The Grey Story Book

Front matter

The Grey Story Book

By Katherine M. Yates Author of "What the Pine Tree Heard"

Chicago K. M. YATES & CO. 1905

In the Tall Grass

IT'S the very finest ball I ever had in all my life," said Dicky, turning the smooth, white sphere over and over in his hands. "It's a fifty-cent base-ball, and I never had one better than fifteen cents before. Isn't it a fine one, Cousin Will?"

Cousin Will took the ball and felt it all over carefully and then bounced it on the step. "I never saw a better one," he said. "It's hard and it's springy, too. Let's try it. You stand over there by the fence and we'll pitch."

Dicky ran to the fence by the meadow and Cousin Will stood on the lawn near the flower beds, ready to throw. "Here she comes!" he shouted, and in a moment the smooth white ball was in Dicky's waiting hands. It was a delight just to feel it, and Dicky gave it a little squeeze and thought how good Uncle Charley was to send it to him.

Back it went to Cousin Will's hands, and then, for ten minutes it passed back and forth between the boys without once being dropped.

"I never saw such a ball," said Cousin Will. "It just comes right into my hands even when I don't half try to catch it. Now here comes a high one," and he threw it away up into the air.

Dicky's hands were ready; but though he jumped as high as he could when he saw it passing over his head, he could not quite reach it, and in a moment he heard it strike in the soft grass of the meadow.

"Too high for me!" he laughed, as he turned and climbed the fence and jumped down in the tall grass on the other side.

Will sat down on the lawn and began blowing on a blade of grass held between his thumbs, while he waited. By and by he grew tired of this and called out, "Hurry up, Dicky. Why don't you throw the ball?"

"I can't find it," came Dicky's voice from the fence. "The grass is so high that I can't see it. Come and help me."

Cousin Will ran across the lawn and climbed upon the fence. "Whew!" he whistled when he saw the tall grass and weeds. "You'll never find it in there. There isn't much use looking for it." But he jumped down and joined in the search.

For a long time they looked, but could not find the ball. Dicky was almost crying. "And it was the very nicest ball I ever had in my life," he said with a sob in his voice, "and I didn't play with it more than ten minutes!"

"Well, there's no use looking any longer," said Cousin Will, at last. "We surely can't find it now that the grass is all trampled down like this. I'm real sorry it's lost, but there's no use feeling bad about it. Let's go out to the orchard and get some apples."

But Dicky was not ready to go. To tell the truth, he felt as if he must cry in about a minute, and he was ashamed to do so before Cousin Will, who was ten years old, while he was only eight.

"Well, I'm going, anyway," said Cousin Will. "And I'll bring you one of those big yellow sweet apples. I won't be gone long."

When Will had climbed over the fence again, Dicky's tears began to fall so that he could hardly see as he stumbled around in the long grass. "I didn't want to lose that ball," he sobbed. Then suddenly he remembered something that he had heard his papa say not long ago. "I use Christian Science for everything, all day, and every day, and it always helps me." That was what he had said.

Dicky brushed his tears away. "I wonder if I could use it to find this ball," he thought. Then he climbed up on the fence and covered his eyes with his hand as he had seen Mamma do.

"Let me think," he said to himself, trying to remember what had been told him about handling things in Science. "How shall I go to work? First I must know that the things that Cousin Will said about not finding it, were not true. He didn't know it, but I've got to. And I've got to know that everything that isn't good isn't true. It isn't good to lose balls, nice new balls that you haven't played with more than ten minutes, and to feel bad about it. If God takes care of me, He must take care of all my things. God couldn't lose anything," and Dicky almost laughed at the idea of God losing things. "Of course He couldn't," he cried, "and if He can't, I can't. Just as if I could do something that God can't!"

Dicky did laugh now, and jumped down from the fence, and then he laughed harder than ever; for as he jumped down, he tumbled over into a heap, for one foot had landed upon something smooth and round which lay hidden in the grass close to the fence.

Cousin Will came running across the lawn with the big yellow apple. He had heard the laugh, and couldn't understand it. "You haven't found it, have you?" he called out.

"Yes, I have," shouted Dicky, gleefully, holding up the recovered ball. "It wasn't lost at all. It was right here by the fence all the time."

Cousin Will peered over the fence at the spot which Dicky pointed out. "Well, I don't see how you ever thought of looking there. I supposed that it went a lot farther over in the meadow than that. You surely are lucky. I didn't think you'd ever find it in the world."

