Chapter 5

THE MUG OF WOE

"New shoes! Where in the world did we get new shoes?"

Dr. Redfield was the first to rightly appreciate the grandeur of them, and he was delighted to hear how they could squeak. Land sakes! but they were wonderful. Greatly astonished he was, and so swollen with pride was the little boy that he didn't care--not so very much--even if his old friend had failed to put on his top hat.

"Are you going to do it?"

That was David's first question. He was rather anxious, because he did not believe that this big comrade of his had come properly attired to waylay anybody.

"Surely I am."

The Doctor was prompt, but puzzled. He didn't know _what_ he was going to do. Then, for a space, man and boy looked at each other inquiringly. They were both waiting and they were both wondering.

"Has it begun to start yet?"

There was expectancy in David's voice.

"You mean, I suppose--that is--"

"Yes, yes! _You_ know!" David gravely wagged his head.

The Doctor took off his hat and wiped his forehead with his handkerchief.

"If you were a little more definite--not quite so vague and uncertain," he hopelessly suggested.

It was then that a sudden inspiration saved the day for him. He began to talk in a big and solemn voice.

"I perceive, sir," he said, "that you have reached the age for being waylaid. You are four years old, and by an ancient decree of all the Medes and Persians, that makes you my prisoner, to hold in hostage until that ungracious dame, your mother, shall subscribe unto me suitable and sufficient ransom."

David clapped his hands gleefully.

"Go on!" he demanded. "Go on! Now what?"

"Well, when you have all that said to you, it means that if you find a doctor skulking about within ten feet of you, it is then your perfect right to press him into your service. If you command him to give you a ride on his back, he will have to do it. It's undignified and he doesn't believe in it, but that's where you have him at your mercy. He _has_ to obey; he has to go any place you tell him to go. If you say he must take you to a toy shop, that settles it. He has no choice in the matter. He _has_ to do it. That is always the rule when a little boy is four years old."

David also learned that there is another peculiar thing about it. In circumstances like this a little boy has the right, when he arrives at the toy shop, to choose for himself the thing he wants to buy. No grown-up will interfere with his judgment; the law won't allow it. The trouble is that it is pretty hard for him to make up his mind. When there is such a great array of drums and swords and soldiers' caps and guns and bears that jump, it is not an easy thing to select the toy that will please him most of all.

Why not buy a train of cars and a track to run it on? But if he bought that, then how could he get along without a jumping-jack that threw up its arms and legs when you pulled the string? And if he took the jumping-jack, then what about an iron savings bank with a monkey on top that shook his head with thanks when you dropped the money in? Lovely things, all of them, but David put them from him. He did it with decision, but with a nervous haste which told of wavering courage.

Such things were not for him. They are only for boys who are not soldier-men. And besides, they might cost too much. If the price went higher than five cents David would be lost, for many precepts had been forced upon him in regard to the waste of money, and the value people put on it, and the way they have to work for it. So thus far the nickel had marked the very summit of his financial transactions.

All the same, a strange wistfulness came into David's eyes when he put aside poor jumping-jack. Such a dear of a jumping-jack he was! You could have kissed the jolly red paint of him, and the pretty toy bank was a thing to hug tight under your arm. That is why the little boy's voice was such a weak and far-away voice when he presently asked:--

"Would two five centses get him, do you think?"

"When it's your birthday," said the Doctor, "it's all right to spend three five centses."

Here, then, was David's chance. The jumping-jack was almost his, when his shoes squeaked a warning. Thus suddenly was he reminded that he was a brave little soldier-man. He now saw that such a purchase would be ridiculous. Something serviceable is what he must have, something that Mother would like and want him to keep. No silly toys for him! But, oh, if only the Doctor would insist a little on the jumping-jack!

David turned reluctantly away; he choked down the queerness in his throat and firmly laid hands on a gilt-rimmed mustache cup. His lips twitched and his eyes winked, but the look in his face was the look of a soldier-man. No intervention from the Doctor could shake his determination.

With coaxing insinuation the Doctor said, "We haven't seen all the things, you know."

Hope kindled in David's eyes.

"Maybe," he said with enthusiasm, "maybe this costs more than three five centses. Does it?"

"Wouldn't you rather have a drum?" asked the salesman.

No, indeed; David would not have a drum.

"Or a sword?" asked the Doctor.

"No, thanks," the words came with husky politeness.

The cup was the thing for him; it would please Mother. She would be so glad about the cup!

Here, again, was disappointment. She didn't seem pleased with it--not nearly so pleased as she should have been. But never mind, little boy; every generous heart is quick to forget the unselfish kindness that is in it, and you yourself will not be slow to forget this foolish sacrifice you have made for love of one who has made many a sacrifice for you. She has made them, little boy, in love, and forgotten them in love, and that, David, is the beautiful thing in loving.