“I’m Sorry I Spoke Cross”
IF we only knew how many sore hearts there are around us, we would be more patient and tender in our speech. A writer in the Wellspring tells of the experience of a street-car conductor: “People were cross and not at all kind that day. Women snapped at him—women who meant to deserve the name of ladies. It is so easy to snap when it is muddy and drizzling, and you don’t feel just right. A big, fat, red-faced man came puffing and panting up the car steps, and rated the whole company because his peremptory signaling had not been seen as promptly as he thought it should have been. “A little maid opposite in a blue tam-o’-shanter took it all in with her grave, round eyes. She had a bunch of nodding clove-pinks in her hand—all colors. She had dainty little short skirts, like flower petals held downwards. She made you think of a flower, anyhow. “Children are such imitative things. I was not at all surprised to see how soon my little flower lady found it ‘catching.’ Her baby brow drew together, and her dainty feet spurned a big brown bundle that happened to touch the tips of her tiny toes. “‘How dwedfful crowded vis car is!’ I heard her say, in the funniest disgusted tone. She gave a good scowl to somebody hanging by a car strap, whose long, loose sleeve happened to touch the tassel of her cap, and so brushed it a trifle forward. Her mother or aunt, who was with her, did not seem to notice her little air of vexation. By and by the conductor came around, and, in edging his way along from seat to seat, managed to hit the large doll which she carried in the hand that hadn’t the pinks in it. The red slipper fell off on the floor. “‘Nare!’ she cried angrily, for all the world like the older ones around her, ‘now, see what you’ve done! Knocked my dolly’s slipper off!’ “The conductor stooped instantly to pick up the tiny thing, and for one instant his eyes were on a level with the child’s. In that instant she seemed to see something in them that melted her. Quick as a flash her mood changed. “‘I’m sorry I spoke cross!’ she said in her sweet, shrill, childlike voice. “And then the rest of us who were near enough saw something. A quiver of grief, and then a swift setting into rigid lines, that even children know meant tears, on a man’s face. He did not speak, but baby held up her pinks to him. “‘Take some! My papa gave me ‘em. Has you got a little girl?’ “The man picked out two white ones. His face was thanking her. His voice was low and husky, so that not many heard it: “‘I’ll put them in her hand,’ he said. ‘My little girl died yesterday.’”