Evening Star Newspaper, December 25, 1927, Page 46

THE SUNDAY STAR. WASHINGTON, D. €. DECEMBER 2. 1927—PART 5. The Christmas ‘By Zona Gale AMILLA was 17, and it was as | things for herself—if she's any good,” | said with dignity, “we'll have your if she had no mother. There | was a woman whom she call- | ed mother. who sometimes teld Camilla wistfully about the day that she was born; how her father, whom she hardly remembered. had looked when he first saw her— | but this always made Camilla uncom- | fortable. and she . escaped, if she | could. By turns, Camilla petted her and fussed at her and laughed at her | tolerantly. Camilla was always toler- | ant and slightly scornful of her | mother. For Rose was her mother. fter a “Camilta,” s cember evening ave - reception id her mother that De “how would vou like on Christmas | M. mothe said Camilla, “A n't have a reception oked hled, she explained. *“Take | the carpets up and dance—Gua would bring his orchestra. And have cream: | ed potatoes and veal loaf— *Heavens nd veal loaf!” iways have pretty with a loaf.”” Mrs. Rose urged. new it- Creamed good luck “That fother. dear.” said Camilla lan guid ‘nobody has veal loaf. Chicke ramekine or oyster patties. nov “They're so much more expens but I could manage. And Aunt Ji would come over and help.” ‘Oh. mother, not Aunt Jane. We'd have to have those new caterers *“Well, would vou like to have a— & gathering, Camilla®" “Darling! Not a gathering.” “Well, I don’t know what to call it. A company " Cam dance. h “When 1 was a girl,” mother, with simplicity, rather—rather common. “How funny things must have been in old-fashioned times,” said Camilla. Mrs. Rose flushed. She was only 22 years older than Camilla, but, when Camilla spoke sharply to her, she look- ed old. “Would you like the party?” she said. Camilla’s glance lay upon the room =—a nondescript room. “If only we had some decent things.” “Well, dear, we Jhaven't. But I've been thinking that I could get some pretty cretonne for the couch and the two big chairs—they're the shabbiest. That would help. “Let me pick it out,” Camilla be- gan, and then did catch herself with: “I saw a piece the other day that would be lovely.” If Mrs. Rose observed this, she said nothing. She was beautifully wonted to saying nothing. If Camilla had been invited to become alive for the sole purpose of increasing her mother’s self-control, she could hard- Iy have succeeded better than she did. Yet when, in a half hour, the bell rany and net and Chris and Phil came in, Camilla was utterly charm- ing. Mrs. Rose watched her rather wistfully. The child was so lovel #0 merry. So instant with pretty ways. It was delightful to see her with her | friends. Mrz. Rose sat brooding and sewing, until, observing them hap- pily, she caught Camilla’s eye. And| | ane | “You mean a said her dance was “WHERE ARE THE REST OF THE FINGER BOWLS? . . . I SHOULD THINK YOU MIGHT HAVE THINGS MORE ON YOUR MIND—OR DON'T YOU KNOW THAT THERE SHOULD BE MORE THAN TWO?...REALLY MOTH. ER. YOU WERE AWFULLY CARELESS” 3 Camilla'x eve, with its droop and its mere feather of a frown, said as piain- | Iy as speech ut, dear—are you go- | Sng 1o sit here il the eveninz?’ Al r."” Can ish of af- ‘V fection—iittie flourishes of words and | Adabbling hugs and absent, somewhat | builving, kises. With an excuse ahout the furnace— e always unconaciously saved | » Gignity—she left the room, as | Cemilla had so ohviously expected £he heard “Let me do the furna Mre Fose,” and Chris was beside her. | At her protest, he put his arm shout her and drew her with him. “You| come ton, and tell me about the| @ampere,” he . P & he shoveled the coal, Mrs. Hose thought how big and fine and rather overwhelming Chris was Tweptyawo and ust home from col| Jege and in business with his father #nd Janet and Phil freshmen A rhildren he e him. il 8 by, buit A tender that Capr that v He w ple pois yor B thour " wi and wted vound toward her Mrs, 110 e 1 any Her b ond o kind of ¢ Cheis” she the ois 1 b eAly, “aiffer 1 don’t know He had 1old her jast nght and she red said nothing. Betore Mre Rose oyl guther berselt from her silence Chrs had caught something of e ch ‘ oht A Chivke ahsork And 1 don’t know o " w47, he said. “hasn’t she Fose contessed. “She today. Ehe—— helieve she cares’ Mrs e an't Aowsnt 1el} “ghe o wis 1 e 1 Al Oh, 1 [ dont Camhin mean moders - and 1 1a'e ot her girl decides i ve A " Tis m i th com | she defended stoutly. Yes, of course,” Chris was relieved. “But—why, I went home last night and told my mother.” He drew up {laughing with: “But then, I'm an {awful fool.” perhaps Camilla doesn't know her self vet,” said Mrs. Rose, . She was amazed at the feeling in his face. “If she doesn’t know.” he said, “then 1 don’t want her! She must want me as much as I want her. What would I see in a wonlan who has to decide “1 know I know