The Dream Muff

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Title:     The Dream Muff
Author: Margery Verner Reed [More Titles by Reed]

The Dream Muff [to I. K. Mcf.]

ONE more day of horror had ended for Russia. At this hour once the lamps along the Neva would have been lighted, the laughter of sleigh-riders would have resounded over the snow. But now the streets were dark--deserted save by some wandering homeless people, seeking refuge in the night.

NO one seemed to know exactly what had happened--or the cause--

THERE was no ruler--no order--

DARKNESS and chaos.

A GIRL, perhaps of twelve, sat huddled in a ragged shawl on the steps of a closed church.

THERE had been a time when a fire burned--

A MOTHER--a father--

BROTHERS--

THEY had gone--no one knew where. The mother was royalist.

SHE used to sew for a great lady--a Princess.

PERHAPS the jailers of a prison could tell where she was.

ONCE--in the life that was only a memory--was it real--or was the biting cold--was the hunger what had always been--her mother had taken her to the house of the great lady--

HER eyes had opened in childish wonder, as the Princess took her from room to room.

ON a great couch of palest blue, among cushions that were all lace and blue and pink--a muff.

IT had been carelessly thrown down--she had loved it.

HER greatest desire had been to touch it--to feel the soft gray fur on her face.

A PIERCING wind blew from the frozen river--the muff--if it would come it would keep her warm--

SHE would put her hand in it and hold it to her heart.

THROUGH half-closed lids she saw the muff--curving and swaying in the air--like a gray bird.

IT was looking for her--there were so many freezing children in the streets--she was small for her age--

HOW warm--how kind of the Princess to send the muff.

MAYBE mother will soon be home from work--we can have supper--

BORIS will come from school--

BUT Boris lay dying--prisoner in the enemy's land.

WHEN a pale sun struggled to shine down on the dirty streets--on the confusion and sorrow of that Russian city--an old Priest--dying with all the rest--of sorrow for his land--found the frozen body of a little girl--with hands clasped over her heart--a faint smile on her upturned face.

[The end]
Margery Verner Reed's short story: Dream Muff

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