|
Main
- books.jibble.org
My Books
- IRC Hacks
Misc. Articles
- Meaning of Jibble
- M4 Su Doku
- Computer Scrapbooking
- Setting up Java
- Bootable Java
- Cookies in Java
- Dynamic Graphs
- Social Shakespeare
External Links
- Paul Mutton
- Jibble Photo Gallery
- Jibble Forums
- Google Landmarks
- Jibble Shop
- Free Books
- Intershot Ltd
|
books.jibble.org
Previous Page
| Next Page
Page 6
"Don't add more folly to what you have already done," returned William
Carstairs, and with the beginnings of a belated pity, he added, "stay
here with me, there will be enough for us both and--"
"I can't."
"Well, then," he drew out of his pocket a roll of bills, "take these and
when you want more--"
"Damn your money," burst out John Carstairs, passionately. He struck
the other's outstretched hand, and in his surprise, William Carstairs
let the bills scatter upon the floor. "I don't want it--blood money.
Father is dead. I've had mine. I'll trouble you no more."
He turned and staggered out of the room. Now William Carstairs was a
proud man and John Carstairs had offended him deeply. He believed all
that he had said to his brother, yet there had been developing a feeling
of pity for him in his heart, and in his cold way he had sought to
express it. His magnanimity had been rejected with scorn. He looked down
at the scattered bills on the floor. Characteristically--for he
inherited his father's business ability without his heart--he stooped
over and picked them slowly up, thinking hard the while. He finally
decided that he would give his brother yet another chance for his
father's sake. After all, they were brethren. But the decision came too
late. John Carstairs had stood not on the order of his going, but had
gone at once, none staying him.
William Carstairs stood in the outer door, the light from the hall
behind him streaming out into the night. He could see nothing. He called
aloud, but there was no answer. He had no idea where his younger brother
had gone. If he had been a man of finer feeling or quicker perception,
perhaps if the positions of the two had been reversed and he had been
his younger brother, he might have guessed that John might have been
found beside the newest mound in the churchyard, had one sought him
there. But that idea did not come to William, and after staring into the
blackness for a long time, he reluctantly closed the door. Perhaps the
vagrant could be found in the morning.
No, there had been no father waiting for the prodigal at the end of the
road, and what a difference it had made to that wanderer and vagabond!
II
We leave a blank line on the page and denote thereby that ten years have
passed. It was Christmas Eve, that is, it had been Christmas Eve when
the little children had gone to bed. Now midnight had passed and it was
already Christmas morning. In one of the greatest and most splendid
houses on the avenue two little children were nestled all snug in their
beds in a nursery. In an adjoining room sound sleep had quieted the
nerves of the usually vigilant and watchful nurse. But the little
children were wakeful. As always, visions of Santa Claus danced in their
heads.
They were fearless children by nature and had been trained without the
use of bugaboos to keep them in the paths wherein they should go. On
this night of nights they had left the doors of their nursery open. The
older, a little girl of six, was startled, but not alarmed, as she lay
watchfully waiting, by a creaking sound as of an opened door in the
library below. She listened with a beating heart under the coverlet;
cause of agitation not fear, but hope. It might be, it must be Santa
Claus, she decided. Brother, aged four, was close at hand in his own
small crib. She got out of her bed softly so as not to disturb Santa
Claus, or--more important at the time--the nurse. She had an idea that
Saint Nicholas might not welcome a nurse, but she had no fear at all
that he would not be glad to see her.
Need for a decision confronted her. Should she reserve the pleasure she
expected to derive from the interview for herself or should she share it
with little brother? There was a certain risk in arousing brother. He
was apt to awaken clamant, vociferous. Still, she resolved to try it.
For one thing, it seemed so selfish to see Santa Claus alone, and for
another the adventure would be a little less timorous taken together.
Slipping her feet into her bedroom slippers and covering her nightgown
with a little blanket wrap, she tip-toed over to brother's bed.
Fortunately, he too was sleeping lightly, and for a like reason. For a
wonder she succeeded in arousing him without any outcry on his part. He
was instantly keenly, if quietly, alive to the situation and its
fascinating possibilities.
Previous Page
| Next Page
|
|