CHILDREN OF THE KING.

Auckland Star, Volume LXVI, Issue 307, 28 December 1935, Page 8 (Supplement)

CHILDREN OF THE KING.

A Christmas Story.

(By ELSA FLAVELL.)

M4RIE. why are the bells ringing?" Little Peter looked up wonderingly. The sweet flight (Jell-notes cauie ringing clown the " t from a tall spire, silhouetted 8 insfcthe rose and pale emerald of 'jfsunset sky. Very sweet were the a silvery cascade tumbling notes —a sll> ' into the clear air. ■ Jlarie shook her head. "They're ver y pretty . . •" she said; and she too looked up, dark eyes full of wonder. "The sk >'' s P rett y too " ? ' "It's nice here," said the boy; he followed his sister as she walked along the quiet street. They had come a long way already, , were far away from the dingy h OUS6 that was home to them; they lad been playing in the street outcye when something—that something that calls round every corner to be discovered— had tempted them away. Or perhaps it was the lovely glow in the sky, seen but so scantily between the tall shabby houses, that they had wanted to see more clearly? Whatever it was, they had left their playmates ami wandered away toother, a strange little couple in their shabby, patched clothes, their feet and Leads bare.

They had stopped a moment to listen to the bells and look at the to There was a strange feeling in jj, ea ir—a feeling of quiet happiness, jnd yet of rapturous expectation. Hey felt it, and wondered . . . Heir eyes were wide with wonder. Around the corner they found two lilies lying on the footpath. How to came to be lying there, white, pure, and unbroken, was another matter for surprise. Still, it was an evenin" of wonders. Peter picked up tie two flowers, and Marie looked on tlein with delight, her hands clasped. Sachlovely things never came to that crowded apartment house so far away -home. It was like finding a priceless treasure —and who shall say that diamonds are fairer than lilies, white(rleaming lilies with gold-covered stamens and perfume sweeter than dreams? ■ It seemed as if ifc might lave been for this they had been led

forth; at least it was certain that the lilies had the secret of that lovely evening calm, that rapturous happiness. Poor little waifs from the back streets! If they had known of angels they might have thought one of those Shining Ones had dropped the flowers for their benefit. Perhaps— perhaps it was so. Surely no one but an angel could have foretold the joy two flowers could bring to two little hearts? The joy of the sky and the air was theirs now; the universal happiness in their hearts. Glad smiles mixed with the wonder in their -eyes. They walked on, two little ragged beggar-children who felt as happy as any child born of wealthy parents. Here were lovely flowers—theirs for the picking up! Was ever greater fortune ? They held their heads high. Presently they came to more populous streets, where people were walking, hurrying to and fro; there were shops not far distant, already brilliant with lights, and by-and-by they walked there, gazing into windows that were gaily decorated with tinsel and shining things. There were crowds in the streets —laughing and jostling, festive crowds. Few noticed the little ill-clad figures gazing with awe upon the gay scene. Those who did were moved to pity. Hero were some of the unfortunates —life's strays, gazing on splendours they might not share. They need not have pitied. Who needs gold when there are lilies for the finding? At a street corner a man was standing in the shadows, watching the crowd that jostled around him. He was shabby and down-at-heel too, with a ragged cap pulled down over furtive, scheming eyes. ■ There were sombre thoughts behind those eyes— a plan of crime evolving. There was a rich man's house not far from the city where there were many precious things; and the rich man had gone on a voyage to a foreign country. His house was securely locked and protected, but —there were ways and means. . .

Out of the crowd came two quaint little figures —a tiny boy in clothes several sizes too large for him, a dark-haired girl in a soiled white

frock. The boy held two pure, lovely lilies in his hand. Their presence there seemed so strange that the man could not help noticing them; and suddenly the boy looked up and smiled—a beautiful,' childish smile. He said, "Don't you like our flowers? They're prettier than —than everything."

Then they were gone again in the crowd, and the man stood staring after them. Lilies! Madonna lilies— the purest flowers of all, the flowers his mother had loved.

