Arvie Aspinall's Alarm Clock

by Henry Lawson

　　In one of these years a paragraph appeared in a daily paper to the effect that a constable had discovered a little boy asleep on the steps of Grinder Bros.' factory at four o'clock one rainy morning. He awakened him, and demanded an explanation.

　　The little fellow explained that he worked there, and was frightened of being late; he started work at six, and was apparently greatly astonished to hear that it was only four. The constable examined a small parcel which the frightened child had in his hand. It contained a clean apron and three slices of bread and treacle.

　　The child further explained that he woke up and thought it was late, and didn't like to wake mother and ask her the time 'because she'd been washin'.' He didn't look at the clock, because they 'didn't have one.' He volunteered no explanation as to how he expected mother to know the time, but, perhaps, like many other mites of his kind, he had unbounded faith in the infinitude of a mother's wisdom. His name was Arvie Aspinall, please, sir, and he lived in Jones's Alley. Father was dead.

　　A few days later the same paper took great pleasure in stating, in reference to that 'Touching Incident' noticed in a recent issue, that a benevolent society lady had started a subscription among her friends with the object of purchasing an alarm clock for the little boy found asleep at Grinder Bros.' workshop door.

　　Later on, it was mentioned, in connection with the touching incident, that the alarm-clock had been bought and delivered to the boy's mother, who appeared to be quite overcome with gratitude. It was learned, also, from another source, that the last assertion was greatly exaggerated.

　　The touching incident was worn out in another paragraph, which left no doubt that the benevolent society lady was none other than a charming and accomplished daughter of the House of Grinder.

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