SEEING WHY.
It was a bright, fresh Saturday afternoon in October, and Johnny, who
had found it a little hard to settle down into school habits again,
after the boundless freedom of the vacation at the farm, remarked at the
dinner-table that he knew just how the horses felt when they went kicking
up their heels all over the pasture, after having been in harness all day.
“And where do you propose to kick up your heels this afternoon?” inquired
Mrs. Leslie, as she filled Johnny’s plate for the second time with Indian
pudding.
[Illustration]
“That’s just what I wanted to consult with you about, mamma,” said
Johnny, “there’s a base-ball match over at the south ground, and a tennis
match at the new court; it’s just the same to get in for either. I’ve
enough of my birthday money left, and I thought if Tiny’d like to go, I’d
take her to see the tennis, I mean, of course, if you’re willing—but if
she couldn’t go, I’d go to see the base-ball match.”
Now Tiny, although she was only a small girl, had that treasure which
Miss Ann considered so desirable—“a heart at leisure from itself,” and
she felt very sure that Johnny would rather help do the hurrahing at one
base-ball match, than watch a dozen games of tennis, so she said at once,—
“Oh thank you, Johnny, you’re _very_ kind, but if mamma will let me, I’m
going to ask Kitty to come this afternoon, and help me dress my new doll,
and cover the sofa you made me.”
Mrs. Leslie understood quite well the little sudden sacrifice which Tiny
had made, but she was not going to spoil it by talking about it, so she
only said,—
“Yes indeed—I always like you to play with Kitty. Ask her to come to tea,
and then Johnny will have a share of her too. And if you’ll ‘fly ’round,’
you and I can make some ginger snaps, first, and then, with the cold
chicken and some dressed celery, we shall have quite a company tea.”
Tiny’s face fairly shone. Of all things, she enjoyed helping her
mother make cake, and it would be especially nice to-day, because the
maid-of-all-work was going out for the afternoon, and they would have
the kitchen quite to themselves. And Johnny, who really did prefer the
base-ball match very much, was entirely satisfied. He could take his fun
without feeling that he was taking it selfishly. It was only one o’clock,
and the match did not begin until two, so Johnny sprang up, saying,—
“I’ll help you ‘fly ’round’! Load me up for the cellar, Tiny.”
Two loadings up cleared the table of all the eatables, and a race, which
was a little dangerous to the dishes, was just beginning, when Mrs.
Leslie said,—
“If you’ll do an errand for me, Johnny, I can take a nice little nap,
after Tiny and I have finished. I don’t think it will make you late for
your base-ball match, if you start at once, for you need not come home
again before you go to the ground.”
“Now, mamma!” and Johnny’s tone was slightly injured as he spoke, “don’t
you suppose I’d do it for _you_, and like to do it, even if it made me
late? You shouldn’t say ‘if’ at all! Waiting orders!”
And he stood up stiffly, drawing his heels together, and touching his cap.
Mrs. Leslie laughed, but she kissed him, too.
“There’s a bundle in it,” she said, “quite a large bundle—some work to
be taken to your friend Mrs. Waring, upon whom you have called so many
times at my invitation. I’m afraid, from what one of her neighbors told
me yesterday, that the poor woman has had very little work lately, and
less than very little money; so I have hunted up all I could for her. And
please tell her, Johnny, that I have some things for Phil, which I will
give her when she brings the work home; and to please bring it as soon as
she can. She will find two car tickets in the bundle.”
“Couldn’t you roll ’em up with the work, and let me take ’em to her now,
mamma?” asked Johnny.
“Why, yes,” said Mrs. Leslie, “if it would not be too heavy for you; but
the other bundle is quite as large as this, dear. Do you think you can
manage so much?”
Johnny lifted Tiny, swung her round once, and set her down with a
triumphant “There!”
“The double load would certainly not be so heavy as Tiny,” said Mrs.
Leslie, “so I will tie them together at once.”
While his mother did this, Johnny marched up and down, whistling, with
Polly on his shoulder. Then a bright idea struck him: he put Polly down,
ran for his shinny stick, thrust it through the twine, and slung the
bundle over the shoulder where Polly had just been.
“I’ll pretend I’m an emigrant, starting for the ‘Far West,’” he said.
“Goodbye, my dear mother, my _dear_ sisters!” and, with a heart-rending
sob, followed by a wild prance down the walk, Johnny was gone.
Now the particular horse car which he was to take only came along every
half-hour. He saw one as he walked up the cross street, about a block
away, and was just going to shout, when he heard a crack and a “flop”;
the shinny stick flew up in the air, and, turning round, he saw his
bundle, a bundle no longer, but a confused heap. The twine, worn through
by the stick, had given way, and the paper had been burst by the fall.
Johnny gathered up the things as best he could, and was vainly trying to
put them once more into portable shape, when a shop door opened, and a
good-natured voice called,—
“Fetch them in here, sonny, and I’ll tie them up in a strong paper for
you.”
He was only too glad to accept this good offer, and the pleasant-faced
woman who had called him made a very neat parcel out of the wreck which
he had brought her, and tied it with a stout string. He thanked her very
heartily, afraid of offending her if he offered to pay for the paper and
string and looking about the little shop for something he could buy.
A soft ball of bright-colored worsted caught his eye, and when he found
the price of it was only ten cents, he quickly decided to buy it for
Phil. He had missed his car, and had nearly half an hour to wait. He
would be late for the match, but—
“Never mind,” he thought, “here’s a first-rate chance to keep from
getting mad!”
So he talked cheerfully with the woman as she wrapped up the ball, and
before the car appeared they were on very friendly terms, and parted with
cordial goodbyes.
