedly, " always on for a rag, but a bit shy with their own people." "I thought it would be all right," continued the other, gloomily; "I timed it, as I thought, for Christmas dinner in the middle of the day, but I reckoned without father's gout. My word, I heard him roaring from the hall door. There's a new butler, and I couldn't very well get past without a silly row. Just my rotten luck." "I suppose you've travelled a good bit?" said Wedgeworth, plunging after sympathy. The remittance man mentioned a string of colonies, the last of which was the Dominion of Canada. " It's a ticket," he continued, " always a ticket. The solicitor people in Chancery Lane are to buy it, as usual, and I'm to get back to Canada. I'm no further ahead than when I started. It's waste of time, rotten waste of time, that's what it is." "Well," said Wedqewofth, "you can't see your solicitors to-day. What have vou got on for' to-night? Getting back to town?" " No," said the other, gloomily, " I'm pretty nearly stony. Besides, there's someone I'd rather like to se— it isn't any romantic footle, it's only my sister. There are only the two of us, you know, and my mother died when she was born. She's coming back to-night, and when she learns that I'm here she'll hunt me up in the morning, unless she's turned sour on me like all the rest." "Rubbish!" said the other; " it's a pity, though, that you couldn't see her to-night. It would buck you up and make you look at things differently. I suppose the colonies are right enough?" lie added, dubiously. . " Oh, yes, they're right enough, but I never seem to fatten on them. I've been in tight places in my time, and to think of that boiled sheep of a butler coming in between at a crisis. It won't bear talking about, I can tell you." " You wanted something— definite, I mean?" Wedgeworth glanced at his watch. "Of course I did," said tho other sulkily; " something down. Besides, I had a proposition, a share in a ranch near Calgary. As likely as not, father might have considered it if only I could have got him to listen to it quietly. It isn't the being hoofed out that I'm kicking at. That's natural enough:' That's bound to happen in the long run with fellows like me who can't stick it, don't you know. What I bar is the door being banged in one's face as thought one were somebody else's kid." Wedgeworth rose from the table and opened his portmanteau. " They've done it this time!" he exclaimed. " How the deuce am I to get into this tunic—to say nothing of the tights? It's all wrong. They've sent mo the wrong kit, that's what they've done." "What is it?" said the man from Canada, strolling over to the fireplace. " It's meant for me," said the fat man dolefully; I'm to be Father Christmas at a kids' party. I'm the most important person of the whole shooting match, triving things round at the end and all that sort of tommy rot, you know. But how can I do it in that? Why, I'd burst the few places that wouldn't strangle me." , Long and lanky, the decorated tunic and dark buff tights sprawled dismally over the apology for a hearthrug. The mask, too, was for an elongated horse face, and the

BY J. A. T. LLOYD.

