THAT THERE SISTER AGATHA.

Otago Witness, Issue 3775, 20 July 1926, Page 81

THAT THERE SISTER AGATHA.

By

Alice F. Webb.

! (Copyright.—For ths Witness.) "What I can’t stand about *er is the way she ’as of pokin’ ’er nose into a person’s business,” said the stout woman. " That’s what I always says,” replied the friend. “She seems to think because she liearns ’er livin’ givin’ coal and ole clothes to the likes of us that she ’as the right to come breastin’ along the street in ’er blue cloak an’ pry into hall yer mos* private affairs. On’y 10 days ago I was just coinin’ out of the door of the Blue Lion when I seen ’er cornin’ along—l just ’ad time to slip back out of sight before she spotted me. Mos’ times I wouldn’t care so much—just tell ’er to mind ’er hown business, but winter cornin’ on—well a bag o* coal is ’andy, ther’s no denyin’. So long, Mrs Green. If I stan’ ’ere chattin’ liany longer it’ll get dark on me before I get me cleanin’ done.” They parted, and, entering the doorw T ay of adjoining office buildings, commenced the cleaning of passages and stairs which was the method by which they "hearned their livin’.” The object of their abuse meantime came walking slowly along the damp, muddy street, thinking deeply, as she made her way toward her rooms, and carrying with her a large parcel of clothing and a satchel containing books. She was a tall, thin woman with fair hair, now turning grey, and tired blue eyes, which yet could see a good deal more than was altogether desirable from the point of view of those who wished to hoodwink her in the matter of charitable doles given by the church which employed her. One of her detestable practices was that of establishing friendly relations with the women employed by other churches or societies, and the officers of the Salvation Army, which made it hard for the cadgers of the city to draw upon several organisations simultaneously* : She could, however, be relied on to give devoted service in illness or real trouble. As reached her home, a couple of rooms over a shop, her steps hastened and her eyes brightened with anticipation, for it was the day on which her letters from home reached her, and for once she had no work that must be done that, evening. Unlocking the door she gathered her mail from the floor, and lit the gas in her small living room. - It did not take her long to read the letters, having done which she set about preparing her evening meal, winch she felt had been well earned by a long afternoon of visiting in the more respectable part of her district, rounding up truants from Sunday school, with a call or two upon invalids, and one delightful quarter of an hour admiring a new baby in the home of one of her favourites. On the whole, the day had been good. She methodically filled in her diary after she had finished her tea and washed the dishes, intending to settle down to a quiet evening’s reading. But it was not to be. Just as she seated herself in her chair she heard a faint knocking on the door, and, opening it, found a ragged little girl on the doorstep. “ please, Sister, come Rn* see mum 1 8 "All right, Maggie. Come in and sit by the fire while I put my boots on. Here is a bhn for you to be eating while you wait.” She was putting on her cloak and hat as she spoke, and in a few minutes was ready, and out in the damp darkness with the little messenger clinging to her hand, and telling her the sordid details which had preceded this unexpected call. “Mum didn’t come ’ome to tea, an’ dad was cross, and ’e got ’is tea, and baby and me ’ad some. Then dad went out, and mum an’ another lady come in. with two bottles of beer, and after the other lady went away, mum said she ’ad a orful pain, and to come and tell you, and I did —didn’t I?” * Sister Agatha was only too used to ttese confidences Mrs Green was one of her trials, so plausible when sober, so sly and untruthful when she was drinking. The husband was a weak, selfish man, whose work as a carrier took him away from home a good deal in the early and late parts of the day. The two little children were dear little souls, but what chance had they in such a home? Maggie, who was nearly eight, seldom went to school, because she was kept at home to mind baby, who was two years old. There had been three other babies born after Maggie, but none of them had lived, while baby was, as his mother said, “not too good,” a delicate, aged-looking little child with claw-like hands and a greyish wrinkled little face. Arrived at the cottage,, Sister Agatha went at once to the bedroom where the sufferer lay. A strong smell of beer assailed her in the heavy air of the untidy room, and she moved across to open the window, before looking at the groaning woman lying fully dressed on the bed which she had not made for some days if one might judge by appearances. *TII get me death of cold, Sister, with the draught,” complained Mrs Green,

