Pictures and the Picturegoer (Jan-Dec 1925)

DECEMBER 1925 The Picl-vrepver ~\'r Jh ( \ \ V >f:K JOHN FLEMING l ^ / V t was Christmas Eve, in patches. At the Ingals home the holly was perched en every picture, and the streamer was festooned beneath every ceiling. The pudding was ready for tomorrow's boiling, and a feast of other good things stocked the shelves of the larder. It wanted only the return of the children to make the festival a complete success, and even thus early in the day of Christmas Eve Mrs. Ingals kept popping to the window and looking down the snow-swept avenue. As if the children could be expected so early ! It was a hardish fight to keep up Christmas like this year after year, but the Ingals felt that something sweet would have gone out of life for ever if it were not so kept up. They almost fought for ifr as they almost fought for everything. Life for the Ingals was a hard fight most of the time. Dernard Ingals was a city assessor, *-* and his salary was not large. To ensure a career for his children meant sacrifices all the time for himself and his wife; but they had always managed to make these sacrifices cheerfully, and now at last they thought they saw some reward in view. Hugh, their eldest son, was in business in the city on his own account, with every prospect of a big success to come some day; and now the heroic efforts of the parents were giving the two younger children, Lois and Bradley, the benefits of a college education. Christmas. . . More than anything it seemed like a little holiday from worries and» money troubles for the two old people. For the festival Mrs. Ingals had even gone to the length of re-engaging their old cook, who had cooked for the family all the time until the youngsters' departure for college. " But mind you don't let the children know that you haven't been here all the time," she insisted. " Dad wouldn't like them to know that we — we had to dispense with your services. He wants this Christmas to be just the biggest success of all. This morning Brad wired for fifty dollars to ' help him get home,' and though Dad had to borraw the money to send to him, he did it without a murmur. Christmas wouldn't be Christmas without the children round us. . ." Yes, Christmas, in patches. . . Not so Christmassey in the Ingals office as in the Ingals home. Bernard Ingals pressed a little button on his desk. " Miss Daye," he said to the secretary who appeared in response to this summons, " I am sorry to have to mention it at such a time, but unless you are able to carry out your duties in a more satisfactory manner in the near future, I am very much afraid we must dispense with your services. I don't like to have to say this to you now, bat really I am afraid that this is not the kind of post that suits you. You may go home now." Miss Daye sniffed, tossed her head, and went. But she did not go home. She went round to the office of Elliott Kimberley, councilman and grafter, who had manoeuvred to get Ingals' competent secretary discharged and his own protegee installed in her place for reasons of his own. She went round to the office of Elliott Kimberley and lodged her complaint. " Old Ingals is beginnin' to smell a rat, El," she said with a fresh sniff. " Time, I reckon, he was tapped on the knuckles, eh?" " Leave it to me," Kimberley, " to do tapping." Meantime, Ingals been making his own home through the falling snow. He smiled with undisguised joy when he saw the preparations for the children's homecoming, but he looked rather anxiously at the the clock when he learnt that the children had not yet arrived. " It is the weather, I imagine, that is holding up the trains," he said; and at a knock on the door : " Ah, here they are !" said the had way B t it proved to be instead, an old friend of his, Noel Derby, full of smiles and optimism, and of something approaching good news. " Merry Christmas, Ingals," he called in his loud and cheery voice. " Merry Christmas, Mrs. Ingals ! Youngsters home yet?" " Not yet," said Mrs. Ingals. "Soon. The weather's very bad, you see." Derby sat forward and tapped Mr. Ingals on the knee. " Ingals, old friend, I've got news for you. ' "Aha?" " That business we've both, had our eyes on for so long. It's for sale at last." He sat back and clapped his hands together and indulged in a cheerful chuckle. But there was no reflection of his mood on the face of Ingals. " I'm afraid I shall have to back out of the partnership we've talked of these last two years," said the latter in a hushed voice. " No !" exclaimed Derbv.