The Talking Waste Basket
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f 4 t l e *
somebody sends the newspaper comics over to the Mis sionary Kids. They’re all crumpled up, but they’ve been smoothed out enough so I can read them. They’ve been used as packing in those “ Dreamy Boxes from Home.” I just don’t know of anything that makes The Missionaries any happier than getting one of those boxes! I don’t know what-all is in them, but I’ve noticed that pretty soon afterward there are usually a couple of Jello boxes and maybe a cake mix box that gets tossed in, too. There are lots of Little Scraps, too. They’ve got writ ing on them — the Missionaries’ writing. I can’t make it all out, but it usually makes me sort of sad. They write a number down for Stamps, and another one for Tracts, and another one for Conferences and such. I’m not sure, exactly, what They’re trying to do, but the numbers never seem to come out even with the numbers that they write down under “ Cash on Hand.” Maybe You can understand all that, but it doesn’t make sense to me. Seems to me there ought to be enough Tracts and Stamps for The Missionaries! Then the other day you’d have thought it was snow ing! Yes, you would! Right there in the W. Paper Bas ket! It was a regular flurry of little White Papers, all tom to shreds! It seemed to be a letter or something, but it didn’t seem to be to anybody! As if it were never meant to be sent — you know? It had some spots on it Where something Wet had splotched the Ink. I could just see a few phrases here and there . . . too discouraged to go on . . . decided to not believe . . . my last pair of nylons . . . too busy for . . . Then I heard Her laugh. She walked over to Him and He laughed, too. The Envelope with the tom comer He gave to me, and I hieard Him say, “What a crazy Birthday Card She sent you! Wasn’t that thoughtful of Her?” She tucked the card into the picture frame and went away whistling, “Are We Downhearted, No! No! No!” Yep, you can bet your life! I’ve got a Mighty Impor tant Job out here on the Mission Field! W. Paper Basket — that’s who I am! Goodbye! It’s been nice talking with you!
ello , F riend / My name is Basket. W. P. Basket, and I -------------------------------------- !!???????? Well now, when you look at me like that, I realize I don’t look much like a Basket at all, but my mother was Wicker Hamper and my father was Plastic Basket and I’m W. Paper Basket — though I realize I look more like a cardboard carton! My first name is Waste, but it’s stylish nowadays for People in the Lord’s work to just use their first initials, and I’m sure glad of that! You didn’t imagine I was in the Lord’s work? Well, I guess you’d just call me a Country Cousin. Actually, I stand right up there beside the stove that Your W. M. S. gave Their Missionary, and I really know how to take it! I take anything they give me! And sometimes you’d be surprised at what Your Missionary throws in that Basket! I’m a real Curio Collector, I am! Of course, there are Old Letters. In this Jet Age, most of them are those Pretty Blue Airforms that most folks use to write to Their Missionaries. They’re so inexpensive and easy to use. I heard The Missionary say that some Churches even pass them out to the congregations to encourage them to write to the Folks out here! A ll the other letters have a little square hole tom in one comer. Do you know what that’s for? I know! Mr. Missionary tacked a Little Paper Bag on the wall right over my head, and when he tears off the Pretty Stamps he puts them in that little Bag. You’ll never guess what they’re used for, though. The Folks at the Church are all collecting them to sell, to support Missionaries! Have you ever heard of such a thing? Here the Missionaries came over to tell These People about the Lord Jesus, and now They want to help People in another Foreign Land to know about Him! This will probably surprise you. They don’t have many paper bags Over Here for groceries, and can you imagine what Mrs. Missionary brings her meat home in? Its a great, huge bamboo leaf! The Meat Man flicks a string off one side of it and ties up the package so neatly! It really doesn’t come apart — but you can see the meat at the -sides. Sometimes I have a jolly time, though. That’s when
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THE KIN S'S BUSINESS
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