The Little Mixer | Page 6

away fr'm her folks, an' he runs away fr'm his, an' they get married by a justice o' peace. An' no peace will come o' such doin', Lord 've mercy on their souls!"
"Oh, poor Grandma Halloran!"
"Poor lovers," said Eli, when Bridget had gone. "I'll wager they had the very deuce of a time with both sides."
No sooner had they settled themselves again than the door knocker sounded. Eli admitted Mr. Jackson, the Christian Science practitioner.
"I have only a minute," he said. "I just dropped by to leave a doll my wife dressed for your little girl. We chose one that we thought looked like Hannah."
"Oh, but that is kind of you!" Rose looked her gratitude. "Mrs. Lawrence has told me how busy both you and your wife always are--and to take time to think of our little girl----!"
"I had intended to give it to her myself," Mr. Jackson continued, "but after her talk with me to-day I decided she would enjoy it more if I asked Santa Claus to bring it." His eyes twinkled reminiscently. "She called me up by telephone and asked me to give Santa Claus a treatment--she seemed to think that he would pass her by. I could assure her that he wouldn't, as I had already seen the doll. Hannah is a wonderful child."
"We think so," smiled Eli. "I am sure we thank you, and wish you the very merriest Christmas."
"It will be a happy Christmas for me," he answered. "I am going to the station to meet my father and mother. Some years ago they felt estranged from me--they are both staunch Presbyterians of the old school and it nearly broke their hearts when I went into Christian Science work. But they are beginning to look more tolerantly upon my calling, and they are on their way now to spend Christmas with us. You can guess how happy that makes me. 'Peace on earth, good will to men'--it is a wonder-working thought."
"It is indeed," Eli agreed heartily.
When the door had closed upon their visitor, Rose and Eli stood staring at each other rather foolishly. She was the first to speak: "Is there no end to the fight between the old and the new generation?"
"We are just beginning the scrap with our new generation," he said. "She called him up and asked for Christian Science help! I wonder what else that little monkey has been up to?"
They soon found out. Carrying the doll Mr. Jackson had brought, Rose tiptoed after Eli into the nursery and gradually turned on the light. The first object to meet their eyes was Hannah's stocking, hanging precariously to a pin driven into the mantel. Pinned to the wall were several messages, neatly printed in pencil, which told their own tale:
Deer Santy--Nellie babtized me. Holy wotter. Hannah.
Deer Santy--I want things in my stockin. Hannah.
Deer Santy Claws--Ime a jentile. Nellie babtize me. Ime a jentile cath-lic C. S. Hannah.
Deer Santy--Bring me any nice things you got left. With love Hannah.
Deer Santy--Don't let my Mama and my Papa get mad bout you. Hannah.
Eli began to chortle, and Hannah stirred in her sleep, throwing both chubby arms over her head. Clutched tightly in her left hand they saw a rosary of amethyst colored beads.
Rose snapped off the light and pushed Eli out into the hall. He sat down on the stairs and laughed until he cried. "The dog-gone little mixer!" he chuckled. "A Gentile Catholic Christian Scientist is she? And if she has ever happened to hear anything about Mahomet, believe me, she's sleeping with her feet toward Mecca right now!"
Rose was weeping silently over the message: "Don't let my Mama my Papa get mad bout you." She touched her husband on the shoulder, "Eli, what shall we do about it?"
"Do?" He stood up and set his jaw determinedly. "You spoke just now of the fight between the old and the new generations: do you see what we are coming to if we don't concede our child her legitimate rights. She will seek them out, and take them by force, and never forgive us for withholding them, that's what! Every child who has ever heard of Santa Claus has a right to enjoy the myth. Didn't I give a hundred dollars to the Elks and a hundred dollars to the Big Brothers who are looking after the empty stockings of the poor children, while my own baby----"
He had reached his bedroom door and was kicking off his house slippers.
"Eli, where are you going?"
"Down-town to see Santa Claus if I have to break open a dozen stores," he answered determinedly.
* * * * *
It seemed that Santa Claus, never having visited Hannah before, had a mind to make up for lost time. An overflowing stocking hung from the mantel; a tree loaded with presents and tinsel