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MacCarthy's Christmas Eve by Brian O'Higgins.
MacCarthy kept telling himself that it was Christmas

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Eve and that he must remember the
spirit of the season and keep his temper

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and his patience unimpaired. But it
was no easy task. He had purchased

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several of the Christmas numbers, and
for days the thought of an enjoyable read

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before a blazing fire in the parlor
had carried him buoyantly through the busy hours

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at the office, where all was
fuss and flurry. But alas and alas

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for the day dreams of married men. On Christmas Eve, there was wood

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to be chopped, and presents to
be packed and posted, and broken toys

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to be mended. And in the
middle of the day Missus mack had implored

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him to take the children for a
walk while I try and straighten things up

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a bit. And she looked so
weary and worried and rushed that Macarthy had

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not the heart to refuse. So, with a longing look at his cozy

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parlor fire, he went for a
walk. Towards evening, things grew quiet,

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the children were absorbed in their toys, herself was cooking something in the

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kitchen. The parlor was as snug
as snug could be. The lamp had

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just been lighted, so Macarthy crept
in very softly, pulled an arm chair

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near the blaze, took up his
favorite magazine, and in a moment he

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was the happiest man in that quiet
Dublin suburb. Wasn't it just glorious to

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be at peace with all the world? While other people rushed frantically from shop

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to shop in the city, seeking
everything only what the shops contained, Rat

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tat, rat tat. MacCarthy nearly
jumped out of his easy chair such as

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start did the sudden and imperative knock
at the front door give him. There

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was a scurry of feet from the
kitchen, and a shout of the postman

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again when herself opened the door,
and in a moment the whole family invaded

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the parlor, Missus Mack armed with
a big cardboard box. The latter was

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quick opened while Macarthy sighed, resignedly
and fondly fingered the pages of his magazine.

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And then there was a shout of
admiration from Willie and Ita and Brian

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and little Molly. As a beautiful, brand new suit for a boy came

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into view to Brian from his godmother
herself read from a card which lay at

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the bottom of the box, and
then there was another cheer. While the

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lucky godson danced with delight. Missus
mack was thinking hard, and Macarthy,

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dreading something that was to come,
shivered. He must wear it tomorrow,

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she said at last, partly to
herself, in honor of the day.

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And he hasn't a decent hat or
cap to wear with it. What are

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we to do at all? Her
pretty face was puckered, but suddenly it

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brightened again. Daddy, Yes,
MacCarthy was deeply absorbed in his magazine,

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though he didn't see a word on
the page that lay opened before him.

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Would you mind running into town and
getting a little hat or cap that would

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suit this any sort at all?
So long as it's the right size for

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Brian, and either dark green or
brown, you won't be more than an

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hour away. MacCarthy felt that he
must rebel at last. He looked up

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with a frown, but his glance
fell upon her eager motherly face, and

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on the faces of the other four, and he hadn't the heart to say

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nay, all right, he said, in a tone of resignation as he

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laid the magazine on the table and
took the overcoat that she was already holding

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out to him. It was just
at that moment that she remembered, one

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by one about seven other articles that
couldn't possibly be dispensed with, And on

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his way to the tram, MacCarthy
was obliged to repeat the full message over

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several times, fearful lest he should
forget even one item. When he reached

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the city, the streets were crowded, and every shop was packed, and

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every shop assistant was blind, deaf
and dumb. MacCarthy got a hearing at

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last, after pushing and shoving and
dodging and waiting patiently for half an hour.

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But when the hats and caps for
little boys were shown to him,

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there was no green or brown in
the right size, and the ones that

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would fit Brian were awful to look
at. He knew very well that herself

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would not dream of putting them over
that unexpected suit. So MacCarthy was obliged

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to fight his way towards the street
again and go through a similar struggle in

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another shop Before the hat he wanted
turned up. He was at least another

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hour pulling and pushing and beckoning to
unseeing shop assistants before all the other things

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herself had asked him to get had
been secured. And it was after ten

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o'clock when loaded with tiny parcels,
he boarded a home bound tram. The

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car was crowded and everybody was armed
with packages and parcels of various shapes and

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size, and everybody, though weary
and perspiring after their struggles in the shops,

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seemed pleased that the Christmas shopping was
over. The tram was pretty well

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cleared of its passengers before it came
to McCarthy's stopping place, and the only

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persons to alight at the road in
which he lived were three country women who

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had a long tramp before them ere
they would reach the quiet district away beyond

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the township in which were their homes. As McCarthy passed out of the tram,

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he noticed a small parcel lying on
the seat near the spot in which

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these women had been sitting, and
picking it up, he hurried after them.

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They had already passed out of the
ark of light thrown by the big

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electric lamp and were making all the
speed they could towards home. McCarthy ran

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until he overtook them and inquired if
they had lost anything, at the same

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time showing the parcel he had picked
up. They counted all their belongings,

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and they were many, and then
recounted them, but they could not see

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that there was anything missing. You'll
find it's yours, said McCarthy, who

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was in a hurry to be off. It was on the seat just where

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you were sitting. I'm sure it
must be yours. Ah. Sure,

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we'll take it anyway, sir,
said one of the women. At last,

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seein somebody's lost it. It's lost, and it's as good to us

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as anyone else, whatever it is. McCarthy handed over the much discussed parcel,

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and the women proceeded on their way
while he turned his steps towards home.

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Herself was busy upstairs when he arrived, so he flung the parcels on

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the parlor table and himself into the
easy chair, feeling, as he inwardly

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expressed, it, just flattened out. She came fussing in a little while

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later, welcomed him home, thanked
him most heartily, and proceeded to examine

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the contents of each parcel. Everything
was there except the little hat. They

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searched for it here, there,
and everywhere, but it was nowhere to

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be found. MacCarthy groaned suddenly as
a thought flashed into his brain. The

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parcel that was the sole cause of
his having to go into the city,

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the parcel that had kept him shoving
and shouldering and struggling in two shops for

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nearly an hour, The most important
parcel of them all he had pressed upon

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those three protesting countrywomen half an hour
before MacCarthy sat down and said nothing.

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And of MacCarthy's Christmas Eve by Brian
O'Higgins