beard suggested Mephistoplieles railier than t lie wizard of Christinas. Only the outer cloak, with its huge scarlet hood, suggested anything like the necessary amplitude. "It's the lirst time they ever fooled mo like that," continued Wedgeworth, "and I've dealt with them for private theatricals scores of times. My man packed it. without opening the parcel. ' What the deuce am Ito do? Look at all these. I spent the best part of a week picking them out in Paris. Jolly little things for children, with brains in them too Hying tricKs, and all that kind of thing. I say, it's too bad, isn't it "We used to have kids* parties at Christmas in the old days," said the other, moodily; "dinner in the middle of the day, and a kids' dance and Christmas tree in the evening. But we didn't live about hero then, you know. That's why I'm a stranger in this infernal hole." "I can't go in this thing, and I don't, quite see how I can put them otf. It was a special occasion, too, to'tell you the truth. The fact is," he continued, "the old buffer was going to take me 011 as his son-in-law—make a .speech, and all that kind of thing, and then I was to unmask and be received as a son of the family. It wasn't I who planned the fairy tale, you know it was she. and I just tell in with it, as I would with any other little drawing-room trick that she wanted mo to amuse the kids with. But I can't go m this. Look at me." Disappointment seemed to make him more protuberant than ever, and lie bulged there before tho fire frowning 011 the attenuated costume. " I ought to be dressing now," lie continued, "but I couldn't- get the rotten things on to save my life. She'll never forgive 1110 for making a mess of it like this. What the dickens am I to do? 1 sav," he added, with a sudden burst of inspiration, "you've nothing 011 for to-night. Why shouldn't you stick the things on yourself? You could get into them all "right. It would be just as jolly, at all events, as this place. What do you say?" "No, no, 1 don't think I could stick it. Thanks all the same." "It's I who would thank you. if you'd only take it on," said Wedge worth. " Besides, if you're a stranger about here, making a fool of yourself doesn't matter. I'll coach you 011 the way. It's a pretty long drive from here along the Downland Road. "Where is it?" asked the other, with some interest. " Thurston Chase—it's been re-named after old Mr. Thurston. He's one of the Sumy lot, you know." "Oh, is he?" said the man from Canada. "Look here, Wedgeworth, you're in a lix and I'll get you out of it. I'll have those things liken up to my room." He rang the bell, and, after a punch improvised by Binns, they drove away in a hired dogcart, Wedgeworth in ordinary evening dress and the man from Canada in the long, tight tunic of Father Christmas. Behind them, wedged in with Wedgeworth's portmanteau, a borrowed stable-boy clutched carefully the long, lean mask with the Mephistophelean beard. It was agreed between the young men that Father Christmas should be dropped at the lodge of the short avenue, and that Wedgeworth himself should drive on to the village and arrive at half-past ten, the precise moment at which from his place at the head of the supper table* Mr. 'Ihurston, senior, was to introduce his masked son-in-law.

" I'll have to stop the old boy from making exactly that speech," said Wedgeworth. "Father Christmas has his little sav first, you know, and all you've got to do is to give the old boy a "hint to sit tight until I comeoorn r d'you see? Nobody will know you from me* with the outside cloak on. Now I come to think of it, I might have left the inside kit out altogether and gone myself." "It's too late now," said the other, smiling a little grimly in the darkness. " They won't recognise me—l mean, they won't know that I'm not you." "Oh, no. we'll Huff the beard out a bit and the false hair will bulge your head out on both sides. We're about the same height, and even if we weren't it wouldn't make much difference. She isn't to speak to me until I unmask. That's part of the game. By the bye, what about your speech? Could you make up anything quick enough? It's rather important, you know, 'to keep things going until I turn up and stop the old man from introducing you as his son-in-law." " Oh, HI make something up. I'll think of something all right. I've a lot to think of, if it comes to that, Wedgeworth." "Well, you're doing me a devilish good turn, at all events. I say, by the Dye, what's your name? You're such a reserved beggar, you've never told it to me." " Oh, I'm Father Chritmas. Isn't that the house over there, past the bridgo?" " Yes, it is. But how the dickens did you guess it? What do you say to sticking ' the mask on now, and the false hair?" The' stable boy handed over the carefullyguarded stage property, and the man from Canada's face was in a few seconds brought into harmony with his costume, to which a faint flutter of snow gave the needed touch of realism. By jove! that's first-rate," said Wedgeworth. "You are Father Christmas, though the beard is a bit scraggy. ell, I'll see you later, and then perhaps you won't be too high-handed to introduce yourself to the man you've helped out of a fix. Have you got your sack all right?" "Yes, and the things in it too. I'll do my part right enough. ' | He clambered out of the dogcart, and Wedgeworth watched him striding up the short bend of the avenue to the large old country house, from which the last strains of dance music vibrated through the cold, clear air. . However old Mr. Thurston may have suffered with gout in the morning, nothing marred the atmosphere of hospitality in the evening. Lights, laughter, Chinese lanterns, children, sashes, eyes dancing, and eyes bulging—all the thousand and one sparklings of childhood's revelry Father Christmas absorbed them all. And he himself was the crowning figure, hailed almost frantically by dozens of quickly-stifled gurgles of rapture. More than one pretty grown-up, too, smiled at him with interested curiosity, while the children peered closer and closer at the mysterious sack. 1 Old Thurston himself called out something jocular , and hearty, but nobody, from the youngest child to the master of the house, committed the breach of etiquette of personally addressing, much less of shaking hands with, the guest of the evening. It all passed like a dream, an absurd dream of preposterous benevolence. But when the Parisian toys had been" examined and comparisons made, the whole thing became more substantial and Father Christmas himself a more personal figure, about whose identity lisping whispers began to make themselves heard. Small hands grabbed at the heavy cloak, and when supper was announced he was urged on all sides to remove it and the now empty sack which hung .suspended over the scarlet hood. But the remittance man shook his head, and passed in with the rest to his place beside the master of the house.

