CHAPTER XI.
A MAN OF BIG HEART AND QUEER NOTIONS.
Christmas was a big event at Hollyhill. Hollyhill was well named.Perhaps some old patriarch a century or two back conceived theinspiration of the name while playing Santa Claus with the little totsof the household and pretending to have slid down the chimney withoutgetting a speck of soot on his bulging vestments.
Perhaps he imagined, while mother woke the children and had them peekthrough a "crack in the door" at the white whiskered visitor stuffingtheir stockings full of presents, that he had tethered his prancingteam of reindeer to a holly tree outside. Certainly there seemed tohave been material for such imagination, for tradition said that thehill on which the first houses of the first settlement were built hadat one time been richly adorned with a species of American Ilex, andeven now there remained here and there carefully preserved remnants ofthat reported original wealth of the wilderness.
Whether or not this conjectural history of the settlement had anythingto do with the cheerful mid-winter holiday developments of thecommunity need not be argued at length. An argument would render thetruth flat and insipid if it should prove to be in accord with poetictradition. So what's the use?
In mid-winter everybody just knew that Hollyhill as a child had beennursed in the snow trimmed evergreen lap of Christmas. Not that thismunicipality had a corner on mid-winter holiday generosity to theexclusion of all other communities. The chief outstanding fact in thisrelation was that the inhabitants, or those so fortunate as to be in aposition to give and receive abundantly, believed Hollyhill to be themost generous Christmas town on earth, and there was nobodysufficiently interested to make a denial and follow it up with proof.
Much of the credit for this condition was due to the leading man ofthe place, Richard P. Stanlock, president and controlling power of theHollyhill Coal Mining company, which owned a string of mines in themountain district near the divisional line of two states. Besidesbeing the leading citizen, Mr. Stanlock was the "biggest" man in town,because of the position to which he had risen, his ability to hold it,and the influence that went with it. What he said usually went, buthis hand was not always evident. He liked to see things done,doubtless enjoyed the realization that his was the great moving powerthat produced results, but didn't give a fig to have anybody else knowit. To his intimate friends, who were few, and to the many with whomhe would pass the time of day, he was as common in word and manner asthe average householder with nothing more pretentious in life thanthe earning of his daily bread.
But in spite of all this simplicity and personal retirement Mr.Stanlock was a good deal of a mystery to many citizens who knew reallylittle about him. Or perhaps he was a mystery to these fellowtownsfolk because of his modest qualities. Knowing little about him,they imagined more. Leading citizens who knew his good qualities wereever ready with a word of praise for him. But the trouble was, theneeded tangible evidence of his broad philanthropy was utterlylacking. Seldom was there a visible connecting link between him and agood deed. And so the praise of his work in pulpit, press and otherpublic and semi-public places fell as platitudes before a considerablenumber of skeptics, whose favorite reply to this sort of thing wassomething like--
"Bunk."
But Marion knew that it wasn't "bunk." She was one of the fewconfidants that gained an intimate understanding of the wealthy mineowner's character. She knew that he was the secret financial backer ofan organization of settlement workers which kept close watch on theneeds of the miners and their families, many of whom were so woefullyignorant that about the only way to handle them was by appealing totheir appetites, their sympathies and their prejudices. She knew, too,that he had strong connections constantly at work fostering andpromoting the best of activities for advancement of the civic welfare,that Christmas was one of his secret hobbies and that it waspractically impossible for this city of 40,000 inhabitants to neglectthis opportunity for a revival of good fellowship and good cheer solong as her father had his hand on the electric key of publicgenerosity.
Christmas was a blaze of glory every year in Hollyhill. Public halls,churches, and theaters were the scenes of the liveliest activities forseveral days and nights before and after this biggest event of thewinter season. Nor was the celebration confined to the more prosperoussections of the town, but extended into the heart of the miningsettlement, where Christmas tinsel and lights were lavished withoutconsideration of cost and nobody was allowed to pass the seasonwithout being impressively reminded as to just what turkey roast andcranberry sauce tasted like.
So skilfully were these programs put into effect that seldom was ahint dropped from any source that Richard Perry Stanlock was entitledto the slightest credit for these magnificent doings. He spentChristmas at home in a quiet unassuming way amid the familydecorations of holly and mistletoe, and a vast litter of presents,oranges, apples, nuts, and candy.
Marion knew that her father's greatest vanity was his secret pride inhis ability to put over the biggest generosity of the year withoutits being traceable to him. One day a girl acquaintance of her askedher if she knew that her father spent $25,000 every year forChristmas. Marion laughed; later she laughingly reported the query toMr. Stanlock. Next day this girl friend's uncle, one of thephilanthropist's agents, was called in on the carpet and given alecture on the wisdom of guarding his remarks such as he had neverbefore dreamed of receiving.
"Papa," the millionaire's older daughter said to him one day; "don'tyou think it is foolish to keep secret all these generous things thatyou are doing?"
"Why do you think it is foolish, my dear?" he replied with anexpression of shrewd amusement. He was certain that she would havedifficulty in answering his question.
"Well," she began slowly, then admitted: "I don't know."
"I'm very glad you don't know," said her father with evidentsatisfaction. "If you had tried to give a reason, I should have beengreatly disappointed. No explanation of that suggestion could be basedon anything but family pride, which is one form of vanity."
"No," Marion differed thoughtfully. "There is one explanation based onhuman caution and wisdom. I am afraid that you are misunderstood bythe very people whose confidence you should seek to cultivate, that isthe miners. Some of them don't like you very well. They think thatyou personally are a hard taskmaster and that the attentions andrelief which really come from you in times of need, are bestowed onthem by persons who feel that they have to help them because of yourfailure to do the right thing by them. Why don't you, papa, go rightamong them and tell them that you are going to do everything you canfor them, raise their wages, maybe, and make them love youpersonally?"
"It isn't my nature, Marion, to do it that way," Mr. Stanlock replied."There is nothing in the world that would be so distasteful to me asassuming the role of a philanthropist or a hero. It spoils every manto some extent who tries it. Personal vanity is the greatest enemythat man has to guard against. I've guarded myself against it thus farsuccessfully, I think, and I'm not going to let it get me in thefuture if I can help it."
Marion felt like saying that her father's fear of vanity might someday get him into trouble with his men, but she refrained from soexpressing herself. On the occasion before us she recalled thatconversation, for she realized that the strike was a result, in part,of the very misunderstanding that she had anticipated. Several cleverleaders among the miners had spread the report about that Mr. Stanlockhad become immensely wealthy by overworking and underpaying his men,while he caused to be circulated through various channels numerousundetailed reports of his generosity, philanthropy and public spirit.
When she invited the members of Flamingo Camp Fire to be her guestsand work with her among the poor and hunger-suffering families of thestrikers she did not realize the seriousness of the situation withreference to the feeling of the miners toward her father. Now she feltthat the condition of affairs was more than she could cope with andfrom the day of her arrival home she was constantly in fear lest somedread catastrophe should befal
l the family because the "biggest man"in Hollyhill kept himself severely fortified against the adulation ofhis fellow townsmen and the character weakening influence of personalvanity.
* * * * *