 CHAPTER XII LIVINGStone glanced at the little figure beside him, hoping she would indicate where Browns was. But she did not. Everyone must know Browns. The only Brown Livingstone knew was the great banker, and a grim smile flickered on his cheek at the thought of the toys in which that Brown dealt. He shifted the responsibility to the driver. "'Driver, go to Browns. You know where it is.' "'Well, no, sir. I don't believe I do. Which Brown do you mean, sir?' "'Well, uh, the Toyman's, of course.' The driver stopped his horses and reflected. He shook his head slowly. Livingstone, however, was now equal to the emergency. Besides, there was nothing else to do. He turned to his companion. "'Where is it?' he began boldly. But as he saw the look of surprise in the little girl's face, he added, I mean, exactly, white right across from the grocers with the parrot and the little white wooly dog. She spoke with astonishment that anyone should not know so important a personage. And Livingstone, too, was suddenly conscious of the importance of this information. Clearly, he had neglected certain valuable branches of knowledge. Happily, the driver came to his rescue. "'Where is that, miss?' he asked. "'You go to the right and keep going to the right all the way,' she said definitely. Livingstone was in despair. But the driver appeared to understand now. "'You tell me when I go wrong,' he said, and drove on. "'He must have children at home,' thought Livingstone to himself, as the sleigh after a number of turns drew up in front of one of the very windows Livingstone had passed that evening on the back street. He felt as though he would like to reward the driver. It was the first time Livingstone had thought of a driver in many years. Just as they drove up, the door of the shop was being closed, and the little girl gave an exclamation of disappointment. "'Oh, we're too late,' she cried. Livingstone felt his heart jump into his throat. He sprang to the door and rapped. There was no answer. The light was evidently being turned off inside. Livingstone rapped again more impatiently. Another light was turned down. Livingstone was desperate. His loud knocking produced no impression, and he could have bought out the whole square. Suddenly, a little figure pushed against him as Kitty slipped before him, and putting her mouth to the crack of the door called, "'Oh, Mr. Brown, please let me in. It's me, Kitty Clark. Mr. Clark's little girl.'" Instantly the light within was turned up. A step came towards the door. The bolts were drawn back and half the door was opened. Livingstone was prepared to see the shopkeeper confounded when he should discover who his caller was. On the contrary, the man was in no wise embarrassed by his appearance. Indeed, he paid no attention whatever to Livingstone. It was to Kitty that he addressed himself, ignoring Livingstone's presence utterly. Why, Kitty, what are you doing out at this time of night? Aren't you afraid Santa Claus will come while you're away and not bring you anything? You know what they say he does if he don't find everybody asleep in bed. Kitty nodded, and leaning forward on her toes dropped her voice to a mysterious whisper. I know who Santa Claus is. The whisper ended with a little chuckle of delight at her astuteness. I found it out last Christmas. Kitty, you didn't. You must have been mistaken, said the shopkeeper with a grin on his kindly countenance. Who is he? Mr. Brown and Mr. and Mrs. Clark, said Kitty slowly and impressively, as though she were adding up figures and the result would speak for itself. She took in the shop with a wave of her little hand and a sweep of her eyes. I'm playing Santa Claus myself tonight, she said, tossing her hooded head, her eyes kindling in thought. The next look around was one of business. This is Mr. Livingstone, Papa's employer, she indicated that gentleman. Mr. Brown held out his plump and not wholly immaculate hand. How do you do, sir? I think I've heard of you. He turned back to Kitty. Who for? he asked. For him, Kitty nodded, he's got a whole lot of little children, not his own children, other people's children, that he's going to give Christmas presents to, and I've come to help him. What have you got left, Mr. Santa Claus? She stood on tiptoe and peered over the shelves. Well, not a great deal, Miss Wide-awake, said the shopkeeper, dropping into her manner in mood. You see, there's lots of children around this year as don't keep Wide-awake all night, and Santa Claus has had to look after him quite considerable. I can't tell you how many slaves full of things he's taken away from this here very shop. He didn't leave nothing but them things you see, and the very expensive things in the cases. He said they were too high-priced for him. He actually gave Livingstone a wink, and Livingstone actually fell flattered by it. The reply recalled Kitty to her business. She turned to Mr. Livingstone. How much money have you got to spend? She asked. Um, I don't know, said