FullReads

“The twelfth and thirteenth verses—-“

“Twelfth and thirteenth!” said Willie to himself.

“Of the fourteenth chapter,” said the minister.

“Fourteenth chapter!” said Willie, almost aloud.

“Of Luke.”

Willie was all ears, while Mr. Blake read: “Then said he also to him that bade him, When thou makest a dinner or a supper, call not thy friends, nor thy brethren, neither thy kinsmen, nor thy rich neighbors, lest they also bid thee again, and a recompense be made thee. But when thou makest a feast, call the poor, the maimed, the lame, the blind.”

“That’s it!” he said, half aloud, but his mother jogged him.

Willie had never listened to a sermon as he did to that. He stopped two or three times to wonder whether the cane had been actually about to repeat his father’s text to him, or whether he had not heard his father repeat it at some time, and had dreamed about it.

I am not going to tell you much about Mr. Blake’s sermon. It was a sermon that he and the walking-stick had prepared while they were going round among the poor. I think Mr. Blake did not strike his cane down on the sidewalk for nothing. Most of that sermon must have been hammered out in that way, when he and the walking-stick were saying, “Something must be done!” For that was just what that sermon said. It told about the wrong of forgetting, on the birthday of Christ, to do anything for the poor. It made everybody think. But Mr. Blake did not know how much of that sermon went into Willie Blake’s long head, as he sat there with his white full forehead turned up to his father.

V.

THE FATHER PREACHES AND THE SON PRACTISES.

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 doughnuts.

Willie did not forget his main purpose, but carried the 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.