Raising the
Limit
A Story of What Happened
on Christmas Eve
By Jeanne Olive Loizeaux
Copyright, 1910, by American Press
Association.
It was Christmas eve in a city. The
rich were preparing by the expendi
ture of hundreds, perhaps thousands,
of dollars to enjoy the festivities,
those In moderate circumstances piec
ing out what they did not have by
working with their own hands, the
poor alas, the poor going without the
joys others were blessed with, except
where the good Lord sent some benev
olent person to hunt them up and be
stow upon them a dinner or a few
toys for the children the children that
it would seem Christmas is especially
for.
The streets were crowded with be
lated purchasers, some buying decora
tions, some gifts of value, some a few
simple toys. The spirit of Christmas
was among them, within them. A" fa
ther had forgotten that he had prom
ised Jimmie a jackknife, a mother
that Lucy must have a set of dishes;
brothers and sisters remembered at
mi
"we'll stabt bquaee.''
the last moment some forgotten article
and were hurrying hither and thither
to supply the deficiency. There were
lovers who had but lately plighted
their troth carrying home gifts.
Big Jim could not escape the hurry,
the laughter, the package laden throng.
He hated the bedizened windows, 'the
greetings, even the strings of turkeys
and chickens in the market windows.
He hated Christmas time. And, worst
of all, he hated the woi'd home. And
"it was being rubbed In. "Why not let
bygones be? For two years he had
not even heard of his mother, and
then she had written that Mariana had
married John Foster. That was natu
ral, of course. John had stayed by his
Job, and John was not dependent on
cards mainly for a living.
Big Jim, with his hands in his pock
ets, fingered the roll of bills and the
loose money, over $300. He had been
lucky last night, but tonight, like as
not, Shorty or some one would get it
away from him. He turned down a
side street and cursed beneath his
breath as a little Italian with a basket
on his shoulder proffered him a small
plaster Christ. He thrust out his chin
and passed Charley's place, for he had
already reached his limit in drinks.
That chin kept him from passing his
get; limit ilL. anything. He. was no
weakling. He kept his word and was
bad by choice, not through lack of
will.
The very sleighbells jingled "home,"
and he hated to think of himself in
that connection. lie would have gone
to his boarding house, but no one,
save perhaps Shorty, who had de
serted his wife, would b there they
all had wives or kids or mothers or
some girl to make merry with, to be
kind to, if only once a year. Then into
the city clangor came the beat of a
drum and a singing and strumming
the Salvation Army. In their march
they stopped near him he could catch
the words of the high, coarse tenor:
"Come home! Come home!
"Why don't you all come home?"
The song finished, he caught words
of the -harangue begun by a' young
girl with a clear voice.
"Yes, come home! Come back to
your real selves! Quit your sin, your
fh'inkin' an' gamblin' an' be decent,
boys! It pays! It pays, girls! Go
home to your mothers! Sin ain't pleas
ure, an' it costs dear in tears an' hu
man misery! Come home!" He'slunli
away disgustedly. It seemed there was
no escape.
It was too early to play poker. Well,
he could go to the postoffice at least
for his mail. But here, too, was Christ
mas hurrying crowds, laughter. And,
escaping a bevy of young girls, he ran
into and nearly knocked over a shabby
old woman, sweet faced, wistful eyed,
with trembling mittened hands. 16
put her on her feet again almost ten
derly, apologizing, but she peered up
ir.to his face a kind face with good
ej'es in spite of all.
"I was waitin' for my girl," she b(
gan with the volubility of lonely age.
"I ain't heard from her In a year, my
Molly. She would be sure to come for
letters Christmas time, wouldn't she,
think? P'raps you know her, Mary
Shane?" she asked eagerly, not mind
Ing his shake of the head.' "She's pret
ty, is Molly, with big blue eyes an'
curly yellow hair, an' little, like a doll,
Do you s'pose somethln's happened
her? She might just forget to write
mightn't she? They said she hadn't
worked to the store for six months!
Do you s'pose she's dead?" The
cracked old voice was a mere whisper.
The young man's heart softened.
"I'll tell you," he answered, "I expect
she's all right married and safe, like
ly, being so pretty and good!" The
mother sna-bed gratefully at the
words. "Married an' safe, I reckon,"
she repeated. "An' so happy she's for
gettin' to write married an' safe! An'
good!"
"So j'ou go home," he advised. "You
will hear from her all right if you
wait. You'll get sick here." He left
her and at the door ran head-on into
Shorty. He was glad to see even
Shorty, although that worthy had "a
grouch on." The two went down the
street together and paused at an alley
where newsboys, with an eye out for
the police, were shooting craps.
"Their game's more fun than ours
and quicker," growled Shorty, "and
matching pennies is quicker yet and
even more intelligent. I'm tired of be
ing a fool. I've got $300 in the world
In this roll. I'll match pennies, two
out of three for it. Heads! What you
got?"
"Two hundred dollars. I'll go you!"
They stooped to the pavement and
matched. Big Jim's luck held. Silent
ly the other handed over the roll. Jim
laughed shortly.
, "I'll raise the limit in this 'gentle
men's game.' Two out of three the
winner to quit this life and be de
cent!" Shorty nodded. "Settle down
and earn a living an' get married to
night! An' go home an' behave!"
Again Shorty nodded, but he amended:
"The loser to end it all. He jerked
his thumb in the direction of the river.
Big Jim reached his hand, and the men
shook hands. Just then a policeman
sauntered past, importantly eying them.
The newsboys scattered. Then the two
stooped again in the electric light and
matched pennies on the pavement. It
was Jim's luck again. Shorty laugh
ed, a little enviously.
"You're a square sport, Jim. You'll
keep your word." Then he turned on
his heel toward the river.
