The Christmas Tree

Star (Christchurch), Issue 17223, 14 December 1923, Page 10 (Supplement)

The Christmas Tree

(Written for the Christmas “ Star, by DOROTHY REED).

‘ This Christmas,” proclaimed O’Shea proudly, “we shall have a tree!” lie looked into the depths of a frilly basket, to meet the calm gaze of hia j • laughter, six weeks old. 1 “Yes, old lady,” he continued, “ it will be some tree. And you shall hang up your stocking, and mother shall hang hers, and even your broken-down old Dad may take a chance that Santa will not forget him. You have a wonderful grip upon my finger, daughter. ** Molly with a glance at the baby’s mother, who was listening amusedly to his conversation isn’t this baby unusually strong?” “Of course'.” laughed Molly. Then her eyes grew wistful as she rose and , stood beside him. “ Pat.” she said, J “ you don’t really mind because she’s not a boy?” O’Shea looked at her reproachfully. •• My dear, this is the seventh time you have asked that questios, and each time l have replied emphatically that I prefer a daughter. T love little girls. I like frills and ruffles. But,” O’Shea sighed. “ I wish» she were twins! I’m forty past, Molly; and it takes so long to accumulate a family.” Molly rubbed her cheek against his coat sleeve. “ A family of three is not 60 bad,” she replied. “ Last year there ] were only two of us, and we thotight I that was pretty good —if 1 remember rightly. But now, Pat, I can hardly wait for Christmas morning. I’m so glad you want n tree. We’ll have a little one on the dining-room table.” O’Shea turned, looking down on his wife soberly. Then ho exploded: “ A little one! On the dining-room table! Well. I guess not! Molly” 1 is voice lowered—“I —I never had a t hristmas tree when I was a kid. I here was no one who cared enough to g t one for me. All my life I’ve looked i:;whi them longingly. Maybe 1 never quite grew up. Anyway, we’re going to have a big one. It must reach within <ix ■ iichos of the ceiling and have miles >f tinsel just like the pictures you see ii magazines. I brought the shiny stuff home to-night. I—l’ve1 —I’ve just got t,, have it. Molly!” Molly thoughtfully stroked his irongrey hair. She was continually finding out new things about her husband that made her ache for the lonely little boy he had once been. Of course it was absurd to have a tree for a baby that would only blink at it; but it wasn’t absurd to have a tree for Pat. It should be the tree of his dreams, to every minutest detail. Molly caught his hand and squeezed it. “Pat, I’d love it! I haven’t had a tree for years and years. It’ll be a real family Christmas this year—just for the three of us. Oh. Pat! Isn’t it juat wonderful to be a family at Christmas time?” There followed busy and exciting days. As the time passed Molly wondered if her husband spent his entire luncheon hour in an orgy of shopping. Each night he appeared with some new trinkets which were hidden carefully on the top shelf of the linen cupboard, as if he feared the baby might get an

untimely glimpse of them. For the first time in his life O’Shea was revelling in the mysteries of Christina*. The day before Christmas Eve Molly went especially into town so that they might finish the purchases for the tree together. Her husband was like a j schoolboy, hesitating over each shining j ornament as if the fate of a nation ! rested on the derision between a sparkling icicle and a Christmas rose. Ho ended by purchasing a wonderful shining star and a rod-coated Santa Claus for the baby. “ Now. don’t you daro get a thing for me!” she scolded. “All right,” said O’Shea, grinning joyfully. ” I won’t bother about you. Of course, being the whole show j’ourself, it doesn’t matter whether anyone remembers you or not. Say, I’ve got to get back to the office. D’you think the crowd would notice if l kissed you?” “ Yes, I do,” laughed Molly. “ Don’t think of such a thing!” O’Shea was rather quiet that night at dinner, but his spirits rose during the process of putting up the tree. It was a splendid tree, tall and symmetrical as one could wish, reaching just six inches from the ceiling. “I’m dying to trim it, Molly,” he said boyishly. “Can’t 1 put a few things on and take ’em all off again?” “No,” replied his wife severely. “You must- string the tinsel. And why you bought all those paper-pokes to hold the sweets, when there’s only the two of us to eat them ” “ But they always have ’em on trees in pictures,” began O’Shea uneasily. • And—well,* it’s a pretty big tree for just one little baby.” “ It isn’t just for a baby.” said Molly gently. “it’s for a little boy who never had a Christmas tree long ago. As for the, paper-pokes- ” She stopped abruptly, as a sudden suspicion of tho truth flashed into her mind. “ Pat, it isn’t possible—” Tho dreadful certainty that was creeping over Molly was confirmed by tho guilty look in her husband’s face. For a moment her voice failed, and O’Shea also became strangely dumb. Then Molly’s sense of humour came to the rescue and she said shakily : “ You might as well confess Pat. How many have you invited to take Christmas dinner with us?” His face brightened suddenly, like sunshine. “Not one! On my honour, Molly, not one! D’you think I’d ask you to get dinner for a whole crowd? But I thought in the afternoon you know—some of ’em might- like to see the tree, and tho baby. We could have somecakes and cool drinks, maybe. I’ll get them ready, Molly, and wash all the dishes afterwards. You see dear.” he continued breathlessly “l couldn’t very well do anything else. They’re all from the office. ” Tom King, the book-keeper, has had a tiff with Mabel —she told me while 1 was dictating some letters to her. I asked them both. I’d thought

