Santa Claus, Advertising Agent.

Otago Witness, Issue 3275, 20 December 1916, Page 61

Santa Claus, Advertising Agent.

By Fraxk Howkll Evans

(All Bights Reserved.) " Splendid ! Joseph shall go as Santa Claus. I'll trim his thick oveicoat with cotton wool, he can wear the white beard he used in the theatricals, and if he has plenty of practice, he'll soon learn tho carols."

Mr.s Joseph Hinton looked pleasantly at her husband, who replied with quiet emphasis : " I think not, thank you. I can neither sing carols nor can I .play the harmonium. So I am afraid that you must leave me out of the catalogue, as it were. As a {jrivate citizen I will subscribe five soilings, but I cannot see my way i.o active assistance."

Mr Joseph Hinton smiled at Mrs Billiter, the rector's wife, and laid two half-crowns on the table.

"Don't you believe him, Mrs Billiter!" put in Mrs Hinton. "He's got a lovely voice, though he hasn't used it foi years. Why, he used to sing under my window when we were "

" Don't go back to the Dark Ages, Maria!" reproved Mr Hinton. "I did sing under her window once, Mrs Billiter, and I have a distinct recollection of her mother throwing a large and varied collection of pottery at me. I remember the lid of the soap dish to this day! No, thank you; I will not be a carol singer in fancy dress. At my age I am not desirous of rousing peaceful householders, or of adding to my bitter memories of soap dishes." But the Reverend Mrs Billiter would take no denial. She had during the past year organised a Pageant, a Girl Scout Camp, a Married Men's Angling Competition in the canal, and had endeavoured, by the offer of two pounds fiom her private purse, to engage a famous airman with his flying machine for the Sunday School Treat; to say nothing of odd concerts, and a lecture on the North Pole by the curate, who had just returned from a five guinea trip to Switzerland, and was, therefore, eminently qualified to pose as an expert. The curate's lecture was, perhaps, the great success of the year, from the point of view of the ribald, for the dissolving-view machine exploded and blew off the lecturer's eyebrows just as he was investigating the cause of the sudden stoppage. "I am glad to state," said Mrs Billiter, at the rehearsal at the Rectory that afternoon, " that I have, with considerable difficulty, persuaded Mr Joseph Hinton to undertake the role of Santa Claus, for which by nature he is so eminently fitted. That, I think, will conclude the business for this afternoon, except for those members of the Sewing Guild, who will, I trust, remain behind to hem sheets Those who arc not already members of the Guild "

But no one seemed to be a member, and there wasn't a nerve-racking rush to take up membership, so the members of the Carol Party went home, discussing the advent of Hinton as Santa Claus. The promised addition of Hinton to the party was received with loud cheers, so to speak, by the younger members, whose conversation was usually enlivened by some adventure of the genial Hinton. "He's a rare old sport is Hinton," said Hopkins, the bank clerk. " Always manages to get the giddy laugh in the wrong spot. Remember, at the sports, when" he was going to meet Lady Rothery to take her to the tent to give away the prizes? Silly old ass fell in the water jump ! Crowd howled—give you my word —and Lady Rothery was just wild. And Percy Grainger, of the Hall, added the memory of the time when Hinton was captain of the Amateur Fire Brigade, and in a display turned the hose on a crowd of distinguished visitors, thereby earning for the town unmerited ridicule and contempt And £O, with the cheery optimism of youth, they looked forward to a sportive time from the newly-elected Santa Claus. Two evenings later Mr Billiter called en Mr Hinton. "Are we alone?" said the reverend gentleman rather unnecessarily, seeing that the only persons in the room were himself and Mr Hinton. Mr Hinton made a pretence of looking up the chimney. "We are alone and unobserved," he said. , "Mr Hinton," said Mr Billitef, fidgeting with his collar, "Mrs Billiter has informed me of your offer—your very kind offer; your, indeed, generous offer—to appear with her little party as Santa Claus. It is indeed good of you!" Joseph glowed, for he felt that it really was good of him since the rector put it that way. . . "Now, may I ask you, Mr Hinton, without offence, and as man to man, to restrain your sense of humour while the carols are beino- sung? Of course, in between the rambles any little jests, such as falling over the doorstep, or fleeing from _ the do", would be much appreciated, especially by the vouoger members of the community, t myself when a young man once caused "l'cat mirth by being pursued by a bull—unwillingly, of course." The rector looked up at the coiling as if .in rapt memory of the past, and the veins stood out on' Hinton's forehead. "I don't quite follow you, he said, speaking as if every word would choke nim - M XT l "Well, you see, my dear Mt Hinton, we have such a lively'recollection of your little spirited jokes on public occasions that I thought perhaps it might be difficult to restrain you. The town has never forgotten the day vou drove the motor car' into the canal. That was indeed

