THE EXTRA HORSE.
Johnny did not have a great deal of time for thinking. It is difficult
to think when one is running, or jumping, or hammering, or shouting, and
still more difficult when one is asleep! He often intended to “take a
think” about something that bothered him, after he was in bed, and before
he went to sleep, but somehow, no matter how wide awake he supposed he
was before he began thinking, he always found, before he had finished,
that it was next morning, and time to get up.
But he actually walked all the way home from school, one day, without
shouting once at anybody; he came and sat down in the sewing-room, after
he had put his books away, and was so quiet for five minutes that his
mother was just going to ask him if his head ached, when he suddenly
asked her,—
“Mamma, would you object to my keeping a peanut-stand—out of school
hours, you know, I mean?”
“Not at all,” replied Mrs. Leslie, “if you were obliged to earn your
living at once, and that were the only way in which you could possibly do
it. But papa and I are both anxious that you should earn your living in
a way which will help as many people as possible to earn theirs, and if
you were to set up a peanut-stand now, while you are trying to learn a
better way, I am afraid it would hinder our plans for you.”
Johnny’s eyes had sparkled when his mother began with “Not at all,” and
now he looked a good deal disappointed.
“Yes, mamma,” he said, meekly, “I see that’s your side of it, but may I
just tell you my side?”
“Of course you may!” said Mrs. Leslie, smiling, and stopping her sewing
long enough to give him a hug and kiss. “I always like to hear your side,
even if I can’t agree with it, and I know you trust me enough to come
over to my side, even when you can’t see why.”
“It would be queer if I didn’t, mamma,” he said, drawing his stool
closer, and resting his arms on her knees, “you’ve come out right so
often when I was pretty sure you wouldn’t, you know. Now, its just this
way—I know you and papa aren’t rich, and I know I oughtn’t to ask you
for any more money than you give me now, but I do want more, dreadfully,
sometimes! F’r instance, here’s Tiny’s birthday next week, and I’ve only
twenty-five cents to buy her a birthday present with, and she really
needs a new doll; that old dud she carries about isn’t fit to be seen,
but what kind of a doll can you buy for twenty-five cents? And then your
birthday will be coming along, and then papa’s and then Easter, and I
want to give presents and send cards to lots and lots of people, and how
can I do it without any money?”
Mrs. Leslie could not help laughing.
“O Johnny, Johnny!” she said, “you’re as bad as the old woman who called
her lazy maids on Monday morning: ‘Come girls! Get up! It’s washing day,
and to-morrow’s ironing day, and Wednesday’s baking day—here’s half the
week gone, and you not out of bed yet!’ Dear little boy, we can’t have
more than one day at a time, and here you are borrowing trouble for
almost a whole year!”
“Well, anyhow, mamma,” said Johnny, laughing in spite of himself, and
looking a little foolish, “Tiny’s birthday is, most here, and if I might
buy a quarter’s worth of peanuts, and sell them, and then invest the
money again, I do believe I’d have a dollar before it was time to buy her
present.”
“And I wonder,” said his mother, “how many of your lessons you would
learn, and on how many errands you would go for me, and how many
steps you would save for papa, when he comes home tired, and how much
carpentering you would do for Tiny and her little friends? No, darling,
if you can’t quite see what I mean, you must just trust me. You can help
a great many people, in a great many ways, without money, and it is all
beautiful practice for you, against the time when you can help them with
money too; but just now, your main business is to see that papa and I are
not disappointed in the man that, with the dear Father’s help, we are
trying to help you to grow into. Keep your heart and your eyes open, and
you’ll see plenty of chances without the peanut-stand.”
Johnny looked, and felt, a good deal disappointed, but he was a boy of
his word, so he said resolutely,—
“I promised to trust you, mamma, and I will, for although you never were
a boy, papa was, and I sometimes think he’s a kind of one yet; but you
see I can’t help feeling pretty badly about it. Perhaps it’s partly from
sitting still so long—my legs are all cramped up. Come out and race me
just twice ’round the house,” he added, coaxingly. “I should think _your_
legs would be as stiff as pokers, sitting sewing here the way you do, for
half a day at a time!”
“They do feel a little stiff,” said Mrs. Leslie, springing up, and
dropping her sewing into the never-empty basket, “but for all that, I
think I can beat you yet, Mr. Johnny.”
She took off her apron and tucked up her skirt a little, and Johnny made
a line on the gravel-walk with a stick.
“Now, mamma, are you ready? One, two, three, off!” and away they skimmed,
down the walk, across the grassplot; into the walk again, over the line,
around once more, and then—
“There!” said Mrs. Leslie, triumphantly, “you’re beaten again, Johnny
Leslie!”
“I don’t care,” said Johnny, panting, and very red in the face, “you’re
only a foot ahead this time, mamma, and at that rate, I’ll be two feet
ahead, next time.”
