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WINKLES.
"PLEASE, missis, have you got a pin?"
The question was addressed to me, in a childish voice, which had, however, a merry ring with it. I had paused for a moment to gather up my skirts a little, so as to keep them clear from the mud on the pavement. As it chanced, the stop took place in front of a shop where oysters, cockles, mussels, and periwinkles were displayed in tempting profusion.
I looked to see whence the voice came, and found that the owner of it was a little fellow, whose head was so overshadowed by an old, wide-brimmed straw hat that he seemed to be standing under a small umbrella. I had quite to look beneath this shade to discern a pale face and a pair of merry black-eyes, fringed with long lashes. He might be a small-sized five-year-old, for he was only in pinafores. Beside him was another youngster, evidently under the protection of little Black-Eyes, who waited with a look of intense anxiety for my answer.
"Supposing I have got a pin," said I, "what then?"
"Oh, please, would you give it us?"
"What for? Why do you want a pin?" I asked.
"Winkles!" was the prompt reply, with a glance towards the open window of the fish shop.
I understood the position. Black-Eyes and his friend wanted the pin in order to extract the little sea-snails from their shells with it.
But I could see they had no winkles in actual possession, so whilst extracting a spare pin from the edge of my cloak, I said, "I can give you a good strong pin, but where are the winkles?"
"In there," indicating the pile with his thumb. "We've had some. Only two or three though, yet—"
The thought flashed across my mind, "Why, the little rogues have been stealing. They watch their opportunity and snatch at odd ones that drop on to the slab within their reach." I put on a severe look, and said, "But you ought not to take even one winkle that is not your own."
"Oh, missis, we didn't!" returned Black-Eyes, with a troubled face. "When the woman measures 'em she 'most always spills one or two, and they roll out 'o window, and we pick 'em up. She don't want 'em back. She says so."
The child looked so straight at me out of those wonderful eyes, and gave such a prompt response, that I felt quite ashamed of myself for having suspected him. Poor little chap! He had stood there on the chance of picking up a stray winkle, and even when the first fell into his possession, groped for on the greasy-feeling pavement, he had bravely checked the impulse to make it his own, and had asked the shop-keeper if she wanted it back. From instant observation, I concluded that the question had gone to her heart, for one or two winkles rolled off into the street just then, in what seemed a preventible way, as she served a juvenile customer.
I wondered how the youngsters had got at their winkles at first, or whether the pin had been too weak and had become hopelessly crooked.
"Here is a good strong pin for you," I said, handing the article, which was received by Black-Eyes with rapturous thanks, and an attempt at a bow, which had the effect of jerking off the big hat on to the pavement, whence it was speedily recovered.
"How about the winkles?" said I. "I suppose a penny would buy you quite a lot."
"Oh, wouldn't it?" returned Black-Eyes, and then stood as if absorbed in contemplating a vision of bliss that he could never hope to realise.
"Here, take this penny and buy some then," said I. "I'm sorry, I have not another pin for you. Good-bye, children."
"Oh, thank you, missis. Say 'Thank you, and take your cap off;'" this to his wee companion. Then, "You shall have the pin first, Johnny, or maybe the shop lady will give us another."
Black-Eyes put his arm lovingly round the less child's neck, and led him into the fish shop in a state of delight which it was worth a good many pennies only to witness. And I could not help lingering to see the children with the materials for what would be to them a feast.
Beside, when one thought over this little scene, there were a good many lessons to be learned from it. Little as the elder child was, he was guarding a brother or companion weaker, younger, more helpless still.
There was the patience with which he waited for a windfall, and the sturdy honesty which made him unwilling to use it until he was quite sure it would be right to do so. There were good manners and gratitude for a small kindness, which the natural longing for a banquet of winkles would not let him forget.
There was not only this example to the less child, but the lesson in civility which made Black-Eyes wait for his companion's thanks to be added to his own. And there was the delightful unselfishness that resolved to give the younger the first turn in using the pin, and the love which threw the guiding arm round his neck.
How easy it would have been for Black-Eyes to appropriate the penny, or absorb the lion's share of the little coming treat,—to dole Johnny out a winkle now and then, and to reserve to himself the use of the pin, so that the other could never have the felicity of extracting his own dainty morsel.
But, in turning my back upon this little picture, I felt satisfied that, if anything, the younger would have most and best of what had to be shared, and that his interests were safe in the hands of his companion. I left the well-lighted thoroughfare and turned into a dim side street, but, as I passed on, I seemed still to see the faces of my little friends, and often since I have recalled, with pleasure, that scene to my memory.
I witnessed another picture not far from the spot where Black-Eyes and I became acquainted. I saw it in the broad daylight, and the actors were two boys, each about a year apart, and as much older than the former two. This is a world of contrasts, and these street pictures proved it.
One little fellow—his face streaming with tears and all besmeared through his frantic efforts to wipe them away with one hand, whilst, with the other, he tugged at a bit of a handkerchief entangled amid the varying contents of a small boy's pocket, was running after his elder companion. What with crying, running, and sobbing out at intervals:
"Willie. Do stop. Do stop!"
