“Wind’s” Pen Writes....

Wanganui Chronicle, Volume 80, Issue 100, 30 April 1938, Page 12

“Wind’s” Pen Writes....

Dear Wendy.—Little ways of children I have met with. Who can really fathom them? Some have violent tempers, born that way they aay, most uniortunate, for that may lead to anything. Others haxe sunshine in their eyes and roguish twinkles and again there are those who are sullen and morose besides selfish bullies, while others over estimate themselves. I should think a mother would need to be marvellously level-headed and nurse-minded to cope with all the ways of child nature. Suppose some parent is incompetent; that lack might carry on down the ages and children’s children may have a similar inadequacy. —“WIND.”

CHAPTER H Beth, the only girl, was twelve, and instead of being her mother's righthand she made a very poor left; a dreamy-eyed pretty child with black curly hair, she was the direct opposite in appearance to Terry, yet somehow they drew one to gaze at their piquant faces and after looking away turn for another peep. Not that they were better dressed than others, but they seemed to leave that impression on the mind—there was something magnetic about them.

Beth was a bookworm. Anything, everything was devoured. She could read in a babel of talk and herself hear nothing. She knew all about Ted’s shy ways, but never interfered. Her books wrapped her round like a mantle; they were all-sufficient. Why should she bother to enlighten her parents? Had something bumped her so hard that her senses revealed her selfishness I really believe the shock would have cured her, but so far the awakening had not come and Beth dreamed on. The moment she came in from school she would seize a book. "Here is a cup of tea, dear,’’ says mother. “Um, yes, thanks, Mum.” And holding the book in one hand and cup in the other she mechanically drank the tea, setting it down to pick up a cake. A piece of bread would have tasted just the same when Beth had an interesting story. “Now you must do your practice, dear. You were too late this morning.” A precious half-hour had slipped away while she looked at a new magazine. "Just one minute and I’ll be finished.” said Beth. But that "one minute” stretched to an hour, and only then did she reluctantly go to the piano. Her playing was desultory; the fascinating tale could not be so easily eliminated. Why didn’t Beth use that hour to help her tired little mother. She had never been taught to do childish tasks, thus the result. Mrs. Weston, a neighbour, called while Beth was playing and hearing someone speaking to her mother she rattled off a snappy piece she knew by heart. "Oh, Mrs. Weston, just listen to Beth. Isn’t that divine? She had a very good ear for music and would have become a promising player, but she would concentrate on nothing but her reading. Consequently her music suffered.” It was, to say the least of It, rather indifferent. While she thought hetself “It,” who could blame her—idolised, set on a pinnacle to be worshipped by both parents? Mrs. f Another instalment of this inter* Saturday.—Wendy.

Lane was busy peeling potatoes when Mrs. Weston looked in late that afternoon with a parcel she had brought from town. "Why don’t you make Beth help you, Mrs. Lane?” she asked. "She could easily practise in the morning. You are getting verythin.” "I’m quite alright,” she said laughing. "Didn’t you know that ‘our girlie’ plays at the. concert next week. She must take care of her hands.”

The lady sniffed as she ran back to the car. “Hands be bothered! I think I’d admire a little vegetable stain on them now and again.” "Beth could be made perfectly sweet,” Mrs. Weston said to her husband as they went on their way. "She has a nice nature really, but that silly little woman is making her useless »i the extreme, besides putting nonsense in her head. Fancy calling that catchy rag-time divine.” If you had run ahead of that swiftly-moving car and looked into Mr. and Mrs. Weston’s home, what a different picture would have been presented. Two children were there. One about Beth's age was bent over a kitchen range, where a fire blazed merrily. “I must be careful, Dick, and not burn anything. Mum didn’t mean to be late but something must have kept them in town. You run for the cows now. That is plenty of wood. I will set the table and everything will be ready.” In a few minutes Dick’s lusty shout echoed back to Marie. She knew he was hurrying along the ones who always lag behind for a last bite. Marie had set the dining-room table in her neat, careful way when Dick raced to the door calling "Quick, Marie, I hear Dad’s toot!” Together they ran for the gate in time 1o see the car round the last bend. l|to the front they scrambled pell-mell to hug their parents, while Mum pulled Dick close and whispered in a voice audible to Marie: “I’ve got something lovely for a good boy.” The children both laughed joyously. This was a very old game, played when Dick was much younger and never forgotten. Mother had brought home a bag of sweets on this memorable occasion and taking some out in her hand said: “I don’t think Marie deserves any, but here are some for a good boy.” She intended offering the bag to her daughter, thinking her old enough to be. treated thus. Before another word was spoken Dick had pushed half his sweets into his sister’s hand and with big tears in his eyes said: “I didn’t know you had been naughty, Marie, but Mummy will forgive you, I’m sure. sting senies will appear again next

Dear Wendy.—l would like to join the Wendy Hut circle. I admire the page very much. I think some of the letters are very clever. Some of the names are quite exciting. I would not like a kick from "The Terrilieu Horse.” I must close now. May 1 have for my pen-name—"ANGES DE PARADIS,” Pukeroa.

Welcome to the Wendy Hut, my dear. I am pleased you find so much in our ages to interest you. You may have the pen-name you have chosen. —Wendy.

Dear Wendy.—May we have the pen-name of the two "Easter Eggs?” We have been looking at your page for some time and thought we would like to join your clan. We know the two "Big Sisters” and we believe thej have very bad colds. We heard that "Hairy Goat” choked on the long grass by his house. "Poultry Maida Admirer,” are you missing "Nelson Eddy” now that he is deer-stalking? Do you drive a V 8 Ford? Yes, we both know you well. "Hairy Goat’s brother,” have you come home to see “Hairy Goat” as he hao a very bad cold? Love From "EASTER EGG NO I,” and "EASTER EGG NO II,” Hunterville.

Welcome to the Wendy Hut, my dears. I am ever so happy to enrol you in our ranks. I suggest I slightly amend your pen-names, though, as 1 already have a member with the penname you have chosen. Let’s call you "Easter Egg No. 1” and "Easter Egg No. 2.” I am glad you know some ot our clan.—Wendy.

Dear Wendy.—l enjoy reading your page very much and will you please make me a Wendy Hut reader? If we have pen-names may I have "Sunshine Susie?” I like playing tennis, basketball and lots of other sports. I am in Standard 5 at school and I like school very much. We had a let of wet weather over Easter didn’t we? We have not far to go to school, we have Two teachers and about 35 pupils. I hope you had a nice time during Easter, but it was wet. A big cheerio to all.—Yours trully "SUNSHINE SYLVIA,” Taihape, Welcome to the Wendy Hut, my dear. I am ever so happy to have you in our ranks. I am sorry but the penname you have asked for is in use. so I have given you "Sunshine Sylvia” which I hope you will like. I see you are fond of sports, too. Yes the weather was rather dreadful over ths Easter festivals.—Wendy.