Summary
In a snow-globe New England mansion that still smells of whale-oil and moral mildew, widower Jim Brockton—part Montaigne, part Saint Nick—presides over a fortune, a wolfhound named Lady, and a nephew shaped like every cautionary tale ever whispered by a governess. Donald, the golden-haired parasite, arrives each December to bleed his uncle dry, signing IOUs with a smirk and vanishing into Boston’s gas-lit cathouses. Yet Jim clings to the illusion of blood, the way a collector clings to a cracked Ming vase. One frost-bitten Yuletide, Donald’s cruelty graduates from wallet-larceny to bear-baiting: a ragged war veteran is tied to a lamppost, pelted with coins, jeered at by clubmen in opera hats. Jim, strolling past the mob, sees not a drunkard but a mirror; he carries the tramp home, swaddled in his own greatcoat, and installs him by the parlor fire like a rebuke in human form. Weeks later, three globe-trotting comrades—an Irish fiddler, a Japanese botanist, a Yoruba sailor—descend on the mansion, trailing jasmine and gunpowder, to toast their host’s improbable charity. They present Mary, a silhouette of rectitude in a world that still auctions wives like livestock. Jim marries her beneath chandeliers of ice, believing redemption can be contractual. Donald, returning for another orgy of gilt-edged nihilism, discovers that the bride once wore his fraternity pin; he corners her beneath mistletoe, whispering slander that stains her like port on lace. The tramp, now called Mr. Ward, eavesdrops from the stair, recognizes the cadence of his own past cowardice, and engineers a tableau: Donald caught flagrante with a cigarette-girl, photographs sold to a yellow rag, reputation shredded faster than ticker-tape. In the final shot, Ward walks into the blizzard, coat flapping like a torn flag, while Jim and Mary watch the nephew’s sleigh disappear toward Montreal, a black dot against the white moral canvas of winter.
Synopsis
Jim Brockton had three interests in life: His nephew, Donald: the Trinity, three friends of different nationalities, but united by their love for Jim; and a faithful dog named Lady. His affection for Donald, his nephew, was entirely misplaced, and that unworthy young man laughed at his uncle every time he got a check from him, and proceeded to spend it upon riotous living. Christmas came, and with it Donald, who immediately proceeded to call his club friends around him and have a good time. Jim naturally was hurt, but excused Donald on the ground that youth seeks youth. But when he discovered his nephew and a group of his friends bear-baiting a poor beggar even his faith got a shock, but he took the derelict home and into his household and his heart. The next day the three friends introduced Jim to Mary, an admirable woman, and a year from that date saw them married. When Donald came home for Christmas a situation arose which was fraught with great danger, for Donald had previously been engaged to Mary, and had been low enough to permit an action of his toward her to be sadly misconstrued, destroying her reputation. In an endeavor to compromise her again the ingrate brought about two events which came near to wrecking Donald's life, but the old derelict saved the situation and exposed Donald for what he was.
