The Storyteller

New Zealand Tablet, 23 May 1912, Page 5

The Storyteller

1 THE BENT TWIG Many times during the three days that followed 16 disappearance of his money, Mr. Allen said that at the porous plaster between his shoulders but the ain in his heart, acting as a counter-irritant, had cured is rheumatism. The loss of the money did not grieve him especially, .r.. Allen was not a millionaire, but he was well lough off to accept the loss of a twenty-dollar bill as matter of no great seriousness. His sorrow came om the fact that he had to suspect little Anna of iving taken the money. The Allen household conated of five persons—the master and the mistress, two aids and Anna. Mr. Allen knew that he had not olen from himself, and it would be equally absurd to spect Mrs. Allen. As for Lizzie and Susan, they had orked for the family for twenty years it was hardly ‘obable that they would take to stealing at this late ite.

But Anna, poor little twelve-year-old Anna, who id so bitter and sad a history, had been twice in court r stealing. Mr. Allen had no longer a regular business. He .ministered three of four estates for old friends, he is president of several charitable boards, and he was notary of the Holt Foundation, a great and increasg fund left by a benevolent woman for the poor of line County. He and Mrs. Allen had always planned go ‘ back home ’ to Massachusetts in their old age, it now that old age was approaching and they were se to go, they discovered that ‘ home ’ was Tainele.

Progressive Taine County had a juvenile court, at © sessions of which Mr. Allen was always present, ten -he was a witness, for he knew most of the poor " miles round ; often he was the ‘ big brother ’ apinted by the judge to keep watch over the paroled ender. The straightening of ‘ bent twigs,’ as he called 9 poor waifs, was Mr. Allen’s chief joy. It was in ) juvenile, court that he had made Anna’s acquaintce.

Anna had twice been, arrested for stealing bread was hungry,’ she said, sullenly.

If she had shown the least sign of penitence, the judge would have been lenient. But' she was rebellious and impertinent. - r vfS A: Send me to the reformatory,’ she said, saucily. ‘ I don’t care.’ - , •nV C'.'U- 1 - • Mr. Allen leaned forward from his seat beside the judge. He often questioned the children. Now there was a -sudden, unaccountable sharpness in his voice. ‘What is your name?’ Prodded by a policeman, Anna answered.; ‘Anna Corson.’ ; . ", - . * Mi. Allen s voice shook; the judge looked at him curiously. ‘ Where is your mother?’ : ' ; ‘ She’s dead.’ - • : - What was her name before she was married?’ His inquiries offended the thin little mite. ‘ None of your business ! ’ _ Anna! reproved the judge. The policeman gave her a little shake. Was her name Mary Bennett, and did she come from Massachusetts?’ ‘ I ain’t going to tell nothing about her.’ . But a way was found to make Anna tell. The judge s commands and the policeman’s prods failed, but Mr. Allen succeeded in the privacy of the ante-room. An hour later he came home with the child, ragged, unkempt, still sullen, but now a little awed, clinging to his hand. 5 8 Mrs. Allen appeared at the head of the steps. She was a placid person, who never wasted time asking for explanations. Almost any other woman in the world would have said, ‘Well, what have you done now?’ Caroline, Mr. Allen said; - ‘do you remember Mary Bennett?’ - Mrs. Allen sat down on the top step. Mary Bennett had been the daughter of a schoolmate and friend of her youth. It was impossible that there could be any connection between Mary Bennett and this dirty child! J

