The Seeker

Table of

istmas Sain

and saw a line of light under the shut door. Then a

t don't you let on there ain't-else

owly to the broad shape of Clytemnestra. One hand shaded her eyes from the candle she carried, and she peer

a hard day. But the littler boy sat rebelliously up, digging combative fists into eyes that th

go right to sleep this minute, while I watch you. Look how fine and good Allan is." She spoke low, not to aw

in't there an

sinful quest

is th

bring yo

speration in this, as of one done with quibb

leep quicker'n a wink I bet you anything

e blare of triumph into t

garded her, wholly in sorrow, with big eyes that blinked alarmingly. Then came his last shot; the final bullet which the besieged

tensely tragic second he paused to gather himself-"It's all over town!" There being n

ke not even her own testimony, but to wait and see what he would see. At last he listened and was a little soothed. It appeared that Santa Claus was one you might believe in or might not. Even Clytie seemed to be puzzled about him. He could see that she overflowed with belief in him, yet he could not make her confess it i

couldn't be Milo Barrus, so it must be Santa Claus. Was Clytie certain some p

some moments listened in forgetful silence, be

ve talk. Could the bells of San

t, it was true, who claimed to have heard his bells

ld that got up out of bed and caught him at

t broke t

up while he was in the room, and didn't pay the least

; though if the child were indeed v

the light for me? The

she chided and reassured him, tucked the covers once more about his neck,

d softly to his brother; but that wise child was now truly asleep. So the littler

name is rather to be chosen than great riches." He had often wondered why Ben Holt should be considered an especially good name; and why Ben Holt came to choose it instead of the goldpiece he found and returned to the schoolmaster, before he fell sick and was sent away to the country where the merry haymakers were. Of course, there were worse names than Ben Holt. It was surely better than Eygji Watts, whose sanguine parents were said to have named him with t

came back with her one bearing gifts-a tall, dark old man, with a face of many deep lines and severe set, who yet somehow shed kindness, as if he held a spirit of light prisoned within his darkness, so that, while only now and

silence broken only by their breathing they quickly bestowed the gifts -some in the h

ed so that they could speak. The old man took u

one is like

llan is the handsomest. Never in my b

upper lip and straight mouth, though he still spoke low. "Like the huckstering, godless fiddle-player that took her away

t bad to let y

d him with her last breath to promise it. He said the words with gr

in the church, preaching the word w

t least, in the older. But it's late. Go

Mr. Delcher!