Meeting Small Troubles Cheerily by Lora E. Clement

Review and Herald Publishing Association · Takoma Park Station, Washington, D. C. · Dec 16, 1915

Meeting Small Troubles Cheerily

By Lora E. Clement

LORA E. CLEMENT

It happened right at the corner. Every one was in a hurry, for twilight was treading on the heels of sunset, and the wind blew a terrific gale. Autumn leaves, stray papers, dust, hats, and people as well, came down our street in a whirling cloud. Suddenly there was a collision, and Marian’s glasses lay in ruins on the pavement, while a bent old Negro made humble apology, as he clutched his battered hat: “Deed, Miss, and I’s ebber so sorry,” he quavered.

A ringing laugh broke the tension of the next moment, as my friend rescued the nose piece of her “pinchers.” “How lucky!”—and she beamed on the distressed old darky—“that I have the foundation left. It will be a small matter to get new lenses; and now let me help you gather your things,” for the contents of his market basket were in the gutter. So the old man went on his way, never dreaming of the dismay in the heart of the girl, whose face sobered strangely as she hurried along.

Now Marian’s purse was almost empty. That very day she had “taken stock,” finding barely enough to provide necessities until next pay day. But a smothered sigh ended in a laugh as she listened to my sympathizings. “O, this is the time I play ‘the glad game’ with Pollyanna!” she told me.

We spent the evening with friends, and of all the jolly party none appeared more light-hearted than Marian. She might have silently brooded over her accident, and refused to be merry; she might have intimated (what was the truth) that the glasses could not be replaced immediately unless she went on half rations until the first of the month; she might have done a dozen things that would have spoiled the evening for her hostess and friends, but she didn’t; and I was the only one who knew.

“Well,” she said, as we considered ways and means later, “it won’t do a mite of good to feel dismal. Can’t mend broken spectacles with tears or sighs. I agree with Josh Billings ‘if a man kan’t laff, there is sum mistake made in putting him together; and if he won’t laff, he wants az mutch keeping away from az a bear trap when it iz sot.’”