LITTLE OLD LADY'

Sun (Auckland), Volume IV, Issue 946, 12 April 1930, Page 31

LITTLE OLD LADY'

A Story of an Empty Chair

The Little Old Lady sat beside the I lire listening fox* the footsteps of her ; grandchildren. On the other side of the hearth there was an empty chair, and the house was very quiet, for the Little Old Lady lived all alone. She had not always lived alone. In the long ago she had listened foi* the footsteps of her own children, and Someone had smiled at her from the other chair. “The children are late." she said, and leaned back in her chair and < losed her eyes. Suddenly she heard a tiny voice singing a gay song. Opening her eyes she saw, perched on the arm of the chair opposite her, a little sprite in green, with curly golden hair tumbling about her shoulders. The Little Old Lady rubbed her eyes and looked again. “No, you’re not dreaming.” said the green mite. “Don’t you remember me?” “Why, no,” faltered the Little Old Lady; for although she knew many people* and some fairies, too. she did not remember ever having seen this one before. “I am the Song you sang on a rainy day as you went about your work,” said the sprite. “You thought you were alone, but I was there. I am the Spirit of Music. I live in people’s hearts and keep them young. One day I caught the notes of your song and carried them to a room darker than yours and into the heavy heart of a Little Girl. Your song made her happy, and she now sends back to you that happiness of long ago. But I am not the only sprite who lives because of you.” “No?” inquired the Little Old Lady wonderingly. “Oh, dear no,” said Music, laughing; and her laugh was like the sound of the fairy bells that tinkled around Peter Pan's house in the treetops. “Oh, no indeed, there are many of us. Already I can hear the voices of others outside the door, eagerly begging to come in. Will you welcome them, one by one?” “Oh, yes,” said the Little Old Lady happily; and she leaned forward in her chair so that the firelight shone on her face, showing her dear kind eyes, the faint pink in her cheeks, and the “smiley” wrinkles (which are the nicest kind to have). Spirit of Music stood up in her chair, stretched her arms toward the door and called, “Come in, Dears, come in! Our Little <old Lady wants to see you.” Then the door opened just a crack, and in walked a very round Little Boy dressed in green, and holding something in each hand which he jingled proudly as he walked. “Oh, who are you?” said the Little Old Lady eagerly. “I’m the bright new yonny you dropped into the very cold hand of the Little Newsboy.” “Oh, are you?” said the Little Old Lady. “But what have you in your hands, and why do you walk so proudly?” “When last you saw me,” said Penny in a very important manner, “I was just one little penny, but I’ve doubled and doubled until now I’m ever so many more pennies. In fact I’m only a part—there are plenty more of me a t home. I’m Good Deed number one.” And patting his chest, he sat down on the footstool.

.IB!. I .' “ re fbere others waiting outside. cried the Kittle Old I^idy "Vos, indeed." said Music. Then ah. called, “Come in. come in.” Two dainty, wee sprites slipped in through the door and danced gallabout the room. They looked like rosebuds fresh from Granny's garden. When the dance was over they knelt before the Little Old Lady. “Oh, you loviies. who are you? she asked. Don't you remember?” asked the Liixk Rosebud. “In a crowded street t n a hot day last summer a Little C.irl ran up and asked you for sometiling ?” Asked mo for something?” repeated ♦he Little Old Lady, in a puzzled tone. ‘ Oh, yes, she wanted one of my rose> and I gave her some.” W ell, we are the rosebuds you gave her. ’ cried the Little Yellow Rose. “I can’t believe it,” said the Little Old Lady to herself. A faint tapping was heard at the door, and turning, she saw a strange little creature enter. “Are you a Good Deed?” she said laughing. “You look just like a piece of pie.” “I am a piece of pie,” giggled Pie. “But I'm not an ordinary piece of pie. I’m the piece of pie you gave to the boy who was sweeping the snow from your steps the other day. “Don’t you remember me? You thought he ate me, but he didn’t.” She shook her head and eald. “Strange sort of Boy.” “He took me home to his little brother, who ate me,” said Pie. The Little Old Lady leaned over and, taking Pies hand, she gentlv patted it. “I beg your pardon,” she said. “A splendid sort of Boy.” A laugh and a shout were heard outside the door and two Little Girls dressed all in gold capered in. “Who are you?” asked the Little Old Lady. v “I’m your Laugh,” said one in a sweet clear voice. And the other chimed in quickly, “I’m your Cheery Word. Wq always together.” “We hurried so fast,” said Laugh, “that we left our sister behind us. But she's coming. I think I hear her now.” “Yes, here she comes.” they all shouted. Then dancing into the room came the bonniest of them all —a Tiny Girl dressed like a silver moonbeam. She flung herself into the Little Old Lady’s arms, hugging her tightly. “Oh, you seem to be just a part of me,” she murmured. “I am part of you—l’m the biggest part of you. I’m you*- Smile,” replied the Tiny Girl. The sprites gathered around her and the Little Old Lady smiled down upon them. “Dear Lady.** t¥»ey said, “if you will go on just being yourself wc shall live forever and ever.” “Here we are! ” called some louder voices, as the Little Old Lady’s Grandchildren came in. “We're sorry to be late,” said thc oldest Grandchild. “You’ve been alone.” “Alone?” said their Grandmother Smiling sweetly, she stretched out her hands to the big empty chair where she still seemed to see her little visitors. “My dears, I shall never be alone again.”