THEO MAKES A PRESENT
There was great rejoicing when Theo and his father reached home. It
seemed as if Mrs. Swift could never do enough for her boy. The whole
house was turned upside down to make him comfortable, and on the
dinner table were all his favorite dishes.
"To see your mother, Theo, anybody would think you were a fragile
invalid just out of the hospital rather than a husky young camper
returned from the woods," growled the Doctor. "My dear," he
continued, addressing his wife, "Theo hasn't had as much attention as
this in all the time he has been ill. Croyden and I have not pranced
round after him, I assure you. He has had to brace up and bear his
troubles like a soldier; and he has done it, too."
"I suppose soldiers do have to be pretty patient," remarked Theo
meditatively. "I never thought before how hard it must be for them
when they are hurt."
"It is one of the great tests of courage," said Dr. Swift. "We all are
liable to think of soldiers only when the drums are beating and the
flags flying. Then it seems a very easy and pleasant thing to be a
soldier. But there is much more to it than that. A great deal of
drudgery is attached to a soldier's life, and frequently a great deal
of suffering. One of the tests of a hero is to be patient when there
is nothing to do but await orders, or perform some menial and
uninteresting task, or lie tossing on a sick-bed. Then you find out
very quickly the sort of stuff your man is made of. Those who fight
are not the biggest heroes. Often the noblest and most helpful men
are those who themselves are not only cheerful under monotony and
dullness, but aid their comrades to be so. Therefore, Theo, when you
took it upon yourself to bear your troubles in the Maine woods bravely
you proved you had the first essential of a good soldier."
Theo flushed with pleasure.
"That is why we cannot have your mother undoing your virtuous
deeds," continued the Doctor whimsically. "We must make her realize
she has a man and not a baby to deal with. Theo is no invalid,
Louisa. On the contrary, he is going right to school to-morrow."
"Not with those crutches!" protested Mrs. Swift.
"Why not? He has the term to finish, and certainly you would not have
him flat out on his job when the end is in sight. It is only a few
weeks to the last of June. The fishing trip was a vacation; and if he
got more vacation out of it than he calculated," went on Dr. Swift
with a twinkle in his eye, "why, so much the better. He is that much
to the good."
"I'd rather finish my school year, Mother," rejoined Theo.
"Well, apparently it is two against one," smiled Mrs. Swift. "Your
father is, of course, a far better judge of your condition than
I. Broken bones are in his line. But do be careful, son, and not go
skipping on and off cars when they are moving, or doing things that
are going to worry me."
"Rest easy, Mother. I'll promise not to take any chances," Theo
replied promptly. "I am far too eager to get well. It is no fun to be
hobbling about. Besides, I want to be in trim to go to the Croydens as
soon as school is over."
"Your father says Mr. Croyden was very kind to you while you were in
camp."
"He was bully!"
"It would be nice if you could do something to show that you
appreciated it," observed Mrs. Swift vaguely.
Instantly Theo caught at the suggestion.
"I wish I could!" he declared. "Can't you think of something, Mother?"
Mrs. Swift paused a moment.
"It would be of no use to do anything unless it was something you did
yourself," she said at last. "Of course your father and I could give
you the money to buy a present; but after all that would be our
present and not yours."
"Oh, a gift we bought would not be of the slightest use," cut in
Dr. Swift. "It would spoil the whole idea. Either Theo would have to
purchase something with his own money----"
"I have only saved a dollar out of my allowance," interrupted Theo
dubiously.
"Or he would have to do something, or make something, for
Mr. Croyden," concluded the Doctor.
"I don't see what I could do," mused Theo.
"You couldn't make anything, son?" asked his mother.
"Nothing good enough," responded Theo, shaking his head.
"Don't they teach you how to make anything at school?"
"No, sir."
"All head and no hands, I suppose," retorted Dr. Swift
scornfully. "That is the way with our modern educational system. It is
a poor plan on which to bring up a boy. I wish I had realized it
before. Louisa, why didn't you see to this?" blustered the Doctor.
"You picked out Theo's studies yourself, my dear."
"I?"
"Certainly. You took the outline and checked off the things you wished
Theo to take this year."
"You did, Father," put in Theo.
"When did I do it?"