Livingstone. As much as a dollar? Yes. More? Yes. How much more? As much as you want. Suppose you pick out the things you like, and then we can see about the price, he suggested. Some things cost a heap. She was looking at a doll on whose skirt was pinned a little scrap of cardboard marked twenty-five cents. Yes, they do, assented Livingstone, but they are worth it, he thought. I'll tell you what. Suppose you look around and see just what you like, and all go off here and talk with Mr. Brown so as not to disturb you. He was learning, and the lesson was already bringing him pleasure. He took the shopkeeper aside and had a little talk with him, learning from him all he could of Clark's family and circumstances. It was an amazement to him. He had never known what a burden Clark had carried. The shopkeeper spoke of him with great affection and with great respect. He is the best man in the world, he said. He treated Livingstone with familiarity, but he spoke of Clark with respect. He ought to be on the avenue, he asserted, and if everybody had their rights, some would be where Mr. Clark is, and Mr. Clark would be in their place. Livingstone was not prepared just then to gainsay this. He explained to Mr. Brown his wishes. He wanted to get many things, but did not know how to keep the child from suspecting his plan. The shopkeeper gave him a suggestion. Close association and sympathy with children had given Brown knowledge. End of CHAPTER XII. CHAPTER XIII. CHAPTER XIII. CHAPTER XIII. They returned to Kitty. She was busy figuring on a little piece of paper, moistening her little stub of a pencil every other second with her tongue. Her little red mouth showed streaks of black. She was evidently in some trouble. Livingstone drew near. How are you coming on? he asked. She looked up with a face full of perplexity. Oh, I've spent nearly the whole dollar, and I haven't but nine presents yet. We must get something cheaper. But they were so pretty. She lamented, her eyes glancing longingly towards the articles she had selected. Let's see. Maybe you have made a mistake, said Livingstone. He took the bit of paper, and she handed him the pencil. I'm not very good at making figures, she observed. I'm not, either, said Livingstone, glancing at the paper. I'll tell you what let's do, he said. Let's get Mr. Brown to open all his cases and boxes, and let's look at everything and just see what we would select if we could have our choice. The little girl's eyes opened wide. You mean, let's make pretence that we are real, sure enough, Santa Claus, and just pick out everything we want to give everybody, and pretend that we could get it, and give it to them? Livingstone nodded. Yes. That was just what he ought to have meant, he knew. The inquiry in Kitty's big eyes became light. She sprang to her feet, and with a little squeak of delight, marched to the middle of the shop, and taking her stand, began to sweep the shelves with her dancing eyes. Livingstone gave a nod to the shopkeeper, and he drew back the curtains that protected the cases, where the finer and more expensive goods were kept, and began to open the boxes. Kitty approached on tiptoe, and watched him with breathless silence as though she were in a dream which a word might break. Then, when she had seen everything, she turned back to Livingstone. Well, she said slowly. Well, what do you say? He too was beginning to fill a spell. Well, if I were a real sure enough Santa Claus, I'd just get everything in those cases. The spread of her little arms took it all in. And what would you do with it? Asked Livingstone in the same low tone, fearful of breaking the reverie in which she stood wrapped. He had never before in all his life been taken into partnership by a little girl, and deep down beneath his breast pocket was a kindling glow which was warming him through and through. I'd carry that doll to Jean, and that to Sue, and that to Molly, and that to Dee. And those skates to Johnny, and that sled to Tom, and that woolly lamb to little Billy, because he loves squashy things. And then I'd take all the rest in my sleigh, and I'd go to the hospital where the poor little children haven't got any good papas and mamas like me to give them anything, and where Santa Claus can't ever go. And I'd put something by the side of every bed, of everyone, and maybe they'd think at first it was only a dream. But when they waked up wide, they'd find Santa Claus had been there, sure enough. In her energy she was gesticulating with earnest hands that seemed to take each present and bear it to its destination. And she concluded with a little nod to Living Stone that seemed to recognize him as in sympathy with her, and to say, wouldn't we, if we only could? It seemed to Living Stone as though a casing of ice in which he had been enclosed had suddenly broken and he were bathed in warmth. The millstone round his neck had suddenly dropped, and he shot upward into the light. The child was leading him into a new and vernal world. He