Karl Krinken, His Christmas Stocking. Warner Susan
many! I couldn’t begin to count. You know I might throw it out of the window, mamma, or drop it in the street—or somebody might steal it,—no, then it would only be lost.’
“‘Or you might shut it up in your box and never spend it.’
“‘Why mamma!’ said Nanny opening her eyes very wide, ‘would it be thrown away then?’
“‘Certainly—you might just as well have none. It would do neither you nor any one else any good.’
“‘But I should have it to look at.’
“‘But that is not what money was made for. Your cent would be more really lost than if you threw it out of the window, for then some poor child might pick it up.’
“‘How surprised she would be!’ said Nanny with a very bright face. ‘Mamma, I think I should like to spend my money so. I could stand behind the window-curtain and watch.’
“Her mother smiled.
“‘Why, mamma? do you think there wouldn’t any poor child come along?’
“‘I should like to see that day, dear Nanny. But your cent might fall into the grass in the courtyard, or into the mud, or a horse might tread it down among the paving-stones; and then no one would be the better for it.’
“‘But it’s only one cent, mamma,’ said Nanny,—‘it don’t matter so much, after all.’
“‘Come here Nanny,’ said her mother, and the child came and stood at her side. The lady opened her purse and took out a little gold dollar.
“‘What is this made of?’ said she.
“‘Why of gold, mamma.’
“‘Think again.’
“So Nanny thought and couldn’t think—and laid her head against her mother, and played with the little gold dollar. Then she laid it upon me to see how much smaller it was, and how much brighter. Then she cried out,—
“‘O I know now, mamma! it’s made of a hundred cents.’
“‘Then if every day you lose ‘only a cent,’ in one year you would have lost more than three dollars and a-half. That might do a great deal of good in the world.’
“‘How funny that is!’ said Nanny. ‘Well I’ll try and not lose my cent, mamma.’
“‘There is another reason for not losing it,’ said her mother. ‘In one sense it would make little difference whether or not I threw this little gold dollar into the fire—you see there are plenty more in my purse. But Nanny they do not belong to me.’ And taking up a Bible she read these words,—
“‘The silver and gold are the Lord’s.’
“‘Do you think, Nanny, that it pleases him to have us waste or spend foolishly what he has given us to do good with?’
“‘No mamma. I won’t get my beads then,’ said Nanny with a little sigh.
“‘That would not be waste,’ said her mother kissing her. ‘It is right to spend some of our money for harmless pleasure, and we will go and buy the beads this very afternoon.’
“So after dinner they set forth.
“It was a very cold day, but Nanny and her mother were well wrapped up, so they did not feel it much. Nanny’s fur tippet kept all the cold wind out of her neck, and her little muff kept one hand warm while the other was given to her mamma. When that got cold Nanny changed about, and put it in the muff and the other out. As for me I was in the muff all the time; and I was just wondering to myself what kind of a person the bead-woman would prove to be, when I heard Nanny say,—
“‘Mamma! did you see that little girl on those brown steps? She had no tippet, mamma, and not even a shawl, and her feet were all tucked up in her petticoat; and–’ and Nanny’s voice faltered—‘I think she was crying. I didn’t look at her much, for it made me feel bad, but I thought so.’
“‘Mamma! did you see that little girl on those brown steps?’”—P. 53.
“‘Yes love,’ said her mother, ‘I saw her. How good God has been to me, that it is not my little daughter who is sitting there.’
“‘O mamma!’
“Nanny walked on in silence for about half a block—then she spoke again.
“‘Mamma—I’m afraid a great many poor children want things more than I want my beads.’
“‘I’m afraid they do, Nanny.’
“‘Mamma, will you please go back with me and let me give that little girl my red cent? wouldn’t she be pleased, mamma? would she know how to spend it?’
“‘Suppose you spend it for her, Nanny. People that are cold are often hungry too—shall we go to the baker’s and buy her something to eat?’
“‘O yes!’ said Nanny. ‘Will you buy it, mamma, or shall I?’
“‘You, darling.’
“And when they reached the shop Nanny looked round once more at her mother, and opening the shop-door with a very pleased and excited little face she marched up to the counter.
“‘If you please, sir,’ she said, laying me down on the counter. ‘I want something for a very poor little girl.’
“The baker was a large fat man, in the whitest of shirt-sleeves and aprons, and the blackest pantaloons and vest, over which hung down a heavy gold watch-chain. He put his hands on his sides and looked at Nanny, and then at me, and then at Nanny again.
“‘What do you want, my dear?’ said he.
“Nanny looked round at her mother to reassure herself, and repeated her request.
“‘I want something for a very poor little girl, if you please, sir. She’s sitting out in the street all alone.’ And Nanny’s lips were trembling at the remembrance. Her mother’s eyes were full too.
“‘What will you have, my dear?’ said the baker.
“Nanny looked up at her mother.
“‘What would you like if you were hungry?’ replied her mother.
“‘O I should like some bread,’ said Nanny, ’and I guess the little girl would, too. But all those loaves are too big.’
“‘How would these do?’ said the baker, taking some rolls out of a drawer.
“‘O they’re just the thing!’ said Nanny, ’and I like rolls so much. May I take one sir? and is a cent enough to pay for it?’
“The baker gave a queer little shake of his head, and searching below the counter for a bit of wrapping-paper he laid the two largest rolls upon it.
“‘A cent is enough to pay for two,’ he said. ‘Shall I tie them up for you?’
“‘No thank you sir; you needn’t tie it—if you’ll only wrap them up a little. Mamma,’ said Nanny, turning again to her mother, ‘I’m afraid that poor little girl don’t know that ‘the silver and gold are the Lord’s,’ and she’ll only think that I gave it to her.’
“‘You can tell her, Nanny, that everything we have comes from God,’ said her mother; and they left the shop.”
“What a nice little girl!” said Carl. “I think I should like to marry that little girl when I grow up—if I was good enough.”
“The baker went right into the back room,” continued the red cent, “to tell the story to his wife, and I was left to my own reflections on the counter; but I had reason to be well satisfied, for it was certainly the largest cent’s worth I had ever bought in my life. But while I lay there thinking about it, a boy came into the shop; and seeing me, he caught