"Oh, one day when you were on your way to a hospital meeting,"
answered the boy. "You were in a hurry, and you stood out in the hall
and marked the list with your fountain-pen."
"Then I am heartily ashamed of myself," confessed Dr. Swift
candidly. "I had no right to do anything of the sort. I should have
sat down and put some thought into the matter. Do you suppose it would
be too late, son, for you to change your course of study this term?"
"I shouldn't want to change it much, Dad," replied Theo. "I'd be sorry
to give up any of the things I am taking, for I have worked hard at
them and it would be discouraging to have my time all thrown away. But
perhaps now that I am knocked out of athletics I might put those extra
hours into something else. Some of the boys take sloyd."
"The very thing!" exclaimed the Doctor. "Manual training is just what
we're after. You would enjoy it, too."
"I don't know whether I would or not, Dad," returned Theo frankly. "I
never was much good with tools. I like athletics better."
"That is because you have never learned to use tools properly," said
his father. "Where do you suppose I'd be now if I hadn't started out
when I was a boy to tinker round a farm? That's where I got my manual
training, and there isn't a course in the country that can equal it. I
had to use my brains, too, as well as my hands, for very often the
things I needed were not to be had and I was forced to make something
else do. It was a great education, I can tell you! What skill I have
at surgery I attribute largely to that early training. Now we'll set
right to work to remedy this lack in you, son. I'll see your principal
to-day and arrange for you to begin sloyd when you go back to school."
Theo made a grimace at which his father laughed.
"If you don't like it you can at least take it as a medicine,"
remarked the Doctor with a grin.
Dr. Swift was as good as his word, for when Theo returned to school
the following day he found that in addition to his other work he was
expected to spend an hour each morning in the carpenter's shop, a
realm toward which he had always maintained the keenest scorn. It
seemed such a foolish thing to learn to saw and drive nails! What was
the use of taking lessons? When a board was to be cut what was there
to do but take the saw and cut it? It was easy enough. As for driving
nails--that feat required no teaching.
But to Theo's amazement it needed only the first lesson to demonstrate
to him that these superficial conclusions were quite wrong. It was one
thing to cut a board haphazard; but quite another matter to cut it
evenly, and on a ruled line. Nor was the driving of nails as simple
as he had supposed. At the end of the first hour Theo, feeling very
awkward and clumsy, and rubbing a finger that had been too slow to get
out of the path of the hammer, left the workshop.
"I never dreamed it would be so hard!" he muttered, viewing his
bleeding knuckle with chagrin.
The lesson of the following day did not prove much easier, and its
difficulties aroused the lad's fighting spirit.
"I am going to learn to saw and drive nails properly if it takes me
the rest of my life!" he declared resolutely. "The very idea! Why,
some of those little chaps in the sloyd room can chisel and plane like
carpenters. I'll bet I can do it, too, if I stick at it."
Therefore it came about that instead of missing tennis and basket-ball
as he had expected, Theo became completely absorbed in his new
interest--so absorbed that his father soon began to fear that his
studies would suffer. Early and late Theo was at his bench with his
tools. He tried faithfully not to slight his books, but there was no
use pretending he did not enjoy his carpentry. He was making a
footstool now, a little wooden piece with turned legs which he was to
stain with orange shellac and give to his mother. Already he had
finished a square tray and a handkerchief box. When the stool was
completed he was preparing for a more ambitious enterprise, a thing he
longed yet hesitated to venture upon--a wooden bookrack for
Mr. Croyden.
It was to be made from oak, not from the ordinary pine wood on which,
up to this time, he had been working; and it was to be a much more
elaborately finished article than anything he had undertaken. He had
delayed beginning it until the closing part of the term in order that
he might have the benefit of every atom of training he could get
before he made the first cuts in the wood. As he now framed his plans
for the making of the gift he smiled to think how impossible such a
project would have been a few months ago.
"Dad was right!" he affirmed. "Training your hands is just like
training any other part of your body. The longer and more regularly
you keep at it the more expert you get. Sloyd is no different from
rowing, or football, or tennis."
With the help of his instructor he drew his design, measured his
pattern, and sent for the wood.
Then, impatient to begin work, he waited.
