primary object is to help. Why, I know a man who has just secured a good position, with a concern that was rather strongly prejudiced against the deaf, too, largely as the result of his application alone-and that application used liberally the splendid arguments of Miss Estelle É. Samuelson's paper, 'Ears and the Job,' published in the VOLTA REVIEW some months ago."

"I must look that up," said Miss Shannon.

"I was quoting it quite liberally to a friend of mine, by letter, in writing of the brighter side of deafness, and I still remember his comment: 'Almost,' he wrote, 'thou consolest me for having too much bony substance where the aural activities. ought to activate!'"

Miss Shannon laughed merrily.

"Mr. Martin told me he could scarcely believe you were deaf-especially as you could use the telephone. But he said your offer to work one month free in order to demonstrate your ability to fill the position or create the position-left him helpless. He didn't know how to refuse you! But, then," she added, ingenuously, "your appearance must have impressed him, too."

"One thing at least," Lestelle grinned, "my clothes should have helped the impression they may not make a man, but they certainly help and I had spent almost my last cent preparing for the interview with Mr. Martin. Why, I couldn't have taken more pains if I had been on my way to make a proposal to the young lady of my choice."

"Proposal!" she exclaimed. "I'd like to know what you know about proposals Why you never even go out with a girl. Don't you like them at all?"

He grinned:

"The time I've lost in wooing,
In watching and pursuing

The light that lies

In women's eyes,

Has been my heart's undoing."

he quoted. "Oh, I like 'em all right. It isn't that at all, but since I've been deafwell, going around with a girl-suppose she should learn to-to care. Oh, I know that sounds terribly egotistical, but I mean "

"You should be ashamed of yourself." cried Miss Shannon, indignantly. "Do

you suppose for one minute that your deafness would make any difference to a real girl? If a girl really cared—why, a physical handicap would only draw her closer to you."

"That's pretty good theory," he agreed, rather slowly. "I'd like to believe that it is practical, too. But I don't know. Years ago I might have agreed with you. But as one grows older and looks about him, he begins to realize what a physical handicap, like deafness, might mean to-to another. We can bear our own burdens -but asking another to share themthat's another thing entirely."

"If you knew your psychology a little better," she said gently, "I think you would understand that, as I've said, sharing a burden frequently, in fact almost always, draws people more closely together. It is the fact that she is needed that means true happiness to almost any woman. Don't you see that?"

"Oh, I'd like to believe it," he said. "Don't think that there are not times when-" he stopped abruptly and looked at his watch. "We must hurry," he said "The time has passed rapidly-and you are such a delightful little comrade, too."

Miss Shannon flushed with pleasure at the compliment, and watched with unseeing eyes as he made his way toward the cashier's desk with the check. In silence they walked back to the office.

"How about this evening?" he asked suddenly, as they left the elevator and started toward their rooms. "Suppose we continue the celebration with a trip to the movies?"

"Why, I'd be delighted-" began Miss Shannon, and then remembered. "Oh, I forgot-I'm sorry, but I promised Mr. Fenton to go to the Belasco with him this evening. I—"

Fenton was Martin's assistant, a clever, handsome youngster about Miss Shannon's age.

"Oh, it's all right," declared Lestelle with a pathetic attempt at enthusiasm. "We can go to the movies any time."

Without waiting for a reply, Lestelle turned and went toward his office. Miss Shannon started as though to follow him -then stopped. What was there to doto say? And then Fenton came along. So, when Lestelle turned at his office door

to look back at her, he saw them standing there together.

"Yes," he muttered, grimly, "I've just about as much chance as a man with a wooden leg in a forest fire!"

It was perhaps half an hour later that Watson, the shipping clerk, burst into Lestelle's office.

"Jim! Jim!" he cried, "they're taking Miss Shannon to the hospital. She's quite badly hurt-"

"Miss Shannon-hospital-hurt?" interrupted Lestelle, coming to his feet feet with a bound. "Here," he picked up a pad of paper and a pencil and handed them to Watson, "write it-I must get this quickly. What's the matter?"

