As ye do unto Others

Otago Witness, Issue 3327, 19 December 1917, Page 59

As ye do unto Others

®* Fergus ffume

One Christmas Eve before the Great War, when people could sing "Peace on earth, goodwill towards men ','. with some degree of truth, the snow was falling thickly through the shadows of approaching night. "From the garret window of a tall house in Bloomsbury, Maisie Harding watched the feathery flakes descending lightly on the surrounding roofs and chimney-pots, clothing their dingy ugliness in dazzling purity. Earth was assuming her white robes of high festival to welcome the Christ-child, and shortly Christmas trees, twinkling with many lights, would illuminate countless homes, swept and garnished for His coming. Would He come to this bleak attic? Ma^ si ® asked ' herself this question and sighed doubtfully."* It seemed impossible. "But Christmas is the time of miracles!" she murmured, hopefully. "What do you say, Maisie?" asked a complaining voice from the makeshift bed in the far corner of the room, whereon a siok girl tossed and turned incessantly, crying vainly for many unobtainable things. " I was thinking that now was the time for a miracle to occur. My father always said that Christ came to all oil Christmas Eve." "He will not come here," said the weary voice, scornfully. '' Of course, as a parson's daughter you believe in such things. I don't. It's all imagination, dear; all hoping against hope." "No! No 1 No!" Maisie left the window to kneel beside the oed. • We have lost everything except faith. Let us keep that, Gerty." "I can't keep it any longer," sobbed the other on Maisie's breast and Maisie's comforting arms. 'We have studied singing so hard and for so long, spending our little all to learn. Yet for months we have not been able to get engagements, even as chorus girls. Now we are starving, and will be thrown out into the streets because we can't.pay our rent." " 0h r it's not quite so bad as that, dear," said Maisie soothingly. " Mrs Brent will let us stay another week. She told me so, and we have a whole pound left for food."

"But when that is gone, what then?" cried Gerty, sitting up with a despairingexpression "on her worn, pretty face. " Something will come, dear. I am sure something will come." " Oh, that's talk," rejoined the sick girl fretfully. " It's only your silly faith. Who will heb two miserahle orphans? We have no friend." "We have one Friend," insisted Maisie, resolutely, "and He will come to help us to-night. I know it. I'm sure of it."

"Why don't you go out to meet Him then?" asked Gerty pettishly. Maisie picked up her hat and coat. "I might find Him," she said, half to herself. "The French call Him - Monsieur Chance; I call Him God." Gerty stared, then laughed bitterly: "You're mad, Maisie—quite mad." "There is method in my madness, dear," said Maisie, tuckins her friend up tenderly and kissing her fondly. " I'm going out to buy some tea and cakes, so that we may have some sort of festival."

" The only festival I want is an engagement. Tamerlane is producing a new musical riieco at Marlow Theatre next week. But it's too late," Gertv groaned. " Everyone has beer, engaged by this time. Maisie, don't go. We can't afford cakes and tea."

"We are going to afford them." said the other firmly. " Food will make you more hopeful. Good-bye, dear. I'll be back in thirty minutes. And perhaps " Maisie was half-laughing, half-crying — "Til return to tell von how I met Him in the highways and bye-ways." "Maisie! Maisie!" Bn+. Maisie was gone, and the catient. bursting into weak tears, buried her thin face in the pillow. She did not believe in Christmas, or in miracles, or in anvthing. " I wish we were dead," she sobbed. But for her faith Maisie would have wished that also, for the position was heart-rending, and in spite of her cheering words, the erirl did not see how it could be bettered. What could two pretty, clever girls do in the great city without friends or influence or money? Maisie could have wept in sheer despair, but that her early training in a peaceful Wiltshire vicarace strengthened her to endure. Help would come; must come. If it did not, and speedily, Gerty would die, and then she would be quite alone in the hard, bitter world. She had prayed and

