* * * * *
WHAT'S THE USE
"How much did you ever make by complaining?" asked a man of his"disgruntled" granddaughter. "Come, now, be honest with yourself, andthink it all out and see if you do not lose by grumbling."
Finding fault is indeed an unprofitable occupation. It "snarls you upinside," as the little boy said of his hot temper, and so puts you outof joint with the world that you are sure to find something more togrumble about, and so it goes from bad to worse all the while.
"_Get away!_"]
SUSY DILLER'S CHRISTMAS FEAST
"Please'm, only a penny. I'm most froze and starved!"
The carriage stood at the edge of the sidewalk, and Mrs. Linley was justgoing out with her two children to buy some Christmas gifts. Nellie wasall scarlet and ermine, her sweet, happy face framed in with goldencurls, and Master Frank not a whit behind in elegance, though a triflemore haughty, as you could tell by the wide distance he gave themiserable little beggar.
"Get away!" said Mrs. Linley, with a disdainful sweep of the hand.
The woman and the child looked at each other--one of those glances thatstamp a face upon one's memory. Mrs. Linley was always afraid of streettrash. They might have fever, or small pox, or some other infection,lurking in their rags.
The carriage drove on. The children were happy, generous, well-behaved,and belonged to a Christian family. They were going to prove all thisnow. Besides gifts for mama and papa, and some little cousins, half adozen poor children were to be remembered.
They spent all the pleasant, sunshiny middle of the day going from shopto shop. What hosts of tempting things! A perfect Santa Clause reveleverywhere. It was like a glimpse of fairy-land.
Frank and Nellie laughed and talked, ran to mama with a hundred prettythings, but did not tease.
They had quite a load in the carriage. And oh! wouldn't lame JohnnyAshton be delighted with his books, and the wheel-chair mama had boughthim, and Susy Dorr would be the happiest of the happy in her new plaiddress, and her teacups and saucers.
"Poor children love to play just as well as rich children, don't they,mama?" said grave, sweet Nellie.
"I hope you will never forget, my dear, that we are all created alike,and that all the poor little ones are just as precious in God's sight."
"And it is so nice to make them happy!"
Mrs. Linley gave her darling a smile.
"And Christ the Lord was born for everybody," Frank added in areflective manner. "My teacher told me so on Sabbath,--so that alllittle children might be saved, and,--have a merry Christmas."
"Maybe they can't all have a merry Christmas. Some are very poor andsick, and nobody seems to care for them--like the little beggar-girl whostood watching us when we started. O mama! isn't it hard? What becomesof them?"
The sweet face was full of tender pity.
"God takes care of them, like the sparrows," said Frank.
"_They shivered with the cold._"]
Mrs. Linley did not answer. Already her heart condemned her, for afterall, she was a kind-hearted woman. She half expected to find thewretched object on her doorstep. If so, she would try to make amends forher harsh words. But she was not there.
When they returned home from shopping, they shivered with the cold andran to the register. Then papa came home, and they had the happiestChristmas eve imaginable. Of course one cannot make one's charities goall around the world, but Mrs. Linley thought she had stretched hers along distance. So she had. And yet she might have given the child at herdoor a few pennies. But street-beggars were so often thieves!
Meanwhile the little beggar girl wandered on. For nearly a week she hadslept in the station-house and begged a little during the day, justenough to keep body and soul together. She used to sell matches andpins, but she had no capital to buy a new stock, and there were so manyin the trade. A month ago the old woman with whom she had lived diedsuddenly. Then she had to live the best she could.
She went on asking now and then for a penny. Some gave the forlornlittle beggar a scowl, some did not even deign to look, and one or twomen spoke roughly to her. Oh! She was so hungry and so cold.
"_She came to a restaurant._"]
The bright sunshine did not seem to warm her a bit. She looked wistfullyinto basement windows. She stared at the merry, happy children who ranby in warm clothing. Her shoes were out to the ground; her tattersflapped in the biting wind.
