LADIES' COLUMN.

Star (Christchurch), Issue 9092, 23 November 1907, Page 3

LADIES' COLUMN.

(THE THOUGHTS OF YOUTH ' ARE LONG, LONG THOUGHTS. jfBy. SYLVIA BRETT, in the "Westminster Gazette.") They were gathered together in the £bade of Nelson's Column, just a group of ragged, laughing urchins, a collection of London's littlest people. .Doubtless they had witnessed many a fcneeting in Trafalgar Square, and so this minute band had summoned together its forces, and had settled itpelf1 ' out of the way of the "grown!ups" to do its work. There were about five boys to fifteen eirls, and presently one of the* boys detached himself from the crowd and Jose üb. upon an old tin pail he had been carrying. « " Hi, you." he called out. " Silence giere for tie speeching of Blessed aba." Instantly there was a dead Silence amongst the girls, but the five poys yelled and whistled, and sang snatches of ancient songs. Then upon the sariie pail rose, Blessed Baba. She Eay have been the smallest there in cues, but she had wise eyes set in j a pathetically " wise little face.. Her ] hare toes cliing to the edge of the tin pail, her untidy head was raised, and very tenderly she held in her arms a k worn-out doll. j "Loidies and men,'? she cried in iher shrill treble." "I won't call you gents, 'cause you ain't, and I don't .want to tell yer unnecessary lies." The boys 'laughed in derision, and one of them .threw a pebble at her bare legs. "If you calls yourself a loidy," he said, " why don't you cover yourself?" ' .. ( \ The cornei- of Blessed Baba's wist- ; ful mouth hardened as she 6tooped j down to look well into the questioner's face. "I 'ad a pair of/butes and stockings once," she replied, ""but they give 'em to my bijother, 'cause 'is skin was too tender toW without." Then, Amidst a roar of laughter from the Fourteen girls, she patiently .began her Speech again. "Loidies and men, we J*re ' congregated ' 'ere to-day, not to jtfispute the rights of men, but the (wrongs of women. (Cheers.) We don't pretends' to know much about parliaments, and laws, and kings and things, hut what we dees know is that, the breasant states of us women- ain't fair." It was evident that she had copied fevery gesture, every intonation, and even in her voice rang the masterful tuote of an orator. _ The girls, some •very poor, some middle class, stood a little away from her, better to get the effect; the boys wandered about; *nd so she stood alone, and rather Isolated, clasping her doll to her thin infeast. I" Don't think," she continued earn-iß-xly, "that I ain't 'appy at 'ome; it iain't that. If father didn't always keep _eeing rats- when there weren't lany, 'ed be quite awfully nice, and me brother's quite 'appy now 'c's got thebutes. But it's mother as goes to me 'cart, as I spects your mothers goes to too." ' "Moine don't," said the boy who had first stood up to speak, "for I ain't got one, nor no father oither. Ive «lways been alone." j i^ A sweet smile came to the serious face, and she nodded across at the boy. •''Poor man," she said gently; "poor _nan." Arid then she looked down and .smiled again at the doll in her arms. j "Oh, I don't mind." replied the boy, .teniffihg vigorously; "I rather loikes it. i People gives me more when I says I'm pari, orphan." j One of, the girls cried "Hushl" and .Baba started afresh. \ "I hunderstand that it's this," she Baid, knitting her brows. "We ain' t ig-t a vote, and we wants one. And we wants a vote 'cause we don't want unFairness. (Cheers.) My mother sez l .hat the men sez } 'Let the women, stay, it 'oirie and momd their babbies arid ihingjs.' But she says there wouldn't >c no babbies hif they did, 'cause ihey'd^ie for want of food. I tells you p_en ain't worth 'alf of us women." The boys became unmanageable at that, shaking their fists at Baba, and trying to drag her off her perch. "Oo bez we ain'tr' they yelled. "Oo soz The little bare toes clung to the pail fes Baba shrieked back' her answer. " Heverybody says so; it's a hadmitted.fact; why, you can't even stick to ia thing." A curious look came into her teyes that seemed to make her all aft once the oldest there. "Father didn't jrtick to mother for years," she said; ** 'c only came back 'cause '© was afraid of the rats." The boys quieted a iittle and eyed her vindictively ; but, all unconscious, j»he continued : — " I don't understands (about life, but I knows enough to feel that men tire of things more easier then women. You see, I still loves this" Xholcling up the doll) ; " but none of you ]men would touch it ; you'd be ashamed ; jut wouldn't be manly, you'd say ; yet I kin't ashamed. I remember the doctoT fame to see me mother once, and 'c fcxed 'er where father was. ' 'E's away,' jsez my mother ; ' 'c's been away ter .three years.' The doctor looked kind o' fcorry fer 'er, and lifted me on to 'is lap. 'So you looks after yer mother,' )does you, little girl?* sez 'c. ' Yes, sir.' teez I; '_n' I'm glad my father ain't 'ere; men are brutes.' And then I lboites 'im through the 'and, and v so that 'c 'ad to drop me pretty quick. (What light 'ad 'c to look at me mother loike that?" i The girls laughed, and one or two fcried, "Go it, Babe!" But the boys were gluniji thinking that had they jbeen in Baba's place they would have got money out of the doctor. Then she burst out with some new ar.feument, dancing with excitement on the top of her pail, and gesticulating Wildly. She had just managed to gain Jfcheir thorough attention; even the Iboys were gaping silently, .with open jmouths, when suddenly into Trafalgar Square swept a regiment of soldiers; |band shrieking, drums thudding, and jred coats glimmering through the 'prowd. There was a shout, a flash, fend the fourteen girls and five boys pad gone, leaving Baba standing quite |alone,.a tiny statue, beneath the giant column . She watched them go with sbhe tears running down her cheeks, bow could they desert her — blessed, IJBaba — for a parcel of red coats? With let sob she was abcut to descend, when ia man, who unseen had been watching her, came close up and peered at tier very kindly. ' "Come, little girl," he said, jfcre you crying?" She clutched at her doll and glared Jnto the . charming face before her. ''It don't matter to you, I s'pose," Ishe replied rudely; "yqure only a Jman." The mere man chuckled. "Oh! so fct's that way, is it?" he said. "You are a Suffragette f" And his grey eyes ftwinkled so merrily ejt her that she jwanted to laugh. " What if I be?" she cried, furious *rith herself for liking this bold questioner. " Ain ? t it fair to want fair jiess?" A tired look came over his face as fee took out his watch and looked at It. Then his eyes twinkled up at hei tojzain. "Do you want, me to argue? Alas, I have no time; besides, I taven't quite made up my mind which aide lam on. lam not like you, you B ee." Then his mood changed, and, Going very close to her, he shook his Bjjger to and fro in her face. "Take #oy advice, little girl," he said kindly; I** go home and grow up before you befein to trouble your head about such .things." ( He dived into his pocket and handed Bier a golden coin; then, with a kindly Jnod ana a genial smile, he passed upfian his way. Ten minutes later tne

fourteen girls and five boys returned, and they found their leader 6eat&_ on the pail, with her head sunk into her arms. "Go away," she cried miserably when they touched her. "I'm — I'm not what I was." "Not what you was, Baba?" they answered. "You don't mean to say you've changed your moind?" me wistful mouth parted into a smile, the wise eyes brightened. "I means that everythink's changed for me," she said gently, "for I don't hate men one little bit, and I think, after all, they must know best, 'cause they's men." She stood up and held out her grimy little hand. "Good-bye," she said; "you won't see me again, 'cause I'm going straight 'ome to grow up." Then she turned and went on her way her bare feet pattering on the stones