ughed.

"You saved me," she said.

He endorsed the note, and they had one long, sweet embrace which still
lingers in their memory.

Of the Real Santa Claus

I.

CHRISTMAS EVE

Once upon a time it was Christmas eve in Vancouver, B.C., and the snow
was falling in large, soft flakes. The electric light plants were
beating their lives out in laborious heart-throbs, giving forth such
power that the streets and shop windows had the appearance of the
phantom scene of a fairy stage-play rather than a grim reality; they
were lighter than day. There was magic illumination from the sidewalk to
the very apex of the tallest sky-scraper. Being Christmas eve, the
streets were thronged with pleasure seekers, and eager, procrastinating,
Christmas gift maniacs. They were all happy, but they were temporarily
insane in the eagerness of their pursuit. They all had money, plenty of
it; and this was the time of year when it was quite in order to squander
it lavishly, carelessly, insanely--for, is it not more blessed to give
than to receive?

The habiliments of the hurrying throng were exuberant, extravagant and
ostentatious in the extreme. Everyone seemed to vie with every other,
with an envy akin to insanity, for the laurels in the fashion world, and
they were talking and laughing gaily, and some of them were singing
Christmas carols. They did not even seem to regret the soft wet snow
that was falling on their costly apparel and soaking them--they seemed
rather to enjoy it. Besides, they could go home at any time and change
and dry themselves--and, was it not Christmas, the one time of the year
when the whole world was happy and lavish? The persons of the ladies
were bathed in perfume, and the clothing of the gentlemen was spotless,
save where the large, white snowflakes clung for a moment before
vanishing into fairyland. Vancouver was certainly a city of luxury, a
city of ease, a city of wealth, and it was all on exhibition at this
time of approaching festival. Everyone was rich, and money was no
obstacle in the way of enjoyment.

But we have seen one side of the picture only. We have been looking in
the sunlight; let us peer into the shadows. There was a reverse side. A
girl of about thirteen years of age was standing at the corner of
Hastings and Granville offering matches for sale to the stony world. She
was bareheaded, thinly clad, shivering. Her clothing was tattered and
torn. Her shoes were several sizes too large,