wanted to take her in his arms and press her to his heart. The difference between the glance she now gave him and that she had shot at him at the door of his office that evening came to him and decided him. It was worth it all. Yes, is there anything else you wish? He asked, hoping that there might be, for she had not mentioned herself. Yes, but it's not anything Santa Claus can give, she said calmly. I have asked God for it. What? asked Living Stone. Something to make Mama well, to help Papa pay for the house. He says it's that that keeps her ill, and she says if she were well he could pay for it. And I just prayed to God for it every day. Living Stone caught his breath quickly, as if from a sudden pain. The long years of Clark's faithful service flashed before him. He shivered at the thought of his own meanness. He was afraid those great eyes might see into his heart. He almost shriveled at the thought. Well, let's take a sleigh ride and see if any other shops are open. Then we can return. He spoke a few words aside to Mr. Brown. The shopkeeper's eyes opened wide. But you say you haven't money enough with you, and I don't know you? Living Stone smiled. Why, man, I am worth— He stopped short as a faint trace of seven figures appeared vaguely before his eyes. I am worth enough to buy all this square and not feel it, he said, quickly correcting himself. That may be also, but I don't know you, persisted the shopkeeper. Do you know anybody in this part of the town? Well, I know Mr. Clark. He would vouch for me, but the shopkeeper turned to the child. Kitty, you know this gentleman you say? Yes. Oh, he's all right, said Kitty decisively. He's my papa's employer, and he gave him $50 last Christmas, because my papa told me so. This munificent gift did not appear to impress Mr. Brown very much, any more than it did Living Stone, who felt himself flush. Business is business, you know, said the shopkeeper, an aphorism on which Living Stone had often acted, but had never had sighted against him. The shopkeeper was evidently considering. Living Stone was half angry and half embarrassed. He felt as he had not done in twenty years. The shopkeeper was weighing him in his scales as he might have done a pound of merchandise, and Living Stone could not tell what he would decide. There was Kitty, however, her eye still filled with light. He could not disappoint her. She, too, felt that he was being weighed, and suddenly came to his rescue. He's an awful kind man, she said earnestly. He hasn't got any children of his own, and he's going to give things to little poor children. He always does that, I guess, she added. Well, no, I don't, said Living Stone, looking at the shopkeeper frankly. But I wish I had, and I'll pay you. All right, she knows you and that will do, said Mr. Brown. Kitty, with the light of an explorer in her eyes, was making new discoveries on the shelves, and the two men walked to the back of the shop where the shopkeeper wrote a list of names. Then Living Stone and Kitty got into the sleigh and drove for a half hour or so. On their return, Mr. Brown was ready. His shop, looked as though it had been struck by a whirlwind. The floor and counters were covered with boxes and bundles, and he and Living Stone packed the big sled as full as it would hold, leaving only one seat deep in the furs amid the heaped-up parcels. Then suddenly, from somewhere, Mr. Brown produced a great shaggy cape with a hood, and Living Stone threw it around Kitty and, getting in, lifted her into the little nest between the furs. Kitty's eyes were dancing and her breath was coming quickly with excitement. It was a supreme moment. Where are we going, Mr. Living Stone? She whispered. She was afraid to speak aloud as she might break the spell and awake. Just where you like. To the children's hospital, she panted. To the children's hospital driver, repeated Living Stone, Kitty gave another gasp. We'll play your Santa Claus, she said in a voice of low delight. No. Play you are Santa Claus's partner, said Living Stone. And you? You are not to say anything about me. End of Chapter 13 Chapter 14 of Santa Claus's Partner This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Carolyn Francis. Santa Claus's Partner by Thomas Nelson Page Chapter 14 Living Stone had not had such a drive in years. The little form snuggled against him closer and closer and the warm half sentences of childish prattle as the little girl's imagination wove its fancies came to him from amid the furs and made him feel as though he had left the earth and were driving in a new world. It was like a dream. Had youth come back? Was it possible? The sleigh stopped in front of a great long building. You have to ring at the side door at night, said the driver. You are here to know a good deal about the hospital. Living Stone sprang out and rang the bell and then stepped back. When they opened the door, you are to do all the talking, he said to Kitty as he lifted her down. Who shall I say rang? She