V TT TT sn td 3w on me as seud o se es is Christmas Section PR BE BR LR L LR L LR L LE ELE ELE LE LE LE EL EL LN L L Se S AL L L L L. SP AP L Cbristmas When Christmas bells toll their message of "Peace on earth, good will toward men,"‘ may their resonant tones convey our greetings to you. Mierp RMlerry THE PORCUPINE ADVANCE, TIMMINS, ONTARIO Yes, it was safe and he brouzsht out to the light the severely plain card with its funeral lettering in black, which acknowledged Scrooge‘s memâ€" bership in the 5. P. U. C. for Prevention of Useless Christmas Giving). Yes, his dues were paid and he had conscientiously perused the literature of the association and, with ‘"burning of the. Yule log" ‘this season, had renewed his pledge not ito indulge in the foolish extravagance of squandering money on Christmas presents. There had been no difficulty in keeping this pledge, as in preceding Christmastides he had buried himself in business during the day and as a commurer taking the late afternoon train to Islington and his bachelor home. A Blocked Railroad But this Christmas Eve as he apâ€" proached the gate 2t the Union Station he was greeted with the news that a derailed. train had blocked the railâ€" road and no train would leave for Islington till midnight. Scrooge <urnâ€" ed back to his office, planning an eveâ€" ning of intensive work; then as he slipped his fingers in his pocket for the office to keep he discovered his preâ€" dicamen‘t. Stupidly he had left the key on his desk, and <his secretary gone, chere was no chance of admittance. How was he to gain entrance? Pondcring the problem, Scrooge amâ€" bled along the street of his business into the great thoroughfare aglecam with red and grzen and purple lights. Then, suddenly caught in a mad swirl of human‘‘y surging aimlesly, recklessly along the street, he felt himâ€" self overpowered, "What has got the old town?". : e demanded, puzzled by the carnival spirit abroad. ‘"Has the world gone mad?" he questioned shortly as a mighty army drove him into a lobbyâ€" way for shelter. Panting for breath. he stared down at the scenery, which doubtless would be his main interess for some hoursâ€" or at least until the carnival had spent itself. The scenery presented the picâ€" ture of a little boy stumbling down the stairs to gaze upon the Christmas tree and its thousand and one mysterics hiding under the evergreen branches. and as Scrooge stared at the picture, bsing bored with the carnival spirit, he found his eye gradually choosing the mystcries and naming them men« tally. "That quegr shaped box will be ® drum, I bet, and the funny wriggly sort of package a train of cars," he commented. ‘"Hello, didn‘t see it at first, but there‘s a dinky little automoâ€" bile hiding in the rear. Bet Boy Bluce‘s eyes pop out when he finds that." A Doll Playing Hide and Seek Pascinated, his face glued close to the window pane, he puzzled out other packages, other boxes and toys hiding coyly in the shadows. "Go way! Boy Blue‘s got a sister. Perhaps her name is Becky. There‘s a doll in that box® with the red ribbon, I know. Ana that‘s a dandy little doll carriage next door to the little old mator." was the name they called him when ho was only knechigh to grasshopper. Forgotten was the carnival of the Christmas Eve, the annoyance of jost!â€" inz crowds, Scrooge had slipped back to a Christmas morning forly years earlier, when he had tumbled down the stairs and had left wee Becky asleep in her bed. Funny, the thrill he had sensed that day, and how relieved he was that there weren‘t just mittens and stockings and handkerchiefis on that tree, but toysâ€"some so perishable Funny that he should have named the little fecllow on the threshold of the picrure room "Boy Blue," for that The Conversion of Scrooge A curious sensation had gripped him and he realized that his knces were trembling violently. Stranger still, an impulse was whispering to him. It was overmastering him. The spiriw of "Boy Blue" had taken possession of him. He staggered uncertainly toward the door. It opened to parmit a woman to enter, and he followed in her wake. He stood a litt‘e apart as the woman did h*r shopping. With a litle hesitancy she asked the prices of the wee automobile, the doll‘s carriage, the train of cars and whe doll; then shook her head ‘as she counted over the dimes left in her purse. that they were "usrless" before the day was ended. Bw., oh. the unalloyed joy of that Christmas morning! "I gusss I won‘t be able to give Buster and Betity anythinzg after all, but really and truly useful gifts," she murmured. *"You see chereâ€"are the two older girls and Grandpa and Grandma, and it has cost a good bit for the trec and allâ€"‘‘ ‘"Please, please won‘t ybou‘clet me help?" broke in the hoarse voice of scrooge. "I came in here purposedly to buy those toys, bus blessed if I know what I‘d do with them with not aA chick nor child out at my bachelor‘s camp." minutes latcr the woman and the man, their arms laden with incongruous looking parcels, emerged from the store. The obliging clerk had cive chem directions where to find books and novelties for the older girls, knickâ€"knacks for the old folk. "When I first saw him squinting through the window pane I wanted to call him Scrooge," laughed the other clerk, adding: "See, che card he dropâ€" p2d when he pulled his wad of bills. I offered it to him, but he threw it aside contemptuously, and called it waste paper baskct rubbish. See what it says, ‘Membership in the S.P.U.C.G.," she read aloud. "Pray who might he be to havt dropped from the sky for all the world like a fairyâ€"tale Santa Claus?" demanded one of the clerks. f "It looks as though Scrooge lhad been properly converted," rejoined the other clerk mermuy.. "He‘s certainly resignced from ustless giving and no. mistake." (By Jocile Webb Pearson) Patsy liked to take her doll out in the sunny kitchen and watch Ann, the cook, roll out the cooky dough and cut round moons; then put them in a long pan ready for the oven. When they came out all smelly and warm Ann would put some on a paper plate for Patsy to cat. Ann had the nicesé dimples when she smiled, and Patsy would â€"smile right back at her and say: "Thank, you, Cooky lady." (% Sometimes there were brown cookies and fruity ones, too, but the red and green candied ones that Ann. made for Christmas were the very best of all. Patsy adored Ann. Through the seven short years of her life she had been ner constant companion. Mother was just the lovely lady who was always busy with her clubs and going places, and Daddy was too busy at the office to be bothered much; but there was always Ann. Patsy liked the nice postman, Tim, who came to see Ann and sometimes they all went to the movies together. Tim could play "pretend" almost as good as Ann. But once she heard him ¢all Ann his best girl, and say: "Some day you‘re going to cook for me." Aftfer that she did not like him so well. Things seemed all wrong, and Santa hadn‘s answered her letter, and it was only two days till Christmas. B6he had said: ‘Please write soon," and that had been days azo. He must help quick, or it would be too late. Several times a day she would go to the mail box and stand on tiptoe to look in for fear her letter had been overlooked. ‘"Here, Tim," said one of the office clerks, "is another of the kid letters to Santa Claus guess this one‘s up to you." Printed in a chilldish scrawl on the envelope, Tim read: "Samta Claus, care of Tim." He drew out the folded paper. It read: "Dear Santa, please bring Tim another best girl cause Ann has to cook for us." "Your friend, Patsy Reynold. Tim stared, then chuckled: "Santea old boy, you‘re up against it this time." utting the Problems Right up to Santa Claus Himself Thursday, Decembe: nd, 19