Golden Moments Part 16

Elsie goes home quite laden with "trackers" and toys for Alfy, and is far more pleased with these than with anything for herself.

But when she gets home a disappointment awaits her. Alfy is asleep, fast asleep, and must on no account be disturbed, for sleep is his best medicine.

"But I want so to give him these things," and Elsie clasps tightly her armful of treasures.

"You shall give them him to-morrow," Mother promises, and Elsie has to be content.

When to-morrow dawns, Elsie can hardly wait to be dressed, so anxious is she to go to Alfy and present the soldier doll and the rest of the things.

Nurse is so slow this morning, Elsie really cannot wait; and whilst Nurse turns to the drawer to pull out her clean frock, Elsie toddles quickly out of the nursery, and runs to Alfy's room. She can hardly reach the door, but manages somehow to stand on tip-toe and turn the handle.

"There, Alfy! See!" she cries gayly, as she runs up to his cot. "All these are for you!"

Alfy is better, and quite able to enjoy his presents, which are spread out on his white quilt, and Elsie stands by, quite satisfied with his pleasure.

"What have _you_ got?" he asks at last, as, somewhat tired, he leans back on his pillows.

"Nothing," says Elsie promptly, "'cause I have the fun of giving, you know."

A simple answer, but one in which a great truth is hidden.

Are there not, in these hard times, some children who might learn the "fun," or rather the blessing, of giving?

EASTERN TRAVEL.

On we file in a winding Caravan, Caravan made of children and chairs.

Bold Arabs are we, Adventurers free, The chairs are our Camels: dried figs are our wares.

Over the hot desert sands we are travelling, Travelling on to Cairo gates.

Rugs gathered in lumps Give our Camels their humps, And our supper is made of a few dried dates.

Sparingly must we drink of the waterskin, Waterskin made of a nursery jug.

For the water must last Till the desert is past We must measure it out in the doll's little mug.

Here's the Simoom, with the blast of a hurricane, Hurricane whirling the sand in drifts.

We must lie down beside Our Camels, and hide Till the storm blows past, and the darkness lifts.

Look! Yonder afar are Cairo's Minarets, Minarets glittering gold in the sun.

A few leagues more And our travels are o'er, And the journey of Camel and rider is done.

F. W. Home.

TEDDIE, THE HELPER.

"I'll give you two sovereigns for the five. It's a good price, but I mean it."

"I've told you I can't part with them," was Teddie Braham's reply to this offer of his schoolfellow, Gerald Keith, to buy his pet rabbits.

"What, sell little Stripe, and Pickles, and old Brownie, and Spot, and Longears! I should be very badly off before I should do such a thing."

"Perhaps you think I haven't got the money. See for yourself," and Gerald displayed three glittering sovereigns.

"Are they all yours?" Teddie asked in amazement.

"Yes. It was my birthday yesterday; mother and father each gave me one, and Uncle d.i.c.k the other. You've only to say the word and two of them are yours. You have such a lot of pets, you won't miss your rabbits."

But Teddie was not to be tempted. He shook his head, smiling a little scornfully. Almost instantly, however, the smile changed into a look of alarm. One of the coins slipped from its owner's hand, rolled along the pathway, and before either of the boys could stop it, fell down the grating of a drain. For a moment Gerald, too, looked pale; then he broke into a laugh.

"It can't be helped," he said, "and there's plenty more where that came from. The worst of it is, mother told me not to carry the money about with me; but she'll give me another sovereign quick enough if I ask her.

My father, you know, is one of the richest men about here."

He said it boastingly, and Teddy, having left his schoolfellow where the road branched off to their respective homes, went on his way, on that suns.h.i.+ny June afternoon, thinking, rather seriously, how pleasant it must be to be as rich as Gerald. True, he had a great deal to make him happy; but, though comfortably off, his parents were not rich, and Teddie's mind dwelt longingly on the pony, the beautiful little tricycle, and handsome gold watch, of which Gerald was the proud possessor.

On reaching home, Teddie went straight to the drawing-room to find his mother. But a visitor was with her, and he had to wait before he could ask her to put on her hat and go out in the garden with him. He took up a book and sat down quietly. In a few minutes, however, his attention was caught by the conversation between the two ladies.

Mrs. Taylor, the visitor, told a sad story of a working-man, who, in consequence of an accident, had been unable to earn a penny for several weeks. His wife was also in bad health, and she and her seven young children were in great distress. Mrs. Taylor was trying to collect some money to relieve the poor woman till her husband was again able to work, and she asked Mrs. Braham for a subscription. To Teddy's surprise, she answered,--

"I am sorry that I cannot help you in the matter."

"But the smallest sum will be acceptable," said Mrs. Taylor; "five s.h.i.+llings, or even half-a-crown."

"I cannot even give you half-a-crown," and Teddy's quick ears heard his mother's voice falter as she said the words.

"Then," said Mrs. Taylor coldly, "I suppose it is no good to ask you to give your usual yearly donation towards the summer treat for the Sunday-school children?"

"It pains me to refuse you, but I must."

An uncomfortable silence followed. Mrs. Taylor rose to go, but Mrs.

Braham motioned her to resume her seat.

"This must seem so strange to you," she said, "that I feel I must explain. My husband has had a sudden and very serious loss. He is now a comparatively poor man, and it would not be right for me to give, as I have hitherto been pleased and thankful to do."

Teddy could not bear to see tears in his mother's eyes. He went and stood by her side while Mrs. Taylor expressed her sympathy, and also her sorrow at having wounded Mrs. Braham's feelings. But Mrs. Braham said, with a smile, that no apology was needed; and then, having seen her visitor to the hall-door, she returned to the drawing-room, and took Teddie on her knee. He was eleven years old, but that was still his favorite seat. Very gently she put back the hair from his forehead and kissed him, and then suddenly she bent her head and burst into a fit of weeping. Wise Teddie only pressed his arms more closely round her neck, and said nothing till the tears began to stop. Then he whispered,--

"Won't you tell me all about it, mother?"

"Dear, this is the first real trouble you have known," she answered, "and I am so sorry that your young, happy life should be clouded. If we could keep the knowledge from you we would, but that is impossible."

Then she told him how his father had become surety for a friend, and explained that this meant a promise to pay a certain sum of money in place of the friend, if that friend should find himself unable to pay it. Mr. Braham had made a promise to pay a large amount on this condition, and it had fallen on him to fulfil his word.

"Is father _quite_ poor now?" Teddie asked; "as poor as the people who live in the cottages in the lane?"

"No, dear; but we shall have to be very careful. I shall send Mary away and keep only one servant. In order to remain in the house we must let some of our rooms, and this year, at any rate, there will be no holiday for us at the seaside."