"Too bad about the nativity scene Morgy," said the minister, talking through mouthfuls of sandwich.

"Yeah," said Maroney between slurps. "Billy Ray really got carried away this year. He may be my boss, but I don't see how a man like that got 'lected."

"There's something decent in everybody Morgy," said the pastor. "I know Billy Ray feels like he is doing what's right."

"Well pardon me, parson, but you know blamed well that THAT is some kind of sorry joke! Ain't no way he had to burn it! . . . with Mary and Joseph and even baby Jesus! Makin' a law about taking religion out of Christmas is bad enough, but burning baby Jesus? . . . come on preacher! It ain't right!"

"Got to admit," the pastor smiled, "Mebbe Billy went a little too far this time..."

The door to the cafe opened. A tall figure wrapped in burlap rags entered stamping the snow off his feet. The officer turned to the preacher and wrinkled his nose.

The tall man shifted up to the counter and sat on a stool. "Ok mister, what you want?" The counterman's voice was less than friendly.

"I do not have money," the man spoke barely above a whisper.

"Den you no eat here!" replied the counterman in slightly broken english.

"The man's hungry, Jimmy. Give him something to eat."

"Padre, this no charity joint. You don't pay, you don't eat!"

"I can work. I'll sweep your floor, mebbe wash some dishes?" his eyes met those of the counterman.

"No work here," said Jimmy with disgust, "you go now." The pastor stood and reached into his pocket, "hold it, I'll buy him something."

"No offense padre, but this man no eat here. I reserve right refuse service, and I no serve dirty, good-for- nothing boxcar gringo like this!"

"It's Christmas Eve, for chrissake!" Morganthal roared, "What's the matter with you, Jimmy?"

Jimmy looked flustered.

"It's all right . . . it's all right," said the stranger. "I don't want to cause trouble. It's ok. I'll leave."

With anger and hesitation the owner stared at the pastor and the policeman. Before any of them realized it, the man was gone.

The man behind the counter swore under his breath. To find something to do with himself and more to break the tension than because it needed emptying, he took the garbage pail and lumbered toward the back door. The doll caught his attention as he passed it. He had purchased it for his daughter. Over the years it's white gown had accumulated the dust and grime of the cafe. He grabbed it around one leg and took it with him. "I got enough troubles of my own without playing patron saint to gringo tramp," he muttered bitterly to himself.

Opening the back door he emptied the garbage into a large can. Still holding the doll by one leg he casually tossed it among the boxes of trash. His eyes glistened with hot, angry tears. Because of the tears perhaps, the smell of old burlap went unnoticed.