HOW MEG TOOK THE TIRED OFF AUNT ROXY.
By Julia H. Johnson
[By Julia H. Johnson, in Union Signal.] MEG sat thoughtfully reading her Sunday-school paper in the back yard under the maple tree. The birds were making merry above her in the branches, but she was too deeply interested in what she read to listen now. It was a simple little story enough; but Meg thought it very sweet, and so it was. It told of Rosamond’s Rest, a home established for sick and poor people in memory of a little girl who said she “loved to take the tired off people.” “Why, that’s what I’d love to do,” said little Meg with tender thoughts in her eyes and hovering about her lips in the dimples. A heartsome, merry little soul she was, always happy and longing to make others so. It is one good way to help others, to be happy one’s self—do you know it? Happiness is often “catching,” and so are the dolefuls, too, more’s the pity. Meg began to think of the tired people she knew. They were not very many in number, but there was one who came into her mind. Poor Aunt Roxy, who lived in the tiny house around the corner, and stayed by herself so much. That wasn’t so bad, being by herself, if she had been happy; but she seemed to be anxious and tired all the time. She had to work hard, it is true, and that made her tired; but Meg thought that was a small part of it, and she was right. “It makes Aunt Roxy feel all tired out to watch for her boy to come home nights, I know that,” said wise little Meg to herself. “She never seems to get rested one bit. I wish I could take the tired off a little.” The very first thing that came to her mind to do was to make Aunt Roxy a little visit, and with mother’s leave Meg started off to the wee brown house. Aunt Roxy did look more tired than ever, it seemed. But Meg looked her brightest as she said, “I’ve come to see you a little while, Aunt Roxy.” Everybody called her this for some reason. Perhaps because, as Meg said, “she seemed so sort of unfaintified and good to every one.” How it happened can not be told; but somehow Meg seemed so sweet and full of sympathy, that as Aunt Roxy went on with the ironing that must not stop, for she made her living by her work, she found herself telling her trouble to the listener perched by her table. This was the first time she had owned up that she had a trouble, tho others knew it, for Meg had heard her mother speak of it. Aunt Roxy’s boy, Ned, had not been going wrong so very long; but it seemed as if it would break his mother’s heart in a short time. “That saloon he passes every day just seems too much for him. He can’t go by without stopping, since the boys got him to go in.” And Aunt Roxy dropped a tear that proved to be an extra sprinkle on the handkerchief she was ironing, for it was damp enough already. “Well, I guess he’ll learn by and by, not to go in,” said Meg hopefully. “You just pray about it hard, Aunt Roxy, and I will, too.” “Bless you, child,” said the poor mother, looking brighter. “Nobody ever offered to do that afore. I tell you, that helps. You’ve cheered me up a lot just by that.” When Meg went home, she felt as if she had taken a little of the tired off one person, and it made her glad. It seemed such a sweet thing to do that she wanted to keep on. So it came about that Meg made frequent visits to brighten up Aunt Roxy with her cheery, hopeful talk, and the assurance that she kept on praying for Ned. But this did not seem enough to do. If only she could help Ned to go by the saloon, that would rest his mother altogether. She thought and thought, but she prayed and prayed, and no wonder a plan came to her. If she could get Ned to take the way past her house, he would not go by the saloon at all. The only chance she had was at noon; but she used that, and began to go down to the corner so that she could see Ned coming, and walk up with him. They used to be great friends; and when Ned saw the rosy face, he smiled; and when Meg trotted along beside him as if it were the most natural thing in the world, he could not bear to turn off the other way and go by Schneider’s. So once in the day for several days, Meg took Ned home the safe way. As Ned had not been going wrong very long, it was easier to turn him, so what a good thing that Meg began in time, dear child. He would not for anything have this little friend know that he went to Schneider’s. But one day, at the Band of Hope, Meg got some pretty pledge cards made by the leader. Keepsake cards, they were called, two fastened by a ribbon, and when one signed the pledge, he was to sign both and keep one card, while the one giving the card kept the other, and part of the ribbon. The cards were beautiful, and Meg said to herself, “O, they are so pretty. Surely Ned will sign a keepsake card for me.” And one day, walking beside him, she asked him in the prettiest way, “just for a keepsake,” she said. In a moment it rushed into Ned’s mind, what it would be to make his little friend ashamed of him because he was unfit to walk with her. Then he thought of his mother’s anxious face. “I’ll do it,” he said, and he looked at the words, “God helping me.” “You blessed child!” cried Aunt Roxy, the next time Meg went over. “I never was so happy in all my life, and you’ve helped to make me feel so.” And looking up, Meg saw that the tired was all gone from her face. But Ned’s taking the pledge was, in itself, worth even more than this.