"It wasn't luck," said Dicky, softly, to himself. "It was just knowing the truth, that it was not lost at all, and now I shall always know that God takes care of everything, and that Christian Science does help about everything, all day and every day."

"Tramp, Tramp, Tramp"

I DON'T see why Teacher chose Mabelle Gates to play the piano for our drills, do you?"

"No," Kittie shook her head, thoughtfully. "I can't see why she did it," she said, puckering her forehead. "Mabelle don't play nearly so well as Bertha Allen or Nell Smith."

"Well, of course they are a good deal older than she is," said Grace, hastily. "You wouldn't expect her to play so well."

"No," agreed Kittie, "of course not, but the other girls would have done so much better. Mabelle keeps good time, but she doesn't know as many pieces or as pretty ones as the other girls. She hardly plays anything but exercises, and Bertha plays some beautiful marches and things."

"Yes, I know it, and I just can't think what made Teacher choose Mabelle to play the piano, and then have little Caroline Peck to lead the drills."

"Caroline isn't so young as Mabelle."

"No, but she's so small, and she isn't so straight and soldier-like as Nell Smith. I think that Bertha ought to play the piano, and Nell lead the drill."

"So do I," and the girls walked on in silence for a few moments.

"I like Mabelle, though," said Kittie, suddenly, "and Caroline, too. They are perfectly lovely girls; but I just don't understand Teacher's choosing them, that's all."

"Oh, of course! I like them, too," said Grace. "I always did, but I just wondered."

A good many of the girls and boys in school wondered, also; but they were very careful not to let the two favored girls know that the choice was not perfectly satisfactory to them.

Every day, at one of the recesses, the children went through what was called the fire drill, rising from their seats, and marching out in order, to the tune of the simple march or exercise which Mabelle played for them. The teacher stood by the door until they were all out of the room, and then Mabelle and she fell into line, and they went down the three flights of stairs and out of doors behind the others.

Mabelle worked hard at her music, out of school hours, though she was not very fond of it; but she felt the honor that the teacher had shown her in giving her the work, and though she guessed as to the reason, she kept it to herself, and tried to learn as many pretty marches as she could.

One morning she went to the piano with a pink little flush on her face, and in a moment the stirring strains of "Tramp, Tramp, Tramp, the Boys are Marching," were ringing through the room.

Instantly there came a great hand-clapping from the girls' side, and some stamping and two or three shrill whistles from the boys' side, and Mabelle's cheeks flushed pinker than ever. This was worth the long hours of practice that she had put in.

The teacher smiled, but held up her hand in warning, and the drill went through with a great deal of enthusiasm.

And after this, the children always begged for "Tramp, Tramp," until the teacher had to limit its use to once a week, because the boys would "tramp, tramp" so loudly when they sang the words, and sometimes would even whistle, and that was entirely too noisy for a school-room.

One day, near the end of the term, the children were all sitting quietly, during study hour, when suddenly Nell Smith raised her head from her book and gave a prolonged sniff.

At the sound, other heads were raised and the sniffs were heard all about the room. The children glanced at each other apprehensively.

Presently the teacher looked up, cast her eyes about the room and then rose and went to the door leading into the hall. As she opened it, a little puff of smoke came into the room. She closed it quickly and went back to her desk. The children were watching her, breathlessly. She raised her pencil for the drill to begin, and Mabelle went quietly to the piano and struck the first few notes of a little exercise, as the children rose to their feet to commence their march. The room seemed very quiet save for the music, as they fell into line and moved slowly forward.

The teacher returned to the door; but as she opened it again, a stronger puff of smoke came in, and there was a crackling sound from below. The hall and stairway were now quite dim with smoke, and as little Caroline Peck reached the door, leading the long line of white-faced children, the teacher bent over and whispered to her:—

"Are you afraid, Caroline?"

"No, ma'am," said Caroline, quietly, looking up into her face, "I am being taken care of."

Just then the children from one of the lower rooms rushed out into the hall below, pell-mell, screaming in fright. This was too much for some of the girls, and in a moment a half-dozen of them, led by Bertha Allen and Nell Smith, had broken ranks and were rushing toward the door, and others seemed ready to follow.

"Bertha, Nell, stop where you are!" called the teacher, sternly, catching Bertha by the arm.

"I won't, I won't!" screamed Bertha. "I won't stay to be burned up!" and twisting herself free, she dashed out into the hall, followed by Nell and a few others.

Mabelle, sitting still and playing her little march, turned her head. Even some of the boys showed signs of breaking ranks, and others were beginning to crowd those in front of them. There was just a moment's pause at the piano, and then the strains of "Tramp, Tramp," took the place of the light march.

