His Previous Engagement
By Susan M. Griffith
COME on and go down to the Albert to the play to-night, Stuart," said Ellis Pratt, as he and Stuart Holmes were walking home from high school together. “There's something unusual on the boards—something of the wild, woolly West sort,—Indians, and trappers, and all that kind of thing. They say it's simply immense. Jud Emerson was telling me about it—said I wouldn't miss it if I had half-sense. All the boys are going. Gallery seats only a dollar. Come on.” “Can't, Ellis; sorry to disoblige you and the boys, but I have a previous engagement.” “O, foolishness! What is it?” “An evening with a lady I esteem very highly. Just wait—or don't wait, just as you like. I have an errand at the Palace.” “I'll wait,” said Ellis, watching his friend as he disappeared behind the glass doors of the beautiful emporium and stopped before the confectionery counter. “Humph!” he murmured inwardly, “Stuart Holmes must be stuck on somebody, sure. Buying a dandy box of the best bonbons. Whew! This is an all-round good joke on Stuart. I'll go for him when he comes out.” He “went for” him accordingly, and, instead of the confusion and blushes which he expected, was met with an easy, good-natured laugh. “You don't know what you are talking about, boy,” said Stuart, greatly amused. “My evening engagement is with my mother at home, and this box of candy is for her and no other. It is her birthday.” “Your mother!” echoed Ellis, incredulously. “See here, Stuart Holmes! Suppose you talk sense!” “What do you call sense?” asked Stuart, unlatching the gate which led to his pretty home. “Isn't showing your appreciation for the best mother in the world, and the loveliest lady you know, a manifestation of good sense? I know one thing, Ellis, and it makes me ashamed—boys don't pay half the attention to their mothers they ought, and nothing pleases them so much, either, as to have their boys spend an evening with them. This thing of treating your mother as your cook and housemaid, and racing the streets for company and enjoyment, is rude and mean, in my estimation; and I've found out that mothers, as a rule, are the finest friends and best company a fellow can cultivate. Good night; hope you and the boys will enjoy your wild, woolly West show.” Ellis just nodded in reply. The fact is, Stuart had put an entirely new thought into this thoughtless boy's head. He wondered if mothers really did want the company of their boys. Some way he had imbibed the notion that they liked to get them out of the house and out of the way; that they considered them a necessary evil, and, at times, a regular nuisance. Hadn't he often heard Mrs. Fields fussing at Robert, and objecting to everything the boy wanted to do? But then, Mrs. Fields was nothing like his mother, or Mrs. Holmes, or—O, well, mothers in general, for he mentally counted over the homes he was well acquainted with, and the kindly mothers who made those homes happy and comfortable, and arrived at the conclusion that Stuart was right. A flush of shame burned his cheek as he remembered how he had always taken his mother's and even his sisters' love and care as a matter of course, and had never once thought of giving them any return. He had spent his time where he liked, never telling them where he was going, and had often refused his escort rudely, thereby depriving them of a possible entertainment. As he let himself softly into the hall, the sitting-room door being ajar, he heard some conversation between his mother and older sister. Milly was saying: “If only Ellis would consult our pleasure and go with us sometimes, it would be so nice! Now, here is this missionary from Japan with all those lovely stereopticon views, going to give the very finest lecture ever heard on the subject, and we can't go because we have no gentleman to go with us.” “I shouldn't worry very much about the going,” replied her mother, “if only the boy would stay at home with us sometimes. I feel dreadfully uneasy about where he spends his evenings; I wish we could hit upon some plan that would make Ellis appreciate his home more.” And the mother sighed—a great big sigh that liked to have broken the heart of the listening boy. He did not wait to hear more, but, slipping out as softly as he had entered, he hurried down to Prang's bookstore, where tickets were being sold for the missionary lecture at twenty-five cents for adults and fifteen for children. He bought four, for he had a little sister of ten years, and started for home at a rapid pace. On the way he met Price Decker. “Say,” said the latter, “be sure and be on hand for the show, Ellis. We fellows are all going to meet at the Eighth Street drugstore and go together. Going to have the time of our lives. The tickets are selling like mad. Got yours yet?” Ellis flushed. What would Price say if he could tell him what he had really done? He hesitated a moment. Then a feeling of shame and scorn over his unmanly cowardice forced him to confession. “Why, no, Price,” he said. “You see, I have changed my mind. I found my dollar would a little more than buy four tickets for the missionary lecture, and my mother and sisters want to go, and—well, the fact is, I had a talk with Stuart Holmes, and I find I owe my folks a great deal, and it is about time I began payment.” He looked for Price to laugh, perhaps sneer a little, but he didn't. “I remember the superintendent of our Sunday-school saying something about that,” he said, “and he urged us all to go to it. I wish I hadn't bought my ticket to the show, and I'd go along with you, and take my mother and the kids. They kind of hinted they'd like to go. I'll sell it if I can.” It seems that he could and did, for the first person Ellis saw when he entered the lecture room was Price with his folks smiling and happy. Smiling happily himself, he murmured: “I'm mighty glad Stuart Holmes told me of his ‘previous engagement.’ I think I'll form a permanent engagement with my folks after this. I didn't know they were such all-around good company. Guess I'm just beginning to get acquainted.”—Susan M. Griffith, in “Christian Observer.”