A Transformation Scene.
(IjY L. Si'!HNT,;.IKI.f.) Perhaps the two rooms would not have looked so poor and bare had they less neat and tidy. A few papers been littered about, or a hat and jacket thrown upon the table, would have toned down the nakedness of the place, while a negligent arrangement of the furniture, instead of such severe orderliness, would have prevented its scantiness from standing out in such relief. There was something heroic, though, about the manner in which poor Mrs Ivirwen looked after her gradually vanishing home something which faintly recalled the Guards who die but do not surrender. Article by article, a large portion of the home had been sacrificed by the widow for a trifle of ready money wherewith to keep her patient little head above water ; but the few sticks which yet remained to her were dusted and polished daily, and arranged as carefully as though they formed part and parcel of a drawingroom of the greatest magnificence. During her husband's lifetime, or, at all events, until toward the lafter part of the time, Mrs Kirwen's existence, without being too prosperous, had been smooth and comfortable. Skilful management was sometimes required on her part to make the available funds go the requisite distance, but there were no hardships to bear beyond those the overcoming of which gave life its zest. Mr Kirwen, who was an inventor of considerable ingenuity, had been able to keep the home going without being able to put much by for a rainy day. But he had been dead for three years now, and his widow, left quite unprovided for by her utterly unmethodical partner, had had an uphill struggle. The smart, decorated show card which used to stand in the window and exhibit the words " Pinaoforte Taught within," had been succeeded by a pathetically home-made ticket, " Good Piano for Sale." Latterly the widow had been needle working for the Christian Ladies' Belief Association, a body of good Samaritans, who made a nice little profit out of their philanthropy —as latter day philanthropists frequently do. Inasmuch as her earnings were scantier than a match girl's, although she sat over her work until those violet eyes of hers, once so bright, ached to distraction, it was not very wonderful that she fell more and more hopelessly in arrear with her rent. But for the need of keeping a home for her little girl Gracie she would have gone into service with a thankful heart. The grandest of heroic deeds, Richter has said, are those which are performed within four walls and in domestic privacy ; and there was, indeed, something finely courageous about the way in which, with her only weapon, a needle, little Mrs Kirwen held in play genury and want. But the fight was now grievously one-sided. The landlord had been growing less patient each week, and the culmination of it all was to arrive this evening, Christmas Eve, of all times. Unless she fulfilled certain conditions by Wednesday night, she would, the landlord had told her in an unnecessarily unkind way, be " brokered" on the following day. Wednesday night had passed without the performance of those conditions, and the bailiff might be in at any moment. The snow, too, began to fall heavily and little Grace, as she came bounding in, thought it was rare fun to be powdered profusely with the big flakes. But the mother, recollecting the scantiness of the child's clothing, hurried with some alarm to brush the snow from the girl's throat and shoulders. " Oh, mother !" exclaimed Gracie, opening her eyes wide with the echo of a former excitement, " Rose Ferras is going to have such a lovely Christmas tree to-morrow evening, with little colored candles all over it." ! "Is she dear ?" said the fond mother.
" Yes ; real candles, which you can light up, and dolls, and toys, and needle cases, and Father Christmasses, and all sorts of things." "Oh, my!" said the widow, momentarily forgetting her own troubles in watching her little daughter's enthusiasm. " Yes," continued Gracie, " and she's going to have a party, and all the children who go are going to have the things off the tree to keep, mother; to keep for good. Why don't we have a Christmas tree and some company, mother *?" " We are going to have some very disagreeable company, dear; a horrid man, to take our home away." " Dan't cry, mother, dear. Perhaps he won't come. Perhaps be won't be able to find where we live. When is he coming ?" " Almost directly, dear; while I'm out, I'm afraid. I must go over to the offices of the association to take the work I bave finished and get what they owe me. You will stop in while I'm away, and mind the home for mother, like a little woman. The man wont hurt you. Or, if you like, you can go round to Mrs Jenkins' when he comes. There's a fire" round there if you get cold, and she's a good, kind body." Mrs Kirwen had not been gone more than 20 minutes before the bailiff arrived. He was a stout, cheery man, with a brisk manner; not unkind looking, but evidently not susceptible to the emotions which the scenes of misery he so frequently encountered might arouse in breasts less hardened against such feelings. He took possession with the breezy heartiness which would sit well upon a welcome visitor. Gracie was a little frightened at first, and shrank from him, contemplating a speedy bolt to Mrs Jenkins; but when the stranger spoke pleasantly to hep and called her " little maid," she became defiant. Finding she could show fight with impunity, she grew venturesome, anfl slapped him viciously with her slate. When be smiled at her ineffectual hostilities, and tocher she mast be agoodgitl or else
bogey would have her, she scowled at him imperiously, and sought to browbeat him with flashes of indignation. But, unfortunately for Grade's loyalty to her mother, the man was wearing a large watch and a bunch of seals, and thawing rapidly, although unconsciously, towards the possessor of objects so fascinating, she subsequently found herself sitting upon his knee examining 4he works of the chronometer, and "phkttling to him as artles&ly as he were a friend of a gear's s fending. Suddenly, when she was quite tired of the watch, she recollected herself, and slid from his knee, with her accusing conscience showing in her face in the form of an angry flush. She could hardly believe that she had shown even momentary toleration toward one whom her dear mother had declared odious. The bailiff, highly amused at the child's attitude, moved off to overlook the contents of the other room. He suddenly returned, with a white face and an eager manner, which drove every sensation but that of intense suprise from Gracie's mind. Whose portrait is that hanging up in the other room, my child?" he asked hurriedly. " Mother's, sir," said Gacie. " Mrs Kirwen's ? " " Yes." •' What was her maiden name ? " " I don't know what you mean." " What was her name before her marriage ? " " I den't know."
