THE APOSTATE SANTA CLAUS
Heart-warmed by Cap'n Abe's promise of assistance and by his coffee,
the two cronies started homeward. A keen off-shore gale bit frostily.
The stars were sprinkled thickly upon a purple sky.
Cap'n Jonah was much more cheerful; but 'Liphalet soon drifted into the
doldrums again. Spurred by his interest in his friend's trouble, his
thoughts had veered from his own case; now memory began to rasp his
mind again in a very tender spot.
"Tell ye what!" observed Cap'n Jonah briskly. "If I was a marryin' man
I sartain sure would set my stays and carry all sail till I run down
along a woman like Miss Sue Ambrose. That would fix me fine! She's got
a plenty and she seems like a smooth-tempered party. Nothin' like Sarah
Hand, that was."
"By Hannah!" snorted 'Liphalet, "would you marry for money, Cap'n Hand?"
"No. I don't presume I would," replied Cap'n Jonah reflectively. "But
if I was wantin' to marry I sartain sure wouldn't kick none if the
woman I picked out chanced to have a tidy bit laid away. Whatever!"
"Good night!" said 'Liphalet bitterly, and left him abruptly at the
mouth of the Petty lane.
Eliphalet Truitt was deeply disturbed in his mind. He regarded what
he had been forced to listen to from the loungers in the store this
evening as the capsheaf of all the rasping incidents that had of late
disturbed his mental poise.
He was hurt. More than that, he began to feel that Washy Gallup was
right. In the homely phraseology of the community, he had allowed his
leg to be pulled for all these ten years. He was a "good thing." He
had made the mistake of trying to buy (so he now thought) the love and
friendship he craved as a lonely and disappointed man. These people he
lived among looked upon him merely as a convenience and a silly fellow,
to be bled from the pocket for the general advantage.
It was true that heretofore he had enjoyed doing his bit and giving his
thought and time to the children's holiday. But now, as this Christmas
loomed near, the thought of hanging a tree with presents and packing
a bag with goodies for the little ones filled Eliphalet Truitt with
loathing.
As he scuffled along the Shell Road in the dark, he heard a mother
threatening her wayward offspring at the back door.
"You'd better be mighty good, Ezra Saltus, or Mr. 'Liphalet won't hang
no Chris'mas gift on the tree for you."
"By Hannah!" ejaculated the disgruntled ex-steward in his throat. "They
even make a bugaboo out o' me for naughty children! I'm good and sick
o' this! Folks just like me for what they can get out o' me. I--I'll
quit!"
It was then and there that the Santa Claus of the Shell Road
apostatized.
The next day the members of the Ladies' Aid Society were apprised--and
surprised--of the fact that the ex-steward refused to contribute in any
way toward the approaching Christmas celebration. He had stated to the
committee that approached him, with a finality that could not possibly
be misunderstood, his determination not to act in the capacity of Santa
Claus at the Mariner's Chapel, or help in any way whatsoever.
"That ought to stop 'em," snarled 'Liphalet to himself. "If they know
I mean business--that I ain't to be the Mr. E. Z. Mark of this here
community no longer--they'll mebbe pretty quick stop their smirkin',
and hintin' and jollyin'."
But it seemed they did not cease to do these very things. At least,
'Liphalet did not see that his unwonted attitude toward the approaching
holiday celebration made the least difference with his neighbors. They
continued to smile knowingly at him when the topic of Christmas was
mentioned. Even Cap'n Jonah when next he met the ex-steward seemed to
be particularly jovial about the coming Christmastide. The captain
seemed quite to forget his own troubles to say:
"I guess we can look forward to a white Christmas, Truitt. And that'll
please the children, an' Miss Sue, an' ev'rybody. Don't you admire a
white Christmas?"
"I don't admire no Christmas," snarled 'Liphalet. Then to himself and
under his breath, he repeated: "Christmas--_bah_!"
He turned on his heel before Cap'n Jonah could say anything else, and
left the latter standing in the road open-mouthed.
"By Hannah! Don't the tarnal fools believe I mean it?" was 'Liphalet's
disgusted comment.
But he was secretly ashamed when he met Sue Ambrose near the
post-office one day about this time. He had tried to tell himself
that she was like the rest--that her interest in church work led her
to encourage him to spend time and money for these people who did not
really care anything about him save for what they could get out of him.
She hailed him just as he was about to speak to Perry Baker, the
Paulmouth expressman, who had a crated talking machine in his wagon to
deliver, and 'Liphalet could not escape.
"I'd admire to know who it is in Cardhaven is goin' to own a music box
like that," he said, trying to cover his confusion. "By Hannah! I've
been dreadful tempted to buy one o' them things. Wish't I hadn't been
weaned on old saws like 'Wicked waste makes woful want' and 'A fool an'
his money air soon parted.'"
"Why, 'Liphalet Truitt!" Miss Sue said, with her low sweet laugh. "As
though you could not afford every comfort--even every luxury--you
craved."