"Miss Shannon," Watson wrote, hurriedly, "fell in some way and cut herself on the edge of a steel case. Artery is cut, I think. They've taken her to the Emergency hospital—”

"Emergency hospital," cried Lestelle, and grabbing his coat he disappeared, hatless, through the doorway. Watson looked after him sympathetically. All the employees liked Lestelle immensely and resented the advantage that Fenton apparently had in the contest for Miss Shannon's favor.

At the hospital Lestelle found Miss Shannon on the operating table, unconscious. The surgeon and his attendant looked serious.

"Is-is she dead?" gasped Lestelle. The attendant recognized him, and picking up a tablet wrote hastily: "She's just unconscious artery-losing too — much blood-transfusion is only thing to save her now-we're trying to get someone-"

"Take me," interrupted Lestelle, throwing off his coat and vest and beginning to roll up his sleeve.

The surgeon looked at him.

"He's all right," put in the attendant. "I know him and he is as fine as they come-clean-cut man, excellent habits!"

"Well," hesitated the surgeon. Then, "Oh, we'll take him. There's no time to lose. Get ready!"

Lestelle took up the pad and scribbled a brief note.

"Give this to Mr. Martin when he comes over," he said. "It will explain matters. If I'm left a little weak, please

send me to Providence hospital. I don't want her to know-understand?"

The surgeon and his assistant nodded. The moments dragged by slowly. "All right," said the surgeon, at last. "She's out of danger, I think, but— good Lord! he's fainted!"

Lestelle had somehow grasped the fact that the operation was over and his tensed will had relaxed. He was carried to a cot in the next room.

"I don't understand why it should have affected him so," said the surgeon. "He isn't a big man, of course, but still he looks pretty husky. There is something curious about this-he evidently could not afford to lose so much blood. I should have looked him over more carefully, but time was short-and we've saved her."

Fifteen minutes later Martin had Lestelle's note and was condemning bitterly every surgeon in North America. He called up the hospital.

"Who performed that transfusion operation this afternoon?" he asked. "Dr. Boylen-I'll call him," said the telephone operator.

"Boylen?" asked Martin presently. "Yes-this is Boylen. What is it. please?"

"This is Martin Martin of Dixon and Matthews. They tell me you performed that blood transfusion operation this afternoon using Lestelle. Couldn't you see he was in no condition to make such a sacrifice? Why man, it's only three weeks since he came out of the hospital himself had an operation to remove an obstruction in his nose that someone thought might be responsible for his impaired hearing. He lost too much blood then to afford any other drain this soon.”

"Yes, yes. I have guessed something of the sort," said Boylen. "But we had to hurry so to save her life-and he was so insistent that I went ahead without making as careful an observation as I should have under normal conditions." "I'm coming over," said Martin. When he reached the hospital, Dr. Boylen soon explained the situation to him. He mentioned, too, that Lestelle had asked to be taken to another hospital, if it was found necessary to detain him. "He said he didn't want the young lady to know."

"I can understand that," said Martin. "It is just like Jim. Look at this note he sent me."

it.

Dr. Boylen took the note and opened

"Dear Martin:" it read, "Miss Shannon has been seriously hurt and a blood transfusion operation seems to be the only hope for her. They haven't been able to secure a subject and so I am offering myself, and believe I will get through all right. I know what sort of a chance I am taking, however, so do not blame the hospital authorities if anything does happen. It's a chance-but she is worth it, as you well know."

"That's the kind of a man Jim is," commented Martin, warmly. "And think of it, that fool girl has passed him by for that fashion-plate assistant of mine, Fenton-you know him?"

"My assistant does he has told me about him, and Lestelle," said the doctor. "Well, you never can tell what a woman will do," he added, sagely.

"Anyway, it can't be helped now," said Martin. "We'll get Jim over to Providence hospital tomorrow. Take good

care of Miss Shannon-and send all the bills to us-understand?"

The physician nodded.

It was Christmas morning when Miss Shannon finally returned to her boardinghouse. Lestelle was still at the hospital, too weak to be moved, and, in fact, so seriously ill that his life was despaired of. "You certainly look well well again, Honey," declared Aunt Mary, who met her at the door.

