A SAD PROBLEM

New Zealand Tablet, Volume XXXI, Issue 24, 11 June 1903, Page 24

A SAD PROBLEM

Walking home from late Mass the other Sunday . T observed a young man in front of mo wo c lroned but with a sHght stoop, and carrying his hands m h s poc kets— a habit which is odious to me. liesentiy two voum girls, also well dressed but too gaudily for an old woman of mv conservative tastes, passed ahead of me. As I walked along behind them I overheard the following conversation.

i.c o , Ma)deline ' do you see that young fellow in front of ' Yes ; do you know him ? ' f««i'J?°* * d , on l t care to know him either. But he looled me nicely last Sunday.' else ?^° W WaS that ? Did yOU mistake him for some one 'No ; I mistook him for a gentleman ' And isn't he one ? ' v 'u W JS y> c f rtainl y not,. Can't you tell it by the way he shuffle S along with his hands in his pockets V ' ( Well, his walk is really not very graceful, Bertha.' creates" 'diffe^e" dd ° Wn ' thou * h - Jt makes the < P oes it ? Where did you see him sitting down ? ' in church last Sunday. I came late, and thought J. would go to the side aisle. You know those two funny little pews against the wall ■? I suppose you would call them at right angles to each other ' ' Yes, well ? ' ' I slipped into one of them, knelt a moment, and then, as the sermon had begun, I sat down. When I yot settled in my place I saw that young man almost lacing me in the other pew. 1 was struck by the beautitul shape of his head and the short crisp curls. I like that kind of hair, there is something so romantic about Jt. And he had such a fine complexion, and such a lovely tie blue, with while polka dots ; just like the one I gave Arthur for Christmas. Mean thing ! I wish I had it back ! I'll never spend another 50 cents °n hlin > I can tell you. He's such a flirt ! ' , " »'e\l, b?' s got his match now in Kitty Hayden. I oelieve he likes her real well. He gave her a bangle.' How do you know ? ' 1 I saw it — she showed it to me.' ' Well, I'm not jealous of her. I wish them joy of each other. But to go on with my story ' ' Yes, go on.' 'My friend was all right till he stood up. Then I noticed that he kept his hands in his pockets. I despise that habit ? But afterwards 1 didn't wonder in the least. Why ? ' ' At the last Gospel he made the Sign of the Cross — at the blessing. I mean— and— well, I can't describe those hands ! ' ' Weren't they clean ? ' 'Yes, they were clean ; but so big and coarse and rough ! They were simply disgusting. I know he's a drayman or maybe a blacksmith.' ' A blacksmith wouldn't slouch along like that.' Probably he works at some trade, though.' ' Tradesmen make good money.' ' lSi<t they're so common ! ' ' Yes, that's so ' ' I don't see how any young fellow with a bit of pride would want to work at a trade, do you ? ' ' Some one has got to do things, you know,' rejoined Madeline, who seemed to be less silly than her companion 'ihe girls began to walk briskly, and that was all (I heard. At some distance farther on they were stopped hv an old woman, poor-looking but neatly clad in black. After exchanging a few words with her they passed on. She wialked -very slowly, and when I reached her she bade mo a kindly ' Good morning.' I "saw you in church, ma'am,' she said, ' and took you to lie a stranger.' ' Those arc very pretty girls to whom you have just been speaking,' I remarked. ' Yes, they're pretty enough,' she replied. ' But they're just as empty-headed as they're good-looking. r lhe\'ie neighboring girls of mine^— ccfisins — but they have foolish parents. Instead of putting them to good trades they let them take places in one of those big cheap stoics. 1 declare, ma'am, the way they do be chewing gum all the day long in those places, and then standing talking to customers with their mouths full of it, is sickening— just sickening. And, then, the foolish airs they put on ! Mary and Bridget they were christened, but its Madeline and Bertha they call themselves now.' 'Probably they will end by being ashamed of their parents,' said T " They're ashamed of them already, ma'am, in a way. Do you think those girls ever take their whippersnapper company to the house? Never '' 1 Where do they take them, then ? ' ' They meet them in the parks and at the corners. It's a wonder that more of them don't come to grief.' ' Perhaps they have no place where they can entertain their friends.' ' Maybe some of them haven't, but these have a neat little sitting-room, where they needn't be ashamed to take any young man. But they wouldn't have him hear the Irish " brogue," as they call it, from the lips of their poor old father and mother.' ' I wender they go to Mass ' ' And so do I, ma'am. It's habit with them ; and they meet people and show their fine clothes. What the children of Trish Catholic parents are coming to in this country T don't know — that is, some of them. They're not alP like that. And vet those two would be very sweet and good girls, if they'd had training. Glory to Cod, but it's a sad thing ! ' And so it is — ' Aye Maria.'