Speaker 1: Sydney Martin's Christmas by Pansy, Chapter one. It makes no
difference what I do ho home, he said, as he
looked drearily out of the window. If a fellow could
only be at home to day, what is the use
of having Christmas come? If a body has nowhere to
go and nothing to do, and nobody cares what he does.
It makes no difference where I go or what I do.
I'd just as lief be at the store as anywhere.
It was dreary for a boy of fourteen, only twenty
miles from a nice country home, but it was a
poor home, no money to spare for holiday visits. So
the boy, who was received as clerk into the large
store on the corner, the largest in town, because the
merchant and his father had been friends in their long
ago boyhood, was trying to be a brave boy and
spend his holiday alone. But it was dull work. It
was so new and sad a thing to feel that
it made no difference to any one what he did.
The town clock struck nine, only nine o'clock, Sydney said,
and he thought that he did not know what to
do with the day. He went out, however, and began
to take an aimless walk up the street, nearly opposite
Judge Porter's handsome home, that large house built in foreign
style and the pride of the town. For that and
other reasons, he stopped suddenly and listened music, clear and sweet.
It rose on the air, Glory to God in the
highest and on earth, peace, good will to men. Sydney
went on around the corner with a curious face. Who
would be outdoors singing on Christmas morning? The minute he
got a view of the side gateway. The riddle was plain, ho,
he said, And then he laughed. I do say if
them Shemways haven't come out in full force exactly as
they used to do in Germany. And there they are
singing the Christmas Carol. I wonder if they think they
will get Christmas greeting as they said the children did
in the old country. What a droll looking set they are.
The carol is real pretty though, this he added, as
the sweet chords began again, Glory to God in Just
at that very point they stopped. Every voice, and little Gretchen,
the youngest of the group, gave a little squeal that
did not belong to the carol. It was plain that
something had frightened them. Sydney crossed over to them. Just
inside of the gate had appeared Old Bows, the great
house dog, and he was not a lover of their music,
to judge by the low growls with which he greeted it.
Don't be afraid, said Sydney, coming promptly into view. I
know Old Bows, and he knows me. He is an
ill mannered scamp, but he won't hurt you so long
as I am around. You. Sing away, and I will
stand guard and sing. They did like larks, and earned
a penny all around, and plenty of little cakes. The
porters had spent a winter in Germany. They knew how
to treat the little singers. Sydney, not being so well
wrapped as the singers, shivered a little as he walked away,
his promise fulfilled, he had to be content with a
hearty thank you given in broken English, and a grateful
smile in little Gretchen's eyes. Chapter two. I was walking
down by the pond. The Christmas Carol had taken up
quite a little of the morning. Sydney felt glad of that.
The faster the morning went, the better. He put his
hands in his pockets and whistled to keep himself company,
and tramped cheerily on. Just where he was going he
did not know, and it made no difference where he went.
You will remember he met a great many people whom
he knew, and a great many that he didn't know,
but none of them had anything to do with him.
Just across the town bridge there was a boy, and
though Sidney knew no more about him than that he
was doctor Eldred's son, and went to the academy and
sat across the room from him at Sunday School. He
seemed like a friend to the lonely fellow, and he
stopped to look at him and wonder how it would
seem if they were good friends. Young Eldred was in
some perplexity. He had his sled and stood holding the rope,
while miss Eta Eldred, curled nicely on the seat, wrapped
in furs, appeared to be waiting for some decision. I
suppose I have just got to go home first, the
boy was saying in disappointed tones, as Sydney crossed over
for a nearer look at one who had a sister
near by to enjoy. How are you, Eldred said cordially
to Sydney. He was not a proud boy, though he
had a good deal to be proud of. Are you
going down to see the skating? There's to be a
great time. Two fellows are going to have a trial
of speed, and the one who gets beaten is to
give an oyster supper to us fellows in the evening.
I hadn't heard of it, said Sydney with interest. When
is it to be? Why? It was to be at
twelve o'clock, But I hear since I came out that
the time is changed to eleven. It will be long
after that before I can get there, for it is
ten now, and I've got to go all the way
home with Etta. She sprained her foot, you see, and
mother is not willing to have her walk. I'll draw
her home if she will let me. Sydney said this
as heartily, as though it would be a great favor.
Young Eldred caught the words joyfully, why will you? That
is real kind of you, Eda? You wouldn't mind for
this once, would you? And Eda shook the feather in
her cap and said decidedly, oh no, not at all.