"Oh, I'm practically as well as ever," said Miss Shannon. “I have been for two weeks, but Mr. Martin and the doctors urged me to stay at the hospital longerand not bother you."

"No, Mr. Jim isn't here now."

"Mr. Martin told me that he had been on a field trip," said Miss Shannon, disappointment in her voice, "but I was sure he'd be home today. I don't understand him at all," she added, impatiently. "Why, he never even wrote to me the whole time I was in the hospital!"

"To tell you the honest truth, Honey," said Aunt Mary, "Mr. Jim hasn't been on any field trip at all-he's in the hospital hisself."

"In the hospital! Is he sick! What is the matter with him?"

"He's he's just kinder weak," said Aunt Mary.

"Where is he-what hospital?" demanded Miss Shannon.

"Providence."

"Well, I'm going right over there—yes, right now-just as soon as I can get a taxicab." And Miss Shannon started for the telephone.

Within half an hour she was at the hospital, and being shown into Lestelle's room. She was startled at his appearance.

"Oh--you're you've been terribly ill, haven't you!" she cried, tears springing to her eyes. "And I never knew a thing about it and I thought-I-" she broke down utterly.

"Don't mind," he said, gently, patting her hand weakly. "I guess I've been pretty sick. But you-why you are all right again, aren't you?"

"Oh, I'm perfectly well," she said, "but you

-you-"

"Please don't mind so much," he said. "I'll be all right again soon-and even if I'm not-why, maybe, that will be better still. Who knows?" He gave a wan smile.

Then the attendant came and beckoned her from the room. It seemed that vis

"Well," said Miss Shannon, "I just made up my mind that I wasn't going to let Christmas day pass without being here -and so I came right over the first thing this morning. I wanted to surprise you all-that's why I didn't let you know in advance."

"We're mighty glad to have you here, Miss Betty," said Aunt Mary.

"But Mr. Lestelle-surely he will be home for Christmas. Is he here now?"

very short time.

"He's terribly ill, isn't he?" she asked the attendant.

"Yes," he replied, with the indifference of one whom serious illness and death are every-day occurrences. "I'm afraid that there is not very much hope."

"You mean you mean-" she cried, startled, "you mean that he may-die? Oh, you can't mean that !"

"Yes," he said. "It is very likely that he will die at least unless something

happens to give him a little more interest in life. He is entirely too indifferent as it is and he needs most of all the wish to live."

"But what is the trouble-and when did he come here-how long?"

"Oh, it was a foolhardy stunt on his part early in October. He gave his blood in a transfusion operation to save some girl over at the Emergency. It appears that he was only just recovering from an operation himself-and so really could not afford the loss of any more blood. But the surgeon was in a hurry—quick work was essential to save the girl's life and so Lestelle's offer was accepted, he being the only subject available.”

"I understand-it was just like him," she murmured brokenly.

"He saved the girl's life all right," declared the attendant. "But since then he has been hovering on the brink of things -principally, as I say, because he doesn't seem to care particularly whether he lives or not."

"Do you know who the girl was?" asked Miss Shannon, a light of understanding breaking upon her.

"One of the girls over at Dixon and Matthews, where he worked," answered the attendant. "The pathetic thing, too, is that they say she had jilted him for some other man over there. He certainly repaid good for evil with a vengeance. I

do not remember her name."

"Jilted him!" Miss Shannon winced. "It was Mr. Martin, of Dixon and Matthews, who brought Lestelle over here, and who is looking after him," added the attendant. "Have you known him long?"

"Yes," said Miss Shannon, with perfect sincerity. "I have known him a very long time."

It was exactly nine months and a half! She walked slowly from the hospital. "Some girl from Dixon and Matthews," she repeated. Jilted him! She stopped and looked around for a public telephone.

