MONDAY MORNING

New Zealand Tablet, Volume XXXV, Issue 36, 5 September 1907, Page 37

MONDAY MORNING

The bell had rung several times that morning. It was an obitrusively loud bell at the^ best, and Monday morning, when the maid was washing so that Jean 1 was obliged to answer its noisy summons, was not the time when it appealed to her most favorably. She had a slight headache, too, and she jumped at the,, sound, and said : l Oh, dear ! ' in a tone that implied unutterable things. ' A peddler, I suppose, muttered Jean crossly. 'As if anybody was likely to want silver polish or scented soap at nine o'clock Monday morning ! ' It was not a peddler on the front steps, however. t A mite of a boy in blue overalls stared up into her* face with an unwinking solemnity which might have made her sirile some other morning when her nerves were- not twitching. But there was no sign of mirth either in her, face or voice as she said brusquely, 1 Well, what is it ? Why did you ring, the bell ? ' The small boy put his linger into his mouth and seemed in danger of forgetting his errand altogether. Jean, looking past him, perceived a group of children on the walk, and realised impatiently that the little fellow had been made spokesman for the others. She was about to repeat her inquiries in a louder tone when the small voice at her elbow, piped out, ' Please, c'n we have a f'ower ? ' Jean had a sense of injury. The fact that she had been called from her dusting to hear such a request seemed little short of shameful. ' Indeed, you cannot ! ' she exclaimed. ' I don't raise flowers to ' give away. And I don't like to come to the door for nothing.' ', The tallest of the group on the sidewalk moved uneasily. ' Come, Jimmy,' said a motherly voice, which did not sound as if it belonged to a girl of twelve or thirteen. Jean cast a quick glance at the small figure in the gingham frock, and asked irritably, ' Why did you send him for a flower ? ' s The girl on the sidewalk waited to take her wee brother's hand before speaking. She lifted her plain, patient little face as she made answer : 1 Mamma died last week. We're going down to the place where they buried her, an' we wanted a flower to put on her grave. We didn't suppose you'd care '— and here the wistful eyes glanced toward the garden— 1 'cause you've got so many.' She was turning away, and she looked half frightened when Jean's breathless voice checked her. <i OH, wait ! ' Jean cried. ' Please wait. I didn't understand ! ' She caugTit up the tow-headed Jimmy and hugged him penitently, to his undisguised consternation, and the astonishment of the rest. c You poor little motherless ' mite ! ' she whispered. '-And to thinkI grudgecl you one flower, and was cross because I was called away from my dusting for a minute ! Qome into the garden, every one of you ! ' ' t They went away fifteen minutes later, their hands filled with flowers and their face's bright with smiles. And the face which ' looked after them had changed strangely in x that quarter of an hour. Its impatience and petulance had vanished, and In their place was a

tender understanding that glorified even the drudgery of a Monday mornirig.— Exchange.