The Story of Porcelain Part 17

"I wish I could!" he declared. "Can't you think of something, Mother?"

Mrs. Swift paused a moment.

"It would be of no use to do anything unless it was something you did yourself," she said at last. "Of course your father and I could give you the money to buy a present; but after all that would be our present and not yours."

"Oh, a gift we bought would not be of the slightest use," cut in Dr. Swift. "It would spoil the whole idea. Either Theo would have to purchase something with his own money----"

"I have only saved a dollar out of my allowance," interrupted Theo dubiously.

"Or he would have to do something, or make something, for Mr. Croyden," concluded the Doctor.

"I don't see what I could do," mused Theo.

"You couldn't make anything, son?" asked his mother.

"Nothing good enough," responded Theo, shaking his head.

"Don't they teach you how to make anything at school?"

"No, sir."

"All head and no hands, I suppose," retorted Dr. Swift scornfully. "That is the way with our modern educational system. It is a poor plan on which to bring up a boy. I wish I had realized it before. Louisa, why didn't you see to this?" bl.u.s.tered the Doctor.

"You picked out Theo's studies yourself, my dear."

"I?"

"Certainly. You took the outline and checked off the things you wished Theo to take this year."

"You did, Father," put in Theo.

"When did I do it?"

"Oh, one day when you were on your way to a hospital meeting,"

answered the boy. "You were in a hurry, and you stood out in the hall and marked the list with your fountain-pen."

"Then I am heartily ashamed of myself," confessed Dr. Swift candidly. "I had no right to do anything of the sort. I should have sat down and put some thought into the matter. Do you suppose it would be too late, son, for you to change your course of study this term?"

"I shouldn't want to change it much, Dad," replied Theo. "I'd be sorry to give up any of the things I am taking, for I have worked hard at them and it would be discouraging to have my time all thrown away. But perhaps now that I am knocked out of athletics I might put those extra hours into something else. Some of the boys take sloyd."

"The very thing!" exclaimed the Doctor. "Manual training is just what we're after. You would enjoy it, too."

"I don't know whether I would or not, Dad," returned Theo frankly. "I never was much good with tools. I like athletics better."

"That is because you have never learned to use tools properly," said his father. "Where do you suppose I'd be now if I hadn't started out when I was a boy to tinker round a farm? That's where I got my manual training, and there isn't a course in the country that can equal it. I had to use my brains, too, as well as my hands, for very often the things I needed were not to be had and I was forced to make something else do. It was a great education, I can tell you! What skill I have at surgery I attribute largely to that early training. Now we'll set right to work to remedy this lack in you, son. I'll see your princ.i.p.al to-day and arrange for you to begin sloyd when you go back to school."

Theo made a grimace at which his father laughed.

"If you don't like it you can at least take it as a medicine,"

remarked the Doctor with a grin.

Dr. Swift was as good as his word, for when Theo returned to school the following day he found that in addition to his other work he was expected to spend an hour each morning in the carpenter's shop, a realm toward which he had always maintained the keenest scorn. It seemed such a foolish thing to learn to saw and drive nails! What was the use of taking lessons? When a board was to be cut what was there to do but take the saw and cut it? It was easy enough. As for driving nails--that feat required no teaching.

But to Theo's amazement it needed only the first lesson to demonstrate to him that these superficial conclusions were quite wrong. It was one thing to cut a board haphazard; but quite another matter to cut it evenly, and on a ruled line. Nor was the driving of nails as simple as he had supposed. At the end of the first hour Theo, feeling very awkward and clumsy, and rubbing a finger that had been too slow to get out of the path of the hammer, left the workshop.

"I never dreamed it would be so hard!" he muttered, viewing his bleeding knuckle with chagrin.

The lesson of the following day did not prove much easier, and its difficulties aroused the lad's fighting spirit.

"I am going to learn to saw and drive nails properly if it takes me the rest of my life!" he declared resolutely. "The very idea! Why, some of those little chaps in the sloyd room can chisel and plane like carpenters. I'll bet I can do it, too, if I stick at it."

