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6 (870) THE
Our Boys
CHANGE FOR A DOLLAR.
It w\as at the busiest hour of the day. The restaurant
was crowded. At a long lunch counter
i? J iU 1- - 1- - 1 ? 1 ? f "
vtr^j.^ ocarcu. tiiuov WUU I1U.U 11III13 omy ior it SUIK1wich,
with a glass of milk or a cup of tea or
coffee, and the rapidity with which seats were
filled and vacated, awakened wonder as to the
future of the human digestive system. The
leisurely who could allow themselves twenty
minutes for luncheon, seated themselves at the
marble-topped tables, with the napkins piled in
the center.
The girl who waited in line, for a ehanee to
pay her check at the cashier's desk was ruefully
reflecting that she had been extravagant. Fifteen
cents was her limit ordinarily, and she had
also indulged in a glass of ieed tea. while a
piece of lemon pie for dessert made her repast
seem luxurious. Now she was thinking gloomily
that the cashier would take a quarter out of her
dollar bill, leaving her but seventy-five cents
for the rest of the week.
"If I could get up early some morning I
could walk down to work." thought the girl.
"That would make up for the lemon pie." She
was opposite the cashier's window, and slipped
the check and the bill under the grating.
The cashier impaled the check on a spindle, laid
the bill on a pile in the drawer, and slapped
down a little pile of silver. The man behind was
pushing, and the little girl took her change
and went on.
Before she got out of the door she counted it,
and once outside she counted it again. She
moved out of the range of the window, she
counted it for the third time. The thing seemed
to become a hiahit She was nof miefnten TVieir
were three quarters in her hand besides a dime
and three nickels. The cashier had simply returned
her dollar in a little different form.
"My luncheon didn't cost me anything," the
little girl thought with a sense of triumph. "Not
a thing. Tomorrow I oan have a slice of watermelon
if I feel like it." She put the change
into her purse and her face was smiling. That
extra quarter meant several little luxuries impossible
under usual conditions. When a
girl piays her board, room and clothing on six
dollars a week, to say nothing of car-fare, a
quarter is a coin to be treated respectfully,
as more favored workers treat <a gold eagle.
She spent the rest of her noon hour looking
into shop windows and then hurried back to
her post at the office. She was nearly at the
door when she encountered a crowd. There was
so many people that she could not make out
the center of attraction, and she appealed to the
tall man next to her. "What is it all about,
please?"
"They've just caught a thief. The policeman
is taking him away."
The crowd parted at tbatt minute and the girl
caught her breath. The policeman was so big,
and the captured thief was so little?just a
boy, a small boy, with a white, miserable face,
and nagged clothing."
"Put bis bands into a man's pocket and pulled
out a quarter," the tall man explained.
"Good thing he's caught, the young rascal."
Then it was that the quarter in the girl's pocketbook
began to feel very heavy. Twenty-five
cents! That was the way they treated people
who took twenty-five cents that did not belong to
them. Knowing that fact she had kept it. The
difference between herself and the pallid boy
with the burning eyes was that they had not
found her out.
PRESBYTERIAN OF THE St
and Girls
The afternoon's work went badly. The girl
forgot things that she should have remembered,
and mislaid things she continually needed, and
blundered wearily on until half-past five. When
she left the office she did not take her car, though
s it passed her at the first crossing, and for a
> wonder there were a number of vacant seats.
TllstoflH kIip lillpridf^ Hnum tVin MotoiiBont
where she had eaten her midday meal,
i The hurry and confusion was over. A fair
number of people would come into supper, and
all night long there would be occasional patrons,
but not till the next noon would the daily rush
begin. The marble tables had been scrubbed
clean and in the middle of each towered a pile
of freshly ironed napkins. The cashier with a
wrinkle between her brows wias trying to balance
her accounts.
The girl slipped up to the desk. "You gave
me a quarter too much today," she said. "Here
it is." She hardly waited for the other girl's
surprised "thank you," but turning to her heel
marched out. And she wondered how it was
that lightening one's pocketbook by a weight so
small could lift at least a ton from one's heart.?
THE COMPASS.
"When He, the Spirit of Truth is come,
lie will guide you into all truth."?John
xvi: 13.
The carriage was at the door. Papa, mama,
and Clara Bell had said good bye to everybody
at least six times, for were they not to cross the
great ocean to be gone a long time, and it takes
i more than one good bye to last all summer.