"There _she_ goes," thought the disgruntled ex-steward. "Hintin' I'm
made of money like these other folks." And he continued to stare after
Perry Baker's wagon as though deeply interested in the crated talking
machine.
"I do want your advice, about the tree, 'Liphalet," said Miss Sue
desperately. It seemed as though she wished to recall his attention
from that talking machine and where it was going. "You know, Amos
Durgin usually has good trees; but he's shipped all his best ones to
Boston----"
"Ho!" ejaculated the ex-steward. "I ain't takin' no int'rest in the
Christmas tree this year, Susan. I'm a-takin' a back seat, like I tell
'em all. Let somebody else have a spell at sech didoes. It's my watch
below."
"Oh! Yes! Certainly, 'Liphalet, if you feel that way about it," the
gentle spinster said.
The memory of this meeting rasped 'Liphalet's mind more and more as
the hours passed. She had spoken as though she were hurt by his gruff
refusal, and he cringed in secret at thought of ruffling her gentle
soul in any way.
But even Miss Sue, he determined, should cozen him into no further
effort in behalf of the Christmas celebration. He knew very well what
they all expected--what they were looking for. Why, the children on the
road who now tipped their hats or courtesied to him so politely, were
the same little imps who had robbed his berry patch in June and whom he
had chased out of his "summer sweet'nin' tree" in August.
"Drat 'em!" grumbled 'Liphalet. "They're playin' a game, all on 'em.
Just salvin' me over--tryin' to git all they can out o' me! And Sue
Ambrose is purty near as bad as the rest," he added, with actual venom.
The taut little ex-steward had become a wofully changed man. It was
nothing sudden that had seized upon his mind and made it sick. More
than Doctor Ambrose had noticed his metamorphosis. The Black Dog rode
'Liphalet hard--had done so for many weeks.
At first when he had begun himself to notice the change that was coming
over his mind, 'Liphalet had called it "the megrums." He did not feel
as brisk bodily as usual. Jalap and salts--the sailor's never-failing
remedy for all ills to which human flesh is heir--were unshaken
doctrinal tenets in 'Liphalet Truitt's belief, and he declared that he
did not propose to have "no doctor messin' with his innards."
So he scouted the attempt of Doctor Ambrose to advise as to his
treatment. In his heart, too, he knew that the trouble was more mental
than physical. The seed of his discontent had been sown long before. He
had not realized it; but the years of denial since his retirement from
the sea were harder to bear than he had thought. During the active span
of his life ordinary troubles had little fretted Eliphalet Truitt, for
he was always looking forward to the consummation of his hope regarding
Sue Ambrose.
To be near her, to work with her in church affairs, occasionally to
pick out on his flute "Black-Eyed Susan" or "Fisher's Hornpipe" to the
accompaniment of her melodeon, was all very well. But these were poor
substitutes for the dream of hearth and home which had so long stirred
his imagination.
That last homeward voyage had been a memorable one for 'Liphalet. With
the younger officers, he secretly agreed that "the girls are pulling
the _Sadie Vars_ home with their apron strings." The old windjammer
seemed fairly to fly. Even during the usually tedious railroad trip
along the backbone of the Cape the minutes seemed to flow swiftly.
'Liphalet had scarcely felt, on that past occasion, the creaking
platform planks of the Paulmouth station under his feet when he landed;
and when he climbed to the seat beside Noah Coffin, the stage driver,
that portion of the Cape Cod landscape within range of his vision was
painted in rainbow hues.
But in ten minutes (how sharply he remembered it now!) a mental typhoon
had overcast the captain's horizon and drowned all the roseate colors
with a pall of dreary drab.
"Gre't changes around Cardhaven since you was last there, 'Liphalet,"
the gossipy stage driver had almost immediately said. "They've painted
the town pump."
"Same old crop of happenings, I reckon, Noah," the cheerful mariner
rejoined. "Some's died, some's been born, an'--any marriages?"
"Not ter speak of," Noah said, turning the cud in his cheek like a
ruminative cow. "Got a heiress among us now."
The explosion of this bombshell of news made but little impression upon
'Liphalet until Noah added:
"Doc Ambrose's sister--ye know, that little old maid, Susan--has fell
heir, they do say, to forty thousand dollars."
"By Hannah!" 'Liphalet ejaculated. "What's that you say, Noah?"
"Yes-sir-ree-sir!" declared the stage driver, slowly and with unction.
"Some female rel'tive, they say, livin' at a distance and who was
eternally opposed to this here new move for women votin'--what d'ye
call 'em, 'Liphalet? Sufferin'----"
"Suffragists?" barked the ex-steward.
"Yep. That's it. Wal, this old woman give all her fortune, they say, to
Susan Ambrose pervidin' she never votes. For-ty-thous-and-dol-lars!"
sighed Noah. "I've voted forty odd year, 'Liphalet, an' never picked
the winnin' side in nary 'lection yet. I wish't somebody had offered me
a fortune not to vote."
