CHAPTER XXIX

CHRISTMAS EVE AT CAP'N ABE'S

The gale abated toward evening. The sky was clearing when 'Liphalet Truitt came out of his door and started down the Shell Road toward the store.

It was more habit than anything else that took him to Cap'n Abe's. The cloud that had for these past few weeks overshadowed the lonely bachelor who dwelt beside the Mariner's Chapel, rested more heavily than ever upon his mind and heart this Christmas Eve.

His perilous adventure with Miss Sue that afternoon had racked his soul more than it had his body. As they had clung together there in the storm on the face of the precipice, he felt that so they should cling together against all the buffetings of life.

But fate cruelly separated them. Sue's fortune kept them apart. He shrank from having the neighbors point him out as a money-seeker--a man who had married a woman for her fortune. And in addition, there was Cap'n Jonah Hand--a much more masterful man than the ex-steward--who had seemed to take Miss Sue by storm. The picture he had last seen in Cap'n Abe's living room, when the doctor's sister had run to sympathize with the unmasked captain, was etched upon 'Liphalet's memory so deeply that he believed he could never forget it.

Yet he felt no hatred in his heart for Miss Sue. He absolved her now of any blame for his unhappiness. Life Truitt was coming to his senses!

Sue Ambrose was worthy of the love of the best man who ever lived! Forty thousand dollars was as nothing beside her intrinsic value as a woman and a companion for a lonely man. 'Liphalet wished with all his heart--as he had wished a thousand times before--that Sue's anti-suffragist relative had left her money elsewhere. Then no man--Cap'n Jonah, or anybody else--would have beaten him to the goal that had been so long set before him.

He had enough money for them both--enough and to spare. It troubled him now, as it had before, that Sue should have accepted the forty thousand dollars as a bribe not to exercise her right of franchise.

To tell the truth 'Liphalet did not think well of woman suffrage. He was satisfied that Miss Sue did not appear to hold "votes for women" in high regard. But it would have delighted him had Miss Sue walked into the polling place on election day and voted, thus throwing her legacy away.

So he tramped down the Shell Road in a gloomy frame of mind indeed on this Christmas Eve; and upon entering into the warmth and light and bustle of Cap'n Abe's store was as much in the doldrums as ever.

The greetings showered upon him from those present, men and women alike, were heartier than usual. Why! it seemed just as though they were waiting for 'Liphalet's appearance. "Just for what they hope to get out of you," the devil of distrust again whispered in his ear.

But for some reason this wicked voice was not so strong as before. 'Liphalet had begun to doubt. Since his adventure with Miss Sue on the cliff he had lost much of that pessimism that had for so long held sway in his mind.

The cheerful smiles, the hearty greetings one to another as the neighbors entered, began to impress more deeply the apostate Santa Claus. Retiring to an upturned nail keg behind the stove, 'Liphalet tried again to wrap himself in gloom. He felt meaner than he had ever felt before in all his life.

Here was more than half the congregation of the Mariner's Chapel gathered in the Shell Road store. Every one had a pleasant word or smile for him. They sought the ex-steward out to show their friendliness. They had been looking to him for generous assistance in the yearly entertainment now but twenty-four hours off, and he had determined to disappoint and to flout them.

The apostate Santa Claus began to feel remorse and misgiving, such as had never been his portion before. He felt he had never done as mean a thing in all his career as he was doing now. Aside from the disappointment of the grown members of the congregation, how would the children feel? 'Liphalet Truitt, in padded and cottonwool trimmed garments, was always a delight to the children at the Christmas tree celebration. His unfailing pack and his appropriate words for each child were looked forward to for months.

And he purposed to disappoint them all--his adult friends and neighbors, as well as the children; Cap'n Abe himself; Cap'n Joab; Washy Gallup; Milt and Amiel, the local buffoons; even Cap'n Jonah Hand and Mr. Helmford. They were all here and smiling at a man who began to feel himself to be the very meanest person upon the entire reach of Cape Cod.

Suddenly from Cap'n Abe's living room behind the store sounded the opening bars of the "Fisher's Hornpipe" played on a fiddle and played better than 'Liphalet had ever heard it rendered before. He sat up straighter, his ears pricked, and his eyes began to glisten.

A silence had fallen upon the thronged store. 'Liphalet did not notice now the smiling and significant glances cast in his direction. He was attending with all his music-loving soul to the medley of old-time sea-ditties that the master violinist was playing.

"By Hannah! who's that fiddling?" gasped 'Liphalet, as the music ceased.

A moment's pause. Then rose the air of "Black-Eyed Susan" played by what the deeply moved ex-steward would have called a "brass band."

The orchestral accompaniment died to a murmur and a voice took up the old song--a woman's voice so sweet, so compelling, that it tugged at 'Liphalet Truitt's heartstrings. When the song ceased the apostate Santa Claus found himself on his feet with his hat in his hand and unwonted moisture in his eyes.

