"What you want?" he stammered. When he had recovered his composure he said gruffly, "I said, no handouts!"

"I never asked for a handout," replied the stranger. "I would like to help you if I can."

"Hah!" the cafe owner laughed cynically, "What can you do to help? I told you, no work here."

"Why did you throw the doll away?" the man asked gently.

"What difference it make to you?" This with contempt. Then the man paused, looking intently at the tall stranger. There was something quite compelling about this unkempt man and if you were to ask the store owner, he would not be able explain why he said, "It was for my daughter. I come to this country twelve years ago when she was a little girl, not eight years old. I took job in this cafe. I could not send doll to her. I don't know where she is. My name is Jiminez. People here not pronounce my name, so they call me Jimmy. The man who own store my friend. He died and left it to me.

"Generous of him."

"I never able to save enough money to bring my little girl to this country. The people here . . . very poor. Cafe never prosper . . ."

It was nearing midnight. Mayor Billy Ray Poteat was making a speech. Unusual for him, he stammered a bit, "I . . . uh, I hereby light this here town's Christmas tree." With that his hand reached for the handle of the gray switch nailed to a post. The lights of the tree blossomed into brilliant colors. At that instant the telephone rang inside the cafe.

The owner started to walk away thinking that whoever it was could call back tomorrow.

"Answer it!" It was a command. Jiminez started to ignore this unkempt man and then he realized that he couldn't. It took him a moment to fumble with the keys, but finally he opened the door and took the receiver from its cradle.