_THE FATHER PREACHES AND THE SON PRACTICES._
That afternoon, Willie was at Sunday-school long before the time. He
had a plan.
“I’ll tell you what, boys,” said he, “let’s not give Mr. Marble
anything this year; and let’s ask him not to give us anything. Let’s
get him to put the money he would use for us with the money we should
spend on a present for him, and give it to buy coal for Old Aunt
Parm’ly.”
“I mean to spend all my money on soft gum drops and tarts,” said Tommy
Puffer; “they’re splendid!” and with that he began, as usual, to roll
his soft lips together in a half chewing, half sucking manner, as if he
had a half dozen cream tarts under his tongue, and two dozen gum drops
in his cheeks.
“Tommy,” said stumpy little Sammy Bantam, “it’s a good thing you didn’t
live in Egypt, Tommy, in the days of Joseph.”
“Why?” asked Tommy.
“Because,” said Sammy, looking around the room absently, as if he
hardly knew what he was going to say, “because, you see”--and then he
opened a book and began to read, as if he had forgotten to finish the
sentence.
“Well, why?” demanded Tommy, sharply.
“Well, because if Joseph had had to feed you during the seven years of
plenty, there wouldn’t have been a morsel left for the years of famine!”
The boys laughed as boys will at a good shot, and Tommy reddened a
little and said, regretfully, that he guessed the Egyptians hadn’t any
dough-nuts.
Willie did not forget his main purpose, but carried his point in his
own class. He still had time to speak to some of the boys and girls
in other classes. Everybody liked to do what Willie asked; there was
something sweet and strong in his blue eyes, eyes that “did not seem to
have any bottom, they were so deep,” one of the girls said. Soon there
was an excitement in the school, and about the door; girls and boys
talking and discussing, but as soon as any opposition came up Willie’s
half coaxing but decided way bore it down. I think he was much helped
by Sammy’s wit, which was all on his side. It was agreed, finally, that
whatever scholars meant to give to teachers, or teachers to scholars,
should go to the poor.
The teachers caught the enthusiasm, and were very much in favor of the
project, for in the whole movement they saw the fruit of their own
teaching.
The superintendent had been detained, and was surprised to find the
school standing in knots about the room. He soon called them to order,
and expressed his regrets that they should get into such disorder.
There was a smile on all faces, and he saw that there was something
more in the apparent disorder than he thought. After school it was
fixed that each class should find its own case of poverty. The young
men’s and the young women’s Bible classes undertook to supply Sitles
with a broom-machine, a class of girls took Aunt Parm’ly under their
wing, other classes knew of other cases of need, and so each class had
its hands full. But Willie could not get any class to see that Widow
Martin had a sewing-machine. That was left for his own; and how should
a class of eight boys do it?