Small Corners



     Georgia Willis, who helped in the kitchen, was rubbing [sharpening] the knives.  Somebody had been careless and let one get rusty, but Georgia rubbed with all her might, rubbed, and sang softly a little song:

“In this world is darkness,
     “So we must shine,
     “You in your small   corner,
“And I in mine.”

     “Why do you rub at the knives forever?” asked Mary.  Mary was the cook.

     “Because they are in my corner,” Georgia said, brightly.  “ ‘You in your small corner,’ you know, ‘and I in mine.’  I will do the best I can; that is all I can do.”

     “I would not waste my strength,” muttered Mary.  “I know that no one will notice.”

     “Jesus will,” said Georgia; and then she sang again, “You in your small corner, And I in mine.”

     “Cooking the dinner is in my ‘corner,’ I suppose,” said Mary to herself.  “If that child must do what she can, I suppose I must.  If Jesus knows about knives, it is likely that He knows about dinners.”  And she took particular pains.

     “Mary, the dinner was very nicely cooked today,” Miss Emma said.

     “That is all due to Georgia,” said Mary, with a pleased face.  Then she told about the knives.

     Miss Emma was ironing ruffles; she was tired and warm. “Helen will not care whether they are fluted or not,” she thought.  “I will hurry them over.”  But then she remembered about the knives, and she did her best.

     “How beautifully my dress is done!” Helen exclaimed.  Emma, laughing, answered, “That is owing to Georgia.”  Then she told about the knives.

     “I believe I will not go for a walk,” mused Helen, hesitatingly.  “I will finish that dress of mother’s; I suppose I can if I think so.”

“Why, child, are you here sewing?” her surprised mother queried.  “I thought you had gone for a walk.”

     “No, mother; this dress seemed to be in my ‘corner,’ so I thought I would finish it.”

     “In your ‘corner’?” her mother repeated in surprise, and then Helen told about the knives.  The doorbell rang, and her mother went thoughtfully to answer it and found her pastor there.  “I suppose I could give more,” she said to herself, as she slowly took out the $10 that she had laid aside for missions.  “If that poor child in the kitchen is trying to do what she can, I wonder if I am.  I will make it $25.”

     And I seemed to hear Georgia’s guardian angel say to another angel, “Georgia Willis gave $25 to missions today.”

     “$25!” exclaimed the other angel. “Why, I thought she was poor.”

     “O, well, she thinks she is, but her Father in heaven is not, you know!  She did what she could, and He did the rest.”

     But Georgia knew nothing about all this, and the next morning she brightened her knives and sang cheerily:

“In this world is darkness,
“So, we must shine,
“You in your small corner,
“And I in mine.”