Karl Krinken, His Christmas Stocking

“‘Please sir to let me have a cent’s worth of tea?’ she said timidly.

“‘Got sixpence to pay for it?’ said one of the clerks to make the other clerks laugh, in which he succeeded.

“‘No sir, I’ve got this,’ she said, modestly showing me, and giving me a kind glance at the same time. ‘It’s only a cent, but it will get enough for mother, and she’s sick and wanted some tea so much.’

“The young men stopped laughing, and looked at the child as if she had just come out of the museum; and one of them taking down a canister measured out two or three good pinches of tea into a brown paper and folded it up. The child took it with a very glad face, laying me down on the counter with a joyful ‘Thank you, sir!’ which I by no means repeated—I wanted to go home with her and see that tea made. But we red cents can never know the good that our purchases do in the world.

“The clerk took me up and balanced me upon his finger, as if he had half a mind to give the child back her money, and pay the sum of one cent into the store out of his own private purse. But habit prevailed; and dropping me into the till I heard him remark as he closed it,—

“‘I say, Bill, I shouldn’t wonder now if that was a good child.’

“I shouldn’t have wondered, either.

“We were a dull company in the till that night, for most of the money was old; and it is a well-known fact that worn-down coins are not communicative. And some of the pieces were rusty through long keeping, and one disconsolate little sixpence which sat alone in the furthest corner of the till, was in a very sad state of mind; for he had just laid himself out to buy some rice for a poor family and now could do nothing more for them—and he was the last monied friend they had.

“In this inactive kind of life some time passed away, and though some of us were occasionally taken to market yet we never bought anything. But one evening a man came into the grocery and asked for starch, and we hoped for bright visiters; but I had no time to enjoy them, for I was sent to make change. The messenger was a manservant, and with the starch in his hand and me in his pocket he soon left the store and went whistling along the street. Then he put his other hand into the pocket and jingled me against the rest of the change in a most unpleasant manner—picking me up and dropping me again just as if red cents had no feeling. I was glad when he reached home, and ran down the area steps and into the kitchen. He gave the starch to the cook, and then marking down on a little bit of paper what he had bought and what he had spent, he carried it with the change into the parlour. But what was my surprise to find that I was in the very same house whence I had gone forth as a golden eagle!

“The old gentleman was asleep in his chair now, and a pretty-looking lady sat by, reading; while the little girl was playing with her doll on the rug. She jumped up and came to the table, and began to count the change.

“‘Two-and-sixpence, mamma—see, here’s a shilling and two sixpences and a fivepence and a red cent,—mamma, may I have this cent?’

“‘It isn’t mine, Nanny—your grandfather gave James the money.’

“‘Well, but you can pay him again,’ said the child; ‘and besides, he’d let me have it, I know.’

“‘What will you do with it, Nanny?’

“‘Don’t you know, mamma, you said you thought you would give me one cent a month to spend?’

“‘To do what you liked with,’ said her mother. ‘Yes, I remember. But what will you do with this one?’

“‘O I don’t know, mamma—I’ll see if grandpa will let me have it.’

“‘Let you have what?’ said the old gentleman, waking up.

“‘This cent, grandpa.’

“‘To be sure you may have it! Of course!—and fifty more.’

“‘No, she must have but one,’ said the lady, with a smile. ‘I am going to give her an allowance of one cent a-month.’

“‘Fiddle-de-dee!’ said the old gentleman. ‘What can she do with that, I should like to know?—one red cent!—Absurd!’

“‘Why she can do just the fiftieth part of what she could with half-a-dollar,’ said the lady, ‘and that will be money matters enough for such a little head. So you may take the cent, Nanny, and spend it as you like,—only I shall want to be told about it afterwards.’

“Nanny thanked her mother, and holding me fast in one hand she sat down on the rug again by her doll. The old gentleman seemed very much amused.

“‘What will you do with it, Nanny?’ he said, bending down to her.—‘Buy candy?’

“Nanny smiled and shook her head.

“‘No, I guess not, grandpa—I don’t know—I’ll see. Maybe I’ll buy beads.’

“At which the old gentleman leaned back in his chair and laughed very heartily.

“From that time, whenever little Nanny went to walk I went too; and she really seemed to be quite fond of me, for though she often stopped before the candy stores or the toy shops, and once or twice went in to look at the beads, yet she always carried me home again.

“‘Mamma, I don’t know how to spend my red cent,’ she said one day.

“‘Are you tired of taking care of it, Nanny?’

“‘No mamma, but I want to spend it.’

“‘Why?’

“‘Why mamma—I don’t know—money’s meant to spend, isn’t it?’

“‘Yes, it is meant to spend—not to throw away.’

“‘O no,’ said Nanny,—‘I wouldn’t throw away my red cent for anything. It’s a very pretty red cent.’

“‘How many ways are there of throwing away money?’ said her mother.

“‘O mamma—a great many! I couldn’t begin to count. You know I might throw it out of the window, mamma, or drop it in the street—or somebody might steal it,—no, then it would only be lost.’

“‘Or you might shut it up in your box and never spend it.’

“‘Why mamma!’ said Nanny opening her eyes very wide, ‘would it be thrown away then?’

“‘Certainly—you might just as well have none. It would do neither you nor any one else any good.’

“‘But I should have it to look at.’

“‘But that is not what money was made for. Your cent would be more really lost than if you threw it out of the window, for then some poor child might pick it up.’

“‘How surprised she would be!’ said Nanny with a very bright face. ‘Mamma, I think I should like to spend my money so. I could stand behind the window-curtain and watch.’

“Her mother smiled.

“‘Why, mamma? do you think there wouldn’t any poor child come along?’

“‘I should like to see that day, dear Nanny. But your cent might fall into the grass in the courtyard, or into the mud, or a horse might tread it down among the paving-stones; and then no one would be the better for it.’

“‘But it’s only one cent, mamma,’ said Nanny,—‘it don’t matter so much, after all.’

“‘Come here Nanny,’ said her mother, and the child came and stood at her side. The lady opened her purse and took out a little gold dollar.

“‘What is this made of?’ said she.