Evening star., 1943-11-09

dioo icChu CI1aL
'P MeE'oy. I held no re-
sentiment. ....
II you were a brat you were some
thing special. Adults paid attention
to you. Most Of the time adults
were brushing you off, but. if you
were a brat they had meetings about
you and they came to your house
and had long talks with your father.
Then your father went out in the
yard and thoughtfully broke a big
paling off the front fence and he
turned on you like something pos
sessed and walloped the living day.
lights out of you.
I recall didn't like that part Of
1t at the time-but after I grew un
Dragged about it as an impertant
part of my character building, II
l have any character now and
there doesn't seem to be any gen.
eral agreement about it-I ows IL
all TO the fact that when I was young
l was a brat. In short, I was 4 de-
linquent.
Bible Recalled.
Well, the Good Book says that
the sins Of the father, etc.. and /
think there's something about a fig
tree only brings forth figs. And here
+ am, years later, waking up one
bright Sunday morning to find I
have a 4year-old delinquent in the
house. Her name is Peggy and she
has 5-year-eld sister whose name
is Pat.
Every Sunday morning their
mother dresses them up like two lit
tie angels and takes them of to
church with her, But before they
60 they come up to me with their
little hands outstretched and I give
them each a penny-or if I've had
a specially good week a nickel. This,
of course, with the firm understand
ing that when they are in church
and the collection box comes around
they are to unclamp their fierce, hot
little hands and give this money
freely. That is the understanding
and trustful soul that I am, 1 hlmly
believed that they faithfully carried
out their part of the bargain.
Well, Pat has, 1t seems. She has
been giving freely and generously
every Sunday. When the collection
box comes around she puts out her
hand, opens it, and the money drops
m. Pat is the 5-year-old, who every
body says takes after me.
But Peggy, the 4-year-o -old-how
can I tell 1t! 1t seems for weeks
now that when the box comes around
she puts her hand over it, the
hand that holds her little contri-
button. But there is no tinklng
of dropping coin. The spirit is will
ing-but alas! the flesh is weak.
The clenched fist containing the
penny or nickel is stealthily with
drawn and the money carefully
put back into her purse.
Purse Is Bullying.
Last week I found this purse-
bulging with ill-gotten pennies and
nickels. But the following Sun
day morning she came to me with
the same innocent expression, hold
ing out her hand trustfully asking
for her regular contribution. I
asked her what had become of the
money l had given her before.
She didn't seem to understand. L
produced her little purse, clanking
shamefully, and asked her where
all that money came from. She
couldn't remember. I asked her
how much she had In there. She
said, Il can't count money" asked
her what she intended to do with
all this wealth. She changed the
subject. I said there was no rea-
son TO give her any additional money
because she had plenty. She re-
piled firmly that I promised her a
penny and where was it? So weak
ened and gave her another penny.
first exacting promise from her that
she would give it to the church. She
promised with cheerful alacrity, took
the penny and gave me kiss
Everybody says she resembles her
mother.
Well, anyway, this time l in
structed her mother to watch her
carefully. I was pretty sure that
she wouldn't drop the penny in,
but / wasn't at all sure she wouldn't
dip into the box and take some
out. Sure enough, as the box was
passed she held her little hand
over it. Her mother listened care
FULLY but there was no sound. She
watched out of the corner of her
eYe-and Peggy was observed OPEN
ing her little blue beaded pocket
book and wedging the new penny
into it. Then she knelt down and
ioloed her hands and closed her
eyes in prayer.
what do l do now, Mr.. Anthony?
Distributed by McNsusht Syndicate. Inc,