David repeated his question and attached an explanation.
"I mean, the folks that--that make you do things."
Mr. Jack laughed.
"Well," he said, "I believe some people make claims to quite a number, and perhaps almost every one owns to a Dr. Jekyll and a Mr. Hyde."
"Who are they?"
"Never mind, David. I don"t think you know the gentlemen, anyhow.
They"re only something like the little girl with a curl. One is very, very good, indeed, and the other is horrid."
"Oh, yes, I know them; they"re the ones that come to me," returned David, with a sigh. "I"ve had them a lot, lately."
Mr. Jack stared.
"Oh, have you?"
"Yes; and that"s what"s the trouble. How can you drive them off--the one that is bad, I mean?"
"Well, really," confessed Mr. Jack, "I"m not sure I can tell. You see--the gentlemen visit me sometimes."
"Oh, do they?"
"Yes."
"I"m so glad--that is, I mean," amended David, in answer to Mr. Jack"s uplifted eyebrows, "I"m glad that you understand what I"m talking about. You see, I tried Perry Larson last night on it, to get him to tell me what to do. But