DOING HER BIT.

Otago Witness, Issue 3250, 28 June 1916, Page 70

DOING HER BIT.

Bv Stephen Gtjyon

Peggy was patriotic to her finger tips. Her zeal was unceasing, her efforts to help "Our Empire" and "Our Allies" pathetic, for she was only a little girl of nine summers. She had never been a " handy " child. Her tastes were decidedly not domestic. She had a thoroughly healthy dislike of all indoor occupations, except cooking, which she was never allowed to do much of—merely a little now and then for the dolls' tea parties. Sinre the war there had not. been many of these ; Peggy had been too busy knitting ambulance socks, facecloths, and mittens. She had always hated the sight of a needle and was a very unwilling learner of any of its uses. However, she was glad now that her mother had been firm on the point. Knitting, she found, though dreadfully slow and tedious, was not such bad work after all, for you could take it out to the garden and the fields, where you could here the birds sing and look up sometimes at the exquisite blue of the sky, and watch the ileeey clouds lloat past or the trees waving in the wind, and_feast your eyes on the wealth of colour in the flower beds. She needed all these things to cheer her, for, young as she was, she knitted many a sad thought into her work.

On one hot autumn afternoon Peggy was in the garden tying up her carnations, and thinking hard. She thought it was a grand thing to do something, however little, to help the men who were fighting for us and to supply comforts for the wounded. But all the knitting she could do and the giving of her pocket money to the Red Cross Fond was not enough. to satisfy the great heart of the little girl. She longed to do more to " help to win the war."

Peggy had a personal interest in the winning of the war, for, " when the war is over daddy will come home again, if he has not heen killed," she said. And she longed with an inexpressible longing to do .something —to do a great deal to help to end it. She felt there was urgent need for haste, lest the end should come too late for her father's safety. So she kept a stiff upper lip and eyes ever on the alert for opportunities of helping. Peggy's father was a country doctor of unusual ability, who had given up a lucrative practice to serve at the front, lie had been one of the first to answer the Empire's call,, and had worked strenuously, never sparing himself, keeping always as close as possible to the enemy's lines and steadily refusing to c'tut his dangerous post. " While I have any health and strength left, I will stay here and'do a 1! I can," he wrote to his wife. And she, with courage even greater than his own. replied, "Stay and do what you can till the end." In the meantime she was doing " her bit " in their home in the back-blocks.

'ft had always been a matter for surprise to their friends and acquaintances that a man of such marked ability and with so keen an appetite for work should throw himself away on a country practice. " In the cities folk have plenty of good medical men to choose from; in the country they are dependent upon one. There is scope enough in the back-blocks for any ability I may possess," was all the explanation he offered when pressed. And many a. man and woman had reason to bless the day when he elected to devote himself to country work. His wife fully sympathised with him in his aims, and shared his taste foT a simple country life. So they lived in unbroken peace and happiness till, with one fell swoop, the Angel of Death descended upon their home and carried off their two little sons. Soon after that came the war, and Pr Ransome responded to the call upon the nation's manhood open eved. For. during a long residence in their country, he had taken the measure of the Gorman nation. "We must fight them with every ounce of strength we can muster and with every penny we possess," he had said when news came of the attack upon Belgium. And he had immediately set his house in order and volunteered for the only service he was fitted for. Mrs Pansome, too. villi more foresight than is commonly shown, at once set-

about reducing her expenditure and apportioning her time and her income so as to vendor what seemed to her, the most efficient service to the Empire. And when," after nhont eighteen months of war, the women of New Zealand awakened to the need for organised effort as opposed to the service of independent units, she recognised the importance of the movement and became an earnest advocate of the Women's National Reserve. This was the subieel that was exercising the small brain of Peggy as she tied up her carnations. She made a pretty picture in her blue

cotton frock and wdiite sun hat, in spite of the fact that she had no' beauty of feature to speak of. The sunny hair, the healthy, rounded limbs, straight figure, and earnest little face, with the sweet expression of the ruddy lips and soft br wn eyes were irresistibly attractive.