humorous 1" The accident to the steering gear, which cost Hinton fifty pounds, was still fresh

in his memory, and he cast longing eyes at a Japanese sword which hung on the wall, but he restrained himself mightily. " I promised Mrs Billiter I would apr;eal to your personally. If you indulge your love" of fun while the carols are being sung, I am afraid there will be what I once heard an actor —quite a nice man he was —call a 'general dry-up.' But afterwards, Mr Hinton, any little pleasantry will, I am sure, be welcome, and doubtless add to the collection which will be made in aid of the church bells. I have your promise? Oh! my hat; thanks!" Hinton gave the rector his hat without a word, and as he saw him out of the front door, he whhpered between set teeth in the astonished man's ear:

" A violent death awaits you if you ever set foot in this house again." And Hinton banged the door, went back to his study, and with difficulty prevented himself from having about seven different kinds of fits, and finally went to be determined to appear as Santa Claus even if fifty rectors, unable to distinguish between unwilling physical accidents and deliberate humour, should try to say him nay.

After breakfast next morning Mrs Hinton staggered into the dining room with an armful of clothes.

" What is it, Maria?" asked Hinton. " A jumble sale? Or do you anticipate a call from the accomplished lady swindler who calls herself a second-hand clothes dealer"'"

" I want ycu to try this on," said Mrs Hinton, ignoring the sarcasm. " You're a little stouter than mother, but I can easilylet it out."

Mrs Hinton held up a long, black cloak lined with rabbitskin masquerading as ermine.

" Turn it inside out, and it'll do splendidly. I told mother it would be sure to come in splendidly some time or another."

"I don't quite follow you, Maria," put in Hinton. " Are you expecting me io wear your mother's old cloak instead of ordering a new overcoat? I may have lost a little money in the United Gold Mine, but I have not lost all sense of shame. I refuse to wear your mother's cloak."

" Don't be foolish, Joseph! This is your Santa Claus costume. It'll save you a lot of expense. You'll wear the cloak inside out so as to show the fur; I shall trim it here and there with bits of holly. And this old toque of mine with some cotton wool out on it, will look just like a Santa Caus hat. Now you try !" Joseph reluctantly allowed himself to be decked in the cloak turned inside out, and when Mrs Hinton perched an already small toque on his head, he locked like a pantomime comedian at a dress rehearsal.

" It's no good at all!" he raid irritably. " I can't see myself, but if I look as foolish as I feel, I must be an exhibition that'd be worth an admission fee! Who's that making an ass of himself in the garden? I'm hanged if it isn't the parson again!" Through the French windows Mrs Hinton caught a glimpse of the Rev. Mr Bil liter in a paroxysm of gentlemanly mirth at the sight of Hinton in the cloak and toque. He advanced closer to the window for nearer inspection, quivering with laughter, and as he caught Hinton's eye he held up a finger and shook it in playful, reproving manner, as much as to say, "At it again! First thing in the morning, too!"

Angrily Hinton snatched the toque from his head, and flung it to the ground. The clergyman clapped his hands as if for an encore.

" Take this dashed thing off, Maria!" cried Hinton. " That fellow thinks I'm domg this for fun. I'll have to put him right about my fun once and for all. Stop laughing, you blithering " ITinton made a dash for the window with_ the intention of opening it, and persuading the clergyman by "physical force, if necessary, that Joseph' Hinion was not a professional humorist, but just an ordinary, level-headed, private citizen. But Mr Billiter, whose motto was "all things to all men," saw here the chance for entering into the joke. He affected extreme terror as Hinton fumbled with the window-catch, hold up a letter, and dropped it on the path, and then, with a little kick of his heels and his coat-tails flying, he galloped down the oath, paused at the gate, turned, blew a kiss through his fingers to the raging Hinton, who had hurt his hand with the catch, and went his way, rejoicing to think that he, too, could be funny, even as were other men. " I know I shall be had up for clergymen slaughter one of these days!" snorted Hinton. " You might fret the letter, will you, my dear? I'm not sure whether I've broken my thumb or the catch." Mrs Hinton fetched the letter which Mr Billiter had left on the path. " From Mrs Billiter," said Hinton. "enclosing programme of the Carol Party. Let's have a look !"