asked. Santa Claus's Partner But you? No. You are not to mention my name. Remember? Before the child could reply the door opened a little way and a porter looked out. Who's there? he called to the sleigh rather overlooking the little figure in the snow. Santa Claus's Partner said Kitty. What do you want? He peered out at the sleigh. He was evidently sleepy and a little puzzled. We don't take in anything at this hour except patience. He looked as if he were about to shut the door when a woman's voice was heard within, speaking to him. And the next moment the door was opened wide and he gave way as a matronly figure came forward and stood in the archway. Who is it? She asked in a very pleasant voice, looking down at the little figure in the snow before her. Santa Claus's Partner said Kitty, gazing up at her. What do you want, dear? The voice was even pleasanter. To leave some presents for the children? What children? All the good children. All the sick children I mean. All the children said Kitty. The matron turned and spoke to the porter, showing to Livingstone, as she did so, a glimpse of a finely cut profile and a comely figure silhouetted against the light within. The bolts were drawn from the gate of the driveway and the doors rolled back. Come in, said the matron, and the little figure enveloped in the shaggy cape and hood walked in under the big arch followed by the sleigh, whilst Livingstone withdrew a short distance into the shadow. It was some time before the doors opened again and Kitty reappeared, but Livingstone did not mind it. It was cold, too, but neither did he mind that. He was warm. As he walked up and down in the empty street before the long building, his heart was warmed with a glow which had not been there for many and many a long year. He was not alone. Once more, the memory of other Christmases passed through his mind in long processional, but now not stamped with irretrievable opportunity to mock him with vain regret for lost happiness, only tinged with a sadness for lost friends who came trooping about him, yet lightened by his resolve to begin from now on and strive as best he might to retrieve his wasted life, and whilst he bore his punishment, do what he could to make atonement for his past. Just then, across the town, the clocks began to sound the midnight hour, and as they ceased from somewhere far away, church bells mellowed by the distance began to chime the old Christmas hymn. While shepherds watched their flocks by night, all seated on the ground, the angel of the Lord came down and glory shone around. Livingstone stood still to listen in a half-dream. Suddenly, before him in the snow, stood a little figure muffled in a shaggy cape with hood half-thrown back. The childish face was uplifted in the moonlight. With lips half-parted, she too was listening, and for a moment, Livingstone could hardly take in that she was real. She seemed, could she be? The angel of the Lord came down, chimed the mellow bells. The chiming died out. Christ is born, said the child. You heard the bells? Yes, said Livingstone humbly. It's all done, she said, and I prayed so hard that not one of them stirred, and now, when they wake, they'll think it was real Santa Claus. They say he always comes at twelve, and I counted the clocks. I wonder if he went home? She was speaking now to herself, but Livingstone answered. I'm sure of it, he said. The angel of the Lord came down, still chimed in his ears. Suddenly a little warm hand was slipped into his confidingly. I think we'd better go home now. The voice was full of deep content. Livingstone's hand closed on hers, and as he said, yes, he was conscious of a ping at the thought of giving her up. He lifted her to put her in the sleigh. As he did so, the little arms were put about his neck, and warm little lips kissed him. Livingstone pressed her to his breast convulsively, and climbed into the sleigh without putting her down. Neither spoke, and when the sleigh stopped in front of Mr. Clark's door, the child was still in Livingstone's arms, her head resting on his shoulder, the golden curls falling over his sleeve. Even when he transferred her to her father's arms, she did not wake. She only sighed with sweet content, and as Livingstone bent over and kissed her softly, muttered a few words about Santa Claus' partner. A half hour later, Livingstone, after another interview with Mr. Brown, who was awaiting him patiently, drove back again to Mr. Clark's door with another sleigh full of packages which were all duly transferred to the small room where stood the little Christmas tree. The handshake Livingstone gave John Clark as he came down the steps of the little house was the warmest he had given any man in twenty years. It was so warm that it seemed to send the blood tingling through Livingstone's heart and warm it anew. CHAPTER XV Livingstone drove home through silent streets, but they were not silent for him. In his ears a chime was still ringing and it bore him far across the