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praved, but no answer had come to her "prayers; they beat; it would seem, vainly against the closed gates of Heaven. Nine girls out- of ten would have given way; but Maisie held on desperately to her faith, unsupported as it was by physical . evidence. Help would come, and soon. On this Christmas Eve the Lord of Compassion was descending in the guise of a little Child to bless the world. She and Gerty would surely share in that blessing. He cared for orphans; He succoured- the poor and needy; He healed the-sick and comforted the lonely. At the corner of a quiet street Maisie raised her white face to the sky. "Oh, God help us!" she prayed inwardly. " Our trust is in Thee. Let me take home good news to Gerty that she "may know that Your loving arms _ are always around us. Christmas Eve; hV is Christmas Eve, Oh, help us, help us, help us!" " -ut ctill there came no answer. The dull sky showered'snow steadily;_ peopleintent upon shopping passed by indifferently, while Maisie, cold and hungry and sick with fear, leaned against the wall clutching at her aching heart. In this freezing Arctic wilderness of desolate whiteness she Avas alone and miserable. So isolated did she feel that a pang of terror struck through her being, and she hastily plunged into crowded, well-lighted Oxford street to get some comfort from the contact of humanity. On either side of the prosperous thoroughfare the shops wero briliant with lights and gaudy with splendid things she -wished to buy, but could not. Everywhere all kinds of necessaries and luxuries were displayed, decked with holly and mistletoe; everywhere there was colour and radiance —a feast for the mind, the eye, and for the body. Maisie longed feverishly to take food and wine and coals and clothes to her sick friend; but her lean purse afforded none of these things, and when she stole back to the darker street all she carried was a parcel of cheap tea and a few cakes—very costly these last to one so poor. Maisie wondered if there was anyone more miserable than herself in all London.

There was. On the verge of the pavement stood a small, ragged girl, with a pinched white face and red. little arms shivering under a tattered tartan shawl. Maisie looked at her. vacantly, until the child began to sing a carol in a thin treble. The poor mite—she was less than twelve years old—was trying to get coppers, but so weak was her voice and so choked with tears that the passers-by paid no attention to her. At the sight' of Maisie,- who stopped to think of her misery, the small girl's face assumed a hopeful expression, and she piped her little carol louder than ever, although at its best it was but a nestling's note. Through one whole verse she held on bravely, but broke down and wept when starting the second.

'se furget it, lidy," she wailed, wipping her poor, red nose and streaming eyes with a corner, of the tartan shawl. "But do give me a brown. Mother'ull whip me horrid if I don't cop the dibs." Maisie could not afford the penny, but the misery of the small creature went to her heart, and she took out her shabby purse. "What is your name?" "Jaine, lidy," whimpered the child, shuffling her broken boots in the snow. " Mother sends me out t' git tanners an' browns. She'll lay inter me if I don't bring 'ome a tizzy. Oh, I'm so bloomin' 'ungry an' cold!" and with a desperate effort. _ she began to pipe again her weak little ditty, which was meant to be joyful, but sounded eminently sorrowful from that drooping month. An idea came to Maisie, and she put back the penny into her purse. She could help this waif in a better way, and perhaps could save her from the threatened whipping. IA carol she had learnt long since at her mother's knee came to her mind, and she touched the child's shoulder to silence her. The next moment many people stopped while passing the corner to peep down tho dark street. A glorious voice called upon them to listen. ""What gifts bring.you to my Child?" Asked the Mot Tier, fair and mild. Answered then the AVise Men, old: "Frankincense and. myrrh and gold." "Great the gifts you bring," said she, Rocking Jeaua on her knee. "But my Babo from Heaven above Brings to you the gift of Love." Her voice, strong and splendid, rang silvery through the bitter air as she sang the quaint, rude carol with clasped hands and uplifted face. Men and women and children pa-used to lieten to that heavenly message, and the wonderful song went straight to eve>y heart. Many smiled happily from sheer delight in the lovely sound; others wept because of memories recalled by the melting strains, and all in some wonderful way became aware that it was reallj- and truly Christmas. Not