The bailiff bit his lip with vexation at this interruption of the testing of his agitating surmise. " Have you an uncle, dear?" he continued going round another way for information. " Yes, Uncle George, but he's in Australia." "But do you know his name? " " Yes, Uncle George Windsor." " Gertrude Windsor! I knew it! " exclaimed the bailiff, beaming with a wondering delight. " Why, lam one of your mother's oldest friends." " Oh, no ! " retorted Gracie, regaining possession of her former distrust. "My mother told me, you were a horrid man and disagreeable company." The bailiff laughed without restraint. " Ah! she won't say that when she sees me. But what a rum go ! One of the very rummest. Well, I'm staggered. Then he caught sight of the photograph album on the little bookshelf, and recognised instantly a further means of testing his discovery. The first portrait which caught his eye as he opened the book was a likeness of himself taken teiL years earlier, he wore a beard, and then he was considerably less bulky. " There I am," he cried triumphantly, exhibiting the likeness to the critical inspection of the child. Grace was incredulous. " Mother has often told me that he was the kindest man she ever knew, and she said if she could only find him he would never let her be in such trouble." " And she's quite right." " But she said you were a horrid man, and that you were going to take the home away." " No, I don't think the home need go, little one, and I think I can convince you that I am not so horrid as you think. W T e must make the rooms nice and bright before your mother returns. Will she be long ?" "Not very long now." "Now, what would you like for Christmas ?" " 0—oh! a Christmas tree." " And would you think me horrid if I got you a Christmas tree ?" " o—oh no ; not if it was one like Rosie Ferrars is going to have." " What, a large one ?"
" Yes, with candles all over it what you can light up, and Father Christmases and flags." " Well, we must see," and the beaming bailiff slipped on his overcoat, reiterating, with the keenest satisfaction, that he had never been so thoroughly out-and-out jiggered before in his life. " And crackers on it," added Gracie, correcting a material oversight as the bailiff went out. He came back in a moment to say that if Mrs Kirwen returned while he was away, she was to be informed that Mr Gurdon had called—-Abel Gurdon. Mr Gurdon's first operation upon regaining the streets of Camberwell was to make his way to a provision warehouse, wherein he seemed to be wellknown, There he drew and cashed a substantial cheque, and spent ten minutes in giving orders as fast as they could be booked. Then he went on to a greengrocer's, and selected an imposing Christmas tree, and spoke about a sack of coals. When Gracie opened the door to him again he had a fine fat goose under his arm. In obedience to his explicit and peremptory instructions, his various orders were delivered immediately. A fire crackled in the grate, and made the room look cheerful at once, and the holly which now decorated the walls glistened in the flickering flames. The table soon bore a weight of seasonable fare greater than the aggregate of the entire month preceding, and the faces of Gracie and Mr Gurdon emulated each other's radiancy. The bailiff had worked a perfect transformation scene. Gracie was feverishly emptying a box of toys and transferring them one by one to the twigs of her tree when Mrs Kirwen, worn and miserable, opened the door. She was about to retire precipitately, with an apology for intruding into the wrong apartments, having caught sight of the laden table, when Gracie ran, screaming with excitement, to her side. Then, with increasing amazement, she scrutinised this bountiful bailiff. "Abel!" " Gertrude! "
She was crying on his shoulder in another moment, and it was some time before he could explain to her the situation. "When at last she realised that it was in the capacity qf a ljailiff that Abel had become her visitor, and that the meeting was a pore accident,
she was just a little disappointed. " I thought all bailiffs were necessarily hard and coarse men," she said. "Ah, Gertrude! you cannot judge men in a lump in that manner. You cannot say that all bailiffs are cruel, any more than you can say that all bricklayer? are honest or that all painters are blue-eyed. I did not like the prospect at first, but I reflected that, by taking on the work and doing it kindly, I might save many a poor family from a misery they might otherwise have inflicted upon them. But little did I ever dream that, just as I was leaving the business, I should have a piece of good fortune of this sort. Never judge by names or titles." "No," agreed the widow, thinking ruefully of the Christian Ladies' Relief Association. —Sketch.
Permanent link to this item
https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/newspapers/HAST18960926.2.17
Bibliographic details
Hastings Standard, Issue 131, 26 September 1896, Page 4
Word Count
2,028A Transformation Scene. Hastings Standard, Issue 131, 26 September 1896, Page 4
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