Your ShelfYour Projects

THE GIRL NOBODY LIKED

8%

Pacific Press Publishing Company · Oakland, California · Sep 4, 1901

FromSigns of the Times, Vol. 27, No. 36.

Read the full edition

THE GIRL NOBODY LIKED.

She was sure that nobody liked her. She had told herself so again and again, with a queer tightening about her heart that was like a real pain. And then she had tossed her head and set her lips in a defiant little smile. Nobody should know that she cared. Never!
It was on her eighteenth birthday that Aunt Elizabeth made a suggestion which caused the girl to open her eyes, and then to laugh a little. It was such an odd idea—so much like Aunt Elizabeth!
“Then I’m to ‘hold up’ everybody I meet till I’ve said something brilliant?” she observed.
“Not exactly;” and Aunt Elizabeth smiled, unruffled. “But I’ve noticed that you pass your acquaintances with a mere nod or a curt ‘good morning.’ I wish you would try the experiment of saying something pleasant to each one, unless there is some good reason against it.”
“It will grow rather tiresome,” said the girl, and she shrugged her shoulders.
“Try it for a week,” suggested Aunt Elizabeth; and, rather to her own surprise, the girl found herself promising.
She came very near forgetting her pledge when she met Mrs. Anderson on the street, the next morning. In fact, she had passed with her usual uncompromising nod, when the recollection of her promise flashed into her mind. She prided herself on being a girl of her word, and she turned quickly. “How is Jimmy to-day?” she said, speaking out the first thing that came into her head. There was a good deal of detail in Mrs. Anderson’s answer. Jimmy had been sick with the measles, and then had caught cold and been worse. Mrs. Anderson poured out her story as if it was a relief to find a listener, and as she talked on, that particular listener found herself more interested than she would have believed possible in Jimmy and his mother. She said that she had some old scrap-books which Jimmy might enjoy looking over, and Mrs. Anderson flushed and thanked her with more gratitude than the slight favor seemed to warrant.
At the very next corner was Cissy Baily, and the girl wondered if her promise covered the washerwoman’s daughter and people of that sort. But she did not let herself wonder very long.
“It was very kind of you to bring home the clothes so early last week, Cissy. I was in a hurry for that shirt-waist.”
Cissy Baily did not know what to answer. She smiled in an embarrassed way, and looked up and then down. But the girl whom nobody liked had seen something in the uplifted eyes which warmed her heart, and made that one-sided conversation something to remember.
The day went by, and she did not find opportunity to say anything brilliant. She stopped Mrs. White to ask her if she would like to read the book she had just finished, and she patted little Barbara Smith’s soft cheeks as she inquired if the new baby sister had grown at all. When she could think of nothing else, she said, “Hasn’t this been a beautiful day?” and her earnestness rather surprised some people who had not had her opportunities for realizing that there was anything unusual about the day.
By the time the week was over, the girl whom nobody liked had learned a valuable lesson. She had found out that hearts respond to cordiality and kindness, just as the strings of one musical instrument vibrate in unison with the chord struck in another. It is not a new discovery, since long ago it was written in a certain wise book: “A man that hath friends must show himself friendly;” yet this is one of the truths that each person must rediscover on his own account. And the girl who was learning to love every one, and was tasting the joy of being loved, thanked God that she had not waited any longer before finding out the wonderful secret for herself.—Young People’s Weekly.