It was growing colder and colder. She ran along until she came to arestaurant. Such a delightful, savory smell came through the grating,and a faint warmth that was most grateful to her. Not a mouthful ofanything had she eaten since yesterday noon. People went along withgreat market baskets full; men with bundles in their arms, girls andboys with Christmas gifts,--all hurrying homeward.
"Move on, move on, there!" said the stern voice of a policeman.
What if she was arrested and sent to prison? She would have something toeat. And the pain gnawing at her stomach was so hard to bear. There wasa jacket she might steal--the men around would be sure to see her. Shereached out her hand.
No, she couldn't. She never had been a thief. She remembered her mother,who had died two years ago. The pretty lady getting into the carriagehad made her think of _her_! Oh! how good it was that the dear mothercould never be hungry again. And she had said, "Jennie, _never tell alie, never steal_."
She sat down on a doorstep and began to cry. It was very cold now, andshe was so chilled that the tears froze on her thin cheeks. She curledherself up in the corner. If she could only get to sleep.
"Hillo!" said a cheerful voice, and some one shook her by the shoulder."You'll freeze to death here! It's pinching cold! You better run home."
"Lemme be. I haven't any home. And I was almost asleep. You've broughtall the old pain back."
Sturdy young Susy Diller, herself a poor working girl, dragged up theforlorn little object and scanned the thin, blue face.
"Where have you been?"
"Station-houses and such," the child answered sullenly. "After old Mollydied, they turned me out. I hadn't any capital, so I had to go out oftrade. I've tried to beg--"
"_She sat down on a doorstep and began to cry._"]
Susy stood considering. What would Granny say if she brought the poorthing home? "Don't you ask another one to your Christmas party," she hadsaid already. "There won't be room for 'em to stand on one foot." Susydrew her sleeve across her eyes. Somehow her heart had grown very tendersince she had been going to the mission school. A little scene flashedinto her mind: On Sabbath, Mr. Linley, the most splendid man in theworld, Susy insisted to Granny, had been explaining to the boys andgirls how even the Saviour of all the world had been houseless.
"I wish I'd been there!" said Susy bravely, "I'd a' took Him in."
"Susy," replied Mr. Linley, "when we do such a thing for the verypoorest and meanest, we do it for the Lord." And then he read thebeautiful commendation that the Saviour was to bestow at the last uponthose who did what they could in this world, picturing their blessed joyand surprise as they said: "Lord, when saw we Thee hungry and fed Thee,or sick and ministered unto Thee?" He had a way of making such vividpictures that the boys used to listen wide-eyed and open-mouthed.
So Susy had announced to Granny that she meant to give a Christmasparty, and repeated to her all the conversation at the Sabbath-school asshe always did.
"I thought you was going to get that nice new jacket? And you have justmoney enough."
"I'll wait two or three weeks for that," declared Susy. "You see it's somuch nicer on Christmas. I don't understand a bit how the Saviour didcome down to earth, but it seems good to think He was a little boy,though He was a good sight better'n any of us. When you think of allthat, you can get kinder nigh to him, just as I do to Mr. Linley, ourSabbath-school teacher.
"And maybe, if we ask in the poor and lame, He will look down and thinkSusy Diller is trying to keep Christmas the right way. There'll be lameTim Jenkins,--you know
he was run over by the street cars,---and Humpy,whose mother is dead, and the little Smith that I set up in the paperbusiness, and Kit Benner, who's been sick and lost his place, and--"
It was then that Granny had said: "Don't ask another one. There won't beroom enough for 'em to stand on one foot."
"And we'll have a rousin' turkey,--I know where I can get one realcheap,--and cranberry sauce, and pickles, and mince pie. A regularfeast, and no mistake!"
But finally Susy had found two more; so now there were six of them. Susyhad work in a factory and took care of Granny, who was too old to domuch of anything, and was almost bent double with rheumatism. They had aroom on the second floor of a tumble-down barrack, and one small bedroomout of it; but Granny thought it almost a palace, because Susy was sogood to her.