It was hardly a programme; it was more a sort of scenario or synopsis of what might he expected, and ran thus : THE COSTUME CAROL CONCERT PARTY (Directress: Mrs Bii.mter) Will visit Maresfleld on Christmas Eve. At Twelve (midnight) they will in the Market Place, and afterwards outside the houses of residents who have guaranteed at least a guinea to the Church Bells Fund. All members of the party will be in appropriate costume, tlms reviving memories of Ye Olden Times. Applications for the appearance of the party should be made at once to---Mrs Bilutbb, The Rectory. GOD SAVE THE KINO. So far Hinton read the literature without comment, but the last line of all he read aloud in a grim, stern voice : " N.B. —The sleigh driven by Santa Clans, and drawn by reindeer, may be engaged during the holidays for children's parties.- —-Apply Mrs Billiter." " I am unable to comment in terms suitable for your ears,-Mrs Hinton," went on Joseph, feeling that blind, red rage was useless " but of all the—the—imperial-

ence—the—the . Santa Claus sleigh driven by reindeer! What on earth does the woman mean? I've never seen a reindeer I I believe it's that darned Billiter's doing!"

" See what she says, dear. Here's her letter," said Mrs Hinton soothingly.

"Dear Mr Hinton " (ran the note) — "The idea of the Santa Clans sleigh came to me last night as quite an inspiration. Of cour.se, there won't be real reindeer — just horses with antlers, so simple and so effective. But the idea of engaging Santa Glaus for children's parties is really due to my husband. ' He is convinced that the little ones would simply scream at yon. Ido hope you won't mind. It would be such a help to the fund. I am arranging with Mr Gibbons about the .sleigh ; he says he shan't charge you more than five guineas for the evening. I call it absurdly moderate, don't you f All love to Mrs Hinton."

"What a charming letter!" said Mrs Hinton, enthusiastically. "I think it's a splendid idea about the sleigh. You'll do it splendidly, Joseph, I'm sure!" Mr Hinton appealed pathetically to several heathen gods to spare him from lunacy, and at the club that afternoon wrote to a London firm of costumiers to send him a Santa Glaus costume, and he also wrote to Mrs Billiter that lie would drive the sleigh on Christmas live, but on Boxing Day he was starting for North America or India—he was not sure which —so he would not be able to entertain the children.

" Now, about the Santa Clav.s sleigh, Mr Hinton," said Gibbons, the horsedealer, stopping him in the High street on his way home. " You'll have to have a dogcart; there isn't such a thing as a sleigh nearer than the North Pole. But we'll make it look Christmasey with holly and things." "And what about the reindeer?" asked Hinton.

"Foolish idea I call it!" grumbled Gibbons. " But I never like to turn money away. Mrs Billiter's going to make some horns and things out of papier mache, and I'm going to shove 'em on two quiet old nags, and there we are." "Two? Drive them tandem, I suppose?"

"That's the ticket. And I'd like a cheque in advance, if you don't mind, Mr Hinton. It's usual, 'in these cases, I fancy."

Hinton sent the cheque with the same feeling as might possess a criminal disposing of his property before execution, and the day before Christmas Eve he received another call from Mr Billiter. In vitriolic terms Hinton. told his wife that he would not see the man, that he felt murder itching at his fingers* ends at the thought of him in the house, and a message was delivered to Mrs Hinton. There was to be a sort of dress parade of the Concert Tarty that afternoon at the Rectory, and would Mr Hinton kindly come in costume, and try the sleigh, which would be there with the reindeer?

"I'm going through with it, my dear, because I've given my word; but never again will I make a fool of myself !" said Hinton, as he dressed himself in the Santa Glaus costume.

Fancy dross at two in the afternoon isn't a becoming costume for a stout, middleaged gentleman, and Hinton huddled himself in a corner of the fly on the way to the Rectory, rather hoping that an earthquake would happen before he got there.