said Mrs. Rose. “You're quite right. Perhaps she'll talk with me tonight.” She'll talk with me tonight.” sald Chris erimly. “I'll outstay Janet and Thil, if T have to sit here till morning. You'll understand—mother?” ik iwte Mrs, slipped Soon after “the front door closed. She reflected that Janet nd Phil might have been as eager to leave as Chris was to see their de- parture. The murmur of voices below 10 Rase upstairs. ol £ recipe with canned tomatoes oVer | gritred on. Curious. Camilla’s mother | she ves" ought. With all her heart oped that Camilla would say to Chris. Whatever she said took a long time It was nearly midnight when the front door closed again. Mrs. Rose had not slept—she had waited for Camilla Surely now, whatever had been =et tled between them, Camilla would want to tell her before she slept. It was, after all, no wonder that she had said nothing while she was uncertain —she had not wished to trouble her mother. And tonight, perhaps, she would fear to disturb her. Mrs. Rose slipped from bed and set her door ajar switched on her reading lamp, stirred her fire. In her rosy kimono shc looked like a girl herself, her eves turned brightly to the door as she heard Camilla’s step in the passage The step paused. “Up, mother? “Yes, dear. Come in." Camilla . stood in the doorway. “What on earth are you up for at midnight?” she demanded. “1 couldn't sleep. Come in.” “Oh, I'm dying for sleep. you take cold, dearest?” “The fire is quite bright—do come and sit by it.” Camilla perched on an arm of the empty chair opposite her mother's chair. “Janet had a cold,” she observed. “She and Phil left early.” “And Chris stayed?” “Yes, Chris staved. He's terribly fond of you, mother.” “And of you, 1've been thinking!" “Oh. me! I'm nothing.” “Weall—isn't he?" “All men say that—it's the onl v know how to entertain you. “But I meant really fond——."" Mrs, Rose hesitated. She looked up at Ca- milla and waited. Camilla yawned daintily. “Chris,” she said, “he’s a nice doggy Good-night. mother darling. Better let me tuck you up.” Camilla kissed her, said’ “Your kimono is getting & sight, isn't 1t?” and went. Won't Mre. Rose sat for a long time before the fire. “She has refused him.” she thought, “and she doesn't want me to know—she thinks Il be dis- appointed—-." When her lamp was out she threw open her window to the glittering night, She felt curiously light and happy, and the chill, sparkling black ness swam for her in an air almost tender, Vell, Chrix was a dear boy but she was not 1o be calied upon yet it meemed, 1o give up Camilla, And “amiila had thought that ehe might be disappointed and had spared her Camilla’s mother sank 1o sleep in o fine, flowing sense of peace, £he was the first down for break | tast, she thought, but there was Gus home on an early train trom the glee club concert in a near town. At #ix |teen he was taller than she, and his whirlwind hug left her breathless, He was teliing everything at once: —in the hole thirty.six doliars we're going 1o repent here and make that up ensy. Gully is & besr he can wmnke money out of the ground, that fellow. Oh, nnd mother at the d; e 1 met the living ch TUx wil up with me—Um gone for i o hed with Bhm, vefeained yumfling b ke, enl [ Gustayus, an he b w of {earing 1o b culled 1 TG for bre e . Vit with « and he eriead | bt | from b mil) “Gain' 1o il it sadd Eim Lo ool (o hive n Youkied st Camilla blank) i yon decide Lo have Camilla?” of Yand ke | the - party ! hy waid Camil | cheertully, 1 Junet and 1hil and Chris tast meght. DiAn’t you mean what you sald?”’ ehe inquired, with | hauteur. “But I thought you 4idn't seem— you an't | “Just becauss 1 aidn't fall on the neck of the ides’ Mummy, desr, you are eo emotional raid Camilla | Mre Rose was wilent while the 1w | planned the party. Once she sted 1K Camibin Oh nt litte Der R o wny v A Aunt June In the | Kitehent Unless n Just (o help Aunt June doven’t know how o de Things, ‘The caterers wouldn't cost s much.” Mrs. Hose thought hey'l be soung only ® 0 can save I b of Uie house muney,” course ed i bt Hayl tirhihen and L Hhnk i e Just n wlabin whiere futer not eug | CHuL” she Canllie wis Aunt Jane in the Kitchen, too.” * ok % \ JHEN they had gone off to school, Camilla to the little college on the edge of the towh and Gus round the corner,. Mrs. Rose took the list Camilla_ had seribbled and was making {her estimates when the telephone rang. “Hello—Mother Rose!” a jubilant voice cried. “Isn't it great?” “Why—Gus—" an, and then realized who it You, Chris?" it's Chris. T should say it ist id, and then, more sobe her Rose—1'm i I'm glad you're happy [ she spoke mechanically, her thought tiving to pierce its mist. “T was all ‘wrong, wasn't 12 There she knew all the while! Knew just as hard ax T did. 1 never even guessod (il last night how much—how ! mueh—" She understood now, voice steady. I hope