HELEN'S CHANGE OF MOOD

New Zealand Tablet, Volume XXXVI, Issue 17, 30 April 1908, Page 37

HELEN'S CHANGE OF MOOD

Now, grandma, don't preach. I came to, spend vacation quietly with you, and try to forget that horrid) bonk ha.s swallowed up my last year at the School of Design, and that I must stay at home and wash" dishes the same as ever.'1 Forgive me, Helen, for bringing "up the matter, but I must have my say, and then we will close the subject for all time. I can't bear to see you settle down in despair, and give up your bright prospects so easily. Because the Sagertown bank has failed is no reason why you must give up fitting yourself for your life-work, It is just as necessary that you should be able to help your mother and Tom as ever it was. If you . (have lost the money for your art school, you moist get some more. It isn't so bad to lose money as it is to lose the means of getting it.' 1 But I haven't any means of getting it,' answered Helen, who was in no mood to be told her duty. ' You are young and strong, and have two good hands, and your time is your own.' "But what can I do here ? ' ' Who made the dress you have on ? ' ' I did. Why ? ' c Couldn't you make one for same one else ? Elsie Walworth ' 'Yes, I know Elsie is working in the canning factory, and Maud Hastings is with the seed coffpany.. Don't tMnk for a nfinute I am too proud to work for a living ; ; it's what I expected to do—after next year. But it would take me two years at anything I can do in Sagertown to earn a. year at the School of! Design. And Mamma just can't afore it to . me. I wish I had gone to Europe last year with trie Stones. I would have had something out of that money. As: it is, I haven't a cent for <next term, and it is only five months away.' •My dear, don't be discouraged. You can do whatever you determine to do. 1 ami sorry to see you give up so easily. My William— you* father— wouldn't have done It.' Helen's big brown eyes softened and grew rrioist at the mention of the father whom she had idolized. c How old are you, Helen ? ' 1 Nineteen.' c He was only seventeen when, his father died, anid he „ ha*d to lea/ye school and provide for his sisters and me.' . i Helen did not answer. She was looking out .of the window— at nothing, and thinking, selfishly, that if her father had lived she would not have to worry about money matters. She was called from her gloomy thoughts a few minutes later by grandma. 1 Helen, will you go down to Mrs. Crawford's, arid get a roll of butter ? ' Grandma' was wise, and did not add that she thought the morning walk would do the girl good. Nor did she hint that if Helen 'did not go, Mrsr Crawford would send the butter next morning as usual. Following grandma's directions, Helen soon lounfl

h&rself at Mrs. Crawford's. A' little boy of six opened the door to her, and led the way into a neat iUtle sitting-room, where a woman sat by the window sewing-. As she came to meet her caller, with bright eyes -and smiling face, Helen saw that her right -sleeve was empty. ' Oh, yes,' N said Mrs. Crawford, acknowledging Helen's introduction, 'I have often heard Mrs. Stacy speak of the grandchildren. Take a seat by the fire. I was 1 just sewing a button on Charlie's coat.' Helen nearly forgot her errand in wonder and amazement' at watching the little woman's, bright face and easy movements. She was saying to. herself that she, would n«ver snrdle again, if she bad lost an arm ; but she took- tihe proffered chair, "saying awkwardly : 'Thamk yiou. I came for the butter, but asm in no "hurry. Please finish) the button.' Helen watched Ker e<very movement with fascination, and as Mjcs. Crawford broke her thread and helped Charlie into Ms coat, their eyes met, and Helen blushed crimson. lJ i be© your., pardon,,'-, she murmiured, • I must seem very rude, but it is wonderful to me that you do th'mgB 1 so easily and— and— cheerfully.' ' It is the result of practice" and desperate determination,' she answered with a smile. ' I have proved that one can do what she, sets out to do. When I found that I must lose my arm, I resolved that I - wooild not allow myself to be made helpless. I used to eajrn - quite a bit setting type afternoons, and it - was hard to give that up ; but I set about learning to do everything with my left hand that: l could with my right. It has been a year now,' she added, glancing dowro at the empty v sleeve— ' and I am getting used to it. And as for doing it- cheerfully— isn't that the right way ? '\ x • Yes. But I couldn't,' said Helen, with mixed feelings of pity and shame as she reniemfbered grandma's remark, that ' it is not so bad to lose money as" it is to lose the means of getting it.' ' You don't know what you can do until you have tor-and try,' continued Mrs. Crawford. 'It is wonderful how many more things we can do than we think we can.' - ' i ■ ,[II llf Grandma looked) out of the window many times before ghe sa,w her granddaughter coming up the hWI. She had been a little anxious as to the result of her experiment, but was reassured when she. heard the quick step on the walk, and saw Helen's pink cheeks and shining eyes. She did not wait to take off her wraps, or even- to put away the butter, but threw herself at her grandmother's feet, exclaiming : ' Grandma, did you send me to Mrs. Crawford's on purpose ? ' She did not wait for grandma to plead guilty, but rattled on,: 'I never felt so humble in- my life. When I left- that little woman down there doing her work with one hand, I felt guilty to own two hands thfat were so helpless. 1 walked ofi as if f m a- trance — thiinMmg of how she would do this, and how she would do that—why, grandma, you don't- know how it . made me feel to see her sewing on a button with one hand r and smiling ! *I got to the grove when tihe little boy overtook me with the butter, /which .in my confusion I had left . behind. I sat down on a log and thought it all out. It is wonderful how one's mood can 'change in an hour. I can think -of lots of things I can do. I have my plans all made. I am going to patch, and darn, and bind skirts for the girls at school— .l can begin next week. Mildred Stow earned, fifty dollars that way last -year. ~ Then what I earn next -summer, with my patching and darning next year, will take me through. I will do> it. " Do you hear me, grandma ? And if I ever- get in the dumps agatin, and grumble at washling. dttshes with two 'hands, I shall come to Stanford, and go down to Mrs. Crawford's^ after .some butter: Are you listening, grandma?' Grandma was listening.— Exchange.