Therefore it came about that instead of missing tennis and basket-ball as he had expected, Theo became completely absorbed in his new interest--so absorbed that his father soon began to fear that his studies would suffer. Early and late Theo was at his bench with his tools. He tried faithfully not to slight his books, but there was no use pretending he did not enjoy his carpentry. He was making a footstool now, a little wooden piece with turned legs which he was to stain with orange sh.e.l.lac and give to his mother. Already he had finished a square tray and a handkerchief box. When the stool was completed he was preparing for a more ambitious enterprise, a thing he longed yet hesitated to venture upon--a wooden bookrack for Mr. Croyden.

It was to be made from oak, not from the ordinary pine wood on which, up to this time, he had been working; and it was to be a much more elaborately finished article than anything he had undertaken. He had delayed beginning it until the closing part of the term in order that he might have the benefit of every atom of training he could get before he made the first cuts in the wood. As he now framed his plans for the making of the gift he smiled to think how impossible such a project would have been a few months ago.

"Dad was right!" he affirmed. "Training your hands is just like training any other part of your body. The longer and more regularly you keep at it the more expert you get. Sloyd is no different from rowing, or football, or tennis."

With the help of his instructor he drew his design, measured his pattern, and sent for the wood.

Then, impatient to begin work, he waited.

Mr. Croyden's birthday he had learned came the last part of June, and as on that date school ended he had only a short time to make his present. Not only must the pieces be cut and nailed together but there was all the finis.h.i.+ng, glueing, and varnis.h.i.+ng. In addition an interval was also necessary for drying. Therefore it was imperative that he set about his task as soon as possible.

Yet day after day went by and the wood did not come.

Theo was almost beside himself.

First he was merely impatient, then angry, then discouraged.

It was not until he had about given up hope of being able to complete the rack that the wood arrived. The pieces were beautifully grained, and when Theo beheld them he could in his mind's eye see the bookshelves shaped, smoothed, and rubbed down. He must finish the gift if he toiled nights as well as days! It is doubtful if ever a boy worked as hard or as anxiously as did Theo during the next two weeks. And as his creation took form how happy he was! He cut the three shelves, shaped the ends of the rack, and under his teacher's direction carved on a jig-saw the simple ornament which was to decorate the top. Never in his whole life had he enjoyed making anything so much. Then came the day when the final coat of oil was applied and there was nothing more to do but wait until it dried. But the work had required more time than Theo had antic.i.p.ated, and therefore it was not until the very afternoon before Mr. Croyden's birthday that the shelves were dry enough to be packed. Dr. Swift's motor came to the school that day to get Theo, and the boy himself proudly carried his masterpiece out to the car and put it inside; then springing in he called to the chauffeur to drive home. Arriving at his own abode Theo leaped up the brown stone steps with quick stride and rang the bell; then as he stood waiting for the door to be opened a sudden recollection overwhelmed him. In his eagerness to display his handiwork to his parents he had entirely forgotten his crutches! They were at school, and he now remembered he had not used them since morning.

His father laughed heartily when Theo told him this.

"I guess that means you can do without crutches from now on, son," the Doctor said.

"Does it mean that I may go to the Croydens', Dad?"

"I should say so," was the ready response. "I will call Mr. Croyden up on the telephone and find out when he wants you to come. What a joke it would be if you should go to Trenton and carry your bookrack with you!"

It subsequently proved that there was more truth than fiction in this jest, for in answer to Dr. Swift's inquiry Mr. Croyden announced that he happened to be coming into New York that very day in his car, and if the Swifts were willing he would carry Theo back with him.

"That will be the very thing!" exclaimed the boy in delight. "We can do the shelves all up so he won't guess what they are, and I can take them right along. Then they will be safe at Mr. Croyden's house and I shall not run the risk of the expressman being late. You know expressmen always are late. Think how long they were getting my crutches to Maine."

Accordingly the shelves were packed with greatest care in many soft papers so they would not be scratched, and afterward they were wrapped in a stouter outside covering. When the parcel was tied up no one would have suspected what was inside, and Theo viewed the mysterious bundle with satisfaction.

"Mr. Croyden will think that for a small boy you travel with a good deal of luggage," chuckled the Doctor.

"Maybe he won't have room to take it," Mrs. Swift rejoined.