The Catholic bulletin. [volume] (St. Paul, Minn.) 1911-1995, 1916-09-23
A CHILD'S hidden TREASURE"
written for The Catholic eulletln.)

There's big, red house across the
river where they take that kind and
learn them to talk with their fingers"
The child who spoke was percheo |
on high stool in large factory
room pasting little bits of paper to
little bits of leather. She spoke in
all earnestness,-all the wrinkles in |
her tiny, old child-face were dead in |
earnest wrinkles, but her companion, |
also perched and likewise pasting,
burst into such a conclusive giggle |
that the tiny bits of paper and leather |
shook in her fingers. She amt deaf
and dumb; she's furriner. She amt |
caught on yet. Jes you wait!"
Then there was silence again, human
silence at least, for the mighty ma
chimes kept up their interchange of
noisy motion with no regard for human
conversation or silence The little
''furriner' had been in their company
whole week and had not said one
word. And yet, if you had watched for
one day the stories and songs and
lives that came and told their tales
and went in her small dark face, you
might have known Teodosia, body and
soul. She was the smallest creature
in the big factory Her stool was,
therefore, the highest in order that
the baby-hands might be above the
table. And so much like little bird
did she appear perched there that
any moment you expected burst of
song to come from her lips and mingle
with the wind-swept forest sounds of
the machinery. But Teodosia's songs
were all within, back of the great
masses of black hair that held in her
little face like dark curtains. The
large grey eyes were those of the
patriot looking out of his mountains.
The swarthy complexion was the sign
of race born in the wild plains of
Austria The mouth, too large and
determined to be Swallowed or
softened by the gracious dark curls
that lay so near it, was the sign of the
martyr Teodosia's face stood for all
this, but her own story was very diff
ferent. For way back in her con-
seriousness came hills and green
meadows and sheep and rivers full of
rocks, then there came big boat and
miles and ages of water all around
you, then a place full of houses, so
thick, as if all the little stones by the
river should grow into houses, then
one that went up high to the stars,
and you lived up in that top of that
house near the stars. Then one morn
ing, you came down with father and
mother to the street on their way to
work. Oh, very, very early, almost
in the night And in the street, there
were straight, tall trees standing bare,
only each tree had fire in it's top.
And big girl whose name was Maria,
and who was all colors, bright yellow
hair, blue eyes, red cheeks, and brown
freckles, took your hand in hers and
said something you could not know,
but you knew the feel of her hand
it was soft and big and warm, and it
dried the wetness in your own and
said, Come along" And then you
found yourself in big, crowded room
at long table covered with little bits
of leather and little bits of paper in
piles, and you had some sticky stuff
to paste them together with. But
what you, were doing or whether it
was work or play or whether anybody
cared whether you did it or not, you
didn't know.
And so Teodosia did her work as a
| child does things, working it's own
ends out of labor or play. And in the
morning, you would have laughed to
see the mingling of care and happi-
ness in her face intense over the tiny
fingers that seemed conscious with the
marvel of making she knew not what.
Perhaps some wonderful mystery lay
in the glueing together of those two
| fragments. Indeed there was mystery
and magic too, and she was saying to
| herself, as fast as she could, the
words of the witchery. Someone with
| the gift of tongues had made her un-
derstand that by night every piece of
| paper was anxious to be pasted to a
piece of leather, and round edge to
round edge and straight to straight
and fuzzy side of the leather in" And
as though each little piece must bear
| it's own burden of responsibility, she
| must say the sentence to each. And
SO, with her face dropped like a little
birds between it's wings, her great,
wide eyes lifted themselves upwards
to the piles and scanned them as a
seer mirrors the whole night-skies in
his loving soul How glorious it was
to have so many! Teodosias joy was
| that of a mistress who counts her
household or a miser that puts his
whole heart into quantities.
But at noon, when WEAKNESS made
her little body shrink inside the
rough, brown frock, you would have
wondered at a new expression of de-
termined purpose about the martyr
mouth that made the whole face look
larger, more serene, more like moth
er's. The piles that were done stood
there the perfect fulfillment of her
mornings hopes,-the piles that we're
yet to be done lent to her soul a very
sun-burst of hope for the afternoon.
A sigh worked itself through her
whole tired body and escaped as she
pressed her lips to the big girls large,
soft hand It was her only express
sion of gratitude for that expression.
less mornings task. And when Mary
helped her off her high stool and
/ gave her a sandwich, she kissed the