Motion Picture Magazine (Aug 1914-Jan 1915)

IN QUEST OF A STORY 33 "Er — how do you do?" managed Barnes. Arline laughed, but it was a very gentle laugh. "How do* you do?" she returned; "please dont be so startled. I have seen Doctor Sargent, and I can clear up the mystery in the twinkling of an eye. It is this way. ' ' Briefly and graphically Arline sketched the train of events leading up to this strange meeting: her search for a story — her disguise — her unwillingness to give her true address — and the consequent arrival of Doctor Sargent at the address she had given him, that of Nell. "So you see," she concluded, a bit wistfully, "it did do some good, after all — the disguise — and the pretense — and our meeting — and — all that. Aren't you — glad?" "Very," affirmed Barnes, his heart rapidly reaching his eyes as the mystery became clear to him. "And not being in the habit of taking money under false pretenses," Arline pursued, fumbling in her purse and extracting from, a sacred, private compartment an exceedingly dirty one-dollar bill, ' ' I am returning your charitable donation — with — with many thanks." Oddly enough, her heart, too, peered thru her lovely eyes at this juncture, and Barnes saw it and gloried. He reached across Nell's rocker and folded the dainty hand tightly over the time-worn bill. "You are to keep that," he said, "until I come back — to claim it." Nell looked at them and smiled happily. "Miss Arline," she said suddenly, "it's just like the end of — the story." o^^o Santa's Best Gift By GEORGE WILDEY Every hillside and valley was winking With the frost-jewels set in the snow; In the heavens the stars were a-blinking At the silent old homestead below. Thru the window the moonlight was streaming, Softly flooding the quaint, peaceful scene, And each object stood forth in my dreaming Clearly portrayed on memory's screen. And I knew, for I almost could hear them, That the old folks were snoring upstairs, While the children were slumbering near them, With their clothes neatly hung on the chairs. There were Joseph, and Henry, and Mary, And beside them another wee elf, Whom I knew to be just the contrary Little tousled-head imp of myself. In the library, where I was peeping, I detected a light, stealthy sound, And from out of the chimney came creeping A little man, chubby and round. He was dressed in a coat, warm and furry ; On his back a huge package was slung; And he hustled around in a hurry Till he found where the stockings were hung. Then he opened his pack and proceeded To distribute his presents galore; And he seemed to know just what was needed — He had been there so often before. There were jumping-jacks, nimble and funny, And a curly-haired dog that would bark, And the cutest white, pinkie-eyed bunnie, And the latest new model of Ark. But of all his fine presents, the greatestSomething none of the children had seen, And of Santa's inventions the latest — AVas an up-to-date picture machine. So that henceforth, tho rough be the weather, And the home-folks shut in by the snow, They could cheerfully sit home together And enjoy their own picture show. Then the merry old saint, in a twinkle, Decorated the great Christmas tree, Screwed his face in a satisfied wrinkle, And abandoned the homestead to me. Thru the window the moonlight was streaming. Softly flooding the quaint, peaceful scene; And I suddenly roused from my dreaming As "Good-night" was flashed on the screen,