The Beauty Of The Dead And Other Stories (1940) - Plot & Excerpts
It had been there since a month before Christmas. ‘Annual Collection of Christmas Gifts in this Church on Christmas Eve. Help Us to Help Others. No Gift too Large. None too Small. Give generously.’ And then, in very much larger, startling and to him almost angry letters: ‘THIS MEANS YOU!’ He was a small, extremely puzzled-looking boy with a look of searching determination on his rather thin lips. Large brown trousers, which looked as if they had been cut down from his father’s, gave him a curious look of being out of place in the world. His hair looked as if it had been shorn off with sheep shears; his forehead had in it small, constant knots of perplexity. There was always mud on his boots and, though he did not know it, there were times when he did not smell very sweet. There was a reason for this smell. His father and mother had a small farm-holding of about ten acres two miles out in the country. On a little pasture they grazed a mare and two or three cows, with a score of foraging hens.
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