THE ORPHANS.

New Zealand Herald, Volume LXV, Issue 20088, 27 October 1928, Page 6 (Supplement)

THE ORPHANS.

BY ALICE A. KENNY.

Meg sighed as her mother was brushing her hair for bed. "What arc you thinking of, Meg?'' asked her mother, noticing the deep gravity of the little girl's face. " I was thinking of old Mr. Burroughs. I am sorry he's dead." "So am I, darling," said her mother a little startled at this revelation of tlio child's mind. " But he was quite old, and I expect he is happy in heaven because he wa3 good. He's been dead a good many weeks now." " I don't expect he can bo quite happy because now his old dog and his pussy cat are orphans, and no one loves them." Mrs. Morris was concerned to see Meg's lips tremble. " Did he have a dog and a pussy cat, dear ? You didn't know old Mr. Burroughs, did you ?" - " No, but I used to see him on his doorstep when I went that way to school. He used to sit thero in the sun, and the pussy always sat on one knee and the dog used to sit with its nose on his other knee."

" I expect someone feeds them dear, and looks after them."

" No, nobody does. The house is shut up and the boys havo thrown stones through both the little windows. And—■ and the pussy and the dog sit on the step by themselves, and they look so miserable."

" Poor little things!" said Mrs.NMorris. " Perhaps to-morrow we'll take them some milk and scraps." " Couldn't they come to live with us?" asked Meg eagerly. " Oh—my ducky—l think you've got pets enough to feed." " But I alway3 have more porridge than I want —and I could keep the bits of fat for them at dinner." " Well—we'll see, dear—but say your prayers now and hurry into bed. Next day Mrs. Morris was busy and forgot all about the promised errand of mercy, but Meg did not forget, and while she was drying the dishes for her mother in the evening she began to talk about the orphans again. Iler little face, her mother noticed, was happy and untroubled and she was glad to see it so, for there was a strain of melancholy and strangeness in the child which sometimes made her anxious. '

" I took some milk for the pussy, and some bread and dripping for the dog," she announced happily, "and they liked it so much, and then I sat on the step for a long time and the pussy sat on my knee, and the dog put his head on my knee like they used to do to him, and they were so happy. I stroked them all the time, and a nice old man came and stood looking at us, and smiled at us." " Oh, who was it ?" "I don't know; he looked a little like old Mr. Burroughs used to look, only nicer, and he spoke to me." " What did he say 1" ." He said—it seems funny now—ho seemed to say it into my thoughts, not

out loud—he said. ' They're only animals, but they're the only things that have loved old Charley this many years, and he'll rest liappy now he knows they ain't starving, fend deserted, and hunted. Our Lord Jesus bless you, little Missie.' " Mrs. Morris gave the little glowing face a startled scrutiny. " My dearie, you dreamed that." " No, I didn't, mother." " Did he say anything else ?" " No—he went away." " I wondcfr who he was. Where did ho go ?" " I don't know—ho just went. And I'm trying to teach them to follow me home." "Oh, my dear," Mrs. Morris half sighed, half smiled, " If I know anything about stray animals they won't take much teaching." Next day after school she accompanied the little girl to the deserted shanty where the old age pensioner had lived. The pathos of the place touched her kind heart. The garden where the

old man had pottered about was getting over-grown, the windows and the gate were already broken, and the silent* mournful loneliness of the two ownerless pets, who still waited about the shut door, brought tears to her eyes. They needed kindness and human companionship as much as they needed foot., and both of them fawned and rubbed round the little girl as though they implored her not to leave them. They wertt both old creatures, long used to depend on human company. Mrs. Morris had strange thoughts as she looked around her at i.he little house, and garden. There was no Id man about to-day. Meg was queer and imaginative* If she had not fancied it, who was he, the nice old man who looked like Mr*, Burroughs, and asked our Saviour to bless the child ? g One thing she foresaw quito clearly. Inf aged pussy cat, and the shabby old re; triever with the yearning eyes, would inevitably spend their declining years on c? about her doorstep—and they did.