"SOME" TURKEYS.

Otago Witness, Issue 3275, 20 December 1916, Page 59

"SOME" TURKEYS.

By J. J. Bell

[All Eights Reserved.]

I. Someone once remarked of Mr Thomas Bulfinch that he suggested a Merry Christmas all the year round. And, in truth, he was so plump and rosy, so blithe and hearty, so frank and kindly, so goodhumoured in all seasons and in all weathers, that the description was not, after all, merely a fanciful one. Mrs Bulfinch was a fit mate for such a man, for, while her stoutness of figure and goodness of heart were not exceeded by his, her discretion had on many occasions prevented his enthusiasm from running to sheer extravagance and, perhaps, positive folly. The Bulfinches were in comfortable circumstances —very comfortable circumstances, indeed, —and Mrs Bulfinch would have been the last to deny that they could afford to be generous; on the other hand, Mr Bulfinch would have been the first to admit that his wife recognised the practical limits of generosity more clearly than himself.

They were getting on in years, as we say; their silver wedding day was past, and Mr Bulfinch was beginning to take things easy at his office. His home was in Norfolk square, where it had been since the return from the honeymoon. For a good many years now he had talked frequently of purchasing a little country estate, and his wife had shown all the interest to be desired in the subject. Yet each knew that the other had no real thought of quitting town for a new home ; and when of a morning Mr, Bulfinch would express his intention of dropping in to see So-and-so, the estate agent, Mrs Bulfinch would cheerfully approve, feeling sure that he would return in the evening without having made the call. You would have said of the Bulfinches that they were the sort of couple who ought to have a dozen children. They had none. But they didn't mind other people having children. There were many people and many childrcm who regaraied fill Bulfinch as a kind of magician, and Mrs Bulfinch as a good fairy. There were, doubtless, persons also who said that it was a very easy matter to be kind and good when money was in plenty ; and possibly they were right, for the Bulfinches did seem to give without the slightest difficulty. On December 23 Mr Bulfinch came home a little earlier than usual in order to enjoy a cup of tea with his wife, and to assist her in the despatch of the last batch of Christmas gifts. He found her in the parlour immersed in correspondence, or, at any rate, in envelopes, five-pound notes, and postal orders. "All the parcels are gone," she informed him. " Good," said Mr Bulfinch, rubbing his hands. " And all the letters, except the anonymous ones, Thomas." Thomas chuckled. " You've been working too hard, my clear. I expected to have to do my share." " Well, we've still got the Christmas tree to get ready for to-morrow; and there's more to hang on it than ever." "To be sure—to be sure. But I'd better give you a hand with the anonymous lot, Mildred." He chuckled again. " I believe we enjoy this part of it best of all." "I believe we do, Thomas. But let us have tea first. Jane shall bring it here." For a good many years it had been the custom of the Buihnches to dispose ot n hundred pounds through the post in suma varying from a sovereign to a five-pound note. The recipients were people to whom these mysterious money gifts would make all the 'difference at Christmas, and the senders derived very considerable satisfaction from their innocent little game. Mr Bulfinch was still emitting intermittent chuckles when the tea arived. " 1 think we must really try to increase the amount next year," he said. "Another twenty pounds wouldn't ruin us— —" " We'll see —we'll sec,' said his spouse gently. " And did you met your cousin to-day?'' she inquired, as she removed the cosy. Mr Bulfinch stopped in the midst of a chuckle ; his face fell slightly. "Yes; I called at his office. But 'he wouldn't change his mind." "Did you remind him that it was the twenty-fifth time he had declined our invitation?" " I did. I fancied he seemed a little moved; but his regret Avas expressed in the usual cool fashion. I sometimes think

that John Major has retired so far into his shell that he couldn't come out even if he wanted to. It is extraordinary that a disappointment in love, all those years ago, should still leave its wound." Mrs Bulfinch sighed. "I hate to think of the man sitting alone on Christmas Day—even his housekeeper out with her friends."

" He has done it for a quarter of a cen turv."

'"Ye?; but he is getting old." " He's two years younger than I." Mrs Bulflnch smiled. -He is two centuries older, poor man. Is it no use making one more effort, Thomas?" Mr Bulfinch shook his head. "I've come to the conclusion that John really resents any little attempts at kindness. I fancy all"his old friends have given him up as hopeless. "He won't, or can't, come out of his shell—at least, I can imagine no bait that would tempt him. Nobody can do anything for him." " Won't he do anything for anybody?" said Mrs Bulfinch. '' If he could only be induced to think of other people——"

" Other people don't seem to exist for him. Of course, if you were to go to him with a subscription-list for a hospital or other charity, he would give you a fat cheque quite readily, but he wouldn't be the least interested in the people his money was going to benefit. And as for the human misery round about him —there's a good deal of it round his home—l don't believe he notices it." There was a short silence.

