A CHRISTMAS STORY.

Taranaki Daily News, 29 December 1923, Page 8

A CHRISTMAS STORY.

A LITTLE CHARITY.

(By

Arnold Golsworthy.)

Everybody agreed that Bilger was the mean man of the club. He boasted openly, for instance, that he never spent money on either matches or lead pencils. People, he said, would always oblige you with a light, and anybody would give you a stub of lead pencil for •the asking. Bilger had a little trick of pulling from his pocket an empty tobacco pouch and then looking round to see if the others had noticed it. Of course two or three of the fellows would offer their own pouches, and Bilger got his smoke cheaply for a long time. Then the other fellows kicked in a quiet way,, and Bilger would be left to sit staring at his empty tobacco pouch until he remembered suddenly that he had an ounce packet of tobacco in another pocket. One day, in bringing out his pipe, he brought the ounce of tobacco with it, and did not notice what ho had done. Jefferson covered the packet with his foot and winked at the members around him. Then Jefferson said, “Have you got a pipe of tobacco, Bilger. I’ve run out.” “Sorry, old man,” said Bilger, producing his empty pouch, “I was just going to ask you the same thing.” Then Jefferson lifted his foot. “Hallo!” he said, feigning surprise; “here’s a packet of tobacco on the floor. Somebody must have dropped it.” Bilger felt in his pockets and then turned very red. “That’s mine,” he said hurriedly, reaching out his hand for it. “Ah, well,” said Jefferson, “you won’t mind me taking a fill, I’m sure.” And, having taken a liberal pipeful, he passed the packet round the ring. By the time it reached Bilger it was little more than a screw of paper and tinfoil. Bilger had to go into the reading-room to hide his grief. But where he put the club’s back up was in the matter of the children’s toys. Jefferson explained to a crowd at the olub one day that he wanted some subscriptions.

“My old friend Simpson, the superintendent of the Orphanage,” he said, “has been telling me that he would like to get some Christmas toys for the hundred or so kiddies there. The funds of the Orphanage won’t run to such a luxury. Let’s chip in and do something. I’ll lead off with a guinea.” Bilger was on his feet at once. “I think half a guinea is quite enough,” he said. "It isn’t the amount ydu give; it’s the spirit in which you give it.” “Rats!” commented Jefferson, a little impolitely. “A kiddie doesn’t care about the spirit. He wants something he can pull around at the end of a piece of string.” But Bilger would not go beyond half a guinea. And even then he kept bothering Jefferson with inquiries as to how much money they had in hand to lay out in toys, and where he was going to buy them. Jefferson gave him the information readily enough, never supposing that there was any moan motive behind such apparently innocent questions. On the day the toys were purchased Jefferson came into the club in a state of some excitement. Bilger was not present. "Boys,” said Jefferson, "Bilger has just about gone the limit. He went round to Dodson’s the toy people, and said hp was sending someone to buy about twenty-five pounds' worth of toys. If they wanted the business they must pay five per cent commission.” "Great Scot!” gasped Collins. "And are Dodson’s going to pay it?” "They are not,” said Jefferson with a quiet chuckle. “I told them that if there was any commission it belonged to us, and that we would take it out in extra toys.” "That’s good,” agreed Collins. Then, after a pause, he asked: “What shall we do to Bilger for this? Shall we hang him by the heels over a slow fire, or just flay him alive with a blunt penknife?” Just then Bilger arrived at the club, and the conversation reduced itself to whispers. Whatever the club had decided to do to Bilger was for the moment a secret. Presently, however, Jefferson looked up, and said pleasantly to Bilger. “I say, old man, we’ve got the toys, and now the question arises as to how they are to be divided. We must get someone to dress up at Father Christmas and arrive at the Orphanage with a sackful qf toys on his back. How would you care to do it?”

