Dorothy rushed to the window and pulled up the blind. There, coming up the steps on his hands and knees was a wretched caricature of a man. He was hatless, coatless, collarless, tieless, and covered with snow. It was Harry. He opened the door and walked into the parlor, leaving a trail of wet snow behind him.
“Well?” he said defiantly.
“Harry,” she gasped, “can it be you?”
“Dorothy,” he said solemnly, “it is me.”
“What—what has happened?”
“Oh, nothing. I’ve just been giving away that twenty-five dollars.” And Harry sat down on the sofa.
“But Harry,” she faltered, “your eye is all swollen.”
“Oh, my eye? Let me see. Oh, that was on the twenty-second dollar. I had some difficulty with two gentlemen. However, we afterward struck up quite an acquaintance. I had some luck after that. I dropped two dollars in a blind beggar’s hat.”
“You have been all evening giving away that money?”
“My dear Dorothy, I have decidedly been all evening giving away that money.” He rose and brushed a lump of snow from his shoulder. “I really must be going now. I have two—er—friends outside waiting for me.” He walked towards the door.
“Two friends?”
“Why—a—they are the two gentlemen I had the difficulty with. They are coming home with me to spend Christmas. They are really nice fellows, though they might seem a trifle rough at first.”
Dorothy drew a quick breath. For a minute no one spoke. Then he took her in his arms.
“Dearest,” she whispered, “you did this all for me.”
A minute later he sprang down the steps, and arm in arm with his friends, walked off in the darkness.
“Good night, Dorothy,” he called back, “and a Merry Christmas!”
Published in Newman News magazine (Christmas 1912).
