A BED-TIME STORY

Radio Record, Volume I, Issue 18, 18 November 1927, Page 15

A BED-TIME STORY

THE FIRST THIMBLE, Hundreds of years ago, in the days of the Crusaders, when all braye Christian knights and men went forth to the Holy Land to fight against the heathen, a little girl sat sewing’ in the courtyard of her father’s castle in the sunny land of France. Her lady mother had given her a task of embroidery to finish before sunset, and ¥vonnes de Landes was working with all her might, for .the close of the day was not far off. Indeed, she could see from her sundial on the castle wall that the summer afternoon was already half spent. Now, in those days such things as thimbles did not exist, and Yvonne’s second finger began to pain her as she untiringly pushed the needle through the stiff silk, not daring to pause lest her work should be still unfinished by sundown. . Beside her was a silver cup filled with milk and a honey cake, with which to refresh herself during the afternoon. At length Yvonne’s finger grew sO painful that she stopped sewing to suek the bleeding finger-tip. And then she noticed with dismay that a drop of blood had fallen on the embroidery. Tears filled her brown eves. "‘O dear, O dear," she sighed, "mv work is spoilt, and, even if f have finished it by eventide, my lady mother will be angry with me. Tf wish mv father were not far away itt Jerusalemn, for he never lets my mother scold me when he is at home." As she sat sobbing she did not notice that an old man, wearing the hood and cloak of a Palmer, or pilgrim to the Holy Land, had crossed the draws bridge and was standing before her. . "Little maid," he said, "will you givé a poor traveller something to eat and drink ?" At the sound of his voice Yvonne looked up, startled. "J dare not ask my lady mother for meat and drink," she said, ‘for she wilt be angry with me for staining my work; but, if tou like, holy Palmer, you may have mv milk and honey cake: I dare say I shall not fecl hungry before the evening meal." The Palmer gratefully accepted her offer, and, sitting down by her side, ate the honey cake and drank the mitk in silence. In a little while Ye rosc to go, but hefore leaving he jurncd to Yvonne, saving: ’ "Little maid, you will find a drop of milk Jeft in vour silver cup. Rub the stain on your work with it, and no trace will remain to grieve vour lady mother. And, in return for your kind charity, I ask you to accept this little shelf which comes from the Hely Land." The Palmer dropped little vink shell into Yvontie’s lap, and, take ing up his staff, went his way. Yvonne at once rubbed her work with the milk, and was rejoiced. to see that the stain completely disappeared, She then examined the shell which the Patmer had given her, It was shaped like an acorn-cup and was covered with little dents like pin; pricks. ‘What a funny = shell," thought the child, idlv turning * over in her hand. Without thinking, she poked the tip of her sore finger into it, and it fitted like a little cap. "Why, this will slop my finger from being hurt by the needle,’ she snidenly thought, and, sure enough, on resume ing her work she found that, not only could she sew without pain, but far more quickly than before. So easily, did her needle pass through the silk that, long before sunset, she had finished her task. Her mother, coming down from her chamber, was surprise ed and pleased to find the work so neatlv done and kissed Vveonne gente lv when bidding her good-night. You mav be sure that the littlé French girl was most careful never to lose the precious shell which was so useful to her, and alwavs kept "t ready in her pocket. She never saw thé holy Palmer again, but she alwavs remembered him with gratitude. So that is the story of the first thimble. If Yvonne des Landes had not siven her milk and honey cake to thé old Pilgrim tundreds of vears ago, verhaps-who knows ?--we should never have had the little silver caps to prot tect our fingers when sewing, for it takes a very clever man to think of a verv simple thing, and without the little pink shell to show the wav, pets haps no one would have troubled to invent a shield for the second finget of a woman's hand. ‘