And now here was one more to share their Christmas dinner. What wouldGranny say! But the young missionary did not stop long to consider thematter,--here was a case of real suffering, and Susy's consciencequickly adjusted itself--
"Come along," said Susy to the little vagrant, thinking somehow of theLord of all who had not where to lay His head.
"For maybe if He was here," she soliloquized, "we shouldn't be able totell Him from anyone else. And it's just--anybody."
"_She dropped into a little heap before the fire._"]
Susy took the little estray by the arm, and hurried her along. Poorlittle Jennie! her feet seemed hardly to touch the ground, they were socold and numb. She didn't much care even if she was being taken to thestation house.
But she wasn't. After a while she felt the warmth and heard the voices,but she was so tired and sleepy that she dropped into a little heapbefore the fire and only heard her young rescuer say:--
"Let her sleep, Granny; it'll do her more good than anything else."
_"It was a famous Christmas feast."_]
"But, Susy, child, we can't take care of her all the time. And--"Granny stopped there, looking into Susy's eyes.
"It's Christmas eve, Granny. I feel as if we ought to do something, evenif we have only a manger to take people into."
By and by, Jennie Morgan, the poor little waif, woke up, had somesupper, and told her story. It was like hundreds of others, only hermother was a beautiful lady. She had seen some one in the street thismorning that looked just like her.
"She's smart and chipper, Granny, and she'll soon be better," said Susy.
Jennie's cheeks were very red the next morning, and her eyes verybright; moreover, her voice had a curious tremble in it, but shedeclared she was quite well. It was so delightful to be housed and warm,and to have no great hungry pangs gnawing at her stomach.
Susy went out a while, and Granny prepared her turkey to roast. PoorJennie thought there never had been such a savory fragrance before.
It was a famous Christmas feast. There were lame Tim with a clean face,and a new red necktie to do honor to the occasion; Humpy, as the littlefellow was called, who sold pins, tape, and shoe strings on the corner,and had grown deformed from a bad fall; Kit Benner, looking white enoughand thin enough to frighten you; three others, and the little strayJennie Morgan, besides Granny, in a new cap and new calico gown.
Such a time as they had! They were so crowded around the table thatthey had hardly elbow room. They made jokes, laughed, drank Granny'shealth in the fragrant coffee, and were as happy as the happiest.
Meanwhile, over at Mr. Linley's they had a grand tree. Nellie, dressedlike a fairy, distributed the gifts, carefully laying aside those forthe poor. Of course they could not ask such people into theirfestivities. It was honor enough to hang their gifts on their beautifultree. Then Mrs. Linley played, and they had some charming carols.
They had two or three songs sung also at Susy Diller's. Susy had learnedthem at the mission school. Finally Jennie begged to lie down in thecorner by the stove, for she felt a little chilly, and her head wasaching.
"O Susy, won't you sing again?" she pleaded. "It's like heaven. Motherused to tell me about it. And do you suppose that the Lord Jesus caresfor little girls who have to live on the street and sleep where theycan? Sometimes they can't help lying and stealing."
"Yes, He _does_ care. Mr. Linley told me so. You see," and Susy laid herforefinger in the palm of the other hand, "you see this is the way: Heputs the thought into other people's hearts, 'cause He isn't here anymore to do the work."
"Oh!" said Jennie slowly, and with a sage nod, "wouldn't it be good,Susy, if He would put it into the hearts of rich folks? they could do somuch."
"Sometimes He does. Look at the newsboys' dinner! And there's a goodmany things."
Poor Jennie sighed a little. She could not make it out straight in hertired brain.
The crowd went away presently, declaring that it was the jolliest sortof a Christmas. They thanked Susy and Granny over and over again.
The next day was Sabbath. Susy begged Mr. Linley to come and see thelittle sick girl at her house. And one way and another, the story of theChristmas feast came out.
For Jennie, the little beggar girl, was very sick. Cold and hunger haddone their worst. It had been so hard and dreary since her mother died,with no one to care for her, and to have to dodge around continually,kicked and cuffed and almost starved. And if the Lord up above _did_care--
"She's a pretty sick little girl," said Susy, "but Granny and I will doour best to pull her through."
