III
’LIJAH
Twilight, December twilight in a great city, cold gray and dismal. Up town the dust collected in little ridges at the street corners, and whirled alike into the faces of rich and poor, on their way home from work. Down town the clerks in the big stores had gone out to their suppers, leaving the boys to light up and rearrange the disheveled counters for the final rush of evening customers. Around the markets and in the toy-shops, however, there was little rest. Crowds of tired, good-natured people staggered against each other and entangled themselves in all sorts of projecting bundles which they carried under their arms. Now and then a messenger or expressman would call out, “Clear the way there!” in rich, jovial tones, while he bore his armful of glistening, scarlet-dotted holly through the thickest of the crowd. Even the night wind, which came scurrying down from the northwest evidently bent on mischief, stopped a moment to rest among the boughs of the mimic evergreen forest of fir and spruce along the sidewalks, refreshed itself with their spicy fragrance, and stole away again, gentler than before. And when, of all the year, should eyes be brighter, hopes higher, voices merrier, even wind and winter air more mild than on this blessed night?—for it was Christmas Eve.
“B-r-r-r-r,” shivered ’Lijah, trying to pull down the ragged ends of his sleeves over his black wrist; “dis yere’s what I call right cold. Gwine to snow ’fore mo’nin’, for sho.’”
Plunging a small shovel into the tin pail he was carrying, the old man proceeded to scatter its contents, a sort of earthy gravel, along the slippery rails of the horse-car track.
“Hullo, ’Lijah!” called a passing driver, with one hand on his brake and the other holding a tight rein, “where you goin’ to-morrow?”
“Dunno; Merry Chris’mus!” returned the other, straightening his old back and waving a salute with his shovel.
One after another greeted him in much the same way, receiving the invariable “Merry Chris’mus,” given with a broad smile and a momentary gleam of white from eyes and teeth.
The pail was empty, and ’Lijah was about to leave the scene of his day’s work, when a strong, young voice called to him.
“Evening, ’Lijah. Wish you a Merry Christmas!”