Part 10 (1/2)
”How hard it was for the girls to have her go! But it was harder still for her, for she had wanted to help them through to womanhood. She had tried to help them to see the best but often she had felt that her efforts were all too small. The day came nearer for her to leave and she had asked the girls to spend the last evening with her in her home.
”And they came, each bringing in their hands a little letter, sealed tightly. They were steamer letters for their teacher and they had been written because they had heard her say that she wished she could take with her some idea as to what the girls wanted to be when they had grown, so that she might be thinking of their plans, even though she could not be there to help with them. One by one they laid them on the table till there were ten little letters--heart-to-heart letters to their dear friend.
”Five days later, away out in mid-ocean, the teacher opened the letters and read them over and over to herself. How much they told of the girls!
”Jennie wanted to be a great singer; she wanted to go to New York and study and then go into Grand Opera.
”Katherine wanted to be a Kindergarten teacher. Ah! she had found that because of helping in the church.
”Mary wanted to be a lawyer--a criminal lawyer. Perhaps that desire had grown in their debating club.
”Louise wanted to be a nurse. What a dear faithful girl she had been in helping with the bandages after the great fire in the city!
”So one by one she read their letters and her heart was filled with grat.i.tude that to her it had been given to mold in a little way their lives.”
Then turning to the mayor of the city, the little white-haired lady said,
”Sir, the contents of one of those letters will be of interest to you more than to the rest. I was the teacher of those girls, so I can give you the exact wording of the last letter that I read,
”'Dear friend: You have asked us to give you our dearest wish. I have many wishes for the future but the wish that I want most of all is to be a fine woman and some day to be a real mother, the kind you have so often told us about.'
”The girl who wrote that letter, sir, became your mother. Fourteen years before you were born, your character was being formed, your ideals were being molded, your future was being safeguarded. I congratulate you, sir, on being elected to the office of mayor; but I congratulate you more for being the child of my little girl of the long ago who at sixteen could write, 'I want most of all to be a fine, n.o.ble woman and some day to be a real mother.' To her you owe much. Inspire the girls of the town if you plan for great men. A self-made man needs a real mother to build the foundations of his character. There is no other way.”
Then the speaker sat down and there was silence in the banqueting hall.
ON THE ROAD TO WOMANHOOD
In their hands the girls carried a scroll; on their backs they carried a bundle, and they were five in number--five girls with rosy cheeks and healthy bodies. But now their cheeks were browned by the sun and their shoulders drooped as they walked by the way.
For they had walked and walked and walked as the morning had turned into noon, and now the afternoon shadows were already falling on the way. Then as the search seemed almost useless, they saw her--the one for whom they had come; the one into whose hands they wished to place their scrolls.
Eagerly they watched her as she came slowly toward them dressed in s.h.i.+ning white--the Angel Who Rights Things.
When she smiled, they found courage to speak.
”We have come to search for you but we thought we should never find you,”
said the oldest of the girls. ”We can never grow strong and beautiful if we carry these heavy burdens on our backs. They are much too large for us and we do not like them. We have come to ask you to take them away and make us free. Lo! we have written it all here in our scrolls.”
But the Fairy Who Rights Things drew back as the five handed to her the scrolls which they carried.
”Take away the burdens!” said she. ”Oh, no, I could never do that. He that carrieth no burden gaineth no strength. All must carry if they would grow.”
”But we do not like them. If we must have a burden, might we not exchange them? Surely all our friends do not have burdens to carry. We have watched them and we know they have none,” said another girl.
”You are quite mistaken,” said the fairy. ”All have burdens to carry. But I can let you choose if you will exchange your own. Let me see what you have brought.”