A LITTLE BLUE SHOE

Lyttelton Times, Volume CXIII, Issue 13714, 3 April 1905, Page 4

A LITTLE BLUE SHOE

(By MONA SWETE.) The mother sat in the nursery motionless. Save for her and one other the room was empty. The ruddy firelight rose and fell and flickered; sometimes bathing the room in its warm light, sometimes leaving it in darkness. Drawn up close to the hearth was a little cot, brave in its spotless white drapery, which told of many hours of patient, loving work and forethought. Sometimes the light fell for a moment on the slender figure seated by the cradle, and lighted up the sweet face. She was gazing into the fire, her thoughts far away in the future, and

vet busied with the cradle by her side. Presently there was a slight stir amidst the soft coverings in the cradle. One tiny foot asserted its presence, a little pink, cruinpled-up fist appeared round the curtain,- with much effort and struggling two lids slowly opened and revealed the wondering, questioning eyes of a baby. The mother quietly bent over the cradle. "My little son!" she murmured very gently. " Are you awake, have you come back from Paradise? Tell mother what you saw there!" and then she tenderly lifted the little burden on to her lap and drew on the little blue shoes. Just then the nursery door opened, and father entered. " Oh, little mother," he cried, surveying the pretty picture in front of him. " You spoil that child; come and spoil me likewise." The girl gently put the baby down on the soft rug, and allowed herself to be drawn into the embrace of a pair of strong, .loving arms. She merrily drew him down on to the hearthrug, and together they spent the happiest hour of their day, with their first-born. " Baby, where is your shoe " laughed the mother presently, seeing that one tiny foot was without its blue covering. Together they searched for the little shoe, but nowhere was it to be found. There seemed no corner in which it could possibly be hidden, and at last, in obedience to the somewhat imperative cries of King Baby, they had to give up the search. " It is not very valuable, after all," said the big man cheerily, noticing a troubled expression in his wife's eyes. "I did value it," she answered, with her head bent low over her restless burden. " I'll get you another to-morrow, darling, if you like," he said gently. "Won't that do?" A little flush rose to her cheek. " It—it was the first thing I made for baby,' and all the hopes and fears T had seemed to be knitted into the little blue shoe—it is because of that I value it. Never mind, clear," she added, with true womanly unselfishness. Twenty years later—the mother sat there silent, gazing into the fire with hard, vacant eyes which were bright with unshed tears. The cradle no longer stood by her side; that with other indications of the nursery had been removed long ago. The high fonder remained, and the paint which had been kicked off by little feet had not been renewed.

She sat on the .same low nursery chair as she had done from force of habit every evening for the last twenty years, living over again the early days of jier happy motherhood—and now

Her hands had fallen on her knees in a listless, apathetic attitude. One loosely held an evening paper. An opened telegram lay near by on a small table.

Standing out clear in the black newspaper typo were the words " War in South Africa," and underneath, in smaller letters, " Casualty List." No need to look any further. Here was a ..oho stricken and heart stunned by one line in this column. A few short hours ago that heart had been alive and happy, thrilling with the joy of life. Now it was dead to outside influences, aching with the uncontrollable pain of a hopeless struggle to understand what had happened. it seemed such a little while ago that she had sat here on this very chair and played with her baby, and now she sat here, again while he -. But not even a shudder crept over her as she pictured to herself the lonely grave on the veldt and tried to realise the great pathos of a soldier's death. The door opened, and the doctor entered with an expression of deep iympathy on his kindly, good-natured face. " Come, come," he said boldly. "You must bear up, you know! Think of your husband. It is very, very sad for you, my dear, but death comes to all of us, you know. You must not grieve more vthan you can help." " I am not grieving."

The calm, icy tones filled the doctor with alarm. He had expected to find his patient ill with uncontrollable grief. This numbness was a morei formidable foe. " H'm !" he murmured to himself. '; She will go out of her mind if this state continues."

The door opened again, and the father entered. The strong, brave man was bent and broken by his grief. Kneeling by her side, he drew her head down to his shoulder.

"My little wife," he whispered in'a breaking voice. We have each other still. Wo must bear up—for his sake—don't look like that, dearest. Just let the tears come, and God will help y° u -" She put her arms round nis neck with a little sigh, which was very pathetic, but the wildness was still in her eyes, and the hard lines round her mouth did not relax. Another visitor entered the nursery —the parish priest, a saintly old man, with a face shining with love and sympathy. He did not speak to the griefstricken mother for several minutes, but stood there in silent prayer. "My daughter," he said at last, "your sorrow is great, but God will give you strength to even this." " Oh, yes, I believe in God," she said, " a hard, cruel God; but where is His love and mercy? Why has He taken my greatest treasure from me?"

The apathy and indifference were gaining on her: the weight on her head was becoming still more to bear. She was physically unable to listen to the spiritual consolation of the priest. At last he, too, left her alone. She got up and paced the room feverishly, giving unbridled rein to her wellnigh suffocating thoughts. "My boy!" she moaned. " Where are you ? Oh, come back to me—come back," stretching out her hands in supplication.

Her eyes, anguished with pain, fell listlessly on the antics of a little puppy which was gambolling round the room after, its own tail. Suddenly the puppy stopped short beside a huge oak cupboard that stood against the wall. He seemed to be endeavouring to catch a sunbeam that fell on the little gap between the back of the cupboard an*- tho wall. Up and down went his little paw as he scratched at the wainscoating. The sunbeam disappeared, but still the puppy continued digging for something that must have gon jammed.up behind the cupboard. One tremendous dig, and a struggle, and the puppy brought to light some objecr, which he carefully deposited on the nursery floor and regarded proudly. His mistress, with some strange impulse urging her, went towards the cupboard and picked up the dirty, shapeless object.

blie stood motionless for a minute or two, gazing at it vacantly, while her thoughts surged faster and faster. What was it she held ? Why did her memory travel back to one evening twenty years ago? What was it that brought so clearly to her distorted vision a little white cradle and a happy, kicking baby? Ah, she knew, she knew!

For a brief space her reason tottered, and the doctor's fears wore almost realised. j.hen, with a wail of pentup grief, pathetic in its utter weariness and abandonment, she sank once more on the little nursery chair. In her hand she held the long-lost little bine shoe. What doctor, husband, and priest had failed to do, the sight of the little blue shoe had accomplished. r J'V a healuw +,&»-« bad oodio »± last.