Motion Picture Story Magazine (Aug 1912-Jan 1913)

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MADELEINE'S CHRISTMAS 55 ''Yes, indeed, little one," was the comforting reply. "You know the key will be right outside the window, in the flowerpot, where I always leave it. He can find it, if he wants it ; but then, he always comes down the chimney, you know. Go to sleep, quick, or he'll say, 'There's a bad little girl, wide awake!' and hurry right past our house ! ' ' At this dire thought Madeleine closed her eyes tightly, screwing her rosy face into comical shapes in the effort. The house was very still after papa had gone. She heard him lock the door and put the key in the flowerpot on the window-sill, but the snow was so deep on the walks that his f oot COULD NOT BLOT THE PICTURE FROM HIS MEMORY steps made no sound in passing beneath her window. ' ' Santa Claus will be awful snowy, ' ' she thought, sleepily. "I wonder if he holds a big umbrella over him? I guess the wind would blow it away, if he tried to. Just hear it howl! I hope it wont blow my papa away! He's just the goodest papa — but why dont I have a mama? Other little girls have mamas — I wish Santa would bring me one ! ' ' The fire burned low ; the snow con tinued to fall steadily, and the wind was rising to a gale, heaping it high in drifting, feathery piles. Traffic was succumbing to the storm ; horses slipped, stopped, plunged on again, unsteadily; pedestrians sought shelter, abandoning the late Christmas shopping that had seemed so impor tant; taxis worked their way laboriously up the avenues ; shivering motormen and conductors sent anxious calls for the snowplow; and still the gray clouds sent the soft flakes whirling downward, as if anxious to bury the old earth from sight. Along an avenue a solitary form was plodding, and now it turned into a street where the sidewalk was trackless, and where the walking was slow and laborious. Still the figure pushed ahead, clinging to the iron fence pickets as a fierce gust came, almost falling, but struggling on, as if some goal that must be reached at any cost lay at the end of the narrow street. The flaring lights showed that it was a woman who trudged on with such grim determination. Her face was very white ; even the exertion and the keen wind had failed to tint its pallor, and from under the thin shawl that was wrapped closely about her head and shoulders the eyes peered thru the dancing flakes with a wild