The child became exhausted, and coming to a stand-still, he leaned against the wall and wept bitterly.
He had no real trouble, but it was evident that he had a tender loving disposition, a clinging nature that yearned for kindness and companionship. The two children had come out together, and the elder, a hard-faced malicious-looking boy, but sturdy and self-reliant as one could see, was tormenting the other by racing off ahead, hiding round corners, dodging in and out, and keeping him at a continual strain, in order that he might not lose sight of him altogether.
Perhaps it was very weak and foolish of the child to cry as if his young heart would break about a mere nothing. Far better to have strolled leisurely on, and told the other to go on his way. But it is just the tender loving natures that can bear anything better than unkindness, and it is such natures that are tortured and played upon, by those who find pleasure in witnessing the pain they have caused.
A glance at the mocking evil face of the elder lad, sufficed to discern foreshadowings of a tyrannical manhood in years to come.
When I parted from Black-Eyes, I had thought to myself at what a trifling cost happiness had been purchased for him and his friend. Just a penny expended, and two young hearts were gladdened and a happy memory left to me of two bright faces. "Now," I thought, "I will try the worth of a penny in drying tears."
So I had a talk with the weeping little man, and did my best to cheer him, with such effect that the handkerchief having been extracted from his pocket, he soon effaced the traces of tears and smears from his rosy cheeks. An occasional sob testified to recent trouble, but a very genuine smile appeared when I produced the penny and bade him put it in his pocket and take it home. Down it went under his knickerbocker museum of treasures, and he kept his hand in too, as he lifted his rosy face to kiss his thanks.
Next came what made the contrast between the elder boy and Black-Eyes. Our petty tyrant who had watched the transfer of the coin from round the corner, began to sidle up to the little one, with pretended friendship. That penny had made all the difference, and the selfish rogue was plotting either to share it, or get the whole from his neighbour.
I turned back, though I could ill spare the time, and sent Master Willie to the right about, then cautioned the little one against his wiles. I did not want to make a tender confiding child into a suspicious one, so I had to give him quite a small lecture, and make him promise faithfully not to give the penny, or any portion of what he might buy with it, to Willie. He might share it with another friend if he liked, for little boys should be generous, only this boy ought not to be rewarded for naughtiness, I said.
I really believe the tender heart had forgiven its tormentor already, and that the penny was losing much of its value because it was not to be shared with Willie, for the child's eyes followed him with a sort of yearning look. Maybe on some past occasion, the bigger boy had put forth his strength on behalf of the little one, and the remembrance of a single benefit could never be forgotten.
The two reminded me of a boy and his dog. The lad may plague the beast as much as he chooses, but if the creature loves him, he only rushes to his side with vociferous welcome, to be teased again and again.
Generally speaking, the young master, though a petty tyrant himself, protects his dog from other boy tyrants, and the animal knows it, and looks up to him accordingly.
There might be some such bond between Willie and the sorrowful wee man whose tears I had succeeded in drying.
I had to leave him; but as I went my way, I drew fancy pictures of the homes and mothers of these my street acquaintances.
I pictured Black-Eyes, for instance, in a poor home with a hard-working widowed mother. His clothes bespoke poverty, for I was quite sure they had known other wearers—notably the wide hat—before they were worn by him. Their cleanliness, and that of both the children, told of a mother who did her best for the bodies of her little ones. They were kept warm and tidy to look at.
Then the way in which Black-Eyes protected Johnny seemed to say, that, mere baby as he was, he had often to take charge of the other baby a size less still, probably the mother went out to work—compelled to do it in order to win bread, and left these two to keep house with many an injunction, and a prayer to God to guard them from harm. Perhaps she had read the words, "Leave thy fatherless children, I will preserve them alive," and taken them to herself and found comfort in them, as she went about her daily task.
I am sure she had taught her little ones to be truthful and honest, for they would not appropriate a stray winkle without the leave of her to whom it lawfully belonged.
The conduct of Black-Eyes seemed to brighten, by the thought of it, the dim little side street into which I passed when I bade him good-bye, and a prayer went up from my heart to God, that He would bless the children and guide their young feet into the narrow path that leads to everlasting life.
I could not feel the same about Willie's home, for his conduct was tyrannical, selfish and mean. He enjoyed the sight of suffering, and unless he were checked and guided aright, would develop into a cruel and selfish man. Surely he needed to be prayed for most of all my street friends, and I remembered him too. One finds so many to pray for in passing to-and-fro in the world. And are we not all members of the great human family that sprang from the same Creator? Should we not all pray that we may become true children of the same heavenly Father?
As to the troubled little heart, he has a good mother, I am sure, and is loved and cosseted at home. He gets no stinted measure of affection. One could discern a mother's hand and love in every article of his clothing, even to the small pocket-handkerchief which took so much tugging out when most needed.
I know there are wise people who would object to the bestowal of odd pennies on little street children, and I own that it would not do to scatter even these broadcast. But when—well I will not argue, but suggest that, if in going along the streets, we can in any little way give a glimpse of happiness or a gleam of sunshine to a child, it is good for ourselves that we do not let slip the opportunity.
Pardon & Sons, Printers, London, E. C.
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