striving to drag the untidy bed-clothee over her. “Oh, no, you won’t,” remarked the Sister, turning up the lamp wick a little that she might have more light to inspect her patient. “Now, tell me what is wrong.” “I feel terrible—gone all over like, an’ the pains 1 ’ave is something chronic.” Her face, flushed and sodden-looking, with hair straggling all over it, was very far from clean. “That’s why I ’ad a drop of beer with Mrs Menzies when we was done our cleanin’. It done me a bit of good, too.” “Did it?” Sister spoke dryly as she moved about the house heating water and speaking kindly to the unhappy little ones. She knew exactly how to set about the cure of the effects of a‘ drinking bout, having, alas, only too frequent occasion to put her knowledge to the test. After a while, having put the children to sleep in the bed they shared by telling them a wonderful story, and having seen the women through the nauseating period of partial recovery to a state of heavy slumber, she extinguished the lamp, and made her way home to bed, tired and disappointed, for Mis Green had lately shown some signs of repentance and a desire to pull herself together and reform. The next few days were busy ones for Sister Agatha. There was a good deal of illness in the town and, consequently, more visiting to be done than usual. She had looked in at Mrs Green’s the morning after her summons to minister to her, and had found her better in body, but decidedly worse in spirit, full of whining self-pity and self-justification for her broken* promises. Sister Agatha never wasted time on admonition at unsuitable moments, so she went about her other work leaving Mrs Green’s lecture to a moment when she might be more amenable to good influence. One evening as she was passing the door of one of the worst hotels just before closing time, Mrs Green came forth bearing a badly wrapped parcel in which several bottles were veiled rather than concealed. She hurried off in the direction of her home. It being the evening on which the girls’ club met in the Sunday school, Agatha had not time to follow her, but she registered a vow to deal faithfully with her on the morrow. The evening’s work occupied her thoughts very fully. The* girls were full of undisciplined life, and prone to regara any attempt to include useful instruction into their gathering as an infringement on their liberties. They wanted to be amused and entertained without effort for the general good on the part of individual members, and very little, help was forthcoming in the way of personal service from the more serious members of the congregation, who were willing to give money to further the object of the club, as long as no demands were made upon their leisure. Altogether, it was a discouraging job, and nothing but strong faith and devotion to the service of God could enable any woman to continue in it. The following morning Mrs Green herself opened the subject between them by appearing at Sister’s rooms to ask that influence should be exerted on her behalf in tiie matter of a caretaker’s job just now vacant. After hearing her to the end of her statement of her own admirable qualifications for filling this office, Agatha said slowly: “But I could recommend only an absolutely sober woman for this work.” “An’ what do you call me, I should like to know ? I on’y touches the stuff for medicine, and then not near as often as I had ought to for the sake of my ’ustan’ and the pore little children. I ’aven’t ’ad a drop for weeks now, except that time I sent Maggie to fetch you, an’ you seen yourseli ’ow h’ill I was that time.” “But, Mrs Green, only last night I saw you coming out of the Metropolitan with drink that you were taking home.” “What a nasty, suspicious mind you mus’ ’ave to think h’evil of another lady. I ’eard there was a cottage to let, and I went 4here to h’ask about it. What’s that you say? A queer place to go to about cottages? H’i can’t ’elp that, can i r “But I saw what you had in the parcel you were carrying!” “And what did I ’ave? Just a little nice dripping the lady said as she would give me for fryin* fish in.” “1 think it would have dripped if you had knocked against anything,” replied Agatha. “Mrs Green, can you not see how useless and wrong it is to add untruthfulness to what is already so wronq?'* At this the suppliant charwoman lost her temper completely. “Nasty suspicious mind you ’as,” she cried angrily. “Accusing decent wimmin of lyin’, an’ turnin’ the cold shoulder on ’em when they are a tryin’ to h’eam a ’ones’ livin’. Whited sepulchre, I calls you ’ypocrites. I shan’t sen* our Maggie to Sunday School no more. She can go to the h’Army, or stop ’ome and min’ baby, while I gets a bit o’ Test.” “That’s what she usually does now,” said Sister Agatha firmly. “ I am sorry, Mrs Green, I cannot recommend you as caretaker, and I must go out how, so we cannot talk any more just now.” They parted, Mrs Green breathing out threaten ings—“ ’Ave ’er turned hout of the church, I will,” etc., etc.—as she returned to her dwelling to finish the contents of the parcel of “ dripping.” Meeting her friend Mrs Menzies she invited her companionship, which was

just as well for her physically, as Mrs Menzies believed heartily in the principle of fair division, and the amount of drink to be consumed was thus reduced by half. And then real trouble fell upon the sordid little home. Once again Maggie wae sent to call Sister Agatha, who arrived to find that Mrs Green lay helpless in her bed with a badly scalded foot, having overturned a boiling pot while she was not quite sober, and that before this had happened her husband had deserted her and his children —and his debts, —and disappeared, leaving no trace of his whereabouts. It was evident that Mrs Green must be taken to the hospital, and that being arranged a temporary home must be found for Maggie and baby. This was a difficult matter, as those who had suitable homes usually had already as many occupants in them as was consistent with the laws of hygiene, but at last a domicle for them was found at some distance from their former haunts. The little cottage was dismantled, and its contents stored in an empty shed nearby against the day when their owner should be able to furnish another home. “ Nurse,” said Mrs Green fervently as she lay in the clean, airy ward of the large hospital, “ if you want to know a real good Christian woman it’s that there Sister Agatha. What she ’as been to me since first I knew ’er I can’t ’ardly tell you. Never a ’aid word. Always treated me like a lady—more like sisters wp always was. She’ll miss me, she will, now I am a lyin’ in ’ere, and she can’t run in of an afternoon to tell me hall ’er little troubles. She ’as a pretty ’ard time in ’er district, an’ there’s many a one wot ’ull take hadvantage of ’er if they can. Pretty tired she gets too. I met ’er one day lookin’ like nothing on earth, and she says: ‘ I on’y wish ’heveryone in the district was like you, Mrs Green; but, there, we can’t expect too much in a pore part of the town like this, can we?’ Yes, I guess she misses me all right, she does! ” At that moment Sister Agatha was unlocking her door on her way into her home. “ There’s one comfort,” she remarked to herself as she lit the fire. “ I know Mrs Green is safely out of mischief for the present, and I need not dream of her setting the house on fire and burning the children in their beds, or any such awful things. What is to be done when slie is able to come out of hospital I can’t think. Oh, well — ‘ Sufficient unto the day ’