Keeping Promises | AdventAI

International Tract and Missionary Society · Oakland, California · Mar 13, 1884

FromSigns of the Times, Vol. 10, No. 11.

Keeping Promises.

"Henry," said Mrs. Allen, as she tied down the cover of his little basket, "here is your dinner, and I want you to do two or three errands for me to-day."

"Yes, ma'am, I will," said Henry, tying on his tippet.

"I want you to go over to Mrs. Mason's this noon, and give her this note which came in my letter yesterday. It is important that she should have it as soon as possible."

"Yes," said Henry; "and, Carrie, you be sure and feed the hens this noon."

"Yes, indeed," said Carrie; "I should think I might remember it by this time."

"Then," continued his mother, "after school is done, you may go into the store and buy a spool of cotton, No. 40, and a pound of tea. We're all out of tea. What number of cotton did I say?"

"No. 40, mother; I'll remember everything if you won't make me say it over so many times."

"And when you are there," said Aunt Mary, "will you do an errand for me? I have written it on a slip of paper, and put it in the purse."

"Yes, ma'am. Oh, mother, can you mend my mittens to-day? They've got great holes in them."

"Great holes! your new mittens?"

"Well, one of them has, at any rate. I guess it's got cut or something," said the little boy, producing a mitten with a large cut across the palm.

"How was this done?" inquired his mother.

"I don't know, without I did it chopping sticks this morning. I found it down amongst the wood, any way."

"Leave them for me to mend," said Aunt Mary. "Your mother has enough to do."

"Can I leave my geography for somebody to cover?" asked Henry.

"Yes," said his mother, "I'll do that. Now run away to school, and come home promptly when it is done."

"Yes;" and away he sped.

"Can one of these boys take a package to Mr. Sawyer's for me?" asked the teacher, at noon.

"I will; I will," answered several. "I will go, sir," said little Henry, pressing forward, and reaching out a hand.

"Thank you," said his teacher; and he gave it to him.

And so it fell out that Henry forgot to go to Mrs. Mason's.

And when school was dismissed he stopped to snow-ball a few minutes, till a neighbor, passing by, drew up his horse, and offered him a ride. Such an offer was not to be refused, and Henry tumbled into the sleigh, quite out of breath, quite unmindful also of his errands at the store. But suddenly, when they were about half-way home, he bethought himself.

"That is too bad!" he exclaimed. "Mother wanted me to get something at the store."

"We'll go back, if you say so," said the man, looking behind him; "but I guess your mother won't mind waiting till morning, will she?"

"No, I guess not," said Henry, ashamed to make any trouble, unwilling also to take any.

"Well, Henry," said his mother, as he came in, "what did Mrs. Mason say?"

"Mrs. Mason! I declare, mother, I never thought of it till this minute! The reason was—oh, the reason was, I had to go on an errand for the teacher, this noon."

"Had to?"

"Why, yes; he asked who would go, and I said I would."

"Didn't any others offer?"

"Yes; but I didn't think as there was anything else to do."

"Didn't think! Oh, Henry, I am very sorry. Did you think to buy us any tea?"

"Why, no, mother; the way of it was, Mr. Hardy came along just as I was going home, and asked me to ride with him, and I jumped right in, and never thought a word about the tea, till we were half way home; and then I didn't want to make him turn round and go back."

"Well, I don't care so much about the tea, because I have found a little in the blue canister, but I should think you might have remembered to go over to Mrs. Mason's. Poor woman! I know she can't sleep nights, she's so anxious. And I suppose plenty of the boys would have been glad to do the errand you did. There's Aunt Mary's errand too, that's forgotten, of course, and here she's been at work half the afternoon over your mittens."

"Thank you, auntie. How nice they look!"

"And I," continued his mother, "have been sewing for you all day, and you come home at night without doing one of the things I spoke about this morning."

"Mother," he answered petulantly, "you have so many errands, I can't remember them all. I never go out of the house but you want something."

"That sounds well," said his mother, severely, "very well, for a little boy that has so much done for him as you have. You deserve to be sent back now, only you wouldn't have time to do your work."

"Carrie, did you feed the hens, as you said you would?" asked Henry, willing to change the subject.

"Yes," said Carrie, "I fed them."

"Wasn't it nice," she said, after he left the room,—"Wasn't it nice that he didn't say this noon? I don't suppose it made much difference to the hens, whether they had their dinner then, or at three o'clock, do you, Aunt Mary?"

"Not so much difference to the hens, as it does to Carrie, whether she keeps her word or not."

"Well, you see, auntie, I forgot."

"Ought you to forget a promise?"

"Why, I can't help it. Mother forgets sometimes. She hasn't covered Henry's geography, as she said she would."

"Hasn't she?" said Aunt Mary. "Well, I will do it now, so that it may be ready for him when he comes in."

"Where have you been, Aunt Mary?" asked Henry, when he came in to his supper.

"Over to Mrs. Mason's, and then to the office."

"Oh, it's too bad for you to take that long walk for me! But you needn't have gone to the office. I'll carry all your letters, auntie."

"No," said auntie, smiling, "I can't let you make any more promises till you keep some of those you have made."

Henry was silent, but after supper, when he sought his aunt's room for some help in his studies, he said to her,—

"I'm real sorry I forgot those needles. Did you want them to-night very much?"

"No; but I want Henry to fulfill his promises."

"Here is the money," said he, opening the purse.

"No; keep it, and remember to-morrow."

"Aunt Mary," he continued, after a pause, "I've got a very poor memory."

"Have you forgotten what I promised you for Saturday?"

"No; I think of it every little while. I kept thinking of it in school last week, and to-day I thought of it too."

"Do you remember any plan for Wednesday?"

"Yes; I'm going to grandpa's in the afternoon, if the sleighing is good."

"And Thursday?"

"Thursday,—no; there isn't anything going on Thursday,—is there?"

"Only you promised to carry some eggs to Mr. Parker."

"There! I never should have thought of it."

"A very poor memory it is, Henry, if it always remembers for itself, and not for others. I am afraid it is a selfish memory."

"How can I help it?"

"When you love others as much as yourself, it will not be so hard. But in the meantime, when you have forgotten a promise, keep it as soon as you remember it, unless it would be wrong to do so. Now, to-night, when you first thought of your mother's errand, you should have gone back to the store."

"Then I should have lost my ride."

"Yes; but it does not hurt a boy so much to lose a ride as to lose his character for faithfulness."

"But mother didn't care much about the tea, she said."

"That made no difference. You had promised, and you did not know it. And then," she continued, "do not be in haste to promise. I should not dare to make half the promises you do."

"But you always keep yours. I mean to try your way, Aunt Mary."

"Do," said she. "It costs something, but it is worth all it costs."—Sel.