Father Christmas was going to speak. Little boys and girls watched him rise, forgetful that there were such things as tipsy cake and crackers. So far, everything had gone without a hitch,,and the dining-room clock told him that it was twenty-five minutes past ten. Wedgeworth would be in at the half-hour. He had only to speak five minutes and the situation would be saved. He actually said some cheerful sentences that lasted about a minute and a-half, and then, swelling a little with the quite real importance of tho occasion, old Mr. Thurston rose to his feet and placed his right hand affectionately on the hooded shoulder. The remittance man, who had been shunted from colony to colony foir other people's benefit, -had never heard anything so touching in his life. ■ Wedgeworth's praises were sounded with a depth of feeling that made more than one puffy, bewildered little face almost apoplectic. " I introduce to you," Mr. Thurston said, his hand patting the shoulder of Father Christmas, who was squirming a little now — I introduce to you one who is coming to live among you, whose place is here, at

my right hand, now and for many, I trust, bounteous years to come. To you he is Father Christmas, who has brought you some quite clever contrivances from our neighbours across the Channel. To us, here, at Thurston Chase, he is my son." With a wave of his hand Mr. Thurston, almost excitedly, seized at the mask, eventually tugging 'it off by the long, aquiline nose. " You P' .he stammered, hoarsely, and then sank back in his chair overcome, as the vicar suggested, by the exertion of his " oratorical prowess." "Oh,. St. John, I'm so very glad! How did you do it? You've got to stay now. Did Charlie put you up to it? Where is he?" It was Alice's whisper, and she was looking at him with the kindly, distrustful eyes which are all that the ne'er-do-well can expect in the way of balm. But at his other ear old Mr. Thurston was whispering quite different thingsdifficult, choky tilings, showing themselves on his face in tho form of distended veins and purply latches over the cheek-bones. But he was holding himself in, and Alice had no difficulty in explaining to him that it was utterly impossible to go back on his own words now. He had claimed his son before them all, and now lie must stick to him, particularly when lie was so willing to slick to liis father. Then young Wedgeworth made his way to the head of tho table and explained things, after which Mr. Thurston rose and made a, rather anti-cli-matic speech about his futures son-in-law. Healths were drunk and crackers were nulled, and in the general scramble of Christmas joy Wedgeworth found time to whisper to his future brother-in-law that old Mr. Thurston had come round. "He lined that idea of yours about Calgary, old man, and he'll back you up about it in the spring." "Yes." said the remittance man, a little weariedlv, "I thought he'd like that idea about Calgary if I only got the chance of putting it before him. Calgary's a long way off. But," he added, "it's a good tiling to have got the taste of the English Christmas. It will keep me going for another vcar or so."

" Good gracious, boy! what on earth are you making that noiso for?" " Farver—boo-00-oo—nailing up a creeper— 00-00-00—hammered lii? thumb—oo-00-00." " Oh, you should never cry about such troubles. You should laugh at a little thing like that!" "800-00-oo! That—oo! that's what I did, boo-00-oo ! ! t"