snow-filled streets and the snow-filled years to a land of warmth and light. The glow was still about his heart in the tingle which the pressure of Kitty Clark's arms about his neck and John Clark's clasp of his hand had started, still kept it warm. At his door Livingstone dismissed his driver and as he cheerily wished him a merry Christmas, the man's cheery reply showed that Livingstone had already found the secret of good cheer. The same to you, Your Honor, the same to you, Sir, said the driver heartily as he buttoned up his pocket with a pad of satisfaction. We've had a good time tonight, sir, haven't we? And I wish you many more like it, sir, and when Christmas comes along next time I hope you'll remember me, for I'll remember you. I've had a little child in that air, same hospital. God took her to himself twelve years ago. They're good to him there, rich and poor, all alike, and tisnt every night that I can drive Santa Claus's partner. Livingstone stood and watched the sleigh till it drove out of sight. Even after it had disappeared around a corner he still listened to the bells. It seemed to him he had a friend in it. Livingstone let himself in noiselessly at the door, but the softness with which he turned the key this time was to keep from disturbing his servants, not to keep them from seeing him. He stood stuck still on the threshold. The whole house seemed transformed. The hall was a bower of holly and mistletoe and the library as Livingstone entered it, with its bright fire roaring in the hearth and its festoons and wreaths seemed once more a charming home, a bower where cheer might yet make its abode. As quietly, however, as Livingstone had entered, his butler had heard him. As Livingstone turned to take in all the beauty of the room, James was standing before him. His face showed some concern and his voice, as he spoke, had a little tremor in it. When we found you had gone out, sir, we were afraid you might be sick and the cook has got something hot for you. Livingstone glanced about to find a phrase with which to thank him for the trouble they had taken, but the butler spared him the pains. We thought we would try to make the house look a little cheery, sir. Hope you don't mind, sir. Mind, said Livingstone, I am delighted, and I thank you very much. Mind, I should think not. The tone of his voice and the light in his eyes showed that there was a change in him and it acted like a tonic on the butler. The light came into his eyes, too. He drew a breath of deep relief as though a mountain of care had rolled off him and he came a step nearer his master who had flung himself into a chair and picked up a cigar. The next minute Livingstone plunged into the subject on his mind. It was a plant which made the butler's eyes first open wide, then sparkle with pleasure. The difficulty with Livingstone, however, was that the next day was a holiday and he did not know whether what he wanted could be got. The butler came to his rescue. It was no difficulty to James. Such an emergency only quickened his powers. He knew places where whatever was wanted could be got, holiday or no holiday. If Mr. Livingstone would only allow him... Allow, you said Livingstone, I give you cart blanche. Only have everything ready by five o'clock. Ask the cook to send up whatever she has. I'm hungry and we'll talk it over whilst I'm taking supper. Yes, sir, yes, sir, yes, sir. And James withdrew with a step as light as air. Extraordinary servant thought Livingstone. Wonder I never took it in before. Ten minutes later Livingstone was seated at the table with an appetite like a schoolboy's. It was the happiest meal Livingstone had eaten in many a long day for all alone as he was. He was not alone. Thought of others sat at the board and a cheery companion it is. Tell the laundress to be sure and bring her children around tomorrow and be sure you make them have a good time, he said to James as he rose from the table. James bowed. Yes, sir. And ascertain where policemen number 268 is to be found tomorrow. I want to send a contribution to make a good slide for some boys on his beat. James bowed again, his eyes somewhat wider than before. As Livingstone mounted the stair, though, he was sensible of fatigue. It was the fatigue of the body so delicious to those who have known that of the mind and he felt pity as well as loathing for the poor, warm creature who had climbed the same stair a few hours before. As he entered his room, the warmth and home feeling had come back there also. The portraits of his father and mother first caught his eye. Someone had put a wreath around each and they seemed to beam on him with a pleased and tender smile. They opened the fresh, the floodgates of memory for him, but the memories were sweet and tender. He glanced at a mirror almost with trembling. The last time he had looked at himself, he had seen only that old haggard face with the ghostly figures branded across the brow. Thank God they were gone now and he could even see in his