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 "WADDIE;" 
 
 A CHRISTMAS 
 STORY. 
 
 BY 
 
 FIDELE H. HOLLAND 
 
 (MRS. BILLINGS.} 
 
 SOLD FOR THE BENEFIT 
 OF THE 
 "DUFFIELD FLOWER MISSION. 
 
 II 
 
 Hamilton : 
 Times Printing Co. 
 1898. 
 
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 *T^HI5 little story is published as 
 '■' much to call attention to a beau- 
 tiful and deserving charity as to make 
 money for its benefit. 
 
 The Author. 
 
1 
 
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 "WADDIE." 
 
 T was near the close of an autumn day 
 on the prairies. Along the lonely trail 
 leading southward four Indians made 
 their way, their figures silhouetted sharply against 
 the glory of the suiiset. The leader, a tall, dig- 
 nified looking brave, rode a thin, wiry pony, 
 which seemed far too small to carry his weight ; 
 after him came the family pack-horse which 
 carried the belongings, Indian fashion, on two 
 long poles which trailed on the ground behind 
 it, being fastened one on either side of the animal 
 by throngs made of deer-hide. On these poles a 
 heterogeneous collection of articles were fastened, 
 among them blankets, tepee poles, skins, cooking 
 
vessels, and dried meat, while in the midst of them 
 sat a small white child, whose auburn hair and 
 hazel eyes contrasted strangely with the dusky 
 company she was in. An Indian boy was mount- 
 ed on the pack-horse, and before him was a well 
 grown papoose; following came two squaws, patient- 
 ly trudging in the steps of the horses which bore 
 their superiors, who preceded them with fitting 
 dignity. Like a living panorama the little party 
 passed along, then, turning ofif the trail at a point 
 where several dry alkali pools lay, like scars on the 
 bosom of the prairie, headed their silent procession 
 towards the foot-hills in the distance, and were lost 
 in the gathering darkness of the autumn evening. 
 
 1 
 
 •X- 
 
 ifr 
 
 * 
 
 Morning came, bright and clear ; a solitary horse- 
 man passed along the trail, urging his already jaded 
 horse to extra speed by voice and whip, stopping 
 now and then to cast his eyes over the lonely 
 prairie, or to inspect the trail for foot-prints and 
 the marks of horses' hoofs, which ever and anon, 
 
 6 
 
1 
 
 showing in the soft soil, encour ^ed him to proceed ; 
 at last these ceased entirely, and with them the 
 lonely horseman's hope of finding what he had* 
 pursued with such speed, what he sought so earn- 
 estly ; dismounting he patted his jaded beast which 
 had borne him faithfully and well for many wear\ 
 miles, and laying his head on the creature's shagg/ 
 mane, wept like a child. A man shedding tears is 
 a pitiful sight at any time, but pen cannot describe 
 the pathos of that solitary figure on the lonely 
 prairie with only his dumb friend and the blue sky 
 above to witness his misery. He was an old white- 
 haired man, this wanderer from the haunts of 
 man — old and well stricken in years — though still 
 the possessor of keen bright eyes and an erect 
 figure. 
 
 "My baby! My Nellie's baby!" he cried. 
 " My God ! If I but knew that you are dead ! My 
 little girl ! My darling ! How can we go back to 
 her, Bonnie, "—this to the horse which rubbed its 
 head affectionately against him, as if in sympathy — 
 **and tell her that we cannot find the baby? O 
 
 7 
 
God ! This is too hard to bear, Bonnie." Mount- 
 ing his horse slowly, the old man turned north- 
 ward over the trail he had come, and was soon lost 
 to sight in the vastness of the great silent land. 
 