Mr. Croyden's birthday he had learned came the last part of June, and
as on that date school ended he had only a short time to make his
present. Not only must the pieces be cut and nailed together but
there was all the finishing, glueing, and varnishing. In addition an
interval was also necessary for drying. Therefore it was imperative
that he set about his task as soon as possible.
Yet day after day went by and the wood did not come.
Theo was almost beside himself.
First he was merely impatient, then angry, then discouraged.
It was not until he had about given up hope of being able to complete
the rack that the wood arrived. The pieces were beautifully grained,
and when Theo beheld them he could in his mind's eye see the
bookshelves shaped, smoothed, and rubbed down. He must finish the gift
if he toiled nights as well as days! It is doubtful if ever a boy
worked as hard or as anxiously as did Theo during the next two
weeks. And as his creation took form how happy he was! He cut the
three shelves, shaped the ends of the rack, and under his teacher's
direction carved on a jig-saw the simple ornament which was to
decorate the top. Never in his whole life had he enjoyed making
anything so much. Then came the day when the final coat of oil was
applied and there was nothing more to do but wait until it dried. But
the work had required more time than Theo had anticipated, and
therefore it was not until the very afternoon before Mr. Croyden's
birthday that the shelves were dry enough to be packed. Dr. Swift's
motor came to the school that day to get Theo, and the boy himself
proudly carried his masterpiece out to the car and put it inside; then
springing in he called to the chauffeur to drive home. Arriving at his
own abode Theo leaped up the brown stone steps with quick stride and
rang the bell; then as he stood waiting for the door to be opened a
sudden recollection overwhelmed him. In his eagerness to display his
handiwork to his parents he had entirely forgotten his crutches! They
were at school, and he now remembered he had not used them since
morning.
His father laughed heartily when Theo told him this.
"I guess that means you can do without crutches from now on, son," the
Doctor said.
"Does it mean that I may go to the Croydens', Dad?"
"I should say so," was the ready response. "I will call Mr. Croyden up
on the telephone and find out when he wants you to come. What a joke
it would be if you should go to Trenton and carry your bookrack with
you!"
It subsequently proved that there was more truth than fiction in this
jest, for in answer to Dr. Swift's inquiry Mr. Croyden announced that
he happened to be coming into New York that very day in his car, and
if the Swifts were willing he would carry Theo back with him.
"That will be the very thing!" exclaimed the boy in delight. "We can
do the shelves all up so he won't guess what they are, and I can take
them right along. Then they will be safe at Mr. Croyden's house and I
shall not run the risk of the expressman being late. You know
expressmen always are late. Think how long they were getting my
crutches to Maine."
Accordingly the shelves were packed with greatest care in many soft
papers so they would not be scratched, and afterward they were wrapped
in a stouter outside covering. When the parcel was tied up no one
would have suspected what was inside, and Theo viewed the mysterious
bundle with satisfaction.
"Mr. Croyden will think that for a small boy you travel with a good
deal of luggage," chuckled the Doctor.
"Maybe he won't have room to take it," Mrs. Swift rejoined.
Theo's face fell.
"He must take it," he said, "even if I walk to Trenton myself."
But there was room, plenty of it, in the big touring car.
Mr. Croyden did, to be sure, comment teasingly about the lad's
extended wardrobe, and ask how many dozen suits of clothes he had
brought with him; but he made no objection to taking either the bundle
or the suit-case.
And when that night just before dinner Theo slipped into the
dining-room and placed the shelves beside Mr. Croyden's chair no boy
could have been happier. The only person happier than Theo himself was
the man who received them.
"My, but this is a present!" exclaimed the merchant. "And you made
them all yourself? I can hardly believe it. Why, they are beautifully
finished! And isn't it a queer thing that only yesterday I told
Mrs. Croyden I must buy some bookshelves for my office? You remember,
don't you, Madeline?"
Mrs. Croyden nodded.
"Those were his very words," affirmed Mrs. Croyden, turning to
Theo. "He said it only at breakfast. I believe it was mental
telepathy, Theo."
[Illustration: "THIS IS A PRESENT"]
Theo beamed.
He had really succeeded then in giving Mr. Croyden something he
wanted! That was pleasure enough.
[Illustration]