"Main 1193," she called. "Hello! I wish to speak to Mr. Martin. Mr. Martin? This is Miss Shannon speaking. Yes, I'm all right--you know very well that I have been all right for the past two weeks. But--but I've just found out about Mr. Lestelle--and I've just been to the hospital-Oh, Mr. Martin. it's dreadful-why did you let him do it? He-"

"Boylen, who performed the operation, sent me a note Jim had given him. In the note Jim said that he knew the risk he was taking, but that he did it gladly that you were worth it. Don't you see the kind of man Jim is? Betty Shannon, how could you prefer a fashion-plate like Fenton to Jim, and-"

"But Mr. Fenton is nothing to me," protested Miss Shannon, angrily. "Of course we are good friends, and all that, but I think more of Jim-of Mr. Lestelle -than I do of a million Fentons. Why-"

"Then it is Tim after all!" cried the delighted Martin. "I might have known you had too much sense to but, then, Jim's so darned sensitive I suppose he never said anything or gave you a chance to-and he is the very finest man that---"

"Don't you suppose I know that," interrupted Miss Shannon in a tone that seemed to imply that Martin was in some way responsible for everything that had happened. "Why, I owe him everything -even my life-yes, that is perfectly true, though you do not know it. Why, I'd love him if-"

"Don't tell me!" howled the outraged advertising manager. "Go right back to the hospital and tell Jim. Why, confound you, Betty Shannon, that's just what he needs to give him an interest in life--to pull him through. It will be the most. wonderful Christmas gift he ever had. Blast your confounded pride-and his, too. Both of you should be-"

Click!

"Hello! Hello!" called Martin. There was no answer. Miss Shannon was on her way back to the hospital.

"And that," said Mrs. James Lestelle, reminiscently, "is the way in which Jim received what he terms his greatest Christmas gift.

"Correct," agreed her husband. "And, boy," addressing James, Jr., who sat, listening enraptured at his mother's knee, "don't let anvone ever tell you there isn't a Santa Claus. There is-I know.”

To CO ONE and all a Merry Christmas! The clubs and leagues are buzzing with preparations for Christmas fairs. The shop windows are filled with bright suggestions for the holiday. Nimble fingers are fashioning gifts of love and friendship. It is the sacred season of the birth of Christ. May His spirit rest upon you!

The Friendly Corner is hung with branches of pine and brightened by sprays of mistletoe and holly. There is a wreath with a big red bow in the window. A cheery fire crackles in the fireplace and before it hangs a row of empty stockings. Over in the Corner stands a Christmas tree-in bloom-but as yet there are no gifts upon it. What would you like to find that would mean more to you than anything else in the world on that tree or in your stocking? What is your greatest wish-your "Great Desire?"

I have had the pleasure of visiting the Wright Oral School for the Deaf in New York since I talked with you last. I arrived at a most inopportune time, the first day of school! Dr. LaCrosse, the associate principal, received me and I was taken rapidly from one room to another so as not to disturb the classes, and then I was left for a fifteen-minute period to observe a pupil in voice instruction. We saw the very little ones learning their numbers with wooden beads on a wire frame. They were so proud to be able to show me "five" and "nine" and "eleven." We watched a class of four seated at a table set as though for breakfast. They were becoming familiar with

the articles on the table, sugar, milk, salt,

pepper.

One would say, "Please pass me the sugar, John. Thank you." Their manners were perfect.

The

If the child has the slightest remnant of hearing, it is trained and developed as far as possible. The teachers recognize the fact that speech is improved far more through the use of the ears than it can ever be through the eyes alone. sound that is heard can be imitated in speech much better than the movement that is seen. The combination of hearing and lip-reading makes the child alert and responsive. He can understand readily when spoken to and reply intelligently. I saw no use of manual signs and no exaggerated lip-movements either by the teachers or, more remarkable, among the pupils. Before I left I had a pleasant talk with Mr. John Wright. He spoke of his recent trip abroad and his interest in the foreign schools for the deaf. He told me something more of his correspondence course for mothers of little deaf children. He explained how it prepared a child for entering school at an early age, without any serious set-back, such as a deaf child so often meets. Then he showed me the pictures on his office walls of the deaf children who have graduated from his schools. They were of all ages. Some had signed their names in childish script; some wore the styles of thirty years ago; some showed a remarkable change in intelligence and animation between earlier and later photographs. There were several good pictures of Helen Keller, who was once a student at that school. Mr. Wright told me of an amusing incident that happened one day. A woman, who