But his troubles were not over yet. He had not gone half a mile, when a
“block” took place on the car track, and it was another half-hour before
they were free to move on. But for the bundle, Johnny would have jumped
out and walked, and as it was he started up once or twice, but each time
the driver announced that they were “’most through,” and he sat down
again.
He reached the house at last, and knocked vigorously; he felt that he
had no time to lose. There was no answer, and he knocked again, and then
again, until he was satisfied that anybody, no matter how sound asleep
she might have been, in that house, could not have failed to hear him.
He was strongly tempted to leave the bundle on the step, and run; but he
resisted the temptation, and at last, tired of knocking, sat down on the
step, saying doggedly to himself,—
“She’ll _have_ to come home to her supper!”
And as he said it, she turned the corner of the nearest street, in a
provokingly leisurely manner, leading her baby boy by the hand. Johnny
dropped the bundle and ball on the step, rushed to meet her, poured
out his message, and was gone before the bewildered little woman quite
realized who he was. On he sped, as if he had wings on his heels, to be
suddenly and most unexpectedly stopped by a violent collision with a very
small girl, who had toddled across his path just in time to be knocked
down.
Very much frightened—for, “Suppose anybody did that to Polly!” he
thought—he picked up the baby girl, petted, coaxed and cuddled her, until
she laughed before her tears were dry. He found, to his great relief,
that she was much more frightened than hurt, and was trying to make her
tell him where she lived when her mother appeared, and carried her off,
scolding and kissing her all at once.
“I declare,” thought Johnny, “those old fellows who talked about the
Fates would say I’d better give up this base-ball business! It’s a little
too provoking! I wonder what kind of a trap I’ll find in this field.”
For he had at last come to the open space from which the base-ball ground
had been fenced off; one of those left-out regions consisting of several
fields, which one often finds on the edge of a town or city. It was
covered with high grass and coarse weeds, and in a far distant corner two
or three cows were feeding.
But, as Johnny neared the high fence, thinking that his troubles were
certainly over now, and wondering why he had never before taken this
short cut, something bright caught his eye; a little scarlet hood, not so
very much above the tops of the rank grasses and weeds, and there was
another baby! One hand was full of the ragged purple asters, which grew
among the grass, and her little face was grave and intent. Nobody else
was near, and once more Johnny thought, “Suppose it was Polly!”
The child looked fearlessly up at him as he advanced, and nodded.
“What are you doing, baby, all by yourself, in this big field?” asked
Johnny, in the kind, hearty voice which made him more friends than he
knew of, and the baby answered, gravely,—
“Picking f’owers for my mamma! And _I’m_ not baby. Baby at home.”
“Come on, then, let’s go see him;” and Johnny took the little hand,
groaning to himself,—
“I can’t leave this mite all alone in a field with cows,—suppose it was
Polly!”
[Illustration]
At that moment a wild shout went up from the base-ball ground. The quiet
cows in the corner raised their heads; one stepped forward, caught sight
of the scarlet hood, gave a vicious bellow, and began to run straight for
the baby; and when Johnny, breathless and almost exhausted, scrambled
over the rail fence, which ran around three sides of the field, with the
baby in his arms, he was only just in time—the sharp horns struck the
fence as he and his charge struck the ground, and the enraged cow stood
there, bellowing and “charging,” as long as the hood remained in sight.
[Illustration]
The little girl, quite unconscious of her narrow escape, took Johnny’s
hand once more, and led him gravely on for nearly a block; then she
pointed out a pretty little frame house, standing in a small lawn, and
said, in a satisfied voice, “There!” He rang the bell, and was almost
angry to find that the child had not even been missed.
“Sure,” said the Irish nursemaid, “I tould her to play in the front yard
a bit, and I thought she was there.”
“There’s a cross cow in that field where she was,” said Johnny, briefly.
“You’d better not let her out by herself again, I should think.”
He turned away without stopping for farther explanation. But he did not
go to the ball ground; he walked slowly home, with his mind full of
confused thoughts, eager to pour it all out to his mother. How vexed
he had been at the various delays! How needless, how troublesome they
had seemed! And yet, if that shout had risen five minutes sooner—he
shuddered, and left the picture unfinished. Dear little girl, with her
innocent hands full of “f’owers for mamma!”
Kitty was there when he reached home, and she and Tiny were merrily
setting the table. They were full of sympathy when they found he had not
seen the match, and Tiny’s face glowed with joyful pride in him, when he
told about the baby’s narrow escape.
But the real talk was when his mother came for her last kiss, after he
was in bed; and it was a talk that he never forgot. “This time, dear,”
Mrs. Leslie said, “you can see and understand the great good which came
of the hindrances and interruptions of your plan, and I love to think
that the dear Father has sent you this lesson so early in your life, just
to make you trust him hereafter, when you cannot see. You know what the
loving Saviour said to his weak and doubting disciple: ‘Thomas, because
thou hast seen, thou hast believed. Blessed are they who have not seen,
and yet have believed.’
“I do not mean that we are to excuse ourselves, and give up weakly, for
every small hindrance, but that, when honest effort fails to overcome the
barriers in our path, we are to believe, with all our hearts, that it
is because the dear Father wishes us to go some other way. That is all,
Johnny, darling, ‘the conclusion of the whole matter,’—just to rest on
His love.”
“Mamma,” said Johnny, holding his mother fast in a long, close hug, “I
don’t think I ever loved Him so much as I do to-night; and I don’t think
I’ll ever be really worried, or not long, anyhow, when things seem to go
crosswise again.”