yi happy, Chri; She kept her ‘re going “I hope she's going to be—and say she is'"" his young voice came back. | “Come round soon and call me | mother!" she heard herself saying, and then his jubilant assent. She stood in the dim hall by the telephone. She was not thinking of Camilla as she had looked the night befare when she had come into her nother's room with nothing to say of the promise only then upon her lip: Instead, Camilla’s mother was thinking of the night of Camilla's birth, when Joel Rose, down in the library, had heard that wavering cry and had come up the stairs, and of the way that they had first looked at each other over Camilla’'s head. Tt was curious that that hour should come to her mind now. All day she went on with her prepa- rations for the party. And, as she worked, she was tryving to explain. Camilla had been confused the night before: it had come ahout suddenly, after all—tonight she would tell her. Tonight Chris would come, and they would have a happy few minutes to- gether. Then she would take Gus away and leave the two alone in their new happiness. It even came to her, reluctant to the idea, that it might be rather fun having an engaged daughter and planning ways for the two to he together. “Wouldn't vou like to telephone to Chris to come for dinner?” she asked, when Camilla had drifted gavly into the house and strummed at the plano for a half hour. “Chris?" said Camilla. “Oh, no— let him starve. He's coming along afterward.” Something flerce and sharp shot through Mrs. Rose—not for herself, but for Chri Was Camilla as cold to everyhody else as she could be to her? This had not. occurred to her. She watched her with Gus. No show of affection there certainly; Camilla treated the hoy like a desirable domes- tic_animal—ne more. But when Mrs. Rose came down the stairs, che paused on the landing be- cause Camilla had just opened the door to Chris. He came in, shut the door, stood leaning against it, looking at her—and she ran te him. Her mother stood quietly against the wall, her own heart heating fast, So Camilla coutd be like that! Myx, Rose went down and into the IIVing room, her pace quickened at the moment xhe expected now to meet, when they would tell her. She was not mistaken in Chris. He crossed to her, kissed her, eried “Good evening, Mother Roxe!” 8he turned to Camilly and for her words, Camilla's words were “Don’t you be tno dressing my relatives, exclusive Bull Mrs pecting forward in ad They're most Rose waited, now the news to gay Chris was wafting ously meeting the moment. |Camitia aatd “Don’t mind, him, Mother, darling {1t plain that he is not your child, |or he wouldn't he so bold.” We're go. | ing ncross the hall, dear, and do some mugle, " They faintl Left ughing, ex- come out too—ohvi. | | { But went, Chris with troubled glance ut Mrs, Fowe. lone, Camilla's mother st hy trying to think it through, v orecret Hke thin from her o Whint eonlil e the wation of that T it At mean i an finality? { i dmpossible, with thint greeting to Chds, Then why wis she slit ont? a blank, " for oy LR thiew 1 the party, uyt, consinted lingely YAMILLA 4yl for lw It Into 1) bt her pat, " of vl clsm Sl all over th aght, Oh, Aeart Candies house, Oy Nights arg can't we have some of these pictutes down! Do let's hide all {our ornaments and use greens—ours lare laughable, aven’t they?" | To th sukgestions her mother made no rep'y—che merelv followed them. Bhe was fesling suddeniy old, tired, detached. In all that went on {in her house, in all that she with her {own, hands prepared for the Christms |party, ehe felt not a straw's welght of interest Bomething had gone out of ber dife und she could not ger 1t 4k, Move than once xhe tried One Wik whe went o Camille, put ey ns o mhout b wnd il U s Mother " Camilla vesponded by ey nti ety agant, convuinive Nk wnd VIVIA peck at her mather's lips You blessed thing!” sha evied, and added. Do ket a good hrand of ¢ Mother, Coffes i everything " Miw. Ftose went fnto the room when i bed —surprised her Mother, ) | she sald | arty Iying with a half smile on her lips and in her dreaming eyes. 2 “Camilla,” she said, anything to talk over Mamma “'Darling," “haven't you with—with sald Camllla, “you al- ways speak as It 1 were about 3 years old. Yes, vou precious, I do want to talk about something.” Then the child had only heen wait- ing for her to make the opportunity! Mrs, Rose's heart leaped up, only to sink again when Camilla said: Can’t we have the sandwiches ‘cut ney shaps 1t you like,” sald Mrs. went away. Once Camilia sury tears on her fa You - nice thinz,” sald “whatever is the matter?" 