Bring Back What You Borrow by Lora E. Clement

Review and Herald Publishing Association · Takoma Park Station, Washington, D. C. · Apr 20, 1916

“Bring Back What You Borrow”

By Lora E. Clement

LORA E. CLEMENT

“The rain, it rains ’most every day Upon the just and unjust fellers, But chiefly on the just, because The unjust have the just’s umbrellers!” chanted Bob as he dodged into the sheltered doorway where I stood, and gazed ruefully at the deluged landscape.

“Why!” I exclaimed, in surprised dismay, “why did you start without an umbrella? Wasn’t it raining when you left home?”

“Well, yes,” and a whimsical smile crept out as he bowed low and shook the water from the brim of his derby, “it did sprinkle a bit as I sprinted for the car, but I’m feeling damply benevolent this morning. You see last week I lent my umbrella in an ill-guarded moment, forgetting the weakness of my fellow mortals.”

“We are rather an erring lot when it comes to returning what we borrow,” I admitted, “but you certainly have struck fertile soil for sympathy. Ever since I awoke this morning, I have been throttling a desire to ring a certain doorbell and inquire whether or not I could borrow a raincoat. Mine has been ‘staying there’ for the last three weeks.”

“Yes, and I’ll venture Grace has never thought of it since she asked its loan to wear to the concert,” sputtered Bob. “Now why do you suppose that persons who know better—who would be insulted if you told them they were not polite—and do not concern themselves about returning borrowed articles promptly? Anybody likes to be accommodating, but why, oh, why, don’t folks cooperate with a fellow when he tries to follow the golden rule?”

The downpour was slackening, and with the remark that he guessed he’d “make a run for the office,” my neighbor was gone. I was glad he did not wait for an answer to his question. I couldn’t give one. Can you? But as I plodded up the flooded street, I resolved that the next time necessity demands that I “borrow,” I will remember to “bring back.”