The dinner-bell rang while Mrs. Leslie was smoothing her tumbled hair and
straightening her dress.
“I have an errand that will take me almost to the park this afternoon,
Johnny,” she said, at dinner, “Tiny is going with me, and if you’d like
to go, I will call for you at three, and ask to have you excused from the
writing hour, and then we can have a whole hour in the park before we
need come home to supper. Shall I?”
This was an extremely pleasing arrangement, and when the time arrived, a
happy party took seats in the horse car, for the park was more than two
miles from Mr. Leslie’s house, and the last part of the way was decidedly
an “up-grade.”
“Oh mamma!” exclaimed Tiny, “how will these two poor horses pull such a
car full of people up that steep hill? It’s too much for them! Suppose we
get out and walk?”
Tiny was always on the watch about the comfort of horses and dogs and
cats.
Just then the car stopped, and a third horse, that had been standing
patiently under a tree near the sidewalk, was fastened to the pole in
front of the other two, and, with his help, the car went easily up the
slope.
[Illustration]
“That’s nice,” said Tiny, looking greatly relieved, “I didn’t remember
that they kept an extra horse here, mamma; how good it must make him
feel, when the poor tired horses stop and say, ‘That hill’s a great deal
too steep for us to drag this great heavy car up it’; and then he says,
‘Hold on, I’m coming. You can do it easily, with me to help you!’”
“But, then,” said Mrs. Leslie, “just think how much of his time he spends
standing under the tree, doing nothing but wait.”
“Why, mamma,” put in Johnny, “you know he knows the car will be along
presently, and while he’s waiting he’s resting from the last trip,
and getting up his muscle for the next one, so it isn’t exactly doing
nothing, even when he’s standing still.”
“And you don’t imagine that it makes him feel sorry that he hasn’t a
special car of his own to pull, but must just help other horses pull
theirs?” pursued Mrs. Leslie.
“I should think he’d be pretty foolish if he felt that way,” said Johnny,
confidently; “he’s doing something just as good, in fact, I think perhaps
it’s better, for he must make the two regular horses feel good every time
they come ’round there. Oh mamma, you’re laughing! You’ve made me catch
myself the worst ki—I mean dreadfully! I see just what you mean; you
might as well have said it; you think that till I am old enough to have a
car of my own, I ought to be an extra horse!”
“But how could Johnny be a horse, mamma?” asked Tiny, deeply puzzled.
They were out of the car by this time, and Tiny amiably joined in the
laugh which greeted this question.
“I’ll explain how he could when we sit down by the lake, darling,” said
her mother, “You and Johnny walk on slowly, now, while I stop here for a
few minutes and leave my work—the parcel, Johnny, please!”
For Johnny was marching off with the parcel under one arm, and Tiny under
the other.
When they were comfortably seated on the shady green bank by the lake,
Mrs. Leslie explained to Tiny that she did not really expect Johnny to
turn into a horse, but that everybody who is looking out for chances to
help other people over their hard places will be sure to find plenty to
do.
“The world has a great many tired people in it,” said Mrs. Leslie, “and
a great many sick and sorrowful and discouraged and disappointed people,
and what a beautiful thought it is that the very smallest and weakest of
us may give help, and comfort, and encouragement, every day of our lives,
if we only will.”
“You do, mamma,” said Johnny, softly, stealing his hand into his mother’s
as he spoke, “and so does papa, but I’m afraid I’ve been too busy with my
own fun and things to try to help the poor tired ones pull, but I truly
mean to turn over a new leaf. I shall put it in my prayers,” he added,
reverently, and—“when, do you think, is a good time for me to think,
mamma? The time never seems to come.”
“While you are dressing in the morning and undressing at night would be
very good times,” said his mother, “just before you say your prayers, you
know. You can think over in the morning what you need most for that day,
and at night what you have done and left undone. I know your dressing and
undressing don’t take long,” she added, smiling, “but one can do a good
deal of thinking in a few minutes, if one gives the whole of one’s mind
to it.”
The red sun, peeping under the tree beneath which they were sitting,
reminded Mrs. Leslie to look at her watch. It was high time to start for
home, and Tiny and Johnny, as the car went down the steep hill, looked
out with much affectionate interest for the “extra horse,” and softly
called good bye to him, as he stood quietly under the tree, panting a
little from his last pull, and patiently waiting for the next.
I wonder how many of the dear little men and women who will read this
are training for their own life race by watching for chances to help
the hard-pressed runners who have started. Here is a motto for all of
you; the motto which a noble and earnest man has already given to many
people—“Look up, not down; look out, and not in; look forward, not back;
and lend a helping hand.”
And if you want his authority for this beautiful motto, it is easily
found, for you will all know where to look for these words,—
“Bear ye one another’s burdens, and so fulfil the law of Christ.”