 * 
 
 * 
 
 Rex Tresdall stood at the door of his dug-out 
 kicking the snow off his boots after a visit to his 
 cattle-sheds close by. It was a bitter cold day in 
 December, but the air was so pure and clear that 
 it seemed much warmer than it really was, and the 
 sun shone brightly on the unbroken whiteness of 
 snow, which covered the prairie like a shroud as 
 far as the eye could reach. Not that the eye 
 wished to dwell on it long, for beautiful and daz- 
 zling though it was, too delayed observance of its 
 shining, seemingly endless glitter was fatal to 
 human sight, as many a poor victim to snow blind- 
 ness can testify ; so Rex turned towards the dug-out 
 to rest his eyes from the glare and having knocked 
 the snow from his boots, opened the door of his 
 humble domicile ; a thud, thud behind him caused 
 
 8 
 
 ^ 
 
him to turn quickly, and to his astonishment he 
 saw an Indian on horseback approaching. An 
 Indian on the move was an unusual sight at this 
 season of the year, for they had all settled in 
 their winter quarters weeks before, so Rex closed 
 the door again, and shading his eyes with his hand, 
 watched the approaching brave with some curiosity, 
 assured that some unusual occurrence must be 
 accountable for his appearance. When about ten 
 ^ ^ , feet from the dug-out, the Indian paused in his 
 
 wild career, reining up his horse until it fell back 
 on its haunches, to stand erect an instant later, 
 still as a statue ; while its rider reconnoitered ; then 
 with a bound, at his command, the beast sprang 
 forward and stood a trembling, quivering thing 
 close by the astonished ranchman. With an "Ugh !" 
 which sounded almost like a curse the brave lifted 
 what appeared to be a bundle of blankets from the 
 pommel of his saddle, and leaning over deposited it 
 at the ranchman's feet. Then with a swerve and a 
 leap, before Rex had time to recover sufficiently 
 from his astonishment to demur at the unceremon- 
 
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 ious gift, the horse bounded away, and in an incredi- 
 bly short time, he and his rider were but a speck on 
 the dazzling breast of the boundless prairie. In- 
 dulging in some mild profanity, Rex stood gazing 
 down on the bundle, and was about to spurn it 
 with his foot, when it moved, and a piping voice 
 proceeded from its none too clean folds, a voice 
 which said : " Et me out, bad Indin ! Et Wad- 
 die out ! " 
 
 Rex promptly proceeded to obey orders, although 
 he was not the person addressed, but he first carried 
 the squirming, protesting bundle into his dug-out 
 as a precaution against the thirty degrees below 
 zero which his thermometer recorded. Wonder of 
 wonders ! A pretty white child rewarded his in- 
 spection of the bundle, which was carefully tied 
 with leather thongs — a child with auburn hair and 
 hazel eyes, which regarded him with astonishment 
 and approval. 
 
 "Bad Indin all gone. Waddie don't wike 
 Indin." 
 
 " Where the deuce did you come from ? " asked 
 
 lO 
 
 H 
 
 # 
 
 
1 
 
 41 
 
 Rex, as he stood with his arms akimbo, looking 
 down in a dazed fashion at his acquisition. 
 
 To this question the child made no reply— her 
 lips quivered, her beautiful eyes filled with tears ; 
 looking up at the kindly face of the ranchman she 
 said with a sob : " Waddie wants Mamma ! " Now 
 Kex was a man who stood six feet high in his shoe- 
 less feet, and he was broad-shouldered in proportion. 
 He had been hardened by prairie life and the com- 
 pany of rough men; he was judged by those with 
 whom he came in contact to be quite devoid of 
 those feelings and sentiments supposed to be left 
 behind when a man deserts civilized communities 
 and commences a struggle for existence in the wild, 
 unsettled territories of the far Northwest, bi.t 
 something in the little pleading face, in the pathet- 
 ic voice, was " open sesame " to the feelings which 
 had but laid dormant for years. There was a famil- 
 iarity, too, in the face; it conjured up a memory of 
 a tearful face uplifted to his in the old by-gone days 
 he had tried to forget ; it affected him strongly. 
 Down on his knees went the big fellow, andgather- 
 
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 ing the child to his breast kissed her again and 
 again, whispering meanwhile soft consoling speeches 
 in his own rough way. 
 
 " Big Indin nezzer tiss poor Waddie," remarked 
 the small creature when the embrace was over. 
 "Big Indin nezzer dib Waddie a bass, nezzer 
 comb Waddie's culls. You wass Waddie's poor 
 face and comb culls, big man." 
 
 When Graham — Rex's factotum — came into the 
 room some time after, he stood transfixed at the 
 door in dumb amazement, for there was the '* Boss " 
 down on his knees combing the auburn locks of a 
 very small girl, w^ho was scolding vociferously as 
 each tangle was carefully undone by the inexper- 
 ienced barber's clumsy fingers. 
 
