Up here the shops were smallish, and chiefly of the provision
variety, so there was no bewildering display of gifts; but there were
Christmas-trees everywhere, of all sizes. It was astonishing how many
people in that neighbourhood seemed to favour the old-fashioned idea of
a tree.
Mr. Carter looked at them with his irritation softening. If they made
him feel a trifle more lonely, they allowed him to feel also a trifle
less responsible--for, after all, it was a fairly happy world.
At this moment he perceived a curious phenomenon a short distance
before him--another Christmas-tree, but one which moved, apparently of
its own volition, along the sidewalk. As Mr. Carter overtook it, he
saw that it was borne, or dragged, rather by a small boy who wore a
bright red flannel cap and mittens of the same peculiar material. As
Mr. Carter looked down at him, he looked up at Mr. Carter, and spoke
cheerfully:
"Goin' my way, mister?"
"Why," said the philanthropist, somewhat taken back, "I WAS!"
"Mind draggin' this a little way?" asked the boy, confidently, "my
hands is cold."
"Won't you enjoy it more if you manage to take it home by yourself? "
"Oh, it ain't for me!" said the boy.
"Your employer," said the philanthropist, severely, "is certainly
careless if he allows his trees to be delivered in this fashion.
Pages:
191
192
193
194
195
196
197
198
199
200
201
202
203
204
205
206
207
208
209
210
211
212
213
214
215