She was thinking over a conversation she had heard the day before, and was slowly forming a great resolve. Peggy was not impulsive; she had a habit of locking carefully all round her before taking a leap. She straightened her slim figure now and gazed wistfully into the distance while she mentally reviewed the happenings of yesterdav. It had been a half-holiday from school, and for quite an hour she had sat in the dining room steadily knitting till her mother appeared in the doorway dressed for walking. " Put on your hat, Peggy. You have been at that work long enough. You can come with me for a walk." The wall; was not an aimless one, but was taken for the purpose of distributing some Women's National Reserve cards. Peggy listened at iirst without much interest to the various remarks exchanged upon the siibject at the two or three houses at which they called. Put at the last house she was much impressed by what she heard.

" Oh, yes. It is a good idea. I sympathise with the movement, but what can I do with live small children and no help?"

" Then you have not succeeded yet i:i obtaining a maid?" Mrs Ransome remarked.

"No; ami I have not the slightest hope of obtaining one. No one will come to the country for the wage I can offer. Yet I make it as liberal as I possibly can." " It is just possible that the Women's National Reserve may be able in Lime to supply the help you need." * " 1 wish it could. I was reading last night of the messenger girls to be haS in large cities. It would be lovely to ring

up and have an efficient girl scut in for two or three hours who would do just what one wanted done. I should be grateful just to have the children taken off my ham!.-; for an hour while I got the dinner ready. The hour before my husband's return from work is the hardest in the day. I like to have the children clean and tidy then, and have everything done and the dinner ready, because he is always so tired, yet he will insist on helping me if there is anything left undone. "Has he cptite recovered from his recent accident?" Sirs Ransome asked.

"Not quite. But, fortunately, he can work. It is as impossible to get help in the smithy as in the house. !So he has to work much too hard."

"And you are not very strong yourself," said Mrs Ransome pityingly. "But the children are splendidly healthy. You are to be envied there—a bonny wee baby girl and four sturdy little boys." A wistful note crept into Mrs Ransome's voice. The eyes of the two women met, and an understanding look swept- over the face of the over-worked mother.

" Ah, I will never utter a complaint again. However hard the days may be for me. they are much harder for vou."

There was a protracted silence broken by Peggy, who remarked hopefully, "If we do all we can to help to cud the war, daddy will come home all the sooner. I'd like to work as hard as you do, Mrs March. But a little girl can't do much," she added sadly. But this afternoon Peggy felt more cheerful and courageous—quite hopeful indeed—for she had made up her mind what to do. She would help Mrs March through the worst hour of the day and incidentally earn threepence for the Bed Cross Fund.

"I have come to help you, Mrs March," she said a few minutes later. "I am like one of those messenger girls you spoke of, and I will do anything you want done for an hour."

"I shall be very glad to have you take baby for a while. She has been, indoors nearly all day, because I am afraid of those wild little boys of mine- knocking over the push-cart in their gambols," Mrs March replied. " I'll see that the twins don't hurt her, Mrs March. And I'll wash all their hands and faces. Do you think all that would be worth threepence?" Peggy asked auxiouslv.

"Worth threepence! Why I would gladly pay a shilling every day to have that done."

"Threepence is enough," Peggy said with dignity. "My mother never lets me have more than that at one time, even for the Red Cross, She wants me "to learn the value of money." "You will know the value of that threepence at the end of an hour, my dear," .Mrs March said with a grim smile. "But what will your mother say to .such an arrangement?" she asked anxiously. "My mother always says we must be willing to do any useful work that offers while the war lasts. Why, that is what the Women's National Reserve is for, you know, arid mummie is working hard for that."