"Well," said Mrs Bulfinch, "you're letting your tea get cold, and why don't you smoke a cigar? I think we should send him an anonymous gift. It might set him wondering and take him out of himself. I've a good mind to send him a turkey, Thomas." " Good gracious, Mildred ! A turkey ! Of all the things to send John Major " "In one way," she interrupted quietly, " a turkey does seem absurd; yet, you will admit it is a thing not easy to overlook. If your cousin got a turkey "

"My dear, if you sent John a dozen turkeys " began Mr Bulfinch, and stopped short. The next moment he slapped his knee and chuckled violently. " Thomas, you're spilling your tea. And, besides, I don't see anything to laugh at." " YTou will presently," said Thomas, controlling himself. '"You will presently! My dear, I believe you've given me an idea—the idea of my life! Listen to this."

Mrs Bulfinch listened, frowning and smiling by turns.

" ISio, Thomas, you must not do such a thing," she said, when her spouse had finished ; but her tone was not very firm.- " Why not? It's worth trying—in fact, we must risk it. Think again, Mildred. The possibilities are great. He is bound to do —something." "Yes, but what will he do?"

"Let's try him and see. I'll promise not to spend more than twenty pounds, Mildred."

Mrs Bulfinch threw out her hands. " Have it your own way, Thomas," she said at last—" have it your own way, It would be worth twenty pounds; but ■ Well, have it your own way." 11. On Christmas Eve Mr John Major left his place of business rather later than his wont. It was seven o'clock when he inserted his key in the door of the old house in the terrace which he called home. It was a drizzling evening, but he was not more depressed than usual. Perhaps depressed is hardly the word for the man's normal state of mind; dulled would be better. Mr Major's life was spent in his dingy office and his costly library. He had no intere-ta whatever elsewhere. Albeit he had no quarrel with the world ; he simply 7 ignored it. He pushed the door open, stepped inside, and closed it carefully. He remembered that his housekeeper had gone to her friends in the country for a couple of days. The thought did not disturb him; his creature wants were simple, and he was equal to meeting them with the aid of a gas fire. He placed his umbrella in the stand, hung his coat and hat on their accustomed pegs, and went forward into the dim hall. There was a tiny peep in the hanging lamp, and he turned the tap on full. •"Good gracious!" he exclaimed, and wheeled about. "Good gracious!" he repeated. The hall seemed filled with turkeys—■ enormous turkeys. There were turkeys on the floor, reclining in various queer attitudes against the wall; turkeys on the table, with swelling chests and dangling necks; turkeys under the table, as if thrown down hurriedly; turkeys on the chairs, one of which slid off and fell witli a solemn thud even as Mr Major gaped at it. There were turkeys also at the foot of the stairs, and one more rested on the mat at the door of the library.

The unhappy gentleman put his hand to his head, and, groaning, demanded of space what it all meant. At last his eyes alighted on a piece of paper laid on one of the turkeys occupying the table. It proved to be a message from his housekeeper, as follows: Sin, —Turkeys have been arriving all day long, and I did not know what to do with them, seeing you never told me as you had ordered them, or was by way of expecting them to arrive. I have been near distracted out of my Bense; but they aro beautiful turkeys indeed. With, comps. of tiw season, and thanks for the kind present you left me this morning.—Respectfully, Anne Midge worth, Mr Major had just completed a second

reading of this missive when a ring called him to the door.

A vanman handed in a turkey and a sheet for signature.