a mere commonplace festival marked on. a calendar, but a festival of the heart, into which the spirit of charity and love was entering. The Christ-child was descending, and His heralds were preparing His holy way. " Peace (on earth; goodwill to men." The voice of God breathed through that carol sung in the dark street amidst the falling snow. Maisie s'topped, and money was showered into Jane's ragged frock, which she held oiit to receive the unexpected wealth. More people gathered, _ and demanded the song again. Maisie once more lifted up her voice, and when she ended for the second time Jane gathered so much money that she fairly ran away, forgetting in her excitement to thank her benefactress. Maisie did not mind this desertion, knowing that the child was beside herself with joy—in fact, she had no time to think, for while the crowd clamoured for a third singing of the carol, a stout man in a fur coat, tremendously excited, seized her arm. Before she could guess what he was after, he ran her hurriedly up the street, halted her against an iron nailing, and shook an eager forefinger in her astonished face. "Who are you? What are you?" demanded the stout man, in guttural tones. " And where have you hidden yourself with that wonderful voice?"

Bewildered and faint, Maisie could hardlv stammer out an explanation. " I am a singer who wants an engagement. My name is——" The stout man waited to hear no more. "Come with me," he cried, again seizing her arm. "Good heavens! To think if I hadn't been passing I should have missed you. I am Tamerlane!" "Tamerlane!" Maisie almost screamed. "Come! Come!" He hurried her away at top speed—almost carried her to fame and fortune, ease, and plenty. In the cold garret Gerty had sobbed herself to sleep. For a long time she had remained 'awake expecting Maisie to return ; but as the hours passed she grew weary, and cried and cried until she could cry no longer. With exhaustion came slumber, and it was close upon midnight when she awoke from a beautiful dream of a real Christmas party, where everybody gave her exactly what she wanted. Opening her eyes, Gerty found that the garret was blazing with light. Not only was there a lamp, but three candles were lighted to reveal the table covered with food. There waa > a turkey and . strings of sausages, dried fruits, ' gaudy crackers, golden oranges, bottles of wine, and all kinds of sweets. On the floor sat Maisie surrounded by parcels, which she was busily opening. Stockings, shoes, frocks, gloves—Gerty opened her astonished eyes wider ,and wider, thinking that she was still dreaming, and that this was still the unreal Christmas party of imagination. "Maisie!" she gasped, and sat up clutching the bedclothes. "Darling!" Maisie jumped up and flung herself on the bed to clasp Gerty in her arms. "I didn't want to waken you until ''

"Maisie," interrupted Gerty,' staring _at the wealth on table and floor. "Where did you get " This time Maisie and answered reverently. "I met Him," she _said, in a low voice, "and as I did unto Him, so did He unto me. No; I'm not mad, dear. Listen, and you will see h6w my faith has been justified." Then the" whole wonderful story was told. How Tamerlane, attracted by the splendid voice when he happened to be passing, had taken Maisie to his office, and there had learnt her name and circumstances. "He has engaged me for a part in the new musical play," ended Maisie excitedly. "The girl who was to act the part has failed him. I've got it at seven pounds a week, and when you get better — for I told him about you—Tamerlane will let you sing in the chorus until you get a chance for a small part." "Oh," gasped Gerty, with shining eyes, "it is too wonderful! And these?"

"Tamerlane advanced me ten pounds, so I went straight and bought all these things." Maisie hugged her friend and kissed her. "Now we will have a real, splendid Christmas, darling. But first She pulled Gerty out of bed and made her kneel. Side by side the happy girls gave thanks for the love and compassion of Christ who had descended to bless their Christmas. As thev ended the bells broke into ioyful music, telling that Christ was born. "And the carol you sang?" whispered Gerty. awestruck by the miracle. Maisie lifted her face and clasped her hands, singing gloriouslv: "What sifts bring you to my Child?" Asked the Mother, fair and mild. Answered then the Wise Men. old: "Frankincense ajad myrrh and erold." "Groat the gifts you bring-," said she, Rockirjg JcPtw on her kn-ee. "But my Babe from Heaven above Brings to you the gift of Love." "He has done so." murmured Gerty, still awestruck. "Thank Him again, Maisie." And they did, while the bells far and wide proclaimed the Holy Birth. [The End.]