: What the wind did by Le Feuvre Amy - Christian life Juvenile fiction; Conduct of life Juvenile fiction

@FreeBooksMon 08 Apr, 2024

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CHAPTER

What The Wind Did

NOT INTRODUCED

HE was only a clerk in a country bank. Morning by morning punctually at half-past nine, he would leave his lodgings in the quiet village street, and take his twenty minutes' walk along the straight high road that led to his destination. His clothes were shabby, but one glance at his bright resolute face and clear frank blue eyes revealed a fresh young spirit, as yet undaunted and untainted by contact with evil: and he walked with a spring and vigor envied by many a passer-by.

It was a wild wet morning in March when first he met her. He had been away for a week's holiday, and as he left his own doorstep, he saw a little figure do the same from the lodgings over the way. He watched her struggle on in front of him for some minutes, wondering how such a small creature could grapple with such a large umbrella, and he purposely slackened his pace to see the result.

The wind has no pity for weakness, and with a wild shriek of fiendish delight, it bore down upon the frail little body. Seizing the umbrella in its clutches, it whirled it into the air, whilst it made such a furious onslaught on the little waterproof cloak, that the owner of it staggered, lost her balance, and fell headlong to the ground, a bag of books discarding its contents in all directions.

"Is it a walking doll or a baby?" muttered the young fellow as for a moment the flying garments round the prostrate little figure made it difficult to tell which end to hoist uppermost.

But when he had successfully set the little damsel on her feet, his face softened with a wondering pity, as he met the gaze of one of the sweetest children's faces that he had ever seen.

It was not the beauty of it that attracted him so much, as the wistfulness of the large grey eyes fringed with long curled lashes, and the subdued and sensitive little mouth.

Such a tiny white face it was, and the dark tumbled curls that framed it, seemed to make it whiter in contrast. The lips began to quiver and the eyes till up with tears; but as he waited for the inevitable childish wail to follow, he was astonished to see the tiny gloves brushed across the face, and the child stand erect with an unsteady smile.

"I won't cry," she said, looking at him gravely. "Will you catch my umbrella?"

And when that somewhat difficult feat was accomplished, he found that she had picked up her books, and with a pursed up determined mouth was marching steadily forward again.

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