face some faint resemblance to the portraits on the wall. He went to bed and slept as he had not slept for months, perhaps for years, not dreamlessly, but the dreams were pleasant. Now and then lines of vague figures appeared to him, but a little girl with a smiling face came and played bow-peep with him over them and presently sprang up and threw her arms about his neck and made him take her in a sleigh to a wonderful shop where they could get marvelous presents, among them youth and friendship and happiness. The door was just being shut as they arrived, but when he called his father's name it was opened wide and his father and mother greeted him and let him smiling into places where he had played as a child. And Catherine Trelane in a shaggy coat and hood pulled the presents from a forest of Christmas trees and gave them to Santa Claus's partner to give to others. And suddenly his father with his old tender smile picked the little girl up in his arms and she changed into a wonderful child that shone so that it dazzled Livingston and he walked to find the bright sun shining in through the window and falling on his face. He sprang from bed with a cry almost of joy so bright was the day and as he looked out of the window on the sparkling snow outside it seemed the new world. Santa Claus is Partner by Thomas Nelson Page Chapter 16 All the morning Livingston rushed as he had never rushed in the wildest excitement of the street. He had to find a banker and a lawyer and a policeman, but he found them all. He had to get presents to Sickens and Hartley and the other clerks, but he managed to do it. His servants too had caught the contagion and more than once big wagons driven by smiling cheery faced men drove up to the door and unloaded their contents. And when the evening fell and a great sleigh with six seats and four horses and every seat packed full drove up and emptied its shouting occupants out at Livingston's door. Everything was ready. It was Livingston himself who met the guests at the door and the driver in his shaggy coat must have been an old friend from the smiling way in which he nodded and waved his fur-gloved hands to him as he helped Mrs. Clark out tenderly and took Kitty into his arms. When Kitty was informed that this was Santa Claus's partner's party and that she was to be the hostess she was at first a little shy. Partly perhaps on account of the strangeness of being in such a big fine house and partly on account of the solemn presence of James until the latter had relieved her in ways of which that austere person seemed to have the secret where children were concerned. Finally she was induced to take the children over the house and the laughter which soon came floating back from distant rooms showed that the ice was broken. Only two rooms, the library and the dining room were closed and they were not closed very long. Just as it grew dark Kitty was told to marshal her ear-forces and James with sparkling eyes rolled back the folding doors. The children had never seen anything before in all their lives like that which greeted their eyes. The library was a bower of evergreen and radiance and the center was a great tree of crystal and stars which reflected the light of a myriad twinkling candles. It had undoubtedly come from fairyland if the place was not fairyland itself on the border of which they stood amazed. Kitty was asked by Mr. Livingston to lead the other children in and as she approached the tree she found facing her a large envelope addressed to Santa Claus' partner, Miss Kitty Clark. This she was told to open and it was a letter from Santa Claus himself. It stated that the night before as the writer was engaged in looking after presents for some poor children he saw a little girl in his shop engaged in the same work and when he reached a certain hospital he found that she had been there too before him and now as he had to go to another part of the world to keep ahead of the sun he hoped that she would still act for him and look after his business here. The letter was signed. Your partner, Santa Claus. The postscript suggested that a few of the articles he had left on the tree for her were marked with names but that others were unmarked so that her friends might choose what they preferred and he had left his pack at the foot of the tree as a grab bag. This letter broke the spell and next moment everyone was shouting and rollicking as though they lived there. In all the throng there was no one so delighted as Mr. Clark. Livingston had had no idea how clever he was. He was the soul of the entertainment. It was he who discovered first the packages for each little one. He, who without appearing to do so, guided them in their march around the tree so that all might find just the presents that suited them. He seemed to Livingston's quickened eye to define just what each child liked and wished. He appeared to know all that Livingston desired to know. At length he alone of all the guests had received no present. The