{ title: 'Tupper Lake free press and Tupper Lake herald. (Tupper Lake, N.Y.) 1937-current, November 11, 1937, Page 13, Image 13', download_links: [ { link: 'http://www.loc.gov/rss/ndnp/ndnp.xml', label: 'application/rss+xml', meta: 'News about NYS Historic Newspapers - RSS Feed', }, { link: '/lccn/sn84031109/1937-11-11/ed-1/seq-13/png/', label: 'image/png', meta: '', }, { link: '/lccn/sn84031109/1937-11-11/ed-1/seq-13.pdf', label: 'application/pdf', meta: '', }, { link: '/lccn/sn84031109/1937-11-11/ed-1/seq-13/ocr.xml', label: 'application/xml', meta: '', }, { link: '/lccn/sn84031109/1937-11-11/ed-1/seq-13/ocr.txt', label: 'text/plain', meta: '', }, ] }
Image provided by: Northern NY Library Network
TOWN WEEKLY MAGAZINE SECTION \Don't you worry about my pallor, Gran, I'll get a beautiful winter tan in Bermuda,\ said Chloe sweetly. The beautifully told story of the awakening of Chloe Sargent to the true Christmas spirit of service to humanity—and the realization of a great love. CHLOE'S CHRISTMAS CAROL SYNOPSIS— Returning to her home town after three years in New York, Chloe Sargent goe« to a dance given in her honor. There she meets Scott Kelvin, the village doctor. While they dance ami reminisce about old school days she speaks of her contemplated southern cruise during \The silly season,\ as h<T friend Betty Pearsall rails the Christmas holidays. Scott reminds her of the real mean- ing of Christmas He leaves her with Philip Graham who guarantees to make her forget her \tiresome\ dance with Kel- vin. But Chloe says to herself, \I wonder?\ PART TWO THANKSGIVING DAY. in this sheltered southern climate, was little more than Indian Summer weather. Chloe had spent last Thanksgiving Day at the Pear- sails' country home in Con- necticut. A beautiful old house built nf great solid slabs of stone bnck in the early Seven- teen Hundreds anil \modern- ized\ by the IVarsalls, it proved to be a marvelous place for a Thanksgiving week-end party. There had been a heavy fall of snow the day before, and the lake had been frozen over for a week. There was even a fair- ly adequate ski slide at the back of the two hundred acre estate and here Betty's guests had spent the morning. Dinner had been served in the evening, of course. There had been thirty guests. It had all been very formal and very gay and Chloe had had a marvelous time with the PcwraUla. But this Thanksgiving Day waa to be completely different in every poulble way. She had been afraid of It, and the day before her worst fears had been confirmed when Aunt Jane had come bustling into her room about ten o'clock and had said reproachfully; \Not dressed yet ? You must hurry, darling, your father wants to stop at the mills for a little while to be sure the dis- tribution of turkeys goes through all right. And we want to reach Chinaberry Grove before dark, you know.\ \Oh.\ walled Chloe in frank distress. \Were NOT going to Gran's?\ Jane stiffened a little and her eyes chilled. \And why not, may I ask? What's so terrible about spend- ing Thanksgiving with a dear old lady who asks very little of you, her only granddaughter? I should think you'd be happy \ Chloe stood up and made a little defensive gesture. \O. K . Aunt .lane, let's not have a lecture I'll tumble into something and be with you In a minute-and-a-huff! ' Aunt Jane studied her for a moment, and then as If re- Btraining her comment with an effort, she turned on her heels and walked out, disapproval nnd annoyance.in every line ot her straight back. Chloe thought wigt fully of the fun they had had last year driving out to the I'earsall place. A dozen of them packed into Betty's car. Stopping for lunch at a funny old inn where they had served marvelous cocktaila and a Xlelidous lunch- eon to which they paid scant attention, as there was an an- cient phonograph with some scratchy records arul the floor was not bail for dancing. In memory nhe could ^)car the laughter, the gay voices Oh, it had been Kl'N! Hatty's, brothei Jim had tried to kiss her while they were dancing and Km! Duncan had cut in and he nnd .Inn bud all but fought over hei . She sighed us she got out of her pajamas and into a straight ilark wool frock She pulled on her absurd wcrap of felt that pretender! valinntly to be a hat, picked up her silver fox fur and went downstairs. Her father smiled almost nhyly at her. He had sent her away, an awkward young thing at the coltish age, all elbows and skinny knees and taffy-col- ored hair m a thick braid ^swinging down her thin back. She hnd come har^ to him a delightfully rounded, graceful young tiling with thr taffy col- ored hair .smartly- waved and tucked into n loll at the back of her well-poised head. She. was a stranger to him, this beautiful young daughter who WM beginning to look disturb- ingly like her lovely mother PEGGY DERN who\ had died when she eight. ^ Aunt Jane caught the look on her brothers face as he watched Chloe, and for^. a mo- ment she saw him with his smooth fitting ma«k down Saw the nuked heart hunger In his tired gray eyes, saw the pride and the tenderness that he felt for this young thing And Aunt Jane's eyes stung with sudden tears that she would not shed. She felt as if she could spank Chlo«' for her blindness that would not see and recognize her father's love Yet, perhaps, she reflected as they got Into the big sedan together, Chloo was not to blame after all. Her father had always been a trifle shy with her. When she had been growing up about the house, he had been fighting with every ounce of energy, every bit of brain, every scrap of himself to hold together and weld into one mighty business the inheritance of the Sargents. And now that the mills ran like perfectly balanced machinery, all one great beautifully fitted piece, he had no spot of con- tact, no ground of common in- terest on which he and Chloe might meet. They reached the mill village and drove through a line of people that stood pressed to- gether in front '\•Vif the double row of neat white houses, each exactly like its ncighlx:>r, each with its small plot of ground enclosed behind a heat white picket fence; yet registering the ^difference between itself and its neighbor in the things that filled that small plot of ground. There was old Mrs. Henderson'* neat little lot, with ill front yard crowded with flowers — verbena and nstera and zinnias and marigold* thrusting bright, clean facea through the picket fence, laugh- ing at the deep blue sky, th« golden sunshine, there was the Haaty'a front yard cluttered with all the wreck that three xmail active boys and an as- sortment of dogu can achieve. In short it \\ as the main street of a typical cotton-mill village which proved that even though each family occupied a> house exactly like his neighbor, iarh family was entirely differ- <nt sepaiate iin>l distinct per- sonalities. AH they icat-hod the great three storied red bi irk hmlding that housed the administration quarters as well as some of the machinery of the plant, they saw- ahead the dozen or more trucks piled high with dreswed turkeys, and before them the superintendtnt and his score or mine of helper* who would at- tend to the actual distribution. The sedan stopped and How- ell Sargent got out anil stood on the running board, facing the thousand or more employees of the mills who. with their families, filled the villace.- Howell looked out over their facea turned to bis Thi-re was a wnrm light in his gray ayes. A little smile touching his lips beneath the ncadv clipped graying mustai he His head, the hair grouinp thin and gray- ing, was bared to the faint warm breeze. '\Friends he said quietly, \we've gathered once more to celebrate our annual Turkey I>ay. ICJirre is little for me to s&JT*—- you've hoard it a g^*eat ninny times before. Hut 1 just u ant you to know oner a^ain how deeply I Mppifciate your loyalty during the past years L \\
