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Around the Yule Log. Willis Boyd Allen
Читать онлайн.Название Around the Yule Log
Год выпуска 0
isbn 4064066235369
Автор произведения Willis Boyd Allen
Жанр Языкознание
Издательство Bookwire
“Mr. Tryson, Conductor. To be called for.”
As the lawyer was leaving the store, he remembered something, and turned back.
“I forgot,” he said, “I wanted to buy a tree”—
“Just round the corner,” interrupted the brown-eyed girl over her shoulder, without looking at him. She was already deep in the confidence of the next customer, who had told her the early history of two of her children, and was now proceeding to the third. Mr. Broadstreet buttoned up his coat collar, and stepped out once more into the storm. A few moments’ walk brought him to a stand where the trees were for sale. And what a spicy, fragrant, delicious, jolly place it was, to be sure! The sidewalk was flanked right and left with rows upon rows of spruce, pine and fir trees, all gayly decked with tufts of snow; every doorway, too, was full of these trees, as if they had huddled in there to get out of the storm. Here and there were great boxes overflowing with evergreen and holly boughs, many of which the dealers had taken out and stuck into all sorts of crannies and corners of their stands, so that the glossy leaves and scarlet berries glistened in the flaring light of the lamps. Wreaths of every size and description—some made of crispy gray moss, dotted with bright amaranths, some of holly—were threaded upon sticks like beads, and were being constantly pulled off and sold to the muffled customers who poured through the narrow passageway in a continuous stream.
“All brightness,” thought Mr. Broadstreet, “and no Shadow this time.”
None? What was that black ugly-looking stain on the fallen snow, extending from his own feet to one of the rude wooden stands where traffic was busiest? Mr. Broadstreet started, and scrutinized it sharply. He soon discovered the outline of Christmas Present. Beyond a doubt it was the Shadow again.
III
It must be confessed that for a moment Mr. Broadstreet felt slightly annoyed. Why should that Thing be constantly starting up and darkening his cheerful mood? It was bad enough that the Shadow should exist, without intruding its melancholy length upon people who were enjoying Christmas Eve. He might have indulged in still further discontent, when he noticed the head of the Shadow-figure droop as in sadness. He remembered the kind Ghost’s grief, and upbraided himself for his hardness of heart.
“Forgive me,” he said, half aloud. “I was wrong. I forgot. I will, please God, brighten this spot and turn away the Shadow!”
Without further delay he advanced through the gloomy space until he reached the box, upon which a large lot of holly wreaths and crosses were displayed. He soon completed the purchase of a fine thick fir, and sent it, together with a roll of evergreens, to the toy-shop, directed like the parcel to the conductor.
The owner of the stand was a jovial, bright-faced young fellow, and it was evident that to him Christmas meant only gladness and jollity. But the Shadow still rested upon Mr. Broadstreet and all the snowy sidewalk about him. He was thoroughly puzzled to find its object, and had almost begun to consider the whole affair a delusion, when his eyes fell upon an odd little man, standing in the shelter of the trees, and visibly shaking with the cold, although his coat was tightly buttoned about his meager form, and his old hat pulled down over his ears. As he saw the portly lawyer looking at him he advanced timidly and touched his hat.
“Can I carry a bundle for you, sir?” he asked, his teeth chattering as he spoke.
“Why, I’m afraid not,” said Mr. Broadstreet. “I’ve just sent away all my goods.”
The man’s face fell. He touched his hat again and was humbly turning away, when the other laid his hand lightly on his shoulder.
“You seem to be really suffering with the cold, my friend,” he said in such gentle tones that his “learned brothers upon the other side” would not have recognized it; “and that’s a little too bad for Christmas Eve.”
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