Almost without thinking, the children began once more to keep time to the music; but several of the girls were crying loudly and others looked ready to fall with fear. Then little Caroline Peck, who had just reached the head of the stairway, her head up and her eyes shining, steadily keeping time and leading the others, struck up, in a clear little voice, the chorus of "Tramp, Tramp, Tramp, the Boys are Marching."

In an instant the others had joined in, some of the voices chokey by sobs or smoke, but all with hearty good will.

The jostling and pushing ceased, and the long lines of children became as straight and even as ever they were at recess.

Out of the door they marched, and down the three flights of stairs, singing loudly and tramping lustily, and led by the little bright-eyed girl whose head was high and whose face fairly shone with strength and courage.

As the last of the children filed out of the room, the teacher turned. She could scarcely see Mabelle, because of the smoke.

"Come, dearie," she called.

Mabelle played the last of the strain and then came quickly across the room. The teacher took her hand and they hurried after the others. They could hear the cheers of the people outside, as the head of the little column came out of the front door, still singing loudly, if chokily.

When they reached the lower floor, they found but little smoke, and as they paused for a moment, the teacher bent over and kissed Mabelle, tenderly. "I knew that you could do it, dearie," she whispered. "You are a brave little girl."

Mabelle looked up into her face, lovingly. "I knew that was what you chose me for," she said, simply.

As they came out of the school-house door, the last ones in the line, the fire-engines came rumbling up, and the children scattered in every direction, to be out of the way.

Presently little Caroline came and slipped her hand into Mabelle's. "Let's go home," she said. "We don't want to see any more. I guess it isn't much of a fire, anyway, most all smoke; but it looked pretty black when I started down stairs. It's on the third floor, and it wasn't so bad when we got below there. There wasn't any school on that floor to-day, so that's the reason we didn't hear anything until after we smelled the smoke. There wasn't anybody to give the alarm."

"Was it the second floor children who screamed so," asked Mabelle.

"Yes," said Caroline. "They got frightened and broke ranks and all rushed out together, and some of them fell and got hurt."

"I think you were ever so brave to march out and right down into all that smoke, when you didn't know what might be there," said Mabelle, "and the girls say that you didn't act a bit afraid."

"But that wasn't near so hard as to stay and play until the last one was out. You were braver than I was, and your starting 'Tramp, Tramp,' was what kept them from getting into a panic."

"And your singing! How could you ever sing in all that smoke?"

Caroline gave Mabelle's hand a little squeeze. "You know how," she said. "I knew that was God's child, and that He was leading me, and that smoke couldn't keep me from doing anything that He wanted me to do."

"Yes," said Mabelle, "and I knew that we were all God's children, and that God's children couldn't be frightened or forget themselves, and that there was no danger if we only knew that He was taking care of us,—and when the others were singing 'Tramp, Tramp, Tramp, the Boys are Marching,' I was singing 'Love, love, love, the good God loves us,' and I really wasn't afraid a bit. Teacher knew that we could do it; but I wonder how she knew. She isn't a Scientist."

Just then a gentle arm stole around the neck of each of them. "I want to thank you, girls," said the teacher, lovingly. "You both did all that any one could. You thought and acted quickly, and were brave and cool, and I'm proud of you. But I knew that you could do it," she finished, kissing first one and then the other.

Caroline looked up, patting the pretty teach- er's hand, softly. "How did you know it?" she asked, seriously.

The teacher hesitated. "Why, I hardly know," she said, "only you both seem to be strong and loving, and always to have your wits about you. That is the reason I chose you instead of some of the older girls. By the way, you used to be such a timid little girl, Caroline," she added, as if just remembering. "What has made the difference?"

"Christian Science," said Caroline, softly, and Mabelle nodded her head several times, in approval.

What Margie Knew

MARGIE sat on the steps waiting for Papa to come home. It was almost dark and Margie was only seven years old; but it was her birthday and she felt very sure that Papa would have a gift for her when he jumped off of the car down at the corner, so she did not want to go into the house until he came.

It kept getting darker and darker, and there were ten steps to climb to the front door if one should want to go in very quickly, and Margie kept turning around to see if the door was still a little way open, as she had left it. It seemed to her that Papa was very late indeed; but every car went right by the corner without stopping to let him off.

"I'm not at all afraid," said Margie, looking up at the door, "at least, I don't think I am, but I wish he would come. There isn't a single man in sight."

