THE WHITE FEATHER

Auckland Star, Volume LXIV, Issue 171, 22 July 1933, Page 2 (Supplement)

THE WHITE FEATHER

(Winning entry by Noelle Macduiinld, G.j, Basset Road, Remuera, 5.E.2, age 15.) "Laurie," murmured the trembling voice of liis mother, ''why can't you try to be a man?" Laurence Grahame, a tall, awkward boy of sixteen, stood with downcast eyes in front of his slim, delicatelooking mother. Every now and then lie would shift uneasily from one foot to the other, as he listened to her broken voice telling the story he had heard so often before. Why could not he be a man? Why could not he have the couragc to make him a man? These were the questions that were always being put before him by his father, his mother and even his masters at school, but Laurie had a cross to bear through life, for when a baby a downy-white feather had floated into his room and had come to rest on his tiny forehead. This lack of courage remained as a solid rock blocking the road of Laurie's life. Beyond it gleamed hope and opportunity, but Laurie could see none of. this as he turned from his mother's entreating voice. All he remembered was the sad, wistful face of his beloved little sister as she lay on her bed in a dimly-lit room.

Half an hour ago brother and sister had been racing down to a small stream ■which twined its way in and out through a grove of native bush at the bottom of the paddock. How joyfully his little sister had paddled in the stream while Laurie chopped up the firewood. Suddenly a noise had startled them. They had looked up to see a huge Jersey bull "rushjng towards them. Laurie, in a fit of cowardice, had jumped up, and, climbing a tall tree, called out to his little sister to run for help, but Veronica, trying to follow her big brother's example, had started climbing a small tree close by. No sooner had she raised herself 2ft above the ground than the bull rushed headlong at the tree, and, missing her footing, Veronica fell directly under the feet of the ramping bull. She might have been killed instantly had not a farmer nearby heard the screams and come to the rescue. Quickly and efficiently ho had locked the raging bull iii a safe paddock, and had carried the limp body to the house. All this time the white, frightened face of a boy peered unseen through the green foliage of the tree at the ghastly scene beneath, for which he felt himself responsible. And now . . . His darling sister might pass from him any minute, and he could have saved her. With a lump in his throat and tears of repentance in his eyes, he turned his steps down the garden path. As he did so, a large white feather dropped decidedly at his feet. For a few moments Laurie stared at it in mute astonishment and shame, then suddenly a new light crept into his eyes, and he raised Ills head, turned abruptly and walked in the other direction.

The day broke forth in joyous, sunny gladness. The glorious day—tlie day when all the world was at peace once more. The anniversary of .Armistice Day was being celebrated in the cheerful country of New Zealand. In a quiet little garden not far from the city the birds sang gaily as an old man walked slowly down the flagged path, at the turn of which he stopped and gazed with eager eyes towards the little white gate ahead. Out of the distance came the sound of horse's hoofs, and the next minute a tall, handsome youth on a line chestnut steed pulled up at the gate. He was off his horse in an instant, and flew to meet the welcoming arms of his father. Five minutes later there was a happy father sitting on the verandah looking at some medals bis son had been showing him. Next to his father sat Captain Laurence Grahame, V.C., gazing with glowing eyes into the distance. Suddenly he looked, up. Something was

falling slowly towards liiin; it wavered slightly at his feet, then, with a final spin, it whirled oil' whence it had come. Laurence leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes contentedly. The white feather had parsed.