Bilger’s face brightened. The prospects of being able to get credit for twenty-five pounds’ worth of generosity appealed to him immensely. "I don’t mind obliging you fellows,” he said at length. "But the Father Christmas cdMume will cost money” "Oh, we’ll fit you up all right, old chap,” said Jefferson. "You shan’t be put to any expense on that account. It will only cost you the price of th? taxi from your rooms to the Orphanage.’’ Bilger gave a sigh of relief. For the moment he feared he had let himself in for the cost of the hire of a costume, which would probably be as much as five shillings. "Then that’s settled,” said Jefferson. "A man from Dodson’s will be waiting for you at the front door of Simpson’s house with the sack of toys. It will be a bit heavy, but you won’t have to carry it far.” Bilger went home feeling very pleased with himself. Meanwhile, after having explained his plan in detail to the members of the club. Jefferson went to the house of his old friend Simpson, the superintendent of the Orphanage, and had a heart-to-heart talk with him. About seven o’clock on Christmas Eve Bilger drove up to th? superintendent’s house. When he put his hand in his pocket to pay the fare he realised that in changing into his fancy dress he had left his money behind. It was unfortunate; but he told himself that it might turn out to be a bit of luck. He could explain to the superintendent that he had no money for his fare. Bilger told the cabman to wait. The man from Dodson’s was waiting for him on th^doorstep with the sack of t-ovs, It was heavy, but Bilger slung it on his back, and the man darted off with what seemed a quite unnecessary chuckle. The superintendent’s front door was open. B'leer walked in. but he did not know which wav to turn in the dark. Suddenly a harsh voice shouted:— "Hands up! Don’t attempt to escape. We’ve got you!” Bilger dropped his bag. Then the lights switched on suddenly, and a hefty man dashed un and gripped Bilger’s, collar. "I say!” protested Bilger. “You’re

making a most ridiculous mistake. Where’s Mr. Simpson?” A bustling little man came out of the shadows. "Hold him tight, Jack,” he said. Then he turned to Bilger. “I’m Mr. Simpson,” he said, “but I 1 don’t know you. What are you doing here? What have you got in that bag?” Bilger giggled in his usual irritating way. “Can’t you see?” he said. “I’m Father Christmas bringing toys for the kiddies.” "Yes, I know,” returned Simpson, sarcastically. "I’ve no doubt you thought your disguise rather clever, my man. But the Father Christmas we were expecting came to the main entrance of the Orphanage half an hour ago, and the kiddies have all got their toys by now. Let’s see what he’s got in the bag, Jack.” Mr. Simpson dived into the sack, and Bilger was horrified to see him fish out a silver coffee-pot, two or three silver sports cups, a clock, a plated card-tray, and a number of spoons and forks. “I say!” ggsped Bilger. “A terrible mistake has been made. A man gave me this bag on the doorstep.” "The usual story!” commented Simpson, derisively. "Bring him along to the refractory room Jack, while I go for the police.” Bilger pleaded and protested, but the beefy man was not to be moved. He dragged Bilger along a passage and pushed him into a prison-like room.. “Hi!” yelled Bilger, as the door was being closed upon him; “I’ll give you the names of my friends. You can send for them.”

“You can tell that tale to the police. They’ll be here directly,”x the beefy man shouted back, as he slammed tfiid locked the door. Bilger sat down disconsolately on the plank bed which was all the furniture the room contained. The man who had given him what he had supposed was a sack of toys must have been a real burglar who was being chased by the police, and who had adopted that' cunning method of getting rid of the swag. Bilger did not know that the sack had been filled by Mr. Simpson himself about halt an hour previously, as the result of a cunning plot between himself and Jefferson. Bilger did not know, either, that Jefferson had intended all along to be Father Christmas himself. Meanwhile Jefferson, who had beep distributing the toys to the orphans with the Eelp of Collins and a few of the other fellows, adjourned the meeting to Simpson’s parlour. While they enjoyed their Christmas cigars they listened to and laughed over the story of how Bilger had been caught. Somewhere about eleven o’clock it was decided that the joke had gone far enough. So another adjournment was made to the refractory rootn, and while Simpson opened the door the others looked on with set faces. Bilger saw them there, and hurried towards them. "I say, you chaps,” he said, appealingly, "you’ll explain that—” “Mr. Biiger,” said Jefferson, sternly, while at the same time he made a great effort to stop the corners of his mouth from twitching, "Mr. Simpson has ju t told us of this unfortunate occurrence. He was surprised to hear that you are a member of the club, and has asked us to come and identify you. It is, of course, a most unfortunate and the least said about it the better. Mr. Simpson, has decided not to press the charge against you on the understanding that you contribute ten pounds to the funds of the Orphanage.” Bilger gave a groan of despair. "It’s all a mistake,” he said, “but the evidence is against me. I suppose I shall have to do it. I’ll go home now and write out a cheque.”

"That’s all right, said Simpson, cheerily. “But you understand that if I don't get by the first post in the morning I shall send a policeman to collect it and you at the same time.” Bilger finding himaelf free to go, lost no time in getting to the front door. But his troubles were not over. He had no sooner appeared on the doorstep than a cheery voice sang out from the taxi-cab he had forgotten. "Ho! so you've turned up at last! I've been waitin’ here since a quarter past seven, and it’s two-pun-three-and-eight by the clock!” Bilger felt at the moment that he wanted to sit on the pavement' and cry like, a child. But he chose the more prudent course of returning home in the taxi and settling up. And when the driver wished him a Merry Christmas he felt he could have strangled the fellow.