Just then a man did come in sight. He came around the corner down by the street car, and walked slowly along the street looking up at the houses. As he drew near, Margie saw that he was not a nice looking man at all and he had a big basket on his arm, with a piece of black oil-cloth thrown over it.

Margie looked back at the door and then up at the man. He was coming very near her, and was staring at her very hard indeed. His clothes were shabby and he had a big black beard, and the basket with the black cover was such a great large one. Margie remembered all the stories she had been told about little girls being stolen away from their homes, and she started to spring to her feet. Then suddenly she remembered what Mamma had told her that morning. "All of God's children love each other." That was what Mamma had said. This man was God's child just as much as she was; she knew that, so she sat quite still waiting for him to pass.

But he didn't pass, and her face grew very white as he stopped right in front of her and bent down to look into her face.

"He's God's child. He's God's child. He's God's child," she kept whispering to herself, and then suddenly all of the fear left her, though a moment before she had longed to scream and fly up the steps to the door.

Then the man spoke. "Is your name Margie, little girl?" he asked, and his voice was so soft and kind behind the big black beard, that Margie looked up into his face and smiled.

"Yes, sir," she said.

"And what is your last name?" he asked, setting down the basket and beginning to loosen the cover.

"Green. I'm Margie Green," she replied, her eyes on the basket.

"That's it. That's the name," said the man, smiling. "I've got something for you here, but didn't know whether I was going to find you or not. Your papa bought it for you this morning and asked me to bring it to you," and he reached into the basket and drew out the most beautiful little curly white puppy that Margie had ever seen. Such a darling little round, pink-nosed, bundle of white floss that she fairly screamed with delight.

"Oh, is it for me? Did Papa really get it for me? Oh, you dear, dear little doggie!" and she held out her arms for it.

The man put it gently into them. "I'm glad you were out here," he said, "for I didn't know how I was going to find you. I lost the card your papa gave me, that told me where to bring it; but I remembered your first name, because my little girl's name is Margie, too; and beside, your papa said that your hair was as fine and curly as this little fellow's, only that it was yellow instead of white. I knew that the card said this street, but I don't believe that I would ever have found the place if you hadn't been out here. It's pretty dark for you to be here alone, weren't you afraid?"

The puppy was nestling his warm curly head close into Margie's neck and the little girl hugged him tight and looked up at the black bearded man, happily. "I was a little bit afraid at first," she said brightly, "but just as soon as I realized that you are God's child, I couldn't be afraid any more."

The man patted her on the head and went away smiling and Margie climbed the steps still hugging her new pet and whispering to him: "You dear, dear doggie, of course God wouldn't let me run away from you, and I am so glad that I remembered that everybody is God's child."

And that night when she and the curly pet sat on Papa's knee and she told him all about it, he hugged her lovingly and said: "I think that we will give this small dog the name of 'Brave,' to make us think of the little girl who, because she knew the truth, could not be afraid."

How Walter Was Treed

HAVE you the bags for the nuts, Mattie?"

"Yes, and Helen has the luncheon basket. What are you going to do with that long pole, Walter?"

"I'm going to use it to knock down nuts. I'm not a very good climber, we don't have much chance to climb, in the city. The country boys out here make me feel awfully ashamed; but I'm learning how, and next year I'll be as good as any of them. I'm not afraid, now, only I get sort of dizzy and shaky when I get up high."

The girls laughed. Mattie had been brought up in the country and was not afraid of anything on the farm, and she thought it was great fun to go about with her two city cousins, who were both a little older than she, and show them how brave she was. To-day they were going nutting, and expected to spend the entire day in the woods, gathering chestnuts, hickory nuts and walnuts for the city children to take home with them on the morrow.

It was only about a mile to the woods, and though they had a rather late start, yet by noon their bags were nearly full, and they sat down under a big chestnut tree to eat their luncheon.

"I think we have a fine lot!" exclaimed Helen, patting one of the fat bags, "only we have so few chestnuts. I did want a lot of chestnuts for Hallowe'en. Just look at them, up in the top of this tree. Oh, dear, if we could only reach them!"

"The next frost will bring them just rattling down," said Mattie, "but you'll be gone home by that time. It's too bad."

"Can't you reach some more with the pole, Walter?" asked Helen.

"No," said Walter, ruefully. "I've thrashed the tree just as high as I can reach. I'll tell you what I'll do; I'll climb it."

"No, don't," exclaimed Helen, hastily "We've got enough, plenty. Please don't climb it, Walter."

"Yes," said Walter, decidedly, "I'm going to. If I can get up to the first branches, I guess I'll be all right, and then I can shake the boughs as I climb higher."