 " Ef I ever ! " ejaculated the factotum with an 
 oath. "Whar did s/ie cum from? No wonder 
 you was'nt out after ther jumper. I had the roan 
 mare harnessed fur the last hour. Reckoned you'd 
 froze ter death. Gosh ! Ain't she a bute though ! " 
 
 "This is my little girl, Grame; she fell from the 
 sky, or rather from a Sioux saddle," replied Rex, 
 
 • 
 
 ^ 
 
 12 
 
• 
 
 1 
 
 still proceeding with his hair- dressing operations. 
 
 " Waddie tay wiz big man. Waddie woves 'oo.» 
 So saying the child reached up her pretty face and 
 kissed him. Rex blushed like a girl. Grame 
 clapped his hands and guffawed loudly. 
 
 " Aha ! Alius reckoned you'd be a terror with 
 ther girls. Say, Httle un, ain't yer got a kiss for 
 me ? " 
 
 Waddie hid her face in her new friend's coat. 
 "No, no, Waddie fighted, don't want to tiss 'oo.'^ 
 " Then he shan't kiss yon; wait until you are 
 better acquainted, Grame," said Rex, soothingly. 
 
 " Aye, aye ! One ud think you'd brung up a 
 baker's dozen. Boss, ter see you with that ere kid," 
 grunted Grame. *' Who owns her, anyways ? Say 
 Boss," as a sudden thought struck him, " that there 
 mounted perlice who stopped here more'n a month 
 past left word that them blamed Injins hed took 
 a kid from Aspinwell's ranch, 'cross ther foot-hills 
 yonder. Say, now, could that there be it ? " 
 
 " But that is more than six weeks ago ; he said 
 the child was stolen in October. I had a long 
 
 13 
 
-....-,.-- j-i>9ipaHfipp«ipi 
 
 'r'laf^fSPi?*"^'^ 
 
 talk with him. A child could hardly live all that 
 time with those dirty beggars. She's pretty clean, 
 too." 
 
 " You bet all samee, that air ther kid. I seen 
 ther describement of her on er paper ther perlice 
 hed. Three year ole, light complected. Say, 
 Boss, you air in luck, there's a big reeward fur her." 
 
 Rex made no reply, but bent over his charge 
 and fondled her. A wild wish came into his mind 
 that she would not prove to be the child lost fiom 
 the ranch across* the foot-hills, that he might keep 
 her himself, this little girl with her sunny face and 
 auburn curls, this three year old waif of the lonely 
 prairies. Her voice aroused him from his reverie : 
 
 "Waddie so seepy, big man. Waddie want to 
 go by-lo." 
 
 Rex lifted her up gently and carried her over to 
 his bunk on the opposite side of the one room in 
 his scarcely palatial dwelling, and laid her down on 
 the rough coverings ; she shut her eyes, and mur- 
 muring something about " big man," fell sound 
 asleep. Rex eyed her admiringly ; Grame watched 
 
 14 
 
 • 
 
 » 
 
t 
 
 him curiously while this ceremony was taking place, 
 then asked : 
 
 " Say, war'nt yer neber married, Boss ? " 
 " Never," replied Rex, decidedly. 
 " Well, all I kin say is, youh a puppah wasted, 
 clean wasted. Yer kerried that ere kid same as 
 its own mother wud a kerried hur." 
 
 Rex paid no attention to his factotem's compli- 
 mentary remarks ; he was carefully examining the 
 little sleeper's clothes. 
 
 Some of the garments the child had worn at 
 home had evidently been removed and replaced 
 by those worn by Indian children, as the little bead- 
 embroidered cloth trousers and tiny blanket vest 
 indicated, her shoes had given place to mocassins, 
 and a torn piece of what had once been a bright 
 hued blanket was fastened tightly around her 
 shoulders, over the faded blue frock, relic of a 
 mother's handiwork ; the child had been warmly 
 clothed by her captors, in their own primitive 
 fashion. At last Rex, looking up at Grame, said : 
 " See here, you are right, look ! " Grame ex- 
 
 15 
 
amined the little petcicoat the child wore, and there 
 saw what Rex drew his attention to ; soiled though 
 the garment was, he read plainly marked in ink, 
 * Gladys Aspinwell.' 
 