If he would just as soon, But you will miss
the race yourself. You know it is a long walk
down home. This was Eldred's afterthought. Oh, I shouldn't mind that,
Sydney said he had not known a thing about it,
so he wouldn't really be missing it. And so it
came to pass that he shouldered the satchel of books
that were being taken from the academy for the vacation,
and had just been gone after and taking the reins
in his own hands, waited only to see the doctor's
son join a party of boys who were waiting for him,
and then he and Edda started a full mile over
the crispy snow with a merry young girl who occasionally
came to the store to buy bright ribbons and was
always kind and pleasant. This was a nicer Christmas than
he had imagined, and so he told himself with a
pleased face, as he walked back the long mile alone,
having taken his charge to the very door, delivered the
books to her care, and himself put away the sledge
in the carriage house. Eda had thanked him heartily and
given him a pocketful of splendid apples. Besides, and better
than all the rest, the morning was quite gone, actually,
nearly twelve o'clock this he said aloud in glee as
he came to the main street once more and caught
sight of the moon faced clock keeping guard in the
church steeple. Chapter three. I was at mister Seymour's. He
had just one thing to do that day that had
a little touch of business about it, and all the
dignity of an appointment. That was to take a smooth
and beautifully polished wooden top that he had made down
to mister Chester Seymour's on Seymour Avenue and be there
at one o'clock. Precisely there was to be a simple
little Christmas tree shown off at that house at that hour.
The tree was for the benefit of mister Seymour's half
dozen little nephews and nieces, who were clustered around him,
and the little lame boy who lived with them was
to be counted in this. Lame boy was a pet
of Sydney's. He looked like a certain little boy at
home who slept with Sydney when he was there, and
whose company was sorely missed. The top had been made
for him in spare moments, and since the thought came
to Sydney, the moments had been so spare that he
had walked around to mister Seymour's the night before to
ask if the top came at nine o'clock the next morning,
would it be in time for the tree? Then and
there mister Seymour had rejoiced his heart by a promise
that if he could bring it at precisely one o'clock,
it should be hung at once, and he should have
a peep at the tree. This program was carried out,
and the tree was heartily admired by Sydney. There was
nothing on it for him. Nobody had thought of that,
but he had expected nothing, so as he would have said,
he hadn't missed anything. Could you go home by way
of mister Stewart's, my boy, mister Seymour had said, as he,
having enjoyed Lame Nettie's delight over his top, was about
to go. Could you well go home by way of
mister Stewart's and leave a note there for me? Or
will it take you too far out of your way?
It is quite a distance round, yes, sir, said Sydney promptly, No, sir,
it is not too far. I like the walk, and
I haven't had a single thing to do. This is
a holiday you know, mister Seymour had smiled and thanked
him and given him the note, and hoped he would
have a merry Christmas, and went back to his dining
room and his turkey. There was not to be any
turkey at Sydney's boarding house, but though they were poor,
in the farmhouse twenty miles away, they raised turkeys and
always had one for Christmas. Sydney knew the smell and
whifted up like a breath of home as he turned
from mister Seymour's hall. Chapter four. I might as well
go that way, mister Stewart, exactly in the opposite direction
from Sydney's boarding house. So how mister Seymour could have
said go round that way home? I am sure. I
don't know. Our boy Sydney was getting just a trifle
tired of long walks, but they seemed to be exactly
in his line on this Christmas holiday, so he trudged
briskly on, trying not to think of home any more
than he could help his note delivered. He stood a
moment in thought. Should he go home around Pike's Hill
or take a short cut across it? I might as
well go one way as another, he said aloud, what
is the difference? I guess I'll take the hill that
will bring me home in time for my dinner. So
up the steep hill he climbed, getting out of the
way of half a dozen coasters as they rushed gaily
down one though didn't rush down. Instead, he pitched over
on his bed. Sydney was the only boy who was
not half way down the hill or just starting on
that journey, and Sydney went at once to him. He
was groaning a little, and in trying to get up,
groaned some more and fell back. That nasty sled of mine,
he exclaimed, as Sydney bent over him. It has got
a loose runner. I told Jimmy it would be the
death of me. Help me up, can't you. I've hurt
my foot or broke it or something. It twisted right
under me. Where do you live, Sydney said, tugging with
all his might, and succeeded in seating him on his sled,
just as some of the riders came puffing up to
see if it was anything more serious than a tumble.
I live on Pine Street, and how I am ever
to get there is more than I know, And he
groaned as he hit one foot against the other. Can't
some of your friends draw you there, Sydney said, Looking
at the boys standing round, he shook his head. They
aren't my friends, he said, I never saw them before.
They are from the upper village, and they have got
to meet the sleigh they came with at two o'clock.
They'll be likely to do it, won't They this with
a smile. As the clock in the town chimed too,
and every boy suddenly took to his heels. Sydney drew
in his breath. He was just tired of walks, and
this was not so interesting a Sprain, as he had
helped home earlier in the day. But of course the
boy couldn't be left sitting there, so he spoke quickly.
I'll draw you home. Sit as steady as you can,
and I won't jolt more than I can help. And
away they went down Pike's Hill and off toward Prime Street,
a quarter of a mile away. You're a real good boy,
said the Sprain boy's mother, as he delivered her son
safely into her hands. Tommy won't forget you in a hurry,
I guess, and Sydney walked away, rubbing his hands and
feeling that he would not be likely to forget Tommy,
he was such a heavy fellow. Chapter five, The sum
of it all. Just as Sydney was eating a cold
dinner an hour after the proper time, the senior and
junior partners at the corner store shook their heads as
they looked at each other, both being very grave. It
looks dark, said the younger man. It does, that's a fact,
said the elder. But then I can't seem to believe
that he took it. I have always thought him the
very soul of honesty. But how else can we explain it?
