Evening star., 1925-02-01

old soul was proud of its possessio on
as she started for the grocery store
last Saturday night. A tenant above
stairs called down to her to ask that
a. long as she was going to the
store, would she ask the grocer to
change her $40 bill.
Pathetically proud OF the impor-
tance OF being trusted with a COM
mission, the little old mother woman
went to the store, had the money
r changed. bought her provisions, and,
with her purse grasped tightly
against her breast, started for the
place she calls home
As she turned toward the gate of
the house. O. thudding blow at the
back of her neck knocked her in a
dazed tumble to the bricks Before
she could sense the fact that some
thief had robbed her of her purse, a
young man had lifted her with kindly
strength, gathered the scattered
bundles back into her basket, and,
with an arm around her waist, half
carried her to the door, opened it
and placed her inside.
With a word of hope that she would
soon be all right he touched his cap
and. with a smile of friendliest SYM
pathy, walked off into the night. And,
of course, took her money with him.
The sensation brought the entire
household to the old mother-woman' s
room, and, naturally, they knew, to a
woman, that the young fellow who had
brought her in had also knocked her
down and robbed her. And, while the
victim had to admit it, the novelty Of
being cared for as though she were of
some account meant even more to her
than the loss of the money:
But he was such a nice young man
nd MIA ~
Johnnie used to be before he went away
and married."
Johnnie is doubtless all right, and
most likely was the one of the family
who had sent his mother the extra s5
bill-but-you know mothers. If their
children leave them there Is no one else
i'll all the world. And they get so starv-
ing hungry for a little love that even the
dubious kindness of thief is something
to be thankful for.
All mothers are not like that, of
course, nor all children, still:
There are always others.
x x x X
THERE is a pleasant street of no
social Importance where housekeep-
ers do their own work-except for a
helper who comes in twice a week.
and hucksterS stop at the curb. All day
it is cheerfully ordinary with the sights
and sounds of average life. but when
sunset time comes you can sit at a win
dow of one brick in a row and watch a
golden glory spread it's magic over the
treetopS and give an added touch of in
spiration to the spire of a church around
the way. Later along there is chime of
bells, and many figures, shadows against
the darker shadows of the night, pass
the street in answer to the call to
PRAYER
To go back as far as last May, there
was one old pilgrim Of life who would
peg hsi way down the pleasant street,
making wavering figure against the
sunset glow. On dull twilights he would
be just one of the shadows among
shadows, but always he would reach the
church portals. no matter what the
weather, and regardless of whether d
service was going on or the ever-open
church be empty except for devotees
that come and go.
One evening a woman who lives on
the street and had watched the old
pilgrim waver out of the cobbled al
ley many evenings when she was
TOO earth-earthy to go herself, chanc-
ed TO be coming down the church
steps as the pilgrim, clinging to the
railing, had let fall his cane. She
picked it up and while helping him
TO the pavement mentioned that he
must be a very faithful member.
since he never seemed to miss a serv-
ice.
Yes, ma am, I come nearly every
evening, but ! don't belong to the
church. I come for company. l get
tired and lonesome cooped up in a
romo all day and it's a change for
me. 1t is so big and roomy here, and
/ like the flowers and the little red
light that never goes out before the