Five Mile Beach weekly journal., 1918-03-15

..ACHILD SHALL LEAD
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BY H HOLMES.
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Mrs. and Mr.. Van Wrinkle were pre-
pairing for breakfast. They were rich,
the Van Wrinkles; in fact, they had
never known a time when they had not
been rich. There was one thing, how
ever, which money could not buy for
William Van Wrinkle, and that was
good health for his dearly loved wife. In
order to give her every advantage they
lived almost entirely at their beautiful
country home, where she could spend
her entire time in the fresh air.
Then, too, Mr.. Van Wrinkle and his
wife were very fond of country life,
and devoted much of their time to the
cultivation of rare flowers and fruits.
Their roses were the finest in the coun
found beside her plate at breakfast
fresh flowers.
On this especial morning early In
June not only were magnificent roses
waiting for her at her place at the
table but some of the finest and most
luscious strawberries from their own
garden. The breakfast table vas set
in the pagoda, which at this time in
the year was covered by a mass of
roses, in full bloom. AS Mr.. Van
Wrinkle entered the pagoda the butler
reported that the strawberries had
been stolen from the table while the
maids were indoors.
'These brats who live about here ~
Mr.. Van Wrinkle exclaimed. LET me
know If 1t happens again, John, and
We'll catch the thieves, even If I have
to hire special detectives for the pur-
pose"
The next morning MS Mr.. Van Wrinkle
was returning to the house from a
walk before breakfast he espied the
figure of a child some distance away
darling through a grove Of trees. In a
moment the stolen berries came to his
mind and he made a dash in the direc-
ton Of the flying figure. He soon
caught up with a little girl just as she
was outside his hedge and close to the
door of a nearby dilapidated house,
which was evidently her home.
"Stop, you little thief"
The child came back, and In a pite-
BUS voice said:
"Please, sir, don't let mother hear;
she's sick and can't eat the food we
have. Good food costs too much now.
I thought these berries would help
make her eat"
"Where is your father?" asked Mr..
Van Wrinkle.
"Father died last winter"
"Who supports you and your
mother?"
81 have a big brother; fifteen; he
earns six dollars a week; but somehow
there W seems enough to get mother
nice little things TO eat" There was d
piteous look of distress on the thin,
pale face.
"H0w old are you5"
mine and a half, sir"
"Come up to the house every MORN
ing and I will leave orders with the
gardener to give you fresh berries for
your mother, and cream as well.'
MI. Van Wrinkle Ind always been q
hard man to the poor. Born rich him.
self. he looked dowa On those in pow
erty as of an entirely different species
from himself, devoid of the same feel
ings as the rich. lie had once sent a
poor mar to prison for a small theft
and felt that he had shown himself an
unusually good citizen by so doing.
This morning he had the awakening OF
his life. Was not the mother Of his
own children delicate? On reaching
home he went upstairs to his wife's
room.
Louise" he said, you know that
Strawberries were stolen from the
breakfast table yesterday morning. II
happened again this morning and I
caught the thief"
"Ohi I am sorry for that; I wish he
had escaped. What did you do with
him?"
seThe thief was q little girl about a
year older than our Ruth. What I did
with her was to tell her to come every
morning and fresh berries would be
given to her"
sob how I love you for that" cried
his wife. "Do tell me about it."
By the time the story was told there
were tears in the eyes of Mrs. Van
Wrinkle. Her husband seeing her dis
tress and for the first time ~harboring
a similar feeling, told her that he
would provide ample funds with which
she could provide for the little girl and
her sick mother while he would look
put for the boy himself. 3,
eff I find him to be'a promising lad"
he continued, 81 can easily place him
in a position where he will have a,
chance to rise"
The next spring Mrs. Van Wrinkle
was much improved, and the woman
she and her husband had helped had
entirely recovered. One morning the
little girl appeared at the Van Wrinkle
breakfast room, a tiny bunch of wild
wood violets in her hand, which she
held out to Mrs. Van Wrinkle and said
tsDh nu,ro tho fret Of the caa SON 2 Il