"Ah! here's our humourist!" said Mr Billiter, as Hinton alighted. " Gadzooks, and thou lookest well." The members of the Costume Carol Party were all assembled in front of the Rectory to he photographed, and Mrs Billiter, in the striking disguise of a Christmas cracker, was arranging the group. She was swathed in stuff of a shining red colour, bunched and puffed out so as _ to faintly resemble a cracker, and being rather stout she was—as the volatile Hopkins expressed it—"pretty cheap if all in the half-crown box were that size." " That's capital!" she said, as the group was arranged. " I hope no one » looking over the wall, as we must keep the castumes a strict-secret until to-morrow/' "Where shall I stand?" inquired Hinton, feeling that to be photographed was piling on the insults. "Oh! you're going to be in the sleigh, Mr Hinton. Mr Gibbons has it in the yard. He was putting the antlers on just now. Here he is!" From the stable yard came Gibbons leading a tandem, dragging a dogcart which was decorated with, holly and mistletoe v-herever it was possible to put any. On the poor horses' heads were fixed erections presumed to represent antlers which, if true to life, must have been copied from rare animals unknown outside the Natural History Museum. At every possible point was hung a bell. " The old mare doesn't seem to like the bells," said Gibbons as Hinton approached. " T thought she'd stand them ; but what with these antlers and things, she's fidseting more than a bit. And with Mrs Billlter's permission the bells were taken off. "Now, where's the photographer?" cried Mrs Billiter. " There he is! Now, Mr Hicks, please!" Mr Hicks, a slight, fair-bearded man, who. by virtue of his artistic profession, adopted what was supposed to be a French accent, and the true French politeness, hurried up, and, after_ the manner of photographers, di<:nrrange"d the group, and placed hands and feet in positions that instantly made the owners feel as if they were deformed all over. "That is bettaire. yes: thank you!" he said, trying to run his fingers through his hair, which was rather too scanty for the feat. " Ver' good ! Tlie Craickaire next to Fazzer Christmas! Yes; that is ver' good! Now the Santa Glaus! TJp in your cart, cef you please. Thank you! Yes ; ver* good! Smile, eef you please, and the hat a little to our side! Thank yon!" Hinton climbed into the trap, feeling about as jolly as a fraudulent banker whoso books have been seized. On his way to the seat he clutched at a hollycovered rail, and his remark brought a re-

proof from Mr Billiter, who was standing close bv :

"Really, Mr Hinton! Remember the young people!" "Oh! you go What is it, Hicks, now? Can't you turn the handle, or whatever you do, and get on with the business?"

"It is not good like that—no!" cried Mr Hicks. " The picture does not balance. In the cart with Mr Hinton there should be someone; it looks empty without. Couldn't you pop in, sir?"' he said to Mr Billiter. Mr Hicks always found it difficult to keep up the alleged French accent for any length of time. "Certainly! Delighted! Anything to help!" said Mr Billiter, starting to climb into the trap. "I don't want anyone in the trap!" shouted Hinton. " What with the holly and the mistletoe and things, there's hardlv room for me as it is. Get down, Mr Billiter!"

".No, no! Really, Mr Hinton, you must let Mr Billiter get up!" put in Mrs Billiter, leaving the group. "Mr Hicks is quite right. The trap will look belter with two people in it. Henry, go and get the opossum rug out of the drawing room, and throw that over your shoulders, and with your wide-awake hat crushed down right over your head, you'll look just like an Eskimo—quite appropriate for the sleigh." Mr Billiter quietly obeyed, and when he returned with the rug over his shoulders and his hat well over his ears, the spirit of harmless mirth entered into him, and he capered in front of the group, and cried in a throatv tenor:

' Walla. Avalla! Me Eskimo! Me go for ride wiv' Massa Hinton." The only person who didn't share in the hilarity was Hinton." "Dry up, do, Billiter!" he shrieked. "You're- frightening the horses. It's as much as Gibbons can do to hold them." "Welly solly!" replied Mr Billiter, lapsing into the Chinese dialect. And in his wrath Hinton lashed out with his whip and caught the unfortunate clergyman a cut on the back of the hand that made him dance more wildly t han ever. "Now, that'll do!" cried Mrs Billiter, smiling indulgently. "We won't have any more fun at present. Wait till we've been photographed. Get up, Henry!" Gingerly Mr Billiter climbed up into the trap, avoiding the holly decorations on the way, and just as he was about to seat himself, he slipped and fell right on to Hinton. He threw out his arms to save himself, and clutched blindly at the reins with a grip that would have brought an elephant back on to its haunches. "Let go, you fool!" yelled Hinton, as the leader, which had been fidgeting for some time, rose up on his hind legs as if wishing to institute a little Morris dance of his own. Attached to the bridle was Gibbons, who valiantly hung on as long as possible, and then dropped—fortunately, uninjured—into a laurel bush. Hinton pulled madly at the reins, and the second horse, seeing no valid reason why it should not join in the pantomime, kicked wildly and cheerfully, while Mr Billiter sank—moaning and covering his eyes—to the floor of the trap.