Papa "and mama were sad but Clara Bell was
" not sad at all. Why should she be, when there
i were so many new things to see? And wasn't
mama going too? Can anybody be sad when
she has her mama?
But when they were on the steamer and the
last spire of the city had disappeared and the
last brown line of shore had faded, Clara Bell
drew a ittle sigh.
"Why, it's nothing but water," she said.
"Where shall I go to walk?"
"Oh, you must walk on deck," said papa.
"But. wllOTV* slinll T (rot donilolio-no
? ?W-. V * gvu ccu'UVtVliV/ilO OilU UUl"
tercups, and hear the birds sing?"
"You must wait for the poppies on the other
side," said papa, "and maybe you will see the
big seabirds,?a gull, perhaps."
So Clara watched for the sea gulls every
day, and she did not sigh any more, for there
was a great deal to see on the steamer, even if
there were no buttercups.
There were ropes and sails, and little boats
at the sides of the vessel, and ever so many
queer things. She went down into the engineroom
one day but she did not stay long, because
it was so warm. And she was always
sober afterwards, when she thought of the poor
heated men working by the hot fire.
But the best place on the steamer for Clara
Bell was the pilot-house. She Irked to stand there
and watch the man with his hand on the wheel.
Sometimes she talked with him.
"I don't see any path in the water," she
said.
"No, miss, it's all the same," the man answered.
"But how do you know where you are going?"
asked the puzzled child.
"That tells me," said the pilot, pointing to
something which looked to Clara Bell like a
big watch. "It's a compass," the pilot explained
"and that little finger always points straight
DOTH [ September 13, 1911
and true to the north. That's my guide. It
shows me the way."
Clara Bell stood looking at the compass when
papa came to find her. "That's la. guide,"
she said, "that needle points straight and true,
and shows the way."
"Yes," said papuu, "the sailor at sea or the
traveler on land must look at lus compass and
watch the pointing finger if lie wishes to keep in
the right way and reach his home."
"Is there another comptass," asked Clara Bell
in surprise.
"Oh, yes," was the answer, "anybody can
have a compass, and there is something else that .
anybody well may ltiave?it is a guide in his
heart to point out the right way. We call this
guide the Spirit of God. It would be sad to be
left on the great ocean with nothing* show
the way. It is more sad to be without any guide
into the way of truth." Clara Bell was so interested
in the compass after this that when they
landed in Liverpool papa bought her a pocket
compass and she carried it everywhere with her
to remind her to keep a compass in her heart.?
Child's Hour.
A YOUNG EVANGELIST.
A TRUE NARRATIVE.
The shortest sermon I ever heard was preached
by the shortest preacher I ever saw; and it was
not on Sunday, or in church, but on Monday,
in a small steamer plying between Toronto and
the island.
Ever since the boat left the Church street
"Wharf, I had been amused by hearing a clear
highset voice asking questions one after another,
as fast as the little tongue could go, every question
begun, ca?ried on and ended in the same
high note. I could not hear the answers; for
the lady in charge of the voice answered in low
tones that did not reach my ear, though I sat
near.
"It will learn to modulate in time," I thought.
"She Is teaching it not to speak so loud by her
low, soft answer." I had to say "it" in my
thoughts; for though every one in that half of
the boat could hear the voice, only those on the
other side of the lady to whom it was talking
saw the face. Nothing could be seen from our
point of view but a great bait of fine brown straw,
which covered it like a tent, underneath of which
an edge of white skirt showed, and from it peep
ed a pair of tiny slippers.
Some of the questions asked by the voice wer"
so original that I thought I would move around
and see what was to be seen on the other side of
the big hat; so I sat down on the other side of
the lady and looked on one of the loveliest child
faces I had ever seen. But, O, such a delicate
lookin mite! features perfect, eyes of softest
hazel, and rings of silky brown hair curling all
around the blue-veined forehead.
I was wondering how long the fragile littl"
body would stand the wear and tear of that
voice, when the boat touched at Wimnn Baths,
and a big policeman came on board and walked
toward a vacant seat beside the child t The little
one looked around, then turned to the lady
and put a little hand in hers.
"You need not be afraid of the policeman,
darling. You are a good boy. Tt is only bad
boys who are afraid of policemen."
"Oh!" said the child, with a bright smile.
And when the big policeman sat down beside
him, he turned up that beautiful face to him
and asked:
"Are yon a policeman!"
"Yes," answered the man looking down at him
kindly.
""Why are yon a policeman!" was the next
question.
The policeman gave a puzzled laugh, bnt did