The Family Circle

New Zealand Tablet, Volume XXXVI, Issue 20, 21 May 1908, Page 37

The Family Circle

AT THE DINNER-TABLE

Ho sat at- the dinner-table With a discontented frown ; The potatoes and steak were underdone And the bread was baked too brown,. The pie was Heavy, the pudding too sweet, And the meat was much too fat ; The soup so greasy, too, and salt, 'Twas hardly fit for the cat. ' I wish you could taste the bread and pie I've seen my mother make ; They are something like, and 'twould do you good Just to look at a slice of her cake.' Said the smiling wife : ' I'll 'improve with ageJust now I'm but- a beginner; But your mother has come to visit us, And to-day she cooked the dinner.'

THE CHESTNUT GIRL

' Please, sir, will you buy my chestnuts ? ' 'Chestnuts r No ! ' replied Ralph Mo o re, looking carelessly down oil the upturned face, whose large brown eyes, shadowed by tangled curls of flaxen hair were appealing pitifullly to his own. ' What do I want of chestnuts ? '

Please, sir, do buy' em,' pleaded the little one reassured by the rough kindness of his tone. 'Nobody seems to care for them, and—' ' Are you very much in want of money ? ' ' Indeed we are,' sobbed the child ; mother sent me out and — '

Nay, I'ittle one, don't cry,' said Ralph, smoothing her tangled hair. ' I don't want your chestnuts, but here's a quarter for you if it wi-11 do you any good.' He did' not stay to hear the delighted thanks of the child poured out through a rainbow of tears, but strode on l.'is way, muttering between ins teeth : 'That cuts off my supply of cigars for the next twenty-four hours. I don't care, though, for the brown-eyed object really did cry as if she hadn't a friend in the world. Dear me ! I wish I were rich enough to help every poor creature out of the slough of despond.' While Ralph Moore was indulging in these reflections, the dark-orbed little damsel whom he had comforted was dashing down the street with rap'M footsteps, utterly regardless of the basket of unsold nuts that still dandled upon her arm. Down an obscure alley she darted and' up a wooden staircase to a room where a pale, n>eat-l coking woman w a s sewing as busily as <if the breath of life depended upon every stitch, and two little ones were playing in the sunshine that s-upplied the absent fire. ' Mary, back already ? Surely you haive not sold your chestnuts so soon ! ' ' Oh, mother, see ! ' ejaculated the breathless child. ' A gentleman gave me a quarter ! Only think, mother a whole quarter ! ' If Ralph Moore could only have seen the rapture whidh his small silver gift had brought into that pov-erty-stricken home, he would have grudged still less his privation of cigars. Years came and) went., The little chestnut girl passed entirely out of Ralph's memory, but Mary Lee never forgot the stranger who had given her the silver qiuarter. - # The crimson window curtains were closely drawn to shut out the storm a nd blast of the bleaki December night. A lire was glowing cheeraly in the grate, and the dinner table was in a glitter with cut glass, rare ohina, and polished silver. Everything was waiting for the presence of Mr. Audley. ' What can it be that detains papa ? ' said Mrs. Audley, a fair, handsome matron of about forty, as she glanced at her tiny watch. ' There's a fnan within- vhe study come on business I ,' said Robert Audley, a pretty boy of twelve years", who was reading by the fire. "I'll call him again,' said Mrs. Audley, stepping to the door. But as she opened it the gaslight fell on the face of a humble-looking man in threadbare garments, who was leaving the house, while her husband! stood in the doorway of his study, apparently relieved to be rid of his visitor. ' Charles,' said Mrs. Audley, ' who is that man, and what does he want ? ' ' His name is Moore, I believe, love, and he carce to see if I could give him the vacant position in- the bank.'

' And you will ? ' she eagerly asked. - • Don't know, Mary,, I must think about it ' ' Charles, give him the situation.' • Why, my dear ? ' _ i

1 Because I ask it of you as a favor, and you have said a hundred times you would never deny me anything.' J

' An( * I wiU kee P m y promise, Mary,' said her husband, with an affectionate kiss. ' I'll write the fellow a note this very evening.' An hour later, when the children were snugly tucked in bed, Mrs. Audley told her husband why she was interested in the fate of a man whose face she had not forgotten in twenty years.

1 hat's right, my little wife,' said her husband when the simple tale was finished. Never forget one who lias been kind to you in. the days when you needed kindness most.'

Ralph Moore was sitting that solf-same night in his poor lodgings, beside his wife's sick bed, when a liveried servant brought a note from the rich, and prosperous banker. .

Good news, Bertha,' he exclaimed joyously, as (he read the words. 'We will not starve. Mr. Audley has 1 promised me the position.' ' You have dropped something from the note, Ralph,' said Mrs. Moore, pointing to a slip of paper on the floor. It was a fifty-dollar bill, neatly folded in a piece of paper, on which was written •

' In grateful remembrance of the silver quarter that a kind stranger bestowed on a little chestnut girl twenty years ago.'