YOUNG FOLK

Auckland Star, Volume LXVI, Issue 307, 28 December 1935, Page 2 (Supplement)

YOUNG FOLK

"What are you getting for Christmas, Larry darling?" Happy came dancing up to her chum with her brown face wreathed in smiles.

Larry smiled, too—Happy's hfgh spirits were infectious—but she answered soberly enough, "I don't know —nothing I hope." Then seeing her friend's surprise she explained, "From Grannie, I mean. We have to scimp and save enough as it is. I know she can't afford to buy me presents and I would much sooner go. without. We aren't even having a Christmas dinner this year." "Oh, Larry." Happy's tones were shocked. To go without a Christmas dinner seemed to her little short of a tragedj'. "How-perfectly dreadful. No turkey? And no pudding with thrippenriies ?" Larry laughed ruefully at the other's consternation. "I've never tasted turkey and I don't much care for rich puddings." "Never tasted turkey?" Happy was incredulous. Never could she remember a Christmas dinner without the traditional turkey and plum pudding. "Poor people like us," Larry said, "don't bother about our tummies very much, but if I still believed in Santa Glaus I would wish for a Christmas dinner" \ "And don't, you?" Happy's blue eyes were deeply thoughtful. "Of course not!" Larry took out her rope and began to skip. "Only babies do." They had reached the end of the road and Larry turned in at her gate while Happy crossed the little bridge and ran on up the ly.ne. Pickle was swinging lazily in her hammock when she arrived home. Pickle was as much at home at her place as at his own. "Pickle," said Happy. "Are you having a turkey at Christmas?" "Ahuh," grunted Pickle half asleep. "A great big gobbler as fat as butter and just ready for the, pot." "And wo are, too," Happy nodded.' "But Larry isn't having any dinner at ail. Just" bread and butter, I suppose. You haven't got two turkeys have you, Pickle ?" He shook his head. "Nope —only one. Only one great fat gobbler. Best's are having two. Greedy beggars those Bests. Two turkeys and only four people and the baby to eat them." "It can't be good for them." Happy shook her head disapprovingly. "I should think it would be most detrimental to their health." "Even so," agreed the boy. "Even so, my wise and learned friend, two turkeys for one family when there are others starving not far away. Dost mind the good Kobiu Hood?" "He was a good man," nodded Happy, coming closer, "a noble man. He robbed the rich to help the poor." "Aye," said Pickle yawning and sitting up. "He robbed the rich to help the poor." He rolled out of the hammock and stretched himself. "Where you going now?" "To catch, Rufus. You may come with me if you like." Rufus was rather a special pet —a large black rooster who had been in the family for many years. He. was growing old now. Getting fat and lazy. Very lazy. Very fat. "Eat as butter," said Pickle absently. They locked him in his pen and went back to the hammock. "Happy," began Pickle, as lie was leaving to go home. "Are you frightfully fond of Rufus?" "He scratches up the garden," answered Happy doubtfully. "And once

Robhing the Rich.

By Phyllis Hughes.)

he fell into a can of cream and spoilt it all. He a lather a nuisance you know" "You wouldn't care," said' Pi cb ,' choosing Ins words carefully «W wouldn't care to have him disposedV would you? If it W e re m a ° • you know—a very good cause." ' "I might-" Happy was still doubtful If it were for a very good cause" fixing Pickle with a steely stare. ' ° He nodded reassuringly. "I will call for him to-morrow." He vaulted the low fence and ran home whistling an old hymn tune. °

The day before Christmas found Mrs Best in her back garden, preparing to pluck the smallest turkey. The smallest turkey would be big enough for Christ mas. At New Year they were bavin* visitors. They would pluck the bi<* fat gobbler then. Mrs. Best did not'liV. plucking poultry. She wished her busband was at home to do it for her. She was meditating on the best place 1 " to begin when a small boy's head appeared above the garden gate and a bright voice uttered a polite, "Good mornin" M™ Best."

"Why good morning, Pickle," she smiled. He was a nice little chap Pickle White. She wondered what he had come about, but was too courteous to ask. He came over and stood beside her, chatting away in his bright, friendly manner. He saw her hesitating over where to begin on the turkey and he offered obligingly, "Couldn't I pluck him for you, Mrs. Best? I'm most frightfully good at plucking turkeys." What a kind-hearted little soul he was! She handed the bird over to him thankfully. "If'only you would—but be careful, won't you, and don't cut yourself." "Indeed, I will," murmured the kindhearted little soul. "And I will take him right away from the door so as not to make a mess. I'll have him plucked for you in a jiffy." He was as good as his word and in a short time lie was handing the dressed bird back to her; and she was givin» him a piece of cake and a new sixpence and telling him'that he should have been a boy scout —he was so fond of helpin" others. "Indeed, I am," said Pickle earnestly. "I hope you enjoy the bird, Mrs. Best" "Oh, I am sure we shall." She smiled kindly. "He is so young he is bound to be tender. A merry Christmas to you, my little man, and thank you so much." Pickle went out the gate carrying a large paper parcel under his arm, which he hid carefully under the hedge before entering his home. . On Christmas he ate his fill of roast turkey and green peas and he got threepence out of the pudding. Afterward* he walked with Happy as far as Best's gate. Mrs. Best and the children were on the lawn. Pickle called a cheery 'greeting, "How was the turkey?" he asked." Two lines appeared for an instant on Mrs. Best's brow, but she smiled them away. "It was just a little tough," she said. "It was so young, too. I think perhaps it was a trifle undercooked." Pickle nodded gravely. "You will be able to cook the next one a little longer," ho suggested. "It is wonderful the difference good cooking makes." He raised his hand to his forelock and passed oii. Mrs. Best smiled indulgently at his retreating figure. . . There was a plump young turkey on Grannie Harvey's doorstep when she went out that 'morning. It was carefully wrapped in brown paper and bore a message of good will from Santa Claus. So I really think Larry was wrong after all.