Mr Major was about to protest, when his own name stared him in the face. He took in the turkey without a word, signed the receipt, and made to close the door. " Merry Christmas, sir," said the vanman. "Oh!" said Mr Major, and produced a florin. "I forgot," he added feebly, and closed the door on the man's thanks. He made a round of all the turkeys, examining the labels. The labels told him nothing except that no two turkeys had torn:; from the same shop, and that many ha:l come from quite different parts of the metropolis ; also that all were indubitably directed to himself. Presently he proceeded to count them. Twenty-five! With a helpless sigh he made for the library, all but falling over the turkey lying on the mat. As hii savage kick hardly moved it, he took it up, with a shudder at its clamminess, and slung it across the hall. Then lie entered the room, slammed the door, jerked up the gas, and flung himself into the easy chair by the gas stove, which was not burning as inodorously as it ought to have done. On a small table his housekeeper, prior to departure, had set a frugal meal consisting of a tinned tongue, bre:ul-and-butter, cheese, and a small bottle of claret. He gave it a glance o: distaste and lit his pipe. At the end of half an hour he was no nearer an answer to the double question, Who had sent him the turkeys, and why? For one bright moment his hope fastened on the directory : but he soon discovered that he was the only John Major in the neighbourhood, and that no John Major in the list had an address bearing the slightest resemblance to his own. Then he began to count up all the men with whom he had dealing? in the city. They certainly amounted to fully five-and-twenty ; but he could not name even three who would be likely to send him a gift of any kind, at any time. Of course, he had heard of practical jokes, and the possibility of one or two men getting others to join them in carrying out a harebrained scheme did occur to him, though. he could hardly conceive of twenty-five men wasting their attentions upon himself, and in such a manner. Again, he thought of his cousin Thomas Bulfinch. But Thomas, he argued, took Christmas seriously, and Thomas had, at all events, loft him the previous afternoon with anything but the air of a man about to indulge in a joke even more silly than seasonable. So Mr Major's mind went back to the city again, and it might have groped there for the remainder of Christmas Jive had not a new question sprung up to demand all its attention. And the new question was exceedingly urgent, though extremely simple. What was to be done with the five-and-twenty turkeys? Here the kindly reader is asked to remember that Mr John Major was an elderly, single gentleman; that he was alone, and also that he of a very retiring disposition. Moreover, the time was the eve of the two most complete holidays of the year. Further, he did not know his housekeeper's holiday address, nor had he the remotest idea as to how long a turkey would " keep." lie began by taking down a volume of the encyclopaedia, and therein acquired some unnecessary information respecting the Ottoman Empire, the populations of Constantinople and Bagdad, Turkish cigarettes ami Turkey red ; he also gathered that the turkey he was interested in was of "a genus of gallinaceous birds, according to some ornithologists, of a distinct family. Melcagridse, but included by others in Phasiankke." And here he threw the stout volume on the floor. A wild desire to dig a hole in the back garden and bury tlie lot came to him, but passed almost, immediately. He had no spade; he doubted whether the back garden was big enough ; and he remembered the neighbours. . Next he thought of hiring a cab and delivering the turkeys, one by one, to his business acquaintances; but on referring to the directory He learned that, with few exceptions, their homes were out of town, and in the most absurdly diverse directions. It would take him about a week, he guessed, to carry the scheme to completion. He was beginning to wonder about some of the charitable societies and institutions, when he heard the bell ring.

"I won't go!" ho said to himself, huddling in his chair. "It it's another " The flap of the letter-box snapped, and at the sound he bounced from his chair and flew to the front door. Wrenching it open, he called back the laden postman. "I say, my man, look here—er—have you—er—any use for a—a turkey?"

The weary postman started, then stared. "A turkey, sir? You're joking!" "Joking!" said Mr Major. "Wait!" He hastened back and returned with what seemed to him the largest bird. " Not really, sir?" gasped the postman, his eyes bulging. "For goodness' sake take it!"

The postman look it. " Why, sir," he said, not quite steadily, "I don't know what to say. sir. As for the wife and children "

" Well, well," said Mr Major hurriedly, "you're welcome to it. Good-night." As he closed the door, he heard something like "God bless you—Merry Christmas, sir." With a bitter glance at the remaining twenty-four turkeys he returned to the library, and began to pace the room. Something would have to be done, and quickly. It was eight o'clock. Five minuter, later lie went on tiptoe to the front door, and, after some hesitation, opened it a couple of inches. It was a dreary night, and but few pedestrians went through the terrace. At last a policeman, his wet capo glistening in the. lampshine, came slowly along. Summoning his courage, Mr Major opened the door about a foot. He had a turkey ready. " Oflicer—constable. Ahem! One moment, if you please

The policeman came up the steps at once.

" Er—l've a turkey here—no use for it. Care to have it?"

It took a minute to convince the policeman that the offer was genuine. When that was done, he overflowed with thanks and recollected that he knew a little shop hard by where he could deposit the gift until he went off his beat. " My! but it's a beauty, and I don't know how to " He Mas concluding when Mr Major mumbled something about its being of no consequence, and shut the- door. Still, he was not in time to escape the " Merry Christmas."

The lonely man's spirits had risen a degree or two, but on his turning and surveying the hall they sank again to zero. Still twenty-three to get rid of; and he was possessed with the idea that some of them at least were already beginning to taint the atmosphere. He stifled an impulse towards flinging wide the door and slinging them one by one into the street, at the risk of being taken for a lunatic. Nay ; he must try more discreet methods, he told himself, and longed for another postman, though he knew of no person save his cousin who would communicate with him at this season. The sound of a passing cab roused him. Opening the door he called "Hi!'' in a deplorably diffident voice. The driver heard, however, and brought his cab to the kerb.

Mr Major, having torn the labels from a couple of birds, descended with the latter to the pavement.

* "I wish 3'ou." he said, depositing a turkey in the cab. " to drive this turkey to ." And he gave the name and address of the caretaker of his office. " Deliver it with Mr—er —Brown's compliments. Here' are three—no. four—shilling-, to cover your fare, and, I say-—do you—er —care to have a turkey for yourself ? I T find I've got one too many." The cabby, though perfectly sober, narrowly escaped a fall from his box. ITis speech may not have been elegant, but there was no mistaking his gratification. .And, of course, he wound up with " A Merry Christmas to you, sir."