 " Sure enough, you are right, man, i\ is the child 
 the police searched for for weeks ; they said they 
 had been through every camp and tepee for miles 
 around." 
 
 " Aye, aye ! " replied Grame, " but they can't 
 ketch them devils nappin.' Reckon they dropped 
 ther kid now 'cause it got too hot fur them." 
 
 "Well, its the Aspinwell lost baby sure. Say 
 Grame ! " Rex caught hold of the astonished fac- 
 totem, and nearly shook the breath out of him. 
 " Day after to-morrow is Ciiristmas da5^ By 
 George, I'd nearly forgotten it. We will take her 
 home then. Won't they be wild with joy ! What 
 a present it will be. We will give them a surprise." 
 
 Grame looked up into the Boss's face ; Rex had 
 never seen him look that way before; a change 
 had come over the old man's countenance. ** Say 
 Boss," he said softly, you ain't hed no kids, so 
 
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t 
 
 you can't know how they'd feel. Nigh on thirty 
 year ago I lost a little un like that ere — she died. 
 Nigh on thirty year ago " — he added (as if to him- 
 self), ** yet oftimes now I kinder think I kin hear 
 her voice, and the trot of her little feet near me, 
 when I'm mindin' them dum critters er yourn on 
 ther prairie. Mebbe its fancy ; Aye, Aye, mabye, 
 but I kin never forget my little girlie I lost so long 
 ago. " Grame turned on his heel with a sigh which 
 sounded like a sob, and left the room quickly. 
 Then there came into Rex's mind part of a text he 
 had learned at his mother's knee. " A little child 
 shall lead them. " Yes, indeed, this little child who 
 had come so unexpectedly to his prairie home had 
 led old Grame, whom everybody thought to be so 
 hard and unfeeling, to show the soft side of his 
 warped nature, and Rex ruminated as he stroked 
 the hair he had so laboriously combed a few 
 minutes before ; she had led him. Rex, to remem- 
 ber Christmas — the Christmas he had so nearly 
 forgotten — the Christmas he had promised some- 
 one to keep — a someone who now slept peacefully 
 
 17 
 

 ,.?! 
 \*'i 
 
 
 4 
 
 under the yews in the old English Churchyard so 
 far away !— A someone who had loved him as none 
 other ever would love him— his mother. 
 
 " God bless you, little one," he whispered softly 
 to the sleeping child. " You shall go home in time 
 for Christmas morning. " Then in a vauge way he 
 set to wondering how long a time it was since he 
 had said " God bless you ! " to any one. Years of 
 prairie life— lonely isolated life in the company of 
 cowboys and half-breeds, had made Rex Tresdell 
 forget many things ere this little sleeping child 
 proved the key to his memory, and set him think- 
 ing of the times at home, long, long ago. 
 
 * 
 
 * 
 
 Christmas morning at Aspinwell ranch, far out 
 on the prarire beyond the foothills ; clear, cold, 
 bright snow, sparkling like diamonds wherever the 
 eye could reach. A typical Christmas in the great 
 lonely land. But the day of days brought sorrow 
 to the lonely party of two at the ranch. It re- 
 minded them of a little child who was missing, who 
 
 i8 
 
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 had looked forward for weeks before she was taken 
 from them, to the wonderful box expected from 
 the east, which Santa Claus had promised to send. 
 Alas ! The box had come, but where was little 
 Gladys, their pet and pride ? 
 
 Kneeling by her father's side, her face buried in 
 his lap, the stricken mother wept bitterly, and the 
 old, white-haired man, he who had gone so many 
 miles in fruitless pursuit of the Indians whom he 
 fancied might have stolen the child that Autumn 
 morning, stroked her hair fondly and tried with 
 broken voice to console her. 
 
 " We may yet find her, dear," he said, tenderly. 
 *' All the police are notified : the reward, too, may 
 stir up the country." 
 
 *' No, never, never. She was all I had but you, 
 father. She is dead, I know my darling is dead." 
 