others had their little arms packed so full that Livingston had to step forward to the tree to help a small tot bear away his toppling load. The next moment Kitty discovered a large envelope lying at the foot of the tree. It was addressed John Clark Esquire, father of Santa Claus's partner. It was strange that Kitty should have overlooked it before. With a spring she seized it and handed it to her father with a little shout of joy, for she had not been able to keep from showing disappointment that he had received nothing. Clark smiled at her pleasure for he knew that the kisses which she had given him from time to time had been to make amends to him and not, as others thought, from joy over her own presence. Clark knew well the handwriting and even as he opened the envelope he glanced around to catch Livingston's eye and thank him. Livingston, however, had suddenly disappeared so Clark read the letter. It was very brief. It's said that Livingston had never known until the night before how much he owed him that he was not sure even now that he knew the full extent of his indebtedness but at least he had come to recognize that he owed much of his business success to Mr. Clark's wisdom and fidelity and he asked, as a personal favor to him, that Clark would accept the enclosed as a token of his gratitude and would consider favorably his proposal. Opening an enclosed envelope, Clark found two papers. One was a full release of the mortgage on Clark's house. Livingston had spent the morning in securing it. The other was a memorandum of articles of partnership between Berryman Livingston and John Clark beginning from that very day. Indeed, from the day before already signed by Livingston and wanting only Mr. Clark's signature to make it complete. Mr. Clark, with his face quite white and looking almost odd, turned and walked into the next room where he found Livingston standing alone. The old clerk was still holding the papers clutched in his hands and was walking as if in a dream. Mr. Livingston, he began, I can never. I am overwhelmed. Your letter, your gifts. But Livingston interrupted him. His face was not white but red. Nonsense, he said as he turned and put his hand on the other's shoulder. Clark, I am not giving you anything. I am paying. I mean, I owe you everything and what I don't owe you, I owe Kitty. Last night you lent me He stopped, caught himself and began again. It was more than even you knew, Clark, he said looking the other kindly in the eyes and I'll owe you a debt of gratitude all my life. All I ask is that you will forget the past and help me in the future and sometimes lend me Kitty. I never knew until now how good it was to have a partner. Just then he became conscious that someone else was near him. Kitty, with wide open happy eyes, was standing beside them looking up inquiringly in their faces. The child seemed to know that something important had happened for she put up her arms and pulling her father down to her, kissed him. And then, turning quickly, she caught Livingston and, drawing him down, kissed him too. I love you, she said in a whisper. Livingston caught her in his arms. Let's go and have a game of blind man's bluff. I am beginning to feel young again, he said, and linking his arm and Clark's, he dragged him back to the others where, in a few minutes, they were all of one age and a very riot of fun seemed to have broken loose. Matters had just reached this delightful point and Livingston was down on his hands and knees trying with futile dexterity to avoid the clutch of a pair of little arms that apparently were pursuing him with infallible instinct into an inextricable trap when he became conscious of a present he had not observed before. Someone not there before was standing in the doorway. Livingston sprang to his feet and faced Mrs. Wright. He felt very red and foolish as he caught her eyes and found them smiling at him. But being discovered in so ridiculous a situation and posture by the most fashionable and elegant woman of his acquaintance. But Mrs. Wright waved to him to go on with his game and the next moment the little arms had clutched him and tearing off her bandage, kitty with dancing eyes declared him caught. Well, this is my final triumph over will, exclaimed Mrs. Wright, advancing into the room as Livingston drawing the little girl along with him approached her and she began to tell Livingston how they had particularly wanted him to dine with them that day as an old friend of his had promised to come to them. But they had supposed, of course, that he had been overrun with invitations for the day and as they had not seen him of light thought that he had probably gone out of town until her husband saw him at the club the night before where he had gone to find some poor lone bachelor who might have no other invitation. You know Will has always been very fond of you, she said and he said you have been working too hard of late and have not been looking well. When I didn't get my usual