NOT WASTED

New Zealand Tablet, 27 November 1913, Page 61

NOT WASTED

‘ Belle Converse, you’ll never do it.’ ‘Won’t I? Just wait and see! Oh, I know all your objections beforehand. ‘‘l cannot afford it.” “It’s too extravagant.” “A waste of money.” But while the rest of you may get what you please, good, sensible presents, and I’ll not say you nay, my present to grandmother is to be rosesgreat, creamy beauties which shall fill the room with fragrance and her heart with delight at the same time.’ ‘ But, Belle, they are so expensive ! and they will last so short a time; it docs seem that a more substantial present —something that would be a benefit to her all winter— be far more sensible, and I am sure grandmother would say so if you asked her.’ ‘ Now, Grace, I know that I have no money to waste, and all the sensible things you would say, but I shall not listen. For many years grandmother’s birthdays have brought presents of plain, comfortable clothing that she must have had even if there were no birthday to be taken into account, and though it may be unwise, I have decided to give her a sweet, lovely present, such as I might give to a dear teacher or friend whose necessities I did not need to consider. If she is vexed I shall be sorry, perhaps, that I did not buy stockings instead, but I am going to take the risk.’ In the home of her daughter, Grandmother Girwood sat quietly knitting- at a dark brown sock, thinking gratefully of the many blessings that were still hers, though her own home had gone into the hands of strangers, and she had for many years been at the fireside of another. She knew the girls, as she delighted to call them, would be in soon with some little gift for the day. Presently they cameßelle, Kate, Grace, Molly, and Dorothy, and laid their offerings in her arms. They were useful, sensible gifts, made thrice welcome because she knew they were prompted by the love in their hearts, and tears filled her eyes, but they were tears of joy. Half-timidly Belle handed her the long box from the florist, hardly knowing what reception it might receive; but their astonishment was great when Mrs. Girwood burst into tears. ‘For me, Belle! for myself—the roses! Oh, my dear, I have longed for pretty things all my life, buz! there has never been enough of anything for luxuries. Belle, they are the first, the very first flowers I ever had bought for me. I ’ and she struggled with her sobs. She kissed the soft, creamy petals, and then held them at arm’s length and brought them slowly back, inhaling their perfume, the tears rolling down her cheeks, and the smiles chasing them swiftly away. ‘ May the roses of life garland all your path, dear. Oh, I am so glad you thought of it!’ ‘ These will fade, we will try to get you some more.’ _ They will never fade from my heart,’ then, turning to the others, she said tenderly: Your gifts were lovely, my dears; they will make me comfortable in days to come, but those—— they have made me so happy ! ’

And Grace, turning to Belle, with a tearful smile said: ‘You were keener of sight than we; something must have told you how true were the poet’s words: “A rose to the living is better than sumptuous wreaths to the dead.” ’