The Grey Story Book/What Margie Knew
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ARGIE sat on the steps waiting for Papa to come home. It was almost dark and Margie was only seven years old; but it was her birthday and she felt very sure that Papa would have a gift for her when he jumped off of the car down at the corner, so she did not want to go into the house until he came.
It kept getting darker and darker, and there were ten steps to climb to the front door if one should want to go in very quickly, and Margie kept turning around to see if the door was still a little way open, as she had left it. It seemed to her that Papa was very late indeed; but every car went right by the corner without stopping to let him off.
"I'm not at all afraid," said Margie, looking up at the door, "at least, I don't think I am, but I wish he would come. There isn't a single man in sight."
Just then a man did come in sight. He came around the corner down by the street car, and walked slowly along the street looking up at the houses. As he drew near, Margie saw that he was not a nice looking man at all and he had a big basket on his arm, with a pee of black oil-cloth thrown over it.
Margie looked back at the door and then up at the man. He was coming very near her, and was staring at her very hard indeed. His clothes were shabby and he had a big black beard, and the basket with the black cover was such a great large one. Margie remembered all the stories she had been told about little girls being stolen away from their homes, and she started to spring to her feet. Then suddenly she remembered what Mamma had told her that morning. "All of God's children love each other." That was what Mamma had said. This man was God's child just as much as she was; she knew that, so she sat quite still waiting for him to pass.
But he didn't pass, and her face grew very white as he stopped right in front of her and bent down to look into her face.
"He's God's child. He's God's child. He's God's child," she kept whispering to herself, and then suddenly all of the fear left her, though a moment before she had longed to scream and fly up the steps to the door.
Then the man spoke. "Is your name Margie, little girl?" he asked, and his voice was so soft and kind behind the big black beard, that Margie looked up into his face and smiled.
"Yes, sir," she said.
"And what is your last name?" he asked, setting down the basket and beginning to loosen the cover.
"Green. I'm Margie Green," she replied, her eyes on the basket.
"That's it. That's the name," said the man, smiling. "I've got something for you here, but didn't know whether I was going to find you or not. Your papa bought it for you this morning and asked me to bring it to you," and he reached into the basket and drew out the most beautiful little curly white puppy that Margie had ever seen. Such a darling little round, pink-nosed, bundle of white floss that she fairly screamed with delight.
"Oh, is it for me? Did Papa really get it for me? Oh, you dear, dear little doggie!" and she held out her arms for it.
The man put it gently into them. "I'm glad you were out here," he said, "for I didn't know how I was going to find you. I lost the card your papa gave me, that told me where to bring it; but I remembered your first name, because my little girl's name is Margie, too; and beside, your papa said that your hair was as fine and curly as this little fellow's, only that it was yellow instead of white. I knew that the card said this street, but I don't believe that I would ever have found the place if you hadn't been out here. It's pretty dark for you to be here alone, weren't you afraid?"
The puppy was nestling his warm curly head close into Margie's neck and the little girl hugged him tight and looked up at the black bearded man, happily. "I was a little bit afraid at first," she said brightly, "but just as soon as I realized that you are God's child, I couldn't be afraid any more."
The man patted her on the head and went away smiling and Margie climbed the steps still hugging her new pet and whispering to him: "You dear, dear doggie, of course God wouldn't let me run away from you, and I am so glad that I remembered that everybody is God's child."
And that night when she and the curly pet sat on Papa's knee and she told him all about it, he hugged her lovingly and said: "I think that we will give this small dog the name of 'Brave,' to make us think of the little girl who, because she knew the truth, could not be afraid."