1 feel lonely—for I [ said. “He used to b o ask me tr way. darling! Tumberman! to you about timberlands, aren't Interested in—in verbs, are you?" Mrs. Rose looked at her. “Do you love me, Camilla?" | asked. ‘Most to pleces,” said Camilla, and went away. It was extraordinary how the shabby little house lent itself to an air of Christmas. The greens Gus had bor- rowed-—spruce and ground-pine—were everywhere: there were red candié and red shades and roaring fires in two fireplaces, thera was an old-fash- foned holiday fragrance of fresh cakes. the 40 guests were as gay in three chintz-refurnished rooms as in a home of wide spaces and rich color. “We won't have much Christmas this year,” Mra. Rose had said; “I'll ]u!_t_ fill the stockings when the guests Rose, and ised fier mother Camilla, Mrs, Ttose ng things to me to ahout, He——" she iled Camilla eried, “He He could murmur But you Irregular wi she To which Camilla had replied: “Oh, mother, dear, nobody does anything now but bring the things into the liv. ing room after breakfast. Don't be so old-fashioned. Camilla was a joyous little hostess in her old white frock, her face ex- quisitely flushed, her brown bobbed hair fiying. She had laughter and words for everybhody. Mrs. Rose watched her and said to herself: “The little thing is nothing but love, after all. She is only thoughtiess—what girl isn't?"” Chris and Camilla hegan the dancing, and every one watched them. “I'm glad she didn’t ask me to an- nounce it tonight,” her mother thought. “I guess I understand that sha doesn’t want anybody to know yet. It's the sweetest time they'll have. Gus and the “Living Peach” arrived toward 9 o'clock, and he led her straight through to the kitchen, whera his mother was cutting cake. ere she ix, mother,” Gus an- nounced hoyishly. “Her name is Millie Andrew. Mother knows all about you," he told her gravely So far as Mrs. Ro: Millia Andrew looked identically like all the other guests; that curious lack of variety induced by hair, frock, fea- tures, and complexion achieved and somehow attained by them all. She seemed to have the more or less com monplace charm of the girls of her age—but evidently Gus saw in her some lovely fnner light. “Didn’t T tell you?" he murmured to his mother. “It only Camilla——" thought Mra. Rose, and went on cutting ea “Stll," she thought, “it's rather —her feeling that love Is a sac thing—not to be spoken about-—- * k%% Supper was served, as Camilla had wanted, all over the house—big couches and window-seats and stairs harbored their twos and fours. In the upper hall Gus and his orchestra of six pieces began their happy clamor. Mrs. Rose had been up there with ices for the orchestra and came down to the landing from which both front and back stairways led. As she turned to the back stairway, she caught the words of two sitting on the other stair, beyond the hend, and it was Phil talk- ing to Janet. “Oh, denrest,” he said, “when you could determine, fine 1 sea how happy Camilla and Chris are, | doesn’t it make you Know-— “Did you ever see,” demanded Janet Judicially, “amybody 8o happy as those wo are, since they've been engaged?” Mrs. Rose heard nothing more, She went on down into the kitchen and stared vacantly at her sister, Jane Able, and at the caterers, both of whom were seeking some vital appeal sha did not comprehend. Janet Knew! Phil knew! Perhaps everybody at the party knew, save only herself. What 14 this mean? It meant that she had fatled utterly in her motherhood—that «ha had not heen able to bring enough Iave into Camilla’s relation to her so that .she should want to tell her the deep concerns of her life. Sha her. self had not known how. This was not Camilla's fault—it was her own fault, Much of her life was*pasxsed. &he had meant to live in Camilla’s life, and Camilla, it seemed, didn’t want her there, Of what use was anything any more? She hecame aware of two words monotonously repeated: *—mandwich Aling, wandwich Alling, sandwich fill ing—where in it, Mix' Rtose? You look 5o _queer!” “In tha yellow howl In the top of tha icechest,” Mrs. Rose heard her self xay mechanically. And went on with: “Did you take in the enkes the wecond time? Have the mints hean in? Ave the leaves in the finger howls? It all went on, as It by machin Her lster and the other women were hurrying from the kitchen and return | ing. Mre, Rose began piling plates, ‘nul over and over, heat the ¢ (CULY truth: That In those other rooms were guexts who knew that her diughter wan engaged, and she herselt, had not been told. The omen were allecting the plates. The kitchen door opened and Camilla entered mwiftly, alone, 1t flashed to her mother that she had to tell her now that she ho nd crept about, cult of confecture and whisper, and W come to (el her now, Vut Camblln volee wan entting the alv crisply Al with o hint of i conih Hhe wiw sy My heavens, mother! Whera e the vest of the finree bowls? They've enoint o with et two v the Whole company - aren't there any Why, there they are, all ready 1 whonld tinke you kit Ny more on youe i o don't vou know that theee shoukd more than two? Youll huve