Uncle Noahs Christmas Inspiration | Page 2

always been a turkey at Christmas."
There was no suggestion in the darky's affable tones of the erratic
manner in which his heart was beating. "Yes, sah," he agreed, "ofttimes
mo' than one."
"Owing to circumstances understood by you and myself, but by ho one
else, there would be no turkey this year save that--"
"Y-e-e-s, sah?" Uncle Noah laid a wrinkled brown hand upon the
nearest chair for support.
"We have a live turkey in stock," ended the Colonel firmly, looking
squarely into the trembling negro's eyes.
Uncle Noah's heart gave a convulsive leap. The thunderbolt had fallen!
The fierce old turkey gobbler, solitary tenant of the crazy outbuildings,
the imperial tyrant upon whom Uncle Noah had bestowed the affection
of his loyal old heart, had been sentenced to death by the highest
earthly tribunal the old negro recognized.
"I'se--I'se afeard he'll be tough, Colonel Fairfax," he quavered.
"I--I--Gord-a-massy, Massa Dick, yoh wouldn't kill ol' Job? He's too
smart foh a bird an' he's done a most powahful sight o' runnin', sah; I
reckons he's mos' all muscle."
There was an agonized appeal in the darky's voice that cut straight to
the Colonel's heart. "Uncle Noah," he said kindly, "it can't be helped.
Job goes for the sake of--someone else."
"Ol' Missus?"
"Yes. Thank God, Uncle Noah," the Colonel laid a gentle hand on the
negro's shoulder, "that she doesn't know of our--er--financial
crisis"--his halting utterance showed how distasteful the words were to
him--"save, of course, that we must live with economy, as we have for
years. Of the catastrophe of last fall she is ignorant, and a Fairfax
Christmas without a turkey would--she must not know," he finished
abruptly.
The Colonel had spoken with a simple dignity and confidence that
brought the old negro back from the field of sentiment to the barren

desert of reality. Dimly in his mental chaos stood forth three pitiless
facts: "Ol' Missus" was grieving her heart out for the son with whom
the Colonel had quarreled three years before; of this money trouble
from which Colonel Fairfax had shielded her she must as yet know
nothing; and there was no turkey for the Christmas dinner. Verily
things looked dark for the ill-fated Job, roosting in unsuspecting
security in the desolate old barn. With bowed head the darky walked
slowly toward the door.
"Uncle Noah," the Colonel's tones were incisive, "you will kill Job
tonight."
"I mos' forgot, Massa Dick," faltered Uncle Noah, "dat supper's ready,
sah. Ol' Missus done come downstairs jus' foh I chases Job to roost.
Laws-a-massy, Massa Dick, can't he live till after supper?"
The Colonel nodded, carefully avoiding the old man's troubled eyes,
and went to join his wife at supper.
"Christmas Eve, my dear," he announced cheerfully as he bent to kiss
the sweet, wistful face that turned to greet him. "I beg your pardon for
keeping you waiting. Uncle Noah and I were discussing to-morrow's
turkey;" he gazed calmly at the old negro nervously handling the tea
things; "he has selected a large bird and I have been advising a
smaller."
The Colonel opened his napkin and deftly tucked the hole in the end
out of sight beneath the table. "Now, Uncle Noah, what is there to-night
for supper?"
To Uncle Noah this nightly question had become a sacred institution, a
stimulus to imaginative powers highly developed in his quaint
dialogues with the Colonel. He forgot the doomed Job. It was
Christmas Eve, and his creative gift took festive wings.
"Well, sah," he beamed, "we has a little chicken gumbo, some fried
chicken jus' the right golden brown, sah, creamed potatoes, hot biscuits
with currant jelly--er--sliced ham and baked potatoes."
Colonel Fairfax thoughtfully considered the appetizing prospect in
accordance with the rules of the game. What mattered it that the
luscious edibles existed only in the brain of the loyal old darky? The
little pretense gave to each a delightful thrill--surely an adequate
extenuation of the harmless diversion. As usual Colonel Fairfax found
the key to the situation in the closing items of Uncle Noah's list.

"It all sounds delicious, Uncle Noah," he observed graciously, "but I
have a touch of my old enemy the dyspepsia today. I think I shall have
sliced ham and baked potatoes. That, I think, will do for us both."
Mrs. Fairfax agreed, her kindly eyes fixed upon Uncle Noah's attentive
face.
"And, sah," Uncle Noah began--it was Christmas Eve and this game
must be perfectly played--"shall I attend to de distribution of gifts in de
negroes' quarters, sah?"
"Yes," agreed the Colonel, "see that no one is slighted!"
Mrs. Fairfax bowed her wistful face upon her hands to hide the
blinding tears, and an odd, uncomfortable silence fell upon the little
group.
At length the Colonel pushed his chair back and rose.