"Forty thousand dollars," murmured Eliphalet Truitt.
It was then the vision attending his homecoming had begun to fade.
'Liphalet thought of it now, after ten years of dragging time had
passed, and the contemplation of his disappointment was bitter indeed.
He had already at the time of his leaving the sea, bought the little
house beside the Mariner's Chapel. He had intended redecorating and
furnishing it anew throughout. Then he would speak his mind to Sue
Ambrose; for although 'Liphalet Truitt was a modest man, he was a
direct one, and he had reason to believe that Miss Sue would not say
him nay.
But an heiress with forty thousand dollars!
The blow, as 'Liphalet admitted now, almost "hove him on his beam ends."
"How could a fellow with his little tad of money," he asked himself,
"have the cheek to pop the question to Miss Sue? Why! every enduring
person, up and down the Cape, would say he was after her fortune. Worst
of all, the Doc's sister might herself think so!"
This withering shock to his hopes, however, did not altogether scuttle
the ex-steward. Miss Sue was quite as demurely friendly at his approach
as ever. Accession of great wealth had made little change it seemed in
her mode of life. She remained her busy brother's housekeeper. Merely
she wore silk instead of gingham and real lace instead of the product
of her own skillful needles.
On every hand the ex-steward was told of Miss Sue's fortune, for it was
delicious gossip. Miss Sue did not mention it herself. Forty thousand
dollars, compared with what he had invested and had on deposit in the
Paulmouth National Bank, was as a mountain to a molehill--or so it
seemed to Eliphalet Truitt.
So he had never spoken to Sue Ambrose in all these ten years as he
had desired to speak. She had gone her modest, kindly, charitable
way, making little display of her wealth--one of those sincere,
self-contained souls, the depths of whose hidden natures are not easily
fathomed.
'Liphalet had gradually fallen into the doldrums--a place of calms
and baffling airs. He had never refurnished the old house, or changed
its inner or outer appearance in any particular. For an old bachelor,
living alone, it was good enough!
His secret desire to be near Sue Ambrose led him to enter church work
with more enthusiasm than he otherwise might have done. Nor had this
fact grated on him until of late.
Aside from such interests, the ex-steward was a member of that "forum"
that gathered summer and winter around the stove in the Shell Road
store. He had been wont to join this group at Cap'n Abe's every week
day evening save prayer-meeting night. But as his pique against
Christmas and its activities grew, even the salt savor of the company
at the store became tasteless. Of late conversation when he was present
was apt to turn, he found, upon the coming holiday season. The winks
and smiles, the innuendoes, 'Liphalet considered, were all aimed at
him. There seemed to be an itch in the public mind to learn just what
he, Life Truitt, was going to buy to hang on the Chapel Christmas tree!
He had never chanced to notice it before this season, perhaps because
he had never been in so critical a mood; but all his neighbors seemed
to be slyly watching him, and with smiles, as though endeavoring
by insinuation and hypocrisy to recall themselves to his attention.
Nothing but his deep interest in Cap'n Jonah Hand's trouble would have
taken him to the store on this recent evening, the events of which were
last related.
And he was almost sorry he had done so. Cap'n Jonah had managed to roil
his feelings as deeply as anybody in speaking as he had of Miss Sue.
She was a great catch; 'Liphalet had lived ten years shaking in his
shoes, if the truth were known, for fear that some braver soul than he
would ask her for her hand.
She was at the bottom of all 'Liphalet's trouble--she and her fortune.
Every time he saw her, every time her name was mentioned, the barb was
sharpened in his soul. Jonah Hand might be brave enough to attempt to
marry Miss Sue and her money! But Life Truitt could not walk up to the
doctor's sister and ask her if she would have him. Here was the swift
stab of jealousy!
But he did pluck up courage the evening after meeting Sue at the
post-office to stuff his flute into his pocket and tramp over to the
Ambrose cottage. He had not sought music and Sue's companionship to
soothe his soul for a long time. There she was--he saw her through the
parted curtains of the parlor window--sitting at the melodeon, coaxing
the harmonies from the yellowed keys.
He stood near, with the first flakes of a snow squall falling upon him,
watching the graceful figure that was as harmonious in its surroundings
as were the notes pumped from the instrument. But after all, 'Liphalet
could not enter. A call in his present mood he felt would be a
profanation. Besides, there came into his sick mind again the thought
of how Sue, too, had sought to draw at his purse strings on this very
day for the Christmas entertainment. The devil of distrust said in his
ear:
"She's like the rest of 'em! She's like the rest of 'em!"
So he turned back. Sad indeed was the case of the once cheerful man
turned misanthrope. As he stubbed homeward through the crackling
snowflakes somebody he met on the road hailed him gayly:
"Been to town to do your Christmas shopping, Life?"
"No!" snarled the apostate Santa Claus. "And I ain't likely to make no
sech v'y'ge this weather."