Jim MortimerBell, R. S. Warren (Robert Stanley Warren)
General
Jim Mortimer
Bell, R. S. Warren (Robert Stanley Warren)
London (England) -- Fiction; Physicians -- Fiction
After this Mr Deadwood climbed into a cab and fell fast asleep. Edmund
Mildmay got in after him, and said it would be all right, he would "see
Deady home--merry Christmas everybody!" So they drove off amid the wild
hallooing of their fellow-students, who then chartered other cabs, and
drove off too, leaving Jim and the bearded man saying very nice things
to each other on the pavement. And so the evening ended in seasonable
fashion.
Christmas came on apace. Down at Threeways, Christmas was always kept
jovially, and Jim had been much in request everywhere. There were
skating and hockey, theatricals and dancing, and Jim had been the
central figure of all such activities and recreations. But, alas!
Threeways was now forbidden land to him.
Late in the afternoon of Christmas Eve, Jim sat by his surgery fire
smoking a solitary pipe. Paying Koko the twenty-five pounds had left
him with very light pockets, but he had bought a few presents. No. 9 was
now his home, so to speak, and he did not like to let Christmas pass
without recognising the fact in some way. So, earlier in the afternoon,
he had journeyed to Regent Street and wandered vaguely round a huge shop
which seemed to contain nothing else but what one would like to buy.
While waiting his turn, Mortimer found amusement in watching the crowd
of purchasers. Here was a boy hungrily eying a huge model yacht or
torpedo boat; there a girl, wistfully calculating whether she could
afford to give the price marked on the purse, or the letter-case, or the
inkstand she knew mother would _love_! Here were two sisters, holding a
whispered consultation; there a portly uncle, blandly making a big hole
in a ten-pound note for little nephews and nieces.
Christmas has not gone from us, although some soured folk say that this
sweet and holy season is not what it was. Christmas has certainly
conformed itself to the times, like everything else, but Christmas will
always be with us. Though there be no snow on the ground, no ice upon
the ponds, yet it will always be Christmas in our hearts.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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