to come Inowith e youesell and b them Treally, mother, you wers awiully care Bomething in hey vested her. Mrs, hie over Camtlla’s shoulder, In the kitchen door atood Chris, He came In slowly, doaking intently at this Iittle, Aushed, upset heing whose words he had clearly heard, Ceamilial” he satd, “Camill There was pain In his voice and in his eves, He caught her by the shoulders, regardless of the bowl in her hands LAt know," he sald. “that your volee coulid suand ke that Ol Chrw madd CandUa, s s wo trying Lot e koo Come, mother Pl He ) Mo wi “Phoew Camil e deimande New W0 and sl rvied away ed o Mis Tise talk 1k that to you” Lake i common aeald Sha e oh, o, not Mys Tose cried hreathiessly. "1 shouldin t have foi wotten-let me go r she'll be still more angry, eh?" he sald grimly, and let her pass. * ko 'TANDING beside her mother in the living room, Camilla sald good night to her guests. She was as fresh as when the evening had hegun. She was lgughing and loving—this is the only word for her peculiarly respon- sive and Intimate look and word to everybody. That gay manner, those tender eyes, that soft and svmpathetic ;"nlce were Camilla as her guests knew er, > Chris lingered a moment after the rest. Gus was preparing to take the “living peach” to her aunt's home. This young girl came prettily to say another good night to Mrs. Rose, who looked at her and thought, “Probably your voice can sound like Camilia’s sometimes.” She chidded herself, replied mechan- feally to the girl and to Gus and elipped away to the Kitchen. “Where's Mrs. Able?" she inquired of the two women, who were making | rendy to leave, | “Mrs. Able said couldn’t wait.” | “I meant to go with her and apend | | to tell you she the night,” Mrs. Rose said quietly. “I will %o on after her now. Will vou wait and tell Camilla—Miss Camilia— that 1 have gone? 1 won't disturb b now." She took her wraps from the side | entry, went out that door and gained | the atreet. She could not risk seeing Camilla again that night. She and | Gus would be all right. She herself | must get away—get clear away. The house was still blazing with lght—lower and upper © windows thiowing gay banners across the snow. | What a happy, peacefilled home it | looked to be! | Khe went up the street, set with its comfortable houses, every one on its white snow rug. Most of the houses were sleeping, every one with its ex- | pectation of Christmas. In every one | lay gifts—treasures of simple things, welected with love. In these rooms nlans had been made, realized or frus- trated for tomorrow. Here and there, hehind a shade, a light flowed where two mizht be filling the Christmas stockings, trimming the Christmas tree. The children—oh, there one's | thoughts might rest. After they grew up. the world was different. E She looked at the houses in a new way. In many of these lived children, partly grown, still at home. Were their confldences kept hack? Had those mothers failed as sha had failed? In those houses, were the volces 0 sharp— The tears welled up and darkness and whiteness swam together. The <old, starry night took no account of her.” Christmas stars those were now. Alteady it was past midnight. Christmas mornin At the tread of feet on the snow be- hind her, she swerved to let some late one go by. She heard an excla- mation, " hand was thrust through her arm and there was Chris. “Mother Rosel” he said, | ‘But 1t can’t be vou She spoke mechanically: “You didn't stay long with Camilla.” “No he answered shortly, “I— couldn’t. But you—is something the matter? She told him where she was “I think I'm pretty’ tived, Chris,” all that she s But he knew “Mother,” he said, “hecause I'm go- ing to call you that, no matter what happens— " “What ng w dn vou mean? she asked “What may happen “Oh, no: 1 don’t mean tha miserably. “Rut it put me out of business to hear Camilla talk to you tike that tonight, She—~why she was | like ody — els Somebody | wtr “You mustr't think teo much about that” she told him. “She was tire excited, Khe didn’t mean to be cross,” “Nobody,” satd Chris, “means to be One fx or one fsn't. But it isn't You know how I've always seen Camilla—gay and sympathetic and— sand tender. She's like that to people 1 thought she was like tha “She is like that,” Mrs, Rose pro tested, “Yes, but she's something else, too Can't you see what it would mean to man to hear the girl he loves going after her mother as—aa she did to- night?" MBS ROSE wan atient. wee, Bho thought ha prepurntion for the party, Tons Instanees of fanlt fiding Wonke comment, of mptienes, vication, Knew how thess waonkd have sonnded to Chirs, how they bl » It he How could anyhody | that these did not pe il that they we nat | LR fhe eould over the Camil Nhe turned on W flercely, L UHNE L Know Ut thiose (hings don't Welgh i straw agalust all the thinks Camitla And you eught to Know it SEdon't know