THE MUG OF WOE
"New shoes! Where in the world did we get new shoes?"
Dr. Redfield was the first to rightly appreciate the grandeur of
them, and he was delighted to hear how they could squeak. Land
sakes! but they were wonderful. Greatly astonished he was, and so
swollen with pride was the little boy that he didn't care--not so
very much--even if his old friend had failed to put on his top
hat.
"Are you going to do it?"
That was David's first question. He was rather anxious, because
he did not believe that this big comrade of his had come
properly attired to waylay anybody.
"Surely I am."
The Doctor was prompt, but puzzled. He didn't know _what_ he was
going to do. Then, for a space, man and boy looked at each other
inquiringly. They were both waiting and they were both wondering.
"Has it begun to start yet?"
There was expectancy in David's voice.
"You mean, I suppose--that is--"
"Yes, yes! _You_ know!" David gravely wagged his head.
The Doctor took off his hat and wiped his forehead with his
handkerchief.
"If you were a little more definite--not quite so vague and
uncertain," he hopelessly suggested.
It was then that a sudden inspiration saved the day for him. He
began to talk in a big and solemn voice.
"I perceive, sir," he said, "that you have reached the age for
being waylaid. You are four years old, and by an ancient decree
of all the Medes and Persians, that makes you my prisoner, to
hold in hostage until that ungracious dame, your mother, shall
subscribe unto me suitable and sufficient ransom."
David clapped his hands gleefully.
"Go on!" he demanded. "Go on! Now what?"
"Well, when you have all that said to you, it means that if you
find a doctor skulking about within ten feet of you, it is then
your perfect right to press him into your service. If you command
him to give you a ride on his back, he will have to do it. It's
undignified and he doesn't believe in it, but that's where you
have him at your mercy. He _has_ to obey; he has to go any place
you tell him to go. If you say he must take you to a toy shop,
that settles it. He has no choice in the matter. He _has_ to do
it. That is always the rule when a little boy is four years old."
David also learned that there is another peculiar thing about it.
In circumstances like this a little boy has the right, when he
arrives at the toy shop, to choose for himself the thing he wants
to buy. No grown-up will interfere with his judgment; the law
won't allow it. The trouble is that it is pretty hard for him to
make up his mind. When there is such a great array of drums and
swords and soldiers' caps and guns and bears that jump, it is not
an easy thing to select the toy that will please him most of
all.
Why not buy a train of cars and a track to run it on? But if he
bought that, then how could he get along without a jumping-jack
that threw up its arms and legs when you pulled the string? And
if he took the jumping-jack, then what about an iron savings bank
with a monkey on top that shook his head with thanks when you
dropped the money in? Lovely things, all of them, but David put
them from him. He did it with decision, but with a nervous haste
which told of wavering courage.
Such things were not for him. They are only for boys who are not
soldier-men. And besides, they might cost too much. If the price
went higher than five cents David would be lost, for many
precepts had been forced upon him in regard to the waste of
money, and the value people put on it, and the way they have to
work for it. So thus far the nickel had marked the very summit of
his financial transactions.
All the same, a strange wistfulness came into David's eyes when
he put aside poor jumping-jack. Such a dear of a jumping-jack he
was! You could have kissed the jolly red paint of him, and the
pretty toy bank was a thing to hug tight under your arm. That is
why the little boy's voice was such a weak and far-away voice
when he presently asked:--
"Would two five centses get him, do you think?"
"When it's your birthday," said the Doctor, "it's all right to
spend three five centses."
Here, then, was David's chance. The jumping-jack was almost his,
when his shoes squeaked a warning. Thus suddenly was he reminded
that he was a brave little soldier-man. He now saw that such a
purchase would be ridiculous. Something serviceable is what he
must have, something that Mother would like and want him to keep.
No silly toys for him! But, oh, if only the Doctor would insist a
little on the jumping-jack!
David turned reluctantly away; he choked down the queerness in
his throat and firmly laid hands on a gilt-rimmed mustache cup.
His lips twitched and his eyes winked, but the look in his face
was the look of a soldier-man. No intervention from the Doctor
could shake his determination.
With coaxing insinuation the Doctor said, "We haven't seen all
the things, you know."
Hope kindled in David's eyes.
"Maybe," he said with enthusiasm, "maybe this costs more than
three five centses. Does it?"
"Wouldn't you rather have a drum?" asked the salesman.
No, indeed; David would not have a drum.
"Or a sword?" asked the Doctor.
"No, thanks," the words came with husky politeness.
The cup was the thing for him; it would please Mother. She would
be so glad about the cup!
Here, again, was disappointment. She didn't seem pleased with
it--not nearly so pleased as she should have been. But never
mind, little boy; every generous heart is quick to forget the
unselfish kindness that is in it, and you yourself will not be
slow to forget this foolish sacrifice you have made for love of
one who has made many a sacrifice for you. She has made them,
little boy, in love, and forgotten them in love, and that, David,
is the beautiful thing in loving.