‘ I remember her perfectly.’ . v ‘ This is Mary Bennett’s child.’ Mrs. Allen looked her over, from the top of her unkempt head to the torn, ragged toes of her big shoes. In spite of her wretchedness, she looked like Mary Bennett. Mrs. Allen was filled with horror and curiosity. But curiosity could wait. . ‘Then let her come right up-stairs, and we will give her a bath and get her some clothes/ ■; ‘ And some food,’ added Mr. Allen. That had been the beginning. Sullen and forgetful, Anna never told them much of the past, and they did not question her. It was far better to help her to forget her poor, idle, worthless father, who had died in a hospital, her pale, sick mother, who had wandered far from home, and too proud to ask for help, had struggled in growing weakness for the support of herself and her child. Anna was clothed and fed and sent to school and taught to keep herself tidy. It was six months before she laughed aloud; it was a year before he began to make remarks without being addressed. Then suddenly , her birthright of childish spirits seemed to return to her; she laughed, she sang. Finally, one December day, she threw her arms found Mrs. Allen’s capacious waist in her first voluntary caress. ‘ You are so good.!’ she cried. * I love you !’ Mrs. Allen stooped and kissed her, trembling. Tl-t night Mrs. Allen went into the library after Mi. Allen had dismissed one of his numerous committees. He looked up at her in surprise. * \ ‘I thought you were in bed long a«*o!’ ‘No,’ answered Mrs. Allen. , , n Her , husband looked at her again. She called him tatner, which she did only in moments of great emotion. It brought back too clearly the happy time when for on blessed year, they had had in their house a little child of their own. - ■ .... : - • Father, Anna is getting to be a nice little girl.’ ‘Yes,’ agreed Mr. Allen. ‘We have had her almost two years and she has never done a wrong thine She comes of good stock on the Bennett side, and her

a.ther was the only Corson I ever heard of who was ood for nothing.’ - . 5 ‘ I have tested her,’ confessed Mrs. Allen. ‘ I ave left things round. She stole only when she was angry- and now she is as honest as the day. Suppose e adopt her, father?’ . - * Well,’ consented Mr. Allen. l\ Now, within a week, when Mr. Allen had begun to ike steps toward her adoption, when she grew each ay more dear to the two who had hitherto been almost ’raid to let themselves love her, Anna had stolen a yenty-dollar bill ! . Already in the two days that had passed they had dked it over a score of times. You are sure that you had it in your pocket?’ !rs. Allen would say. ‘ Of course I am!’ Mr. Allen was miserably unhappy he answered te a cross boy. - * I took everything out of my pockets,’ he went on, because I was going to put on another suit in the orning. I laid everything on my bureau. There was y pocket-book, and my keys, and the porous plaster id the liquid court-plaster I got for you, and my little ot rule, and two handkerchiefs and some letters and y pocket-piece and the bill. I hadn’t put the bill ok into my pocket-book after I showed it to you Bwnstairs ; I just shoved it loose into my pocket. I w it there on the bureau the very last thing before ■went to bed.’ B -■ You should have put it away.’ ■ ‘ I know that! But you called me, and I thought Bat if you were still awake you might put the plaster on ft- me, and I forgot all about the miserable bill, and ■ere is lay in plain sight of the door. Anna was downBdrs an hour before us, she couldn’t have helped seeing las she passed the door, she -’ I ‘But what shall we do?’ wailed Mrs. Allen. B ‘We can’t give our name to the child that steals Id Mr. Allen, gruffly. ‘ She will have to confess, and B shall have to punish her. I suppose she ought to be lipped.’ B Mrs. Allen shivered. Let us wait till to-night. ■I look everywhere. Perhaps I can find it.’ I Mr. Allen was perfectly willing to wait till night. ■ But at night the simple facts remained. The ■ney was gone, human hands had removed it, there B a person in the house who was known to have been Bhief. B ‘ She stole only when she was hungry,’ said Mrs. Ben again. B Anna had .offered a kiss before she went to school, B blue eyes danced, her face shone with excitement. B I know all my spelling to-day, I’ll be at the head Bmy class,’ she said, happily. B It would have been a simple thing to say, ‘Anna, B didn’t take Mr. Allen’s money, did you?’ But Bs. Allen did not dare.