that,* he Bornlv, L used o go ta the one of my instructors at college, and he had a wife who talked like that Hhe'd bupst out at him betore peo ble. She'd say. ‘Well, 1 should think you might think of nie a little hit, ‘Why on earth are vou so careles You never think of anything' And 1 sald to myaelt then that If | ever mar ried 1'd have a wife who wouldn't do that —if she didn't have an idea in her head. You aee, It happens to he a pactioular hobby of mine=1 don't Know that 10 isn't with most wen Wiy, I've sald to myselt a dosen ties (at Ciondlla Wit her fovely volve and her gentlenens, ookl never s wt anvhody. And to hear her Aot exaetly that thing te van to Wi hE b el vou, s bowled e over” “dhe hardly ever——'" Mis. Hose he v and then stapped, confronted by D il wimpte teath that Camilla di st every day of hee life Chrls went on abauibedly sl wtah home ot At she CHRIS, BEING A CAPABLE PERSON, TOOK THEM BOTH IN HIS ARM S AT ONCE. would speak like that to her mother, what would she say to her husband— when she got used to him? 1 tell you, Mother Rose—" he stood still in the snow and spoke with a beautiful sol- emnity—"I'm not going to have my children brought up in a_home where there can be outbreaks like tha “Chris,” she sald feebly, “you've no right to judge her.” “l didn’t have to judge her,” he said. “I heard her.” They were walking in silence when they came to Mrs. Able's gate. She out her hand. You mean u're going to break the engagement?” she asked. “I don’t know what to do,”” he said brokenly. “I love her. she loves me. You know that, too. don’t you?” 1 suppose s startled. ‘Don’t you know?" he cried sharp- ly. “H 't she told you so?" “Anybody can see that, Chris, sald hurriedly, “Good night, Rut he was not to be put off. “Mother Rose, he demanded, “didn’t Camilla tell you she loved me when she told vou we are engaged? “ It had to come now. She said it in a low voice of shame, “Chris, I'm not much of & mother. I—1 haven't her confidence. She has never told me that she is engaged.” “My dear—my dear! said Ch and took her hand in both his own, She tried to say how badly she had done her part in winning Camilla’s sald Mrs. Rose, now., confidence, but he seemed hardly to | hear. He merely held her hand and patted it and abruptly he stooped and | kissed her. n he wen Neither of them had thought to s Merry Christinas. *xx J* was the first nightbeforeChrist- Itose had spent outside her home. She Jay4ong awake, revolving the § tice and manliness of all that Chris had said. “And yet,” she thought “and yet—" Fragments of Camilla’s words came drifting back to her, al- most ax in delirium: “Oh, mother! A Rirl doesn’t have a receptio And And I know | she | mas of her married life that Mrs. | | . “Darling, not a gathering!” She saw | e pattern of the chintz Camilia had | been bent on picking out herseif. She | neard: “Or don't you know there ought to be more finger-bowls?" Toward daylight she drifted into sleep and woke with a start—the chil- | | dren’s stockings were not filled: Then | she remembered: The things were in | her bureau drawer; because “Oh mother, dear—nobody does anvthing | now hut bring the things into the liv- _ing room after breakfast. Don't be | 0 0ld fashioned. | of Christmas was gone—and she | tying in her bed, with Camilla’s fuzzy {head on her arm, and over the top | of that head she had just turned to look for the first time into the ey of her husband as father. To that | thought she clung in some remem- bered content, and so she fell asleep again. When she woke, the Christmas sun | was surging through her windows. It was late—later than she had ever | wakened before on Christmas morn {ing. By the time she was helow- | stairs, the present giving and rec | ing were finished in her sister's house- hold and breakfast was about to be gin. She had-intended to %o home for hreakfast, but she sank down list- tessly in her lace at her sister’s table and took the coffee they brough: her Her sister said nothing—being one of |those rare persons who, at unusual one with an eye of sympathy and demand: “Aren’t you well?" The voung people showed Mrs. Rose their gifts, and she smiled absently. At home she had a blue silk sweater for Can ng after .