"Oh, please don't, Walter," cried Helen, clutching his arm. "You'll be sure to get dizzy up there, and then you'll fall."

"Helen!" exclaimed Walter, turning to her quickly, "you ought not to say things like that, and you a Christian Scientist. I'm surprised at you."

Helen dropped his arm and swallowed a sob. "Well," she said, "I won't say any more, but I do wish you wouldn't go up, Walter."

Walter laughed and patted her on the shoulder. "You're too careful of me, Sis," he said, affectionately, and began to climb the tree.

"There's no danger," he called out, presently; "hold your aprons ready, for it's going to rain chestnuts in about a minute."

And so it did. The chestnut burrs had cracked, and as the limbs were shaken, the glossy brown nuts came pattering thickly down upon the dry leaves.

Helen forgot her fear in the excitement of filling the luncheon basket, for all the bags were now stuffed to their utmost. "Come on down now, Walter," she called in a few minutes. "We have plenty, all we can carry."

"All right," answered Walter, and there was a rustling and scratching among the branches. Presently the sounds ceased. Helen noticed it.

"Come on, Walter," she called, again; "we can't carry any more."

"All right, in a minute," came from up in the tree, and then all was silent again for a time.

The girls sat on the grass chatting for a few moments, and then Helen grew impatient and getting up, approached the tree, coming close to the trunk and peering up into the branches, "Walter," she called, "why don't you come?"

Walter was sitting on one of the boughs high up in the tree, with his arms clasped tightly about the trunk and his eyes closed.

"Oh, Walter!" cried Helen, in dismay, "you're dizzy, I know you are, and you'll fall and get killed. I knew how it would be when you went up there."

Walter did not open his eyes; but he called down in a very sober voice: "Helen, if that's what you've been thinking, and what you're thinking now, you'd just better begin to think the other way as quick as ever you can. Can't you see that it's you, more than anything else, that's making me feel this way? I have hardly a bit of trouble—when I'm out with the boys. I'm trying to work in Science so that my head will be clear again, and you might just as well take that pole and try to poke me off of this branch as to stand there thinking that sort of thing. You know how to work in Science; why don't you try to help me to feel all right, instead of helping me to tumble?"

Helen bravely choked back her sobs. "Oh, Walter, I didn't think!" she exclaimed penitently. "Of course I'll help you. God is tak- ing care of you, you know. It's only mortal mind that says you're dizzy, and mortal mind doesn't know anything, and can't tell anything but lies. It really isn't anything but a lie, itself. You're God's child, and God always takes care of His children when they trust Him." Helen stopped for breath.

"Walter," called Mattie, "are you saying the Scientific Statement of Being?"

"Yes," said Walter.

"Well, then you know you are spiritual and not made of matter, and Spirit can't be dizzy or fall, can it?"

Walter opened his eyes. "No, it can't," he said stoutly, "and I can't, either," and he began climbing carefully down the tree. The girls did not watch him, but kept on doing their work, silently, until he dropped safely to the ground beside them.

"I'm all right," he said, stretching his arms and limbs, gratefully. "Just as soon as you girls began helping me instead of hindering me, I had no more trouble. Much obliged to you."

Helen gave him a little hug. "I've had a lesson, Walter," she said earnestly, "and I never will think error at you again, nor at anybody else. If anything had happened to you, it would have been all my fault."

"Not all your fault," he said, patting her shoulder, lovingly. "I ought to have been so sure of the truth that your thought couldn't hurt me; but you were helping mortal mind instead of me, and you should help your only brother, instead of an old fibber and knownothing like that," and he gave her ear a little tweak.

Just then Mattie, whose lips had been twitching for some time, burst into a merry peal of laughter. "Oh, Walter!" she gasped, "if you only knew what you made me think of while you were up there! I wanted to laugh, even though I was so frightened," and she gave way to another peal of laughter.

"Well, what was it?" asked Walter, grinning ruefully. "I know I must have seemed awfully silly."

"Oh, it wasn't that; but—but—did you ever see a cat on the top of a telegraph pole, afraid to come down? Oh, dear, I kept thinking of that all the time until I almost expected you to cry 'meow'!" and Mattie dropped down upon the ground, overcome with laughter, in which the other children joined heartily.

"Well," said Walter, as soon as he could get his breath, "if you ever see me believing error again like that, just you saw 'meow,' and I'll remember the cat on the telegraph pole, and I'll brace up and give Mr. Mortal Mind his walking papers. It isn't the first time that I've been treed by mortal mind, but it's the last. Now come on, girls, it's time to go home."