maybe they make it up while fooling | round the tree, or something. And then ” ••Yes?” saul Molly, as lie hesitated, j “Well.” plunged O’Shea desperately, j •‘there’s Miss Simkins. It’s the first | Christmas without Ijer mother. Sim i was wild to come. And the porter said be wasn’t spending the day with k*> son-in-law this year, so would be keen to trot along. He isn’t too friendly with his wife. 1 believe. 1 met her the other day and she said she’d conic, thought 1 didn’t let. on he was coming j too. Are you awfully disappointed, Molly? If you only knew ” • Knew what?’.’ asked Molly, hoping her consternation was absent from her voice.. “ How—how awfully lonesome a lonely Christmas is, dear. Do you know, all the years 1 lived in a bed- ! sitting-room, no one ever asked me to j Christmas dinner, or to have a,glimpse of a tree, or anything. I suppose because I didn’t talk about it folks thought I had somewhere else to go. Once I spent it in tho office. It was more like home than any place I knew. But now. when 1 have so much. Molly —you and a real home ” O’Shea swallowed something as he felt Molly’s warm cheek against his “ It’s lucky we made those two rooms into one, Pat,” sbo said thoughtfully. “ We’ll have a groat j time. I shan’t sleep a wink to-night, j I’m so excited.” On Christmas Eve. when the last j shining bauble was in place, the happy pair fairly hugged each other with de- I light. It was a glorious Christmas morning. Miss O’Shea awoke her parents with a demand for breakfast-, and ten seconds later her dad was wishing her the compliments of the season. Afterwards tliev sat on the ottoman at the foot of tlieir bed, the baby cuddled in its father's arms. “ Don’t try to toll me this kid’s too young to enjoy Christmas !” exclaimed O’Shea. “She’s trying to eat up all her presents.” “If you let her eat those sugar sticks you may regret it.” replied the baby’s mother. “Look in your stockj ing.-Pat. I can’t- wait, another minute to open mine. There’s only one thing j in yours, except the oranges, to make j it bulky, so don’t he disappointed.” I “And there’s nothing in yours except i the bulky things. Your present’s in ! that box by the fireplace. Oh. i Molly! The "idea of you getting ! me this huge consignment of cigars ! fs it possible my thrifty wife is turning out a spendthrift? I love ’em dear. Come near so I can lmg you.” “Wait!” said Molly. She was untying the box as excitedly as a child. “Oh, Pat! Pat! Her eyes swam with tears as she buried her face in the soft furs, furs she had wanted so long. “Don't you talk about extravagance!” she said weakly. “ I know now why you wouldn't get a new felt hat ! And your old one so—so shabby 1” “ It is not! And even if it were, think how the other men w ill envy me my stunning w ife ! Put ’em on dear—r quick! Are they what you want? You can change them if ” * “Change them!” echoed Molly, indignantly. “Pat, T feci like, a countess 1 I shall wear them every minute! 1 shall go to bed in them ! Oh. Pat !” The front door gently closed, and the click of the little garden gate signified that the last of the guests had happily departed. Mr and Mrs O'Shea . w ere alone at last.

| They stood looking down upon their f laughter, slumbering sweetly in a cor- j i uer of the dining-room settee, unmind- ! j ful that her first party was just over, j ; “It was a wonderful Christmas tree, | I daughter,”- said O’Shea. “ T only hope I ■ mother isn’t all worn out.” •• I’m riot,’ replied Molly. “ And ‘even if l were. Pat. T shouldnt taro, alter seeing that funny little porter’s face all lit up with happiness as be pulled bon-bons with his smiling wife. That wouldn't have happened if we hadn’t had the party.” “ And when I opened the kitchen door, Molly, an«l/discovered Tommy King with his arms around Mabel.” ‘You did?” cried Molly. •■ What, a strange place for them to he 1” *• I tried to vanish gracefully,” laughed her husband, “ but was too late. Mabel was the colour of the red, red rose, but ’Pommy was verv bold. He sail!. ‘ Close the door, please. We don’t require -a light.* ” Molly’s peals of laughter ended in a smothered yawn. “Pat, dear,” she said. “We must got up to bed. Take down the baby's stocking now—why. look! There’s something in it! It’s stuffed full 1” “And heavy!” exzelaimed O’Shea, lifting it wonderinglv. “And here’s a card. Come here on my knee, Molly, and see what’s up. That’s Tom King’s writing. It says,” O’Shea caught j his breath ; “ it says, ‘ a nest-egg i lor little Miss O’Shea, from the lonesome ones to whom her parents have I given a cheerful Christmas.’ ” I Pat looked speechlessly at Molly as he emptied tho little stocking into her ap. Half-crowns, pennies and three bank-notes completed the hoard. “ For twopence,” said O’Shea huskily, “ I could weep!” “ I’ve just been thinking, Pat,” his Wife spoke, “what a dear world it is! So full of lovely opportunities to lend a hand! When 1 look at that littje stocking and think what it meant to 6ome of them to he so generous. I’m j ashamed. 1 wanted dreadfully to have | the'day alone with you. and now j “You dear goose!” cried O'Shea teni fieriv. “ Don’t, you know' that’s what T wanted, too?” And those words were all that Molly wanted to make her Christmas the perfect day.