OLD ANNE

Northland Age, Volume 1, Issue 10, 11 December 1931, Page 9

OLD ANNE

On the busy street an old musician played. Though his notes told of love and laughter, his face was tragic in its hopelessness and his life-weary eyes gazed at the muddy pavement, defeated by the throng’s indiiference. Nobody could spare one moment or cock one ear to listen to the haunting melodies that came from the old man’s » weather-beaten harp. Eyes were too busy with shop windows to see the sad figure by the curb. An old woman, frayed of skirt, came shuffling by and stopped. A moment she stood, looking at the bent head, * .the hands that played automatically, the toe that kept time mechanically with the tune. A pair they seemed to be—he and she. Presently her face broke into smiles and her bare old hands began to clap gaily as if to the rhythm. Over the old fellow’s face came a new light—the joy of someone’s understanding and appreciation, and his playing changed from minor tunes to a gay Scotch reel. Seeing the old woman’s evident en- * joyment one by one others lingered. There were smiles—a clinking of pennies in an empty cup—a lad of the gutter undertook the Highland fling. * More looked and listened —and the old woman shuffled on. Some of the crowd then left, but a few still stood and watched her progress. Then someone screamed, “Look out!” Reaching the corner, she had crossed, unheeding, in front of a fast-approaching car. There was a grinding of brakes. They were helping her to her feet, bewildered. The driver of the car stepped out, heavy-jawed and angry, and growled through his teeth, “What’s the matter with the old woman? Didn’t she . hear me honk?” The urchin had rushed to join the crowd. He looked up—- “ She couldn’t hear,” he said. “That • is Old Anne. She’s stone deaf!”