She had gone upstairs and looked through Anna’s eau. It was a wonder that she had not thought risking a search before but Mr. Allen was not used tracking thieves. j /Anna’s clothes lay neatly folded, the pathetic little its and petticoats and stockings that covered her Ider body. In the lower drawer, carefully hidden, two jeweller s boxes. In one was a glittering scarfl in the other a gold bracelet. Compared with the few jewels that Mrs. Allen b they were cheap and tawdry, but their cost was beyond any sum that little Anna could have saved P her allowance of ten cents a week. I Mrs. Allen’si heart sank within her; she went In the steps with faltering knees, and put the boxes I drawer in Mr. Allen’s desk. How could the child f spent the money so soon! They must get the rest h her at once. But Mr. Allen would not be home I! evening; she knew he was glad of the business I took him away from town for the day. I jhfflit -she laid the boxes before him. liir f °™ d ese Anna’s drawer,’ she said. I‘cn! Allen examined the gaudy articles. v ' I She couldn’t have saved enough to buy the hideous |gs, 1 suppose

. ‘No.’ ' ,■. . ■ ' ■ a- ‘ Could Lizzie or Susan have given her any money ‘ I don’t think so.’ ‘ What could she do with such stuff?’ - ‘I don’t know.’ ‘ We’ll have her in, and settle this thing.’ . Mrs. Allen rang the bell for Susan. Instead of Susan, Anna herself answered it. She was growing to be a useful little thing. The sight of her smiling face and her little, thin body seemed to frighten Mr. Allen. ‘ Wait a minute, Caroline!’ he said, sharply. Mrs. Allen motioned Anna away, shut the door, and looked at her husband in surprise. ‘ I—I —’ Mr. Allen cast wildly .about in his mind for an excuse for further delay. He said to himself that he could not accuse her of having stolen, for he loved her as if she were his own. If he could have only a moment longer, perhaps he could solve this terrible problem in another way. Perhaps he had lost the money ; perhaps he had never had it ‘Don’t stare at me so!’ he said, sharply. Oh, I didn’t mean that! I’m —I’m just uncomfortable. This this plaster bothers me. I’ll take off my coat, and you can pull it off. I don’t believe porous plasters do any good, they only aggravate the trouble, they’re a waste of money, they ‘Now, stand still!’ bade Mrs. Allen, gently. She knew well enough that it was not the porous plaster that bothered Mr. Allen. Having pulled the plaster off, she drew his shirt together in the back, and helped him on with his coat, and waistcoat. Mrs. Allen was crying. ‘We must do something, father ‘This is the evening that I was going to tell her she was adopted,’ said Mr. Allen. ‘ I had it all planned out, I —’ He clutched the desk with one hand, his wife’s arm with the other. 1 Look there!’ he cried sharply. Mrs. Allen’s gaze followed his. On the table, beside the two boxes, lay the porous plaster, upside down. On its sticky black surface was plastered Mr. Allen’s nice new twenty-dollar bill. Mr. and Mrs. Allen sat down side by side upon the sofa. They held each other’s hands. ‘ I—l— ’ began Mr. Allen. ‘ Did you ev—’ stammered Mrs. Allen. ~ There was a rap at the door. ‘ Anna thought you wanted me, Mrs. Allen,’ explained Susan. ‘ Susan,’ said Mrs. Allen, ‘ do you know how Anna got the things in those boxes?’ ‘Oh, yes, ma’am!’ answered Susan, promptly. ‘ She saved her pennies, ma’am, her allowance.and what Mr. Allen gave her extra sometimes, and Lizzie' gave her pennies for wiping dishes, and I gave her pennies for dusting. She got together quite a sum. They are for your Christmas presents, yours and Mr. Allen’s. They’re too gaudy, Lizzie and I think, but her heart was set on ’em.’ Mrs. Allen put the lids on the boxes and handed them to Susan. ‘ You take those upstairs and put them in the righthand corner of the lower drawer under her red dress,’ she said, tremulously, ‘ and then you tell Anna to come here.— Youth’s Companion. . ' ...