Jim stood thinking awhile till a po
liceman passing bade him "move on."
Then he passed slowly "back toward the
main street. It had grown full evening,
and the crowd had thickened the last
night before Christmas. He was push
ed to the edge of the walk, where peo
ple had gathered thick as bees round
a fleeing queen. The drum was beat
ing the Salvation Army again! A few
men were laughing, all trying to see.
Jim shouldered his way to the front.
The soldiers had surrounded an over
dressed young girl and knelt about her.
Her cheeks were crimson with ex
citement. She had not yet got to
rouge. Her curling yellow hair ex
travagantly dressed was blowing in
the wind; tears rolled down her baby
ish face. She was very pretty and
little, like a doll.
He knew the girl. It was Babe
Shannon. He caught her eye, and she
crimsoned a deeper hue.
"Come to yourself! Come home!"
pleaded the soldiers. "Go back to
your mother! Be good! Nothing else
pays!" She nodded assent to them.
"I'll go home but let me out of
here now." They yielded reluctantly,
but the young man forced himself to
her and took her arm. She shook off
his touch like fire.
"It's you and your like have brought
me here," she flamed. "I've promised
to go home, and T can't. I ask you:
Can I? What chance would I have?
My mother" But he seized her arm
again and walked her rapidly away
from the curious crowd down a side
street, where it was quieter.
"Babe," he pleaded, "I'm not much,
I ain't fit, but if you'll marry me we'll
begin square. You give me a chance
and I'll give you one." She faced him
In astonishment and unbelief.
"My name ain't Babe; it's Molly.
What do you mean, talking about
getting married? A year ago just a
year ago if you'd said that it would
have saved me. Now"
"Now it will save both of us. I
mean it, Molly. You're a thousand
times too good for me. But marry me
and I'll . take you home and I'll stick
by you. You can tell your mother
you've been married a year. You
ought to have been, and we'll make it
true." Her eyes searched his face,
and he pushed back his hat to help
her, to give her a chance at his eyes
kind, steady eyes, too old for so young
a man, but still clear. The girl knew
she could trust them. Suddenly she
put her arm up before her face and
began to cry, but she nodded through
her tears.
"Marry me tonight," he said, "and
tomorrow I'll take you home. I'll wake
everybody and get a license, and I'll
take care of you. We've got $200 to
begin on. Come to the postoffice first."
He drew her along with him. Once in
side, she waited while he made out
and sent an order for $300 and mailed
It to Shorty's wife. Then with a smile
he turned to the girl, who made shift
to smile back at him. He took her
hand and, holding her close to his side,
again went out: upon the street. But
this time he was no slouching loiterer
he had a license to procure, a justice
of the peace or a preacher to find. And
then at the station they would buy
tickets for home; there would be time
to ask her where home might be.
As they swung past the corner the
squat, velvet voiced Italian from the
store in his basket offered the man a
small plaster image of the Christ
child. Big Jim tossed the man a dol
lajLimiL IffitJ&eJit;tle symfeoLof good
will to men into Molly Shane's willing
hand. Her Hps murmured a silent
prayer a prayer that they might be
good again, thnt she migl't be good.
She made si'.rnt vov ; of immaculate
wifehood. And she knew that, being
good, they wuu'.d find their happiness
together.
TIME L0S1
BY
WORKERS.
Sompulsory Vacations Cut Down Chi
cago Painters' Wages.
According to a report Issued by
ocal No. 194, Brotherhood of Painters,
Decorators and Papoihanj. ers of Chi
cago, G07 members lost in lime a total ,
of seventy-three years and ten months
BTin 1 11 O f . 1 Si 1 fill VI Tl CT lilt
Bix months between Jan. 1 and July
81, 1910.
This union, which is omposed of
nearly 2,000 members, is the first to
make an investigation of industrial
conditions among its members. The
policy was new, and inter, st was not
fully aroused among the membership,
so only G07 ra;;'.ies were received, and,
while but a portion of the membership
replied, the report is of importance in
showing trade conditions which con
front the painters and is likely to set
an example to other unions to gather
similar data. Such information will
be invaluable as the basis of remedial
legislation, as well as of trade union
administration.
The report showed that of the 607
members of No. 194 who reported
72.6 per cent are married. Of that
number 122 had no children depend
ent on them, while the remaining 319
had 736 dependent children. The aver
age age of the members reporting
was thirty-five years and five months.
Of the 607 only 17.7 per cent have
steady work. Eighty-two and three
tenths per cent have "compulsory va
cation" of eight weeks and three days
every six months, or more than four
months a year. Taking the rate of 55
cents an hour as the basis of compu
tation, the average weekly rate of
wages among the 607 was $17.29.
The report shows that the total time
lost by the G07 members reporting was
8,813 weeks, or seventy-three years
and ten months" time lost in the six
months covered by the report. If the
same average holds good it should
show a loss of 227 years in the same
six months as the time lost by the
entire membership of the local.
If such are the- conditions among
men strongly organized for an eight
hour day, with time and a half for
overtime and double time for holidays
and Saturday afternoons, the condi
tions existing among the unorganized
painters can the more easily be imag
ined. Bricklayers Strong In Texas.
The Texas state conference of brick
layers Is now composed of thirty -three
unions, with a membership of 2.500.
The wage scale for the entire state is
$6 a day.
A POTENT FORCE.; f
If the members of organized
labor had from the beginning
been true to themselves in' pur
chasing only goods bearing the
union label there would not be
many unfair employers today.
Just because many have been
remiss in this duty Is no reason
why they should always be so.
& The movement is now very large
T and powerful, and if all begiu
now to rightly use their1 pur-
T chasiufi power the conditions
surrounding the working 'class
'f can be almost revolutionized in
five years.