| ling. I can't help wishin: | bought me an orange swi She was still at the table—n after ' 8 o'clock—when the ng. She braced herself for the sur. | prised and reproachful evebrows of | Camillaz, “Mother, dearest, why on earth—well, didn't you have any con | sideration r us! We've lwen w ried to death and I should think you | might— But it was not Camilla. | It Chris., was Scientists Study Race in Area Rarely Visite ___(Continue m_Fifth Page custom regime, and is char today of no other Eskimo foll Usually the women's dances are sep ate from those given b though a portion of ce nials involves a b in ceremo- tween an allwomen group and an men faction. The competitions te an interest akin to that bred at our foot ball games, for the losers must conduct a dance for the winners. The feminine dances, or calistos, are markedly different from those of- fered by the men. Stff and unemo. tional, they are never varied, and con- sst chiefly of a sevies of halt turns involving the head and all the body sive the feet. The men dance more vigorously, using the feet hy stamping up and down to a set rhythmical for- mula, Taelr syncopated cavortings represent usually a hunting exploit. Perhaps the group will bellow and go through the nagonized motions of a wounded walrus-—-a typleal Sekimo dance of long standing, by the v. Meantime, a musician of w sort ata a big deam looking like our com o type and made of a woaden frame ‘d with skin and with a short handle att In the matt ves, the seal sometimes fares even hetter than do the humans, Usually it vates a tomb, say A few fest high and made of heaped-up stones placed on the sur tace or into a small, hollowed-out por tlon of earth and containing carved offerings. Human burtal mounds are made on the same general order, hav. ing no earth, but only stones thrown around them. Speaking of carvings, the Nuniva. kers are experts in that art The vouthful poet was an adept extraor rving fgured cigarette | 'y, representing heads of | holders of iv the seal or walrus, bhivds, such as the plarmigan or grouse and, perhaps, hends of grotesque human eonfigura. hix masterpleces he asked il R USIANDN wh ek reliet from thelr wives in Varving the monatony hout Wil no douht he Bear how (he Nunivakers ha perplexing W W abont w o moenth - periad, thiaighont — the Winter hunting season, the twe sexes Hve I granps apart, cach sronp hav g A series of houses e the ponpose The custom 15 an age ol taboo Lgely hecause It tx tmportant that the men stick to the hunting In other respects the marriage situs ation holds tntevest. There is theo vetical polygamy. but it 1 not in prace tice now, The mated couples seem to he quite happy and possessed of an abiding affection. The good folk ap. near to he well aware that genuine companianship theives anty when sach party knows full well when and how ta do hix shave. Mureover, thers is & oAt wx for childven, even te the extent of adapting them when KIVEI Conple s not been blessed with e, ARty woneraliy AN eaeava frantic of of the wavital terested to o wolvend Nopes Wike up of (he houses foundations consist o About 18 foet squarve and probaboy et deep. Consecutive Lwes e b by placing one o on AL 4 s openting ol vavious slavs being it at the wp, This Is the men, | rope-pulling contesd | Alaskan | Wt 60 eents | covered over commenly with & plece {of translucent sealskin, which serves the purpose of a covering | letting in iight and air and keepi out the cold. dow, and may ordinarily when Strangely _enou be taken off u will a fire is in order, fire is never used for heat, but solely for cookingi The underground dwellings have the hap- Py faculty of being warm, even in ex tremely cold wenther. Occasionally houses some apart are connected. vak village is un house within its confines is connected by a series of underzround tunnels, making it possible for every one to visit each house without coming to the surface. During the Winter, when the hunting tahoo is in order, the Women as a group reside in the una. or women's house, and the men in similar fashion in the men’s house, or Kushge, somewhat larger as a rule. Such are the high spots of the unique island which nian s iscovered™ distance A certain Nuni e in that every for science, Returning | had “adventures intevesting it not al wavs inspiring. Traveling tor the fiest time without his confrere, in a tiny | Rasoline launeh, Mr. Stewart had a rocky and wave swept rvide over to | Nelson Istand. about 20 miles away [ and near the adjoining coast. they to St Michael. a trip of about miles, and finally te Seattle by the | monthly steamer, which he barely saught. As for Mr. Colling, he tooksan en { tively different course and had enough thrills to make a movie stunt man green with envy, He followsd along the storm swept, rocky and shallow coast with the Nunivak trader in x ntaining 8 Eskimos and 1% skelstons. The trip to St Michasi ook 10 days, for all Kinds of delays wore encountered, due chiefv to fy Nt sty Poam St Michael My A ook the mail boat up the Y Wl dawn to 3 o vent Fram there e rode on the Covernment raliaad o Sewand, on the sauthern coast, and foam theis | WeRt by seamer (o Seattle, The i 10 Seatile toak abaut & wmonth boRaY that the Hny gasoline eraft Cxperienesd roush weatlier ot troach CROUN Cape Ramanaf wonld be to ot the sitiation Mo Weaking C% et CORtRIONSIY, Pirkousty high, well mizh dvowning the af frghied passer But (€ that wer NOL eBOuER (0 Warey abeut-the v der broke, and then havoe was ram pant’ Rockbound and treacherous Was