Mr. Linley felt the pulse and shook his head. The fever was high andthere was no strength to battle with it.
And then he looked into Susy's great, wistful eyes, and was touched tothe heart. The child had learned the sweetest and noblest lesson of all.She had gone out into the highway and hedges, she had gathered in thelame and the halt and the blind.
"You see I've grown fond of her, a'ready," explained Susy. "I'd doanything for her."
"I'm afraid it's too late. I will send in a doctor, and some delicaciesfrom the house."
"If you please, I'd rather not have you do the last. You see Grannyspoke a little cross at first, and now she's trying to make it all up toher. She'll feel better if she does everything; and she's a good heart,has Granny."
What a point of conscience here amid poverty and ignorance!
"The lessons have not all been on my side," said Mr. Linley to his wifeafterward. "The poor little factory girl has taught me something that Ishall never forget. To think of her going without her coat that shemight provide a dinner for some homeless, hungry children. I wish youwould go and see them, my dear." Mrs. Linley went with her husband.
_"O Mother! Mother!"_]
Susy stared as if she had seen an angel. Granny dropped a curtesy, anddusted a chair with her apron.
"Little Jennie," Susy whispered, "poor little girl, can't you open youreyes a minute?"
She opened them--wider--wider. Then she rose a little and staredaround--stretched out her trembling hands toward Mrs. Linley, andcried:--
"O mother! mother! Susy said I should find you. I tried to be good, notto lie or steal, though I was nearly starved. And Susy's been so--kind.She brought me in--to the Christmas--dinner--"
Mrs. Linley caught the swaying form in her arms. The last words quiveredslowly on her lips and her eyes drooped. She remembered just where shehad seen the child, and a pang of bitter self-upbraiding pierced herheart. She kissed the still lips for her mother's sake, and laid hergently down. Had Susy and Granny entertained an angel unawares, whileher blind eyes had not been able to discern "the least of these?"
"Oh!" said Susy sobbing, "I'm so glad you came. I s'pose she thought itwas her own mother, for she has talked about her all the time. Poorlittle girl! I shall always be thankful that I brought her in out of thecold, though I never guessed she was going to die."
"The fame of your Christmas feast has gone up among the angels, Susy,"said Mr. Linley reverently. "And now, my dear girl, have little Jennieburied where you like, and bring the bill to me. I want a little sharein your good work."
Mr. and Mrs. Linley walked home quietly. Had her beautif
ul Christmastree borne any such fruit as this?
"For I was an hungered and ye fed me."
THE BARN THAT BLOSSOMED
"Mother, it was dreadful!" Gerry's face was all shades of soberness, andher voice had a suspicious quiver in it. "I almost wish I hadn't seen.The house is fairly tumbling down; they couldn't have been warm oncelast winter. And there were five of them, from the baby up to Tad; he'stwelve. Such clothes! Just as if somebody's rag-bag had fallen apart andbegun to walk around. No wonder poor little Mrs. Jimson is nothing but amite of discouragement. Old Jim wasn't much of a man; but I suppose hedid put a bite inside of the rags once in a while, and she doesn't knowwhere even that is coming from, now he's gone. At least, not bitesenough to satisfy five unragged appetites."
Mother Brace's hands fell upon the potato-pan, knife and all. "Why,Gerry, child, what can we do? Our own bites aren't any too big; but Isuppose we can spare a few vegetables now and again, if any growwithout old Jim to hoe them. But we certainly haven't any houses orextra clothes, unless--maybe I could spare--"
"You can't spare a single clo', you blessed mother!" interrupted Gerry."You're not to worry at all, but I am going to think and think. I'm sureI shouldn't be made to feel so bad if there wasn't something I could doto help."
With which cheerful logic she sprang up and set about finishing hermorning's work, interrupted to attend the short and simple funeralservice said over the body of "old Jim Jimson," who had given them suchhelp as they could not dispense with in their square bit of garden, andsquandered the money that should have provided for the wife and fivechildren whose wretchedness had torn Gerry's tender heart.