The grizzled old storekeeper appeared at the door. "Come in here, 'Liphalet," he said, lifting the flap of the counter and beckoning to the entranced man. "Got somethin' to show ye."

'Liphalet followed him unsteadily. The thrilling notes of the singer's voice still rang in his ears. He did not see that the whole storeful of his neighbors and friends were crowding, giggling and whispering, behind him into Cap'n Abe's sitting room.

The homely furnishings of the place, where the table was always set for the expected guest, was sufficiently illuminated by a big hanging lamp. What held 'Liphalet's attention was a handsome cabinet-sized talking machine, with its cover raised, which stood directly under the empty birdcage hanging in the farther window.

"By Hannah!" murmured the bemused 'Liphalet, "I wondered who Perry Baker was a-takin' that machine to."

"You don't know now," said Cap'n Abe dryly.

He waited for his audience to crowd into the room behind the puzzled 'Liphalet. The storekeeper never allowed an opportunity to slip for an impressive oratorical flight.

"Hum!" said Cap'n Abe. "We're gathered here to-night, as ye might say, for one o' the pleasantest occasions that it's ever been my privilege to take part in. It ain't often in this rough an' ready life of our'n, friends, that we are able to show fittingly our appreciation of a neighbor's character. And it ain't often, either, that we find a neighbor whose character is worthy of such appreciation as that which we honor ourselves by honoring to-night."

The storekeeper was getting in pretty deep, as he would have himself admitted; but he struggled on bravely, and everybody save the bewildered 'Liphalet understood.

"We've got a man in our midst," went on Cap'n Abe, "who's proved himself for some years a brother and a friend to every man, woman and child up and down this Shell Road. There ain't a person in this here room to whom he ain't done some lastin' favor, and in some cases, many on 'em.

"As this season of the year comes around--the most fittin' for us to show love and gratitude because of Him who gave so much for us," added Cap'n Abe reverently,--"it was suggested--I reckon it was a spontaneous feelin' in all our hearts--that we give this man who had given of his time and money and love to us, somethin' that should speak to him of our appreciation--somethin' that should tell him, whenever he would, in sorrow or in joy, how much we love him for what he is and for what he has been to us."

The old storekeeper's voice was husky. He cleared it with a vociferous "Hum!" but could not go on. Therefore he stepped closer to the talking machine. There was already a disc in place, and touching the release-spring, this began to revolve.

To the mellow accompaniment of an organ a male chorus began to croon, "Should Auld Acquaintance Be Forgot?" The women were wiping their eyes openly; the men looked straight ahead with set visages, as they did in church when the minister told a moving incident.

"'Liphalet Truitt," rose the trumpet call of the storekeeper's voice above the melody of the old song, "your neighbors and well-wishers ask me to present this here machine to you as a mark of their esteem and love, as the feller said. And believe _me_," concluded Cap'n Abe, whacking the amazed recipient heartily on his shoulder, "I ain't been so willin' to do a job since Hector was a pup--an' Hector's a big dog now!"

There rose a general--and welcome--laugh at Cap'n Abe's little joke. But there was no responsive smile upon 'Liphalet's visage. He stood there as amazed and stunned an individual as there was on all of storm-swept Cape Cod that night.

"Hi-mighty!" exclaimed Cap'n Abe at last, "don't you like it?"

"_Like it!_"

The quotation was a vocal explosion. With it there overflowed from 'Liphalet's eyes the unbidden tears. The ice was broken in his soul, and the apostate Santa Claus stood confessed before his neighbors.

"I ain't able to tell ye," he said humbly, "how what you all have done cuts me right down to the Plimsoll mark. I don't know but a little dip to starbo'd or to larbo'd will founder me for fair. I got it into my head that I--I was purty much alone in the world. I got a bitter taste against humanity in my mouth----"

"That's your liver, 'Liphalet, like I told you," put in Doctor Ambrose, who had come in.

"I made up my mind Christmas, and Christmas doin's, was all foolishness," pursued 'Liphalet. "I just got a grouch on the whole business. I said I wouldn't play Santa Claus for the young'uns no more, or have anything to do with such didoes.

"But I got to confess, brothers and sisters, that I just _had_ to go to town same's usual and buy a bag full of toys an' sech and a new Santa Claus suit. They're hid away in my garret!

"An'--an' here you folks have gone to work and bought me this beautiful music box----By Hannah! I don't desarve it!" cried the ex-steward vigorously. "An' I don't desarve to be Santa Claus this year nor to give out the presents as I used to. I--I ain't been in the Christmas sperit----"

"Christmas spirit your granny!" burst out Doctor Ambrose again, amidst a general use of pocket handkerchiefs by the feminine part of the audience. "You let me put you through a course of sprouts, and I'll make you the most spirited Santa Claus that ever came down a cardboard chimney!"