Mr Major, oblivious to the rain on his bald head, watched the cab drive off, and wished he had put several turkevs in it. Tie was about to ascend the steps when the face of a woman under the nearest lamp caught his eve. It was a lons, melancholv face, and the owner was tall and gaunt, but respectably dressed. She came along the pavement rapidly, and Mr Major made up his mind with a jerk. He stepped forward, put his hand to the hat that was not there, coughed, and said in a loud whisper :

"Madam, would you accept a '

" Sir. how dare you address me?" she exclaimed, and was cone, leaving him readv to sink to the around with shame. With bowed head and burning countenance he made for tho steps.

"Please, sir-, please, sir," said a small voice behind him. Mr Major turned to behold a little girl of perhaps twelve, and a woman, with two voumror children clinging to her skirts.

" Excuse her. sir," said the woman shnmcf;<codly; "she didn't mean to beg." " Ah !" soid the man. and something stirred in hi? heart. "Will you come up to the donr for a minute?" Tim woman hesitated. " Mother 1" cried the little earl.

"To oblige me." said Mr Major, and led the way. " T—T have a turkey here which T have no use for.." he continued, a few seconds later. "Pray accept it as a favouv to mvself." "Oh. mother!" cried (he little car] again, and the smaller children echoed her ecstatically. Put the woman wept. Tt was many years since Mr Major had seen a woman weep.

" y ol ,—yon must not do that." he said at last: " vou really must not." The little girl snoke. "Tf's because father's, in the hosnita). and we've got no money, and--and it's Christmas, and the young o-ies wns crving. and T told 'em I'd perhaps find a kind <rentleman like I once rend about in a bonk, and then yon " She broke down.

" Tt's all true, sir." s.nid the woman. finding her voice; " but I never thought T'd come to this." " Well. T'm Pflad you've come to me." he replied. " I—T insist on your accepting this and giving me your address." He forced a couple of sovereigns into her hand. "Yon don't know how much vou have obliged me." To the little girl he repeated his request for the address, and on receiving, wrote it down. " I'm afraid the turkey is too much for you to carry, and here is a cab coming—luckily disenganed."

The woman was past protesting. " And now that we've got a cab you may as well have two turkeys. You can give one away, if you like." A minute later they Averc driven off, the children with a shilling apiece which lie had thought of at the last moment. Nor did he forget to present the driver with a turkey along with his fare. Once more he surveved the hall. Still eiehteen remained ! Yet the sight of them did not depress him as much, as might have been expected.

Presently he donned coat and hat, took a turkey in each hand, and went forth into the night.

.At eleven o'clock be found himself in the hall with but two turkeys left. But he was utterly exhausted. He passed to the library and made an attempt upon the neglected meal; it wan a failure; he could not eat. He lit his pipe, but let it go out almost immediately. Laying it aside, he leaned forward, his face in his hands And in his heart that the night's work seemed literally to have quickened and warmed, there grew an ache, a desperate craving for human com pany, human sympathy. HI. It was almost midnight. The Bulfinches, tired but happy, were in the par-

lour. Their children's party was over; the last of the older youngsters had departed. Surely I hear a cal> stopping,'' said Mrs Bulfinch, breaking off in her recollections of the evening's incidents. " I'll go," said her husband, " before the ring brings up any of the servants. They must be tired out. Possibly some of our yoang friends have forgotten somothing."

He reached the front door just as someone came heavily up the steps. He threw it open.

"John, by all that's wonderful!" From the departing cab came a hoarse shout—" Merry Christmas, sir!"

Mr Major smiled faintly, and looked ready to collapse. His cousin dragged him in. A turkey flopped on the rug. " I—l thought. I'd bring it along," said John feebly. " I'm afraid I'm late." " You're just in time, bless you!" cried Thomas. " Man, this is good of you. Off with your coat. Why, it's soaking. What have you been doing with yourself?" " Oh, I'm not. going to wait a' minute," John began awkwardly. Mr Ilulfinch's kindly eyes grew moist. " You're going to wait "over ■Christmas Day, at least," he said softly. " You don't leave this house to-night." He raised Ms voice. " Mildred, here's Johncousin John—come to stay!" Mrs Bulfinch came bustling from t-ha parlour.

'" And no one was ever so welcome," she said warmly. " Why, Avhat a splendid turkey!" she exclaimed, perceiving the bird which her husband had placed on a chair. "How very good of you, John!" She gave a little sob —or was it a giggle? v - And Thomas chuckled.

John said nothing, hut he allowed them to lead him to the parlour. After all, it didn’t so much matter just then who had sent the turlievs as who had o-of them