JACK-IN-THE-BOX
Miss Terry rose and crossed two rooms to the front window, looking out upon
the street. A flare of light almost blinded her eyes. Every window opposite
her along the block, as far as she could see, was illuminated with a row of
lighted candles across the sash. The soft, unusual glow threw into relief
the pretty curtains and wreaths of green, and gave glimpses of cosy
interiors and flitting happy figures.
"What a waste of candles!" scolded Miss Terry. "Folks are growing terribly
extravagant."
The street was white with snow which had fallen a few hours earlier, piled
in drifts along the curb of the little-traveled terrace. But the sidewalks
were neatly shoveled and swept clean, as became the eminently respectable
part of the city where Miss Terry lived. A long flight of steps, with iron
railing at the side, led down from the front door, upon which a silver
plate had for generations in decorous flourishes announced the name of
Terry.
Miss Terry returned to the play box and drew out between thumb and finger
the topmost toy. It happened to be a wooden box, with a wire hasp for
fastening the cover. Half unconsciously she pressed the spring, and a
hideous Jack-in-the-box sprang out to confront her with a squeak, a leering
smile, and a red nose. Miss Terry eyed him with disfavor.
"I always did hate that thing," she said. "Tom was continually frightening
me with it, I remember." As if to be rid of unwelcome memories she shut her
mouth tight, even as she shut Jack back into his box, snapping the spring
into place. "This will do to begin with," she thought. She crossed to the
window, which she opened quickly, and tossed out the box, so that it fell
squarely in the middle of the sidewalk. Then closing the window and turning
down the lights in the room behind her, Miss Terry hid in the folds of the
curtain and watched to see what would happen to Jack.
The street was quiet. Few persons passed on either side. At last she spied
two little ragamuffins approaching. They seemed to be Jewish lads of the
newsboy class, and they eyed the display of candles appraisingly. The
smaller boy first caught sight of the box in the middle of the sidewalk.
"Hello! Wot's dis?" he grunted, making a dash upon it.
"Gee! Wot's up?" responded the other, who was instantly at his elbow.
"Gwan! Lemme look at it."
The smaller boy drew away and pressed the spring of the box eagerly.
_Ping!_ Out popped the Jack into his astonished face; whereupon he set up a
guffaw.
"Give it here!" commanded the bigger boy.
"Naw! You let it alone! It's mine!" asserted the other, edging away along
the curbstone. "I saw it first. You can't have it."
"Give it here. I saw it first myself. Hand it over, or I'll smash you!"
The bigger boy advanced threateningly.
"I won't!" the other whimpered, clasping the box tightly under his jacket.
He started to run, but the bigger fellow was too quick for him. He pounced
across the sidewalk, and soon the twain were struggling in the snowdrift,
pummeling one another with might and main.
"I told you so!" commented Miss Terry from behind the curtain. "Here's the
first show of the beautiful Christmas spirit that is supposed to be abroad.
Look at the little beasts fighting over something that neither of them
really wants!"
Just then Miss Terry spied a blue-coated figure leisurely approaching. At
the same moment an instinct seemed to warn the struggling urchins.
"Cop!" said a muffled voice from the pile of arms and legs, and in an
instant two black shadows were flitting down the street; but not before the
bigger boy had wrenched the box from the pocket of the little chap.
"So that is the end of experiment number one," quoth Miss Terry, smiling
grimly. "It happened just about as I expected. They will be fighting again
as soon as they are out of sight. They are Jews; but that doesn't make any
difference about the Christmas spirit. Now let's see what becomes of the
next experiment."