contributions from you this Christmas I didn't know what to make of it but I think that on my round this morning I have found out the reason. Livingston knew the reason but he did not tell her the knowing smile that let her face however mystified him and he flushed a little under her searching eyes. Will was sure he saw you in the club last night she persisted and he tried to catch you but you ran off and now I have come for you and will take no refusal. Livingston expressed his regret that he could not come a wave of his hand towards the curly heads and beaming faces clustered before them and towards the long table gleaming in the dining room beyond explained his reason I am having a Christmas dinner myself he said then you will come in after they go insisted Mrs. Wright and as Livingston knew they were going early he assented who are your friends she asked what a pleasant looking man and what lovely children that little girl I thought it was Cupid when she had the bandage on her eyes and now I am sure of it he present them to you said Livingston and he presented Mr. Clark as his partner and Kitty as Santa Claus' partner I did not know you had a partner she asked it is my Christmas gift from Santa Claus he said one of them I have many End of Chapter 16 Recording by Sean McGahey ducktapeguy.net Sean walked into Mrs. Wright's drawing room that evening he had never had such a greeting and he had never been in such spirits his own Christmas dinner had been the success of his life he could still see those happy faces about his board and hear those joyous voices echoing through his house the day seemed to have been one long dream of delight from the moment when he turned to go after the little child to show him the way to help others he had walked into a new land lived in a new world breathed a new air been warmed by a new sun Wright himself met him with a cordiality so new to Livingston and yet so natural and unforced that Livingston wondered whether he could have been living in a dream all these years or whether he was in a dream tonight among the guests a dream on one who made him think tonight must be the dream Mrs. Wright with glowing eyes presented him to a lady dressed in black as an old friend she believed a fair sweet looking woman with soft eyes and a calm mouth the name Mrs. Wright mentioned was Mrs. Shepherd but as Livingston looked the face was that of Catherine Trelane the evening was a fitting end every day the first Livingston had had in many a year even Mrs. Shepherd's failure to give him the opportunity he sought to talk with her could not wholly mar it later Livingston heard Mrs. Wright begin to tell someone of his act of the night before in buying up a toy shop for the children at the hospital I always believed in him she asserted warmly Livingston caught his name Mrs. Wright with some embarrassment and much warmth declared that she was mistaken that he had not done it Mrs. Wright laughed incredulously I suspected it this morning when I first heard of it but now I have the indisputable proof she held up a note I think I've heard of you before she laughed with a capital imitation of Mr. Brown's manner I still deny it insisted Livingston as Mrs. Wright still affirmed her belief he told her the story of Santa Claus' partner insensibly as he told it the other voices hushed down he told it well for his heart was full of the little girl who had led him from the frozen land to the land of light as he ended from another room somewhere upstairs came a child's clear voice singing God bless you married gentlemen let no sing you dismay for Jesus Christ our Savior was born this very day Livingston looked at Mrs. Shepherd she was standing under the long evergreen fastoons just where they met and formed a sort of verdant archway two of the children of the house attracted by Livingston's story had come and pressed against her as they listened with interested faces and she had put her arms about them and drawn their curly heads close to her side a spray of holly with scarlet berries was at her throat and one of the children had mischievously stuck a sprig of mistletoe in her hair her face was turned aside her eyes were downcast the long dark lashes drooping against her cheek and on her face rested a divine compassion and as Livingston gazed on her he saw the same gracious figure and fine profile that he had seen the night before outlined against the light in the archway of the gate of the children's hospital it was the reflective face of one who has felt but when she raised her eyes they were the eyes of Catherine Trilane and suddenly as Livingston looked into them they had softened and she seemed to be standing as she had stood so long ago in the Christmas evening light in a long avenue under swaying boughs in the heart of the land of his youth well still somewhere above the child's voice curled let no sing you dismay for Jesus Christ our Savior was born this very day End of Chapter 17 End of Santa Claus' partner by Thomas Nelson Page