Still clawing the air, the leader, now thoroughly terrified, swung to the right, and Hinton had a confused vision of a smashed photographer's apparatus, a frightened photographer flinging himself backwards into a holly bush, and a snorting and capering horse dancing on the wreckage of the plates and camera. Then the action changed, and he found himself trying to prevent the horse climbing in at the dining room window. By a superhuman effort Hinton wrenched the horses round, and tried to persuade them that they would be much more comfortable on four legs than on two. "Let me get out! Let me get out" moaned Mr Billiter from the floor. The leader at that moment turned round and invited his companion to join in a Merry Widow waltz, so Mr Billiter s selfisi request was not attended to, and it is to be feared that Mr Hinton deliberately drove his toe into the prostrate man's ribs as he took a fresh grip on the reins. "Mind the harmonium!" shrieked Mrs Billiter, and to Hinton, who was now trving to save himself from a horrible death—he didn't worry about Billiter—the request came as maddening, and he wished he could drive the tandem through the greenhouse, and include the whole of the concert party, with himself, in a sudden end. Round and round went the horses, over went the harmonium, the camera and the plates were trodden into even more infinite pieces, and in the holly hedge lay a prickled and wrathful photographer, shrieking out maledictions in which there was no trace of the French accent. Evidently realising at length that they were not popular where they were, the horses left off trying to climb on each other's shoulders, and made a dash for the gate, shot through without, by great good luck, leaving a wheel or two behind them. "Now. you shall go!" hissed Hinton between his teeth, as he gave them a cut with the whip. People in Maresfield still talk of that wild drive. Through the streets, busy with the Christmas shoppers, tore a hollydecorated vehicle, driven by a shouting, raving person in Polar costume, and drawn by two animals which had evidently started to be horses, but had finished off with strange things on their heads, and no man had ever seen their like before. On dashed the tandem, the horses galloping, Hinton stretched back pulling at the reins, and two keen-eyed shopmen swore that they distinctly saw the pallid face of the Rev. Mr Billiter at the bottom of the vehicle. Hearing of this, two imaginative old ladies, who kept a sweet shop, declared that smoke and fire came from the horses' nostrils, that the furious driver had horns, and was doubtless sitting on his tail and that altogether things looked black for the rector, whom thev had alwa-vs suspected of a leaning to Popery.

And on went the tandem until the horses, blown and exhausted, stopped of their own accord at the gate leading to a field where they were oflen put to graze.

" O-o-h! o-o-h!" moaned the rector, not daring to look up. "Is it all over, and are there many killed?"

But Hinton was strung up to desperation, and he made up his mind that tho rector should not escape any contumely thai there might be to share. " Will you do as I tell you?" he asked. " If it's not anything inducing physical pain, I shall be happy," said the rector. " Never mind about physical pain !" snorted Hinton. ''lf you don't, d'you know what I shall do?"" " No, no, no," faltered Mr Billiter. " Something humorous, I expect." Yes, it'll be with boiling oil in it! If you don't do exactly as I say, I shall take off my Santa Glaus clothes, dress you up in them., and leave you to drive the team home!"

"Anything anything but that!" moaned Mr Billiter. Then you'll put on your robe or your rug, or whatever you call it, an"; sit bolt upright by my side, and when we get back to town you'll dismount, pass the hat round, and make a collection in the street. This was an advertising dodge, see; and don't you forget to help to carry out the idea properly !" The rector struggled up from his hard position on the floor to the seat.

"What an ingenious idea!'' he said, trying to smile. " But you might have told us beforehand. And to think you made the dear horses dance like that on purpose !'' " Very clever, wasn't it? Now, don't forget we're advertising the concert party," said Hinton, as he turned the quietened horses' heads in the direction of Maresfield. Extract from the Maresfield Sentinel: Much regret was felt that sudden indisposition prevented Mr Joseph Hinton from repeating his now famous impersonation of Santa Claus with the Costume Carol Party on Christmas Eve. To Mr Hinton, with his wonderful drive, belongs the credit of bringing off the neatest and most profitable advertisement ever seen in Maresfield, the street collection on his return realising the handsome sum of £3 18s 4d. While to Mr Hinton belongs the credit of the execution of the scheme, we are betraying no secret in saying that the whole idea originated in the fertile brain of our beloved rector. " Well. I'll be hanged !" said Mr Hinton.