The Grey Story Book/The Skates and Charley

4288674The Grey Story Book — The Skates and CharleyKatherine Merritte Yates
The Skates and Charley

BUT, Uncle Fred, it isn't the least bit of use for you to do it. You could offer me ten pairs of skates if I would stand eighty-five per cent in arithmetic examination, and it wouldn't make the least scrap of difference. I don't know fractions and I never will, and it's no use to try," and Charley threw his book half-way across the table and sent his tablet and pencil after it, in disgust.

"That's too bad," said Uncle Fred, soberly. "I always thought that you were as smart as other boys of your age. You see, it means not only the loss of the skates, but I can't see how you can ever keep a store like your papa's, when you grow up, if you don't know arithmetic."

"Well, I can't help it," said Charley, dismally. "I can get geography and spelling and reading and everything else; but I can't understand arithmetic. I can learn just to say the rules as they are written, but they don't seem to mean anything to me."

Uncle Fred got up to leave the room. "Well," he said, "my offer of the skates is still open, and you need them pretty badly, for your old ones are too small, and not very good, anyway. If you can win the new ones in the December examinations, they will be the very finest that I can find in the city."

"It isn't any use," repeated Charley, gloomily.

Uncle Fred stopped as he reached the door; and turned around with a queer little smile. "How about that headache you had this morning?" he asked.

"Mamma used Christian Science for it," replied Charley, quickly. "It was almost gone when I went to school, and I handled it myself until I forgot all about it."

Uncle Fred smiled again. "And isn't Christian Science good for—for—," he hesitated.

"For stupidity?" suggested Charley, his face flushing. "Yes, it is, or at least, it ought to be. I never thought of that."

"I'd try it if I were you," said Uncle Fred, still laughing as he went out of the door.

Charley looked after him, soberly. "Uncle Fred isn't a Christian Scientist," he reflected, "but he has given me a good thought. Of course Science ought to be good for—for—that, as well as for anything else. I'd just like to show him that Christian Science can do it."

Charley sat for quite a while, thinking. "I'd like to do it all myself without getting Mamma to help me," he mused. "She has told me so much about Science that I ought to be able to manage this; but I don't seem to know just how to go to work, except that I've got to know the truth, and that's just the opposite of anything that seems disagreeable. Mamma," he called, as his mother passed the doorway, "what is the opposite of stupid?"

Mamma stopped and looked at him with a loving smile. "Perfect understanding, dearie," she said. "Why? Can I help you any?"

"No, thank you," said Charley, quickly. "I just wanted to know. And perfect understanding is the truth, then, is it?"

"Yes. We reflect God, and He is Perfect Understanding. We have to know that we are His image and likeness in every way."

"Thank you, Mamma, that's all I wanted to know," and as Mamma passed on up the stairs, Charley dropped his head on the table. "Oh, dear!" he thought, "I never could remember things, and how am I going to remember 'perfect understanding,' and about reflecting God, and all that, when they are such big words?" Then suddenly he looked up. "Why, if I reflect God I can't forget things, and so I'm all right. I'll hold on to that part of it, anyway."

As the days went on and the December examinations drew near, Charley's face grew brighter and brighter, and Uncle Fred noticed that instead of poring over his books for an hour or so every evening, he spent the time reading or drawing or playing parchesi with his sister; and that kind gentleman shook his head gravely and said to himself: "He's given up trying. Well, I'm sorry, for I did hope that he would at least make an effort; but I am afraid that he is really stupid, and, what's worse, that he doesn't care if he is. It's too bad."

Even on the night before examination Charley studied for only an hour, and then held yarn for his mother to wind, and cut pen-wiper patterns for his sister, and was so bright and cheerful that he did not seem like the same boy who was usually so cross and gloomy at such times.

Examination day came and passed, and Charley never once lost his high spirits or his cheerful manner, but was unfailingly happy and good natured all through the week.

"Well, my boy," said Uncle Fred, with his teasing smile, as they sat down to dinner on the day when the children had been to school to get their examination marks, "I saw a brand new stock of skates down at Barker's this morning."

"My size is number nine and a half," said Charley in a very matter-of-fact tone, though his cheeks were flushed and his eyes shining.

Uncle Fred laughed. "That may be the size of your foot, all right, but what is the size of your arithmetic mark?" he asked.

"Ninety-five per cent," said Charley, proudly, sitting up very straight.

"Whew," whistled Uncle Fred, thoroughly astonished. "Is that so? Well, how on earth did you do it?"

Charley glanced at his mother and then back at Uncle Fred. "Christian Science did it," he said, sturdily. "You advised me to try it, just to tease me, and I did, and I always will use it after this."

Uncle Fred cleared his throat and looked at Charley over his glasses. Then he held out his hand.

"Shake, young man," he said. "I don't know just what there is in Christian Science, but you've done a good thing with it, and I'm proud of you. We will go after the skates to-morrow, and you shall have any pair that you want, in the whole shop, no matter what they cost. You have surely earned them."

That night, when Mamma came to say good night, she kissed the boy even more tenderly than usual.

"And so you handled your trouble all yourself, did you, dearie?" she asked, smoothing back his hair, lovingly.

"Yes'm," said Charley, slipping an arm around her neck, "with what you told me that day about understanding, and about reflecting God. When I couldn't seem to understand my lessons, I knew that it was just mortal mind telling me lies, so I told it to get out, that I didn't believe it, because I reflected perfect Understanding; and then I just held on to that thought, and, why, Mamma, things got so easy, and I didn't worry a bit any more, and I didn't dread examination at all; because I knew I couldn't help but get good marks because I really did understand things and didn't get all mixed up any more."

Mamma hugged him a little closer. "And are you glad that you are going to have the fine skates?" she asked, a little twinkle in her eyes.

Charley laughed merrily at the remembrance of Uncle Fred's surprise. "Of course I am," he said, brightly; "but I'm a thousand times gladder that I have found out about understanding, and how to use Christian Science to make things come right. The skates don't count for as much as that."

"No," said Mamma, kissing him, tenderly, "the skates don't count for nearly so much as that."

Printed by R. R. Donnelley and Sons Company, at the Lakeside Press, Chicago, Ill.