His mother—! It was so long since he had even thought of her. She had loved all flowers. To think of her moved him strangely. A sudden moisture gathered'in his eyes. He dashed it away, with a smothered sound that was half a curse, half a sob—or perhaps it was a cry for help, a fragment of a prayer? The shabby stranger turned and strode away along the street. He too vanished into the crowd.

—-And the treasures in the rich man's hotlfco remained untouched.

Marie and Peter wandered on through the bright streets, pausing now and then to look in at the windows. While they were gazing, awed but not envious, at the marvellous things in a toy-shop window, a poor little woman came hurrying along; she stopped beside them and looked as they did. There -vere lines of worry and sorrow in her face; her eyes were faded with weariness.

"Aren't they lovely," she said wistfi lly to the children; "beautiful things for lucky children! I wish I could have had such toys when I was a child. Aren't you wishing for them too ?"

Little Peter looked up with that bright smile of his. "No," he answered; "We have these." And he showed her the lilies. Then again he and Marie had passed away among the crowds.

The little woman stood looking after them, astonished. We have these! We have our lilies ... A smile dawned in the weary eyes as she walked away; she looked up suddenly into the lovely evening sky that so many did not even see. Above the tall buildings a splendid star shone out in the dusk, like a golden flower blossoming against a background of palest emerald leaves. Some of the worried lines smoothed out of the little old woman's face; the smile spread from her eyes till it reached her lips, and there was a glow of happiness in her heart. "They lisve their lilies/' she thought; "Well, I have my stars. . . . Who cares for tinsel and pretty things that break? Stars arc forever. The world's a lovely place . . . when there are stars and lilies." Beyond the town it was not yet night, but a soft dusk gradually deepening into darkness. There was still a rosy glow in the sky, and a reflection of pale emerald. Marie and Peter saw the glorious star too, and their delight increased; stars too held the secret of that rapturous happiness pulsing in the half-gloom. Along the street came a woman with three children. They were complaining and shu was weary. They were asking, in discontented voices, for things she said they might not

have—had they not spent a happy day, been given all that there could possibly be to make children glad? It was only greed to ask for more—■ and there was no more to give. It was time to go home. The children did not want to go home—they wanted to go back to the shops, to buy the pretty things that glittered in the windows there. One ot them was weeping when Marie and Peter drew near, but she stopped to look at them in wonder. t

'"Why," she said, "look at the poor children!"

Marie cried out indignantly. "We're not poor!" she said; "Look." And Peter showed them the lilies. . .

When the two odd little figures had disappeared in the dusk the woman and her three children turned from gazing after them—but it was in silence that they walke 1 now; there was no complaining, no tears

. . . because two shabby little strays with heads held high and wonder in their eyes had found two lilies.

It was growing darker at every stop, though the colour had not yet faded from the sky. The lilies were a pure gleam in the dusk, and their perfume still hung heavy and sweet, the breath of all happiness. The wonder of the evening deepened with the dark. Marie and Peter had never known such happiness; they did not know whence it came, and did not even ask. Something beautiful had happened or was about to happen; besides, they had found the lilies. . . A tall young woman came out of a house suddenly, and saw them passing by in the light shed by a street lamp. "Oh," she said; "Oh, you poor—" and stopped. They smiled up at her. "See—" said Peter, "see what we found!" He held up the lilies, and their scent came strong towards her, scent that held the atmosphere of a dream-sweet happiness. "They're very lovely," said the girl. There was a choke in her voice. "Christmas lilies! They can help you to- be happy." The children did not stay, and she called after them as they went —"A Merry Christmas to you!" From the dusk their voices floated back. "What was it she said ?" asked little Peter. "Christmas," said Marie, wondering; "What's Christmas?" "Perhaps —perhaps it's the lilies," said Peter uncertainly. "Or the feeling?" "I believe it's something beautiful," Marie said, and they were gone in the shadows. The girl stood looking after them with pity and grief in her heart. Children of the King! ChiloVen of the King—and they did no'., even know that it was the King's festival —that it was Christmas. The bells were ringing again, and the sky was filled with wonderful stars. Marie and Peter were weary of foot but happy—so happy—of heart! Out of the dusk a benediction had fallen upon them, a sense of wonder and delight that was like a crown of glory. And were they not crowned —the Children of the King?