A DAILY MESSAGE

Hokitika Guardian, 21 June 1929, Page 1

A DAILY MESSAGE

THE GREEN BAIZE DOOR

It is only a pawnshop—though “ Old Curiosity Shop ” is a more romantic name.

J have passed it a hundred times, and never had time to stay; but something held me to-day. . 1 looked in at the little green baize door marked “ Pledge Department ” the door through which tho great company of unhappy men and women have passed, to pledge ifor a few shillings—or a few pounds—their poor treasures, the gifts of happier and better days. And, as I stood there, some master hand drew hack the curtain of the past, and, lo! by some strange magic 1 saw them all.

Round the corner swiftly—her old black coat held tightly round hercame a mother with a watch to pawn. It was her last and greatest treasure —her dead'husband’s watch. How he valued it! “It’s a good one,” she muttered, as she went inside. “1 wonder what he will lend me on it? 1 hope 1 shall be able to get it back some day, for the sake of dad. It’s hard to part with it—very—hut, all! tho money! I must get the money for the boy.”

“Can I get five pounds on it?” she asks. “ No!” “Then four pounds?” “No! Two pounds; that’s all.” “ It’s not enough, really, hut—yes, I’ll take it ” —and swiftly she turns the corner and is gone. Then comes a tall proud man—a soldier, surely. How he shrinks from it! How much easier to “go over the cop ” than to cross that doorstep and pass through that green baize door. He passes the shop with his head turned the other way, for fear those fellows may notice. Perhaps he is not goiny in at'all. Oil, yes, he is; but lie walks back and forth, and then, when nobody is looking, lie hurries over the threshold.

What is he pledging? All! surely not! Yes, his medals; everything else of value is already there. He looks at the seven shillings . . . And for this pittance ho has pledged his one priceless" possession ; he knows that they arc gone for ever.

You see, he and fate have been having a grim fight, and lie knows he is the loser; this last deal is better. . . And for all his effort, the tall figure is not quite so upright .as he passes out of the little baize door.

And that little woman with the three children —surely not her. . . Yes, she 100. How bravely she faces up, .for father is out of work, and the children must have food. She hasn’t many treasures now; but she still has her greatest one. It must go—her wedding ring. OH - course she’ll get it hack when father gets work. She does not hesitate or wait about to notice who secs her going in, her pioblem is so pressing. There’s Ned and Boh, and Baby. “ Five shillings! Is that all? I must get it back some day—they say it’s unlucky—hut I don’t let ’em see I enre.”

And then the curtain of the past was drawn again, and 1 was standing in a city street, in front of a little pawnshop with its green baize door and its window full of unredeemed treasures. And, as 1 looked, my eyes fell on the medals left by the proud soldier—yes, surely they were his. So he never got them out—those medals which were the emblems of his honour as a soldier. It was a matter of seven shillings, and he never had that amount to spare.

And is that her wedding-ring—the poor little mother’s? Oh! hut there are many L see. One, two, three, four —ten. twenty. Perhaps one of these was hers.

Oh! the stories that could he written around that little green baize door. The next time you see it, do not look upon it with contempt and scorn. Remember that the Ifeet of sorrowing thousands have entered there, and their sorrow has made it Holy Ground. Next time you pass that little pawnshop window‘look in at the emblems of human tragedy, the unredeemed pledge of sorrowful men, and ask yourself what treasures you have left in life’s pawnshop which, you have never redeemed. _M. PRESTON STANLEY.