the nearby share—ane false land ng and the ship would be dashed to tiny pleces Luckily, however, at the erest of the danger. one Eskimo was hrave enough to stand on the swaving stern and hold the rudder in place. Though his life was (n constant peril he never unce faltered, and In time the hoat was landed in & somewhat Dratected vove and the rudder ve Datved However, O Man Trauble would NOE UL e VOvagers s soan Rven NOW IR AR TS Crntt Wonkl stk BOCIN A Became tempararily stiek While the wind caveened (t at w ore and peritous angle, However, finaliy The LEY WAR OVEE. JOAVInG A S Y unforgettahie in Mv, Callin woast, Thus endeth vet wnother Smith sonian thitlen Then all thought | behavior in another, do not fix that | while | In a sense it ix ths win. | the two Smith- | ists, both well under 30, | home from the picturesque spot, they | propelied boat havely 30 feat | In the cheery room where she went to him, he stood In the midst of Christmas litter, looking serene and almost D “Mother,” he sald—and he had it like that—"1 was wrong t him mutely. ou wWere more generous to Ca- ! milla than I was—and yet who { he more generous than I—to t I'm going to marry? “Chris, dear— “I love her,” sald Chris simp ‘Love ought to weigh against o thing else. If she's got this thinz in | herseif to overcome—and she haz not blind to that—then it's my | mess, if I love her, 10 help her 1 come it. And I do love her. |to me that I have much T “It's a big way tn look at it, Chr! “It's the only way to look at ! Leaving her wouldn't settl Her “problem w | same. Besides, I ean't rum; I i | he “I love her, ton,” said Mrs. Rose. There came a step and a ring and a here,” said Mrs. Rose “Stay tn Chris. | She stepped into the hall, and there was Camilla. But Camilla was not asking wh: was the matter or remembering re- proache: with her cheek against s, she was saying “Oh, mother, 1 know why you came t I don't blame ave come, ton, 1 was horrihie abo the finger-bowls and ahe party. I've been horrible about every thing. Last n vhen I kns weren't there—you weren't there, mother. you weren't there—I thought what it would be. if you never—and !how I'd be dyinz because of the otie. nervous things I say all 1 rearly did die before day dear’” said Mrs. Rose, and <y no more. ob, mether, eried. I'm engaged do love yo it 1 don't—be- s Chris—and 1 ouldn’t bear to tell yop. 1 knew it wouid hurt you to think of my leav- ing vou. And in the night for the first t'me that ne ng you ht hurt more—!f you knew. B that was why v that was why You know 1 love you, don't you?™ “Yes.” said Mrs. Rose; “T know.” She drew her into the room. where Chris hid stood and had heard. And | Chris, being a capable person. tock {them both in his arms at once, and etreated to the davenport. st | ] | & | of houses, each on r | Within were gitts and lov the home relationships least, no sharp voices: company of beau! upon the town for ane gre: to quicken love. One looked | houses, at the windows, st the peor | new way. | Chris held opet | home, and Cam | lowed her | ZWhat are you sm | { the gate of A said, as th “1 was thinking, swered, “that we're a nobady has remembered to say | Christmas.™ “Merry Christmas™ | beat you te .t ‘ said € novrishE. 19270 . Valley of Jew;ls. AMONG the mast pic |77 in the workl are those of Gl conda, India, which was, in the dns of the Great Mo the | the Kingdom of Goloonda. Now this resion be |name—the Valley of Jewels | country is broken and rocky | boulders e about in ev {Kiving he appearavce trom | distance of the ruins of some | Klants. Towering above is jfortress of Golconda. a citadel s | Eranite bastions and moated overiook the worldwrechage and jruiny of the city. ‘Many of the =id | xuns remain in various § st de- cay. some choked th breeches Llown our. just as they were left by Aurungeede, the Mos qQuevror | Yet this veleanic. upheaved [han yielded gold, sitver and | stones I great quan: et times, In the RN Stones re A and ses [N NN | e " havken el what dimonds 0 1,000t | towna | Lighe W t Rohinoay Which w LS, A et e, trom (he ¢ Mool 1o the crown o hor diamonds fan [romance came from [mines and Uthe Moansis Culling' MaAster e e the Y of an Indian duoy Four - centuries _ago. wh [ ¥rench traveler Tavernie: Goleanda, he wrote that 80000 wen Were angaged fn the search for ¥ 10U stonea The methods eap'ed Were meat oruds aud prumithe I had nothing more than a leag A N WIth & Oroak at the end dy wakd they drew out the sand and el from the orevices in the rmeks Eyes Doddy hunted for diamonds, taiked dae monds, of sall diamonds and e Prciane stones. Even bovs 12 [ VRO G ARe Tavermier smavs undes Moo Ahe Value o diasends A Wtk in (e I ier ties the diamand OF Uhe Qoleanda teghon e s TR vaniShing i, bal n Cauwe Ihe Wookois xtanes had o oaR vatherad. Rven tiday foase ool AYE Samstimas pieked up b e AN bods After the rains Wt sten Cnosy e