 Neither of the two noticed that the door opened 
 softly, and that a tall stranger, carrying what ap- 
 peared to be a buffalo skin rolled in a bundle, 
 entered and tiptoed noiselessly to a wide settee near 
 the window — for Aspinwell ranch was a well-to-do 
 
 19 
 
11 
 
 
 r-r; 
 
 Station, and possessed comforts unusual in the 
 Northwest— and unrolled the skin carefully ; then 
 coughing to attract the attention of the two mourn- 
 ers, who looked up astonished at his presence, he 
 took a step towards them, and pointing to the 
 bundle he had unrolled, said nervously : 
 "Please accept a Christmas Box, lady." 
 The woman rose to her feet and stared at him, 
 then with a hysterical laugh, she said : " 
 
 ** We are not in the humor for Christmas gifts 
 here, Sir, my father and I. But, but— I know 
 
 Rex took the hand she extended and led her to 
 the bed. 
 
 '* Nellie,^' he said, his voice broken with emotion, 
 '' to think that / should have brought you back 
 your baby." 
 
 There was a scream, a cry of joy, and Eleanor 
 Aspinwell held her lost child to her breast. 
 
 " So strange. Rex, my boy, that you should have 
 brought back Nellie's baby to her. I did not recog- 
 nise you for a few moments. Its ten long years 
 
 20 
 
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 since Nellie and I la:,t saw you, remember, and five 
 years since she married that scamp Aspinwell/' 
 said Nellie's father, when some of the excitement 
 had abated. 
 
 " And he ? " queried Rex anxiously. 
 
 '* Was killed in a drunken row at Regina just 
 after little * Waddie,' as she calls herself, was born, 
 three years ago. We came here after that and 
 have lived here ever since, but we had no idea that 
 you were so near us. I often think things v/ould 
 have turned out differently if you had not gone 
 away, Rex, but of course after your mother's death, 
 it was the best thing you could do. Aspinwell 
 told Nellie that you were dead, and professed to 
 knov/ all the particulars, but we heard several years 
 ago that it was not true, that you were still living." 
 
 " So that v/as why I never heard from Nellie 
 after I left California," said Rex meditatively. " I 
 could not make it out." He could have added 
 that the suspicion of his old sweetheart's perfidy 
 had made him choose the lonely life on the ranch 
 
 21 
 
that he had led for years. <' I wrote twice, but re- 
 ceived no answer." 
 
 '' Why we must have left England. We have 
 been in Canada for seven years or more. You and 
 Nellie must talk it over. She has often spoken of 
 you, Rex." 
 
 Rex looked longingly towards the settee, where 
 any amount of petting and kissing was taking place. 
 Somehow he realized all of a sudden what a lonely 
 life he had been leading all these years, and what 
 love and happiness he had missed in his voluntary 
 exile. He walked over to the settee. " Well, Miss 
 Waddie," he said gaily, -youVe forgotten me 
 already ; I'm very jealous. For the last few days 
 you have lavished all your love and affection on 
 me." 
 
 '' Oh dear wuvly big man," said the child, throw- 
 ing her arms round Rex's neck, thereby nearly 
 precipitating herself from her mother's arms and 
 bringing two blushing faces very close together, 
 " I do wuv you." Then kissing the bronzed cheek 
 again and again, she looked at her mother and 
 
 22 
 
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".'il^-TiwT^'^"' 
 
 ^'■.TTT;'.r5r'*i':«'-rt~" ■■ 
 
 
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 said, as she patted her cheek gently, '• Oo tan tiss 
 Waddie's big man too, Mamma." Nellie looked 
 down. Rex regarded her quisically, then putting 
 his hand under her chin, raised her blushing face 
 and kissed her right on the lips. *' For Waddie's 
 sake and old times sake, too, Nellie," he whispered 
 softly. "Not entirely to please Waddie." 
 
 The Christmas sun shone in through the window 
 in a blaze of light. The grandfather sat regarding 
 the tableau before him with astonishment. What 
 he thought is not recorded, but may be easily 
 imagined. He boasted afterwards that he made a 
 prophecy which was fulfilled inside of three months. 
 ♦ ******* * 
 
 " Waddie " is a name of the past now ; Gladys 
 suits the little girl who calls a tall, fine fellow who 
 measures over six feet in height " Daddy " much 
 better. Yet strange to say she is always " Waddie " 
 to this " Daddy " who loves her so fondly, although 
 her mother often tells him that ** Waddie " is a 
 most undignified name for a tall young lady of 
 seven. 
 