And here both seemed to grow sadder. The end of
it was that a summons came to Sydney before he
had touched his doughnut. He took it in his hand
and made all haste to the store, wondering much as
he was ordered to the private office. There has been
said work going on here to day, Sydney began the
senior partner, as soon as the door was closed. I
left a twenty dollar bill in my desk last night,
and my partner saw it here this morning at nine o'clock.
This afternoon, at three it was not here. Now you know,
you are the only clerk in town to day. Sydney
looked from one to the other for a moment in
startled wonder, as if to ask what all that, however
sad it was, could have to do with him. Then
he began to understand. He was a quick witted boy
and a just one. He did not fall into a rage,
as boys in stories do, for it occurred to him
that these men had only known him four months, and
there couldn't seem to be anybody else who could have
taken the money, so it seemed natural enough to suspect him.
His voice, though very earnest, was not angry. It looks
as bad as possible, mister Barnes, But I truly know
nothing about it. That is easy to say, mister Barnes answered, coldly,
and thinking in his sensible brain that it was very
strange if the boy was innocent, that he was not indignant.
The question is, can you give an account of yourself
between the hours of nine and three today? Where have
you been and what have you been about? Sydney's face
gloomed over, and he sighed heavily. I have been wandering
along and going nowhere in particular, and doing nothing at all.
For all I can prove to you, I may have
spent the twenty dollar bill twenty times, only I haven't
done it. There was a listener to all this, sitting
quiet in his chair. This was the senior partner's son,
a young lawyer. He was looking searchingly at the earnest
faced boy. Have you any idea where you were at
nine o'clock? He asked? Suddenly, Yes, sir, I was standing
at the window, looking out and wondering what to do
with myself. The town clock struck, and I counted and thought,
what an awful long day there was? What then I
went right straight out and walked up the street as
far as Judge Porters. What stopped you there? Why? The
little mways that came to our Sunday school were out
singing Christmas carols, just as they did in Germany, and
they got afraid of Bow's the Judge's dog, And I'm
not afraid of him. So I stopped and took care
of them till they were through. Go on, What did
you do then, do you know? Yes, sir, I went
on across the town bridge, and from there I went
to doctor Eldred's on Stone Street. What took you there. Why?
As I was walking down by the pond, fred Eldred
stood there with his sled and his sister. She was
on the sled. She can't walk, she has a sprained ankle.
And Eldred wanted to go to the skating race. So
I took his sister home just so. That took considerable time,
didn't it, Yes, sir, it was twenty minutes of twelve
by the town clock when I came back. Then did
you go to dinner? No, sir, we don't have dinner
on Christmas until two o'clock. That is the way we
keep the holiday. Sydney said this with a gleam of
mischief in his handsome eyes. Having a clear conscience, he
could not help seeing the funny side of things. Very well,
tell me what came next. Next? I had an errand
at mister Seymour's. What mister Seymour's on Seymour Avenue? What
took you there? And the keen eyes looked at him steadily. Why.
I had a top that I made for Lame Nettie,
and I didn't get it done until to day, and
mister Seymour said I might come around at one o'clock
exactly and have a peep at the tree. Did you
have it? Yes, sir, and it looked fine. So this
was one o'clock. Then you went home? I suppose, no, sir.
Mister Seymour asked me to take a note to mister
Stewart's at the corner just below Pike's Hill, and I
went straight there after that. I hope you had a
chance to go home, No, sir, said Sydney, beginning to
be amazed at his own story. I went up Pike's
Hill to go across lots and a boy had just
tumbled over. They were riding downhill like mad, and he's
brained his foot. So I helped him up and drew
him home. Who was he? His name is Smith, Tommy Smith.
He lives on Prime Street below the Old Market. Were
you the only boy there was to do for him, yes, sir.
The other fellows were strangers to him, so was I
for that matter. But they had come from the upper
village for a sleigh ride, and they were to be
at some point downtown at two o'clock to go back.
They were late too. The clock struck while we were
getting Tommy Smith on the sled, and the fellows all
ran like tops and from Tommy Smith. I earnestly hope
you went home. I did, sir, said Sydney, and his
face was in a broad smile. The young lawyer turned
to the two men who had listened in breathless attention.
I'll take the case, he said, with pleasure. It is
the most complete alibi I have heard this many a day.
And the young man has been practicing all day on
the Christmas carols that he began the morning with peace
on earth, good will to men. There has certainly been
much good will put into this day. It is a
complete chain. The senior partner said heartily, my boy, I
will go to every one of those parties whose names
you have given, and if their statements agree with yours,
it will settle the question of the bill. Whoever has
it it can't have been you, and they will agree,
of course, Sydney said heartily, because it is so, and
what else can they say. There is no need of
going to them, said the junior partner. It is all right,
And Sydney, as he went back to his boarding house,
went thoughtfully over the day and was much struck with
the fact that something at every turn had marked the
time for him. It did make a difference which way
I went and what I did. After all, he said gratefully,
and of Sidney Martin's Christmas by Pansy