The Weber Literary Journal Christmas Sketch Barbara Sprague A YOUNG man, quite young, stood on the busiest corner of a very busy city. It was Christmas Eve but the young man's face did not betoken the fact. But no young man would have felt very pleasant if he had been standing on a corner for two hours, if his new car a pre-Christmas present had just been stolen and if he did not dare go home without it. And these were exactly Mr. James Kellard, Jr.'s circumstances, as he stood on the corner amid the whirling Christmas throng. Of course he had meditated several times on asking aid of the police and had also regretted several times his last escapade, which made this course inadvisable. So he stood on the corner and the sleety snow fell and melted on his cap and shoulders. Perhaps he had some vague idea that the car would return to the corner. Soon the throng of shoppers thinned out and went home with their holly wreaths and teddy bears. The rattle of pennies in the Salvation Army kettle grew less frequent. Suddenly Jim paused in the operation of shifting his position, to stare into the ray of light shed by the street arc. There, surely, coming around the corner was his car! That exact shade of flaming red adorned no other vehicle! He was about to hail it excitedly, when it slowed down and drew up to the curb. At the wheel was a girl. She seemed perfectly self-possessed, as she smiled and spoke. "Waiting for a car? I might pick you up and do the good Samaritan act, on Christmas Eve!" Jim, who was still standing on one foot, planted the other firmly down and was about to protest when she leaned over and opened the door. He muttered one admiring word, "Nerve!" and stepped helplessly in next to her. The engine hummed and they were off. He had to admire the way she steered through the network of vehicles and managed the high-powered car. He had not thought to mention 10 The Weber Literary Journal where he lived, but she seemed to be going in the right direction. She merely addressed trivial remarks to him which he answered by nods or "Yes" and "No." He was too busy wondering how she got the car and how surprised she would be if she knew he owned it. He passed his hands over the leather and he noted the familiar workings of the machine. Jim was entirely engrossed in his calculations and looked around with a start of surprise when they stopped at his own door. What would he do now? he wondered. What would he say to this girl who had the admirable nerve to steal his car and then take him riding in it? The girl herself solved the problem by getting out of the other door. For the first time she looked ill at ease. "I guess you wonder how I knew your house and how I got your car," she said, "Well, I just knew who you were and I guess I just took your car." The explanation seemed simple enough. "Go on," said Jim. "Go on? There's nothing more. That's all." "After leaving me to cool my heels for two hours on a street corner Christmas Eve too aren't you even going to tell me your name?" "Why, yes. I'll tell you my name," she answered frankly. "It's Davis Joyce Davis. You don't know me. I stay at the Y. W. C. A." "Oh! then your home isn't here?" Jim inquired. "No." Joyce looked away. "I haven't any home just now." "Oh!" Jim regretted his blunder. Then her loneliness, her youth and maybe the Christmas atmosphere made him say, "Please get in again and tell me all about it." She hesitated a moment, but finally did get in beside him, but not looking at him, she said: "There's not much to tell. I'm working here and I stay at the Y. W. It's Christmas Eve and all the girls were out to a dance, given by one of the patronesses. I didn't want to go. Other Christmases have been so different," she paused and bit her lips. "I saw your car on the street. I knew how to drive the car and it was just a daring streak in me that made me take it!" 11