 23 
 
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 '■^m^^mmis^sms^MIMA- 
 
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 TII6 Dead Bafty's Message. 
 
 A CHRISTHAS ETCHING. 
 
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 THE DEAD BABY'S MESSAGE. 
 
 A CHRISTMAS ETCHINQ. 
 
 " Where did you come from, baby dear ? 
 Out of the nowhere into here. " 
 
 T is a real old-fashioned Christmas Eve — 
 snow, sleigh bells, cold, clear weather, 
 all complete. Everyone seems happy, 
 too happy to notice a pale woman in deep mourn- 
 ing who walks slowly down the street, jostled and 
 elbowed by the merry pedestrians intent on Christ- 
 mas shopping. 
 
 What wonder if her heart is sad, her thoughts 
 bitter ? What to her is Christmas Eve, with its 
 Santa Claus, its toys, its rejoicing ? Her arms are 
 empty, her heart has a vacant shrine, where but a 
 few months ago a little presence dwelt. On, on 
 she walks through the crowded streets, avoiding the 
 
 27 
 
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 stores with their windows full of toys, dolls and 
 sweet-meats ; then, turning into a quieter thorough- 
 fare, pauses irresolutely at the entrance of a large 
 hospital. Yes, she will go in— she will go in and 
 see people more unhappy than herself. 
 
 Past cot after cot, dry-eyed, with set lips she 
 passes, but pauses at one which has a very small 
 occupant. So tiny, so blue-eyed, so smiling. 
 " Nobody's child," the nurse who has followed her 
 says gently. Then the heart of the childless woman 
 rebels within her. " Nobody's baby " ? Who would 
 have cared if // had died ? Yet her baby, her blue- 
 eyed beautiful boy has been taken from her. She 
 almost hates the little waif as she gazes down upon 
 it with questioning eyes. This baby, uncared for, 
 deserted, alone in the world. But the baby smiles 
 at her — was there ever anything so beautiful as a 
 baby's smile? The tiny thing is warm and com- 
 fortable, well-fed and petted ; it never knew what 
 warmth and comfort, good food and petting was 
 before, although this is its birthday, the first anni- 
 versary of its entrance into a world where no love 
 
 28 
 
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 had awaited it. So tiny, so blue-eyed, so smiling. 
 Without a word the woman turns away. 
 
 An hour later someone is standing by a little 
 snow-covered grave in the cemetery. She wonders 
 how she ever dreaded the thought of the beautiful 
 snow blanket over the little mound. It is so white, 
 so peaceful, so pure, so like the little soul that flew 
 back to the " Nowhere " from whence it came. 
 She stoops down and measures the depth of the 
 snowy covering with her fingers — something is 
 there ; she feels a little blade and digs the snow 
 carefully away. A week of warm days, just passed, 
 has tempted a crocus to take a peep at the sun. 
 There it is, its little bud waiting under the friendly 
 blanket to unfold its purple petals. ** Is it a mes- 
 sage ? O ! is it a message from you, my blessed 
 baby ? " she cries. It may be that she hears an 
 answer? How do we know? Mother love is 
 strong and God is merciful. Her burden of sor- 
 
 row seems lighter as she leaves the snow-decked 
 home of the dead. 
 
 " Nobody's baby " has a home ; it is somebody's 
 
baby now. The cot in the hospital where it laid 
 and cooed its appreciation of warmth, and comfort, 
 and notice, is empty. Far away in the great 
 " Nowhere," safe in angels' keeping, a child spirit 
 waits and watches. Its message has been heeded, 
 the message sent by the little crocus hidden under 
 the snow blanket. One woman is saved from sor- 
 row and despair by the magic of a baby's smile. 
 As the snow blanket shelters and protects the 
 crocus on the little grave, so will she love and pro- 
 tect the little waif. This is mother's love interpre- 
 tation of the dead baby's message. 
 
 FIDELE H. HOLLAND. 
 
 30 
 
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