Mrs March tucked up the baby in the push-cart. "Such a dear baby!" Peggy exclaimed ecstatically. "May I kiss her, Mrs March? Daddy doesn't; believe in 'scriminate kissintr, but he says kisses are good for children if people are careful to kiss only

when they are well. Ho fays he did not have enough kisses when he was a little boy. T am quite well; so is baby. So may T kiss her?" Mrs March watched with glistening eyes Peggy, proudly protective and motherly, marshalling the children as they pattered along the path all seemingly chattering at once. The sturdy twins were a little in advance, throwing remarks over their shoulders, while the two younger bovs kept nearer to Pe.fgy : Pat, who was still pathetically near to babyhood, clinging to her frock with .'.rimy little brown hands. Peggy found that she had her work cut out for her during the next hour, but she kept all the children happy ami out of mischief, and presently brought in the lvbv smiling drowsily Then she took the boys to the bathroom. 'There was a

good deal of noise—sounds of struggling and mingled coaxing and defiant tones, lint Peggy finally emerged triumphant with four clean, tidv bovs in tow.

" Will they be all ■ right now, Mrs March? Will they keep clean? For I must go now and get ready for my own

'" Yes; they will keep right now for a few minutes. * Run away, boys, and watch for daddy. He will be here directly. Yes, Peggy, they will be all right, and everything is done except to attend to baby. Ido not know how to thank you. You must be very tired, dear." " Yes," Peggy agreed soberly as she received her threepence. "Boys are very tiring, but it is the kind of ' tired' I like. It is not so horrid as the ' tired ' yon get sitting still." The little girl hurried over her own dressing, and entered the dining-room only a little late for tea. " Where have you been for the last hour or more?" asked her mother after Peggy had greeted the two visitors who

had dropped in during her absence. Peggy explained at some length, her mother listening in silence, while their guests interrupted from time to time with exclamations of re-al or simulated horror. " What a dreadful thing to do What will the child think of doing next? Really, Mrs Ransome, Mrs Marsh ought not to have allowed such a thing." "Mrs March knows, and Peggy knows, that while the war lasts we must he prepared to do all, we possibly can in the way of useful work. And nothing Peggy could do could bo better than to help an overworked mother," was Mrs Ransome's reply. Peggy's plain little face lighted up with pleasure at this unstinted ■ commendation, "They are such jolly little boys, mummie. And the baby is the dearest in all the world. You'll let me go again every day," Peggy pleaded. ' "Yes," was the quiet reply. Peggy made a rapid calculation. " That will be one and sixpence a week,' •he remarked with very vklent .satisfaction. Mrs Ransome smiled. " Mercenary little creature " thought the guests. " Peggy will soon grow tired of it," said one. " Perhaps,". Mrs Ransome admitted. " Rut she will not shirk however tired she may be." Peggy felt rather guilty as she remembered the countless times she had thrown down her knitting because she had grown weary of the monotony of it. "Don't let me shirk, mummie, dear," she begged when the outer door had closed on their guests. "Don't let me. Daddy dees not come away when he is tired. And the men in the trenches don't." "All right, sweetheart. I'll keep you up to the mark, lint yon must not fear, little one. You will never want ±o give up those boys and the baby. You will grow fonder of them every day. It will be good tor you all to be together. I am delighted with your new work, Peggy." Meanwhile the guests on their homeward way commented on what they had heard. "Such nonsense " one remarked impatiently. "To let the child go out and work for payment! For that's what it amounts to." " I'm not sure if it does not amount to a. good deal more than that," said the

other musingly " It's just affection and ostentation —all this talk abovfc organising women's labour and economising and all that. Look at Mrs Ransome's own home and the maids she employs." "She has only one left now, and that one is to leave next week with a month's wage instead of notice. She told my. Martha that she is going to make denims. They are short of workers at the factory. Mrs' Bansome is going to do her own housework in order to free as much labour as possible for necessary work. In my opinion it is rather fine, though I admit I felt shocked just at first when I heard what Peggy had been doing."