OUR BOYS & GIRLS.

New Zealand Mail, Issue 838, 23 March 1888, Page 5

OUR BOYS & GIRLS.

BREAD AND HONEY-

AVhen the Armstrongs rode over to Bolton this afternoon, and left Alice alone in th© house, they had no idea that there could bo any danger for’ her. Alice was their little only daughter, aud rather than not leave her in perfect safety they would have stayed away from Bolton forever.

To be sure the house was a good half-mile away from any other house, and was a very good one of its kind. It was large and well kept, with a broad piazza all around it, and two bay windows, and had a general air of prosperity. Any one seeing the house her© on this country road, where nice houses are not plentiful, would have thought that well-to-do people lived in it, and it was probably well furnished with nice things. However, no one so far had thought so to the detriment of either house or people. Tramps aud burglars were seldom heard of in this peaceful part of the country, and the Armstrongs had lived here twenty-five years and never once been molested. So they never thought of such a thing to-day. They did not evens tell Alice to lock the doors. Once, yeare before, a straggler had come along, and Mrs Armstrong had given him something to eat p but he waa quite inoffensive, and that was so long ago she had nearly forgotten it. Such a thing as a straggler never entered her mind now; the chief topic of discussion, when they came to start, was Alice’s luncheon.

It might have been a bad plan, but the little girl had always had a plain bread and butter lunch between meals. To-day, however, she had an idea that phe merited something a little extra to pay for her lonely afternoon and disappointment. Alice herself wanted very much to go to Bolton with her father and mother, hut she had a cold* and it was thought not prudent. * Mother,' said she when her mother was putting on her bonnet, 1 what can I have for lunch ?’

‘ Why, what you always have,’ said Mrs Armstrong. ‘ You can spread yourself a glice of bread and butter.’ ‘ There was a little of—that honey left,’ murmured Alice, blushing. Her mother laughed. ‘ I never saw such a child as you are for honey,’said she. ‘You ought to turn into a bee yourself. Yes, I don’t care. Allis, if you have it this afternoon, you won’t have it for tea.’

‘ I’d rather have it this afternoon,’ said Alice, joyfully.

She stood at the window and watched her parents drive out of sight down the road. She was a slender little girl, with a pretty, serious face and smooth, brown hair. When she finally left the window and looked about the vacant room it seemed to her that the clock ticked about twice as loud as she had ever heard it. However, she was not in the least afraid, only of course a trifle lonesome. She got out her Sunday school hook and sat down in her little rocking chair and read awhile ; then she got her box of water-colors and painted. She had made up her mind that she would not eat her lunch until 3 o clock, when her father and mother would have been gone two hours. It was a quarter to three when she got tired of her paints. She put them away and washed her hands and sat down at the window to wait until the clock struck. She began to feel quite hungry, and thought pleasantly of the honey. She had only three minutes longer to wait when she saw a man coming down the road. ‘ Why, I wonder who that is !’ said she.

She watched him interestedly as long as she could see him ; then there waa a shuffling step in the drive, and a shadow stretched past the window ; the man had come into the yard.

Ho gave a quick glance at Alice in the window, then he stepped up on the piazza and knocked on the side door. Aiico went promptly. When she opened the door there stood the- man, shabby and ragged, with a stubby white beard. It was no one she had ever seen before.

‘ Have you got an old cost you could let me have ?’ said he. He looked past into the house as he spoke. ‘ I don’t know,’ said Alice. * I’m all alone here this afternoon. Father and mother are gone away. AJaybe if you come again when they’re home, they’d give you one. I’m real sorry.’ She was honestly sorry. She thought to herself that the poor eld man needed a coat dreadfully ; the sleeves of his hung in shreds, and there was a real fringe of rags round the bottom.

‘ Can’t you give me something to eat ?’ said the man.

‘Oh, yes, sir,’ said she eagerly. ‘I can get you something to eat.' She showed him into the dining-room, and placed a chair for him with the greatest politeness. ‘ Please sit down,’ said she, sweetly, ‘ and I’ll get something for you. ’ There was a pretty black walnut sideboard in the dining-room, and upon it stood the spoon-holder full of spoons. As soon as Alice had left the room the straDger rose and tiptoed softly over to the spoons.. However, ho was in his chair where she had left him when she returned. She had in one hand a plate, with three slices of very nicely spread bread and butter, and in another a little tumbler with perhaps four spoonfuls of honey it it. She looked hesitatingly at the man and then at the honey. ‘l’ve got some bread and butter for you,’ said she, in her gentle little voice ; ‘ but I didn’t know —do you like honey V

‘ Ye*>’ said the man with a kind of grunt, it hardly sounded like yes, but it was evidently meant for that. Alice went np to the dining table and spread the honey daiutly on the slices of bread and butter. Then she handed the plate to the man and he fell to eating. She sat down in a chair opposite and 'Watched him a little wistfully. She was, as her mother said, very fond of honey, and she did not have it every day, and this was the last thero was m the house. It seemed like a little self-denial; but then she was a little girl and dealt only in small treasures. The man munched his bread and butter and honey and seemed to enjoy it, she thought. She wanted to ask him if he did, but did not quite get up her courage. The man was rather rough and queer looking. »Won’t you have some more bread and butter ?’ said she, when he got up finally and set the empty plate on the table. * That was all the' honey, but there’s more bread and butter.’

‘ No, thank ye,’ said the man. Hu stood a moment looking at her curiously. Then he put his hand in his pocket and «lrew out a bundle wrapped in an old newstoaper. He laid it carefully on the table. ‘There’s somethin’ for you,’, said he. 8 You mustn’t open it for an hour though, mind. It’s to pay for the bread and honey, you can tell your folks. ’Cause you didn’t give me a crust and shut the door in my face, the way they generally do.’ •Thank you,’ said Alice, looking at the bundle in amazement. After the man was gone she hung over it and could hardly wait until the hour was up. When it was she opened the package with trembling fingers. There were—all their own silver Bpoons. There was no doubt about it; there was her mother’s monogram on every one. She studied them over and over and then turned and looked at the spoon-holder on the side-board. It was empty. . , When Mrs and Mr Armstrong returned they found Alice sitting at the table staring at the spoons in a brown study. ‘ Oh, mother!’ she cried. ‘ Oh, father 1 What do you suppose he meant by giving me our own spoons for the bread and butter and honey ?’ « What!’ cried her father and mother together. Then Alice told her story. When it was finished Mrs Armstrong caught her np in her Jap and hugged her tight. «I gueßß I’ll never leave you alone again, if I know it,’ said she.. ‘ We’ll have somebody -we’ll get a watch dog.’ To Alice’s great astonishment her mother was actually crying. Her father looked pale himself, but he laughed and spoke lightly to reassure Alice. ‘ I am not sure but the bread and butter and honey with a good little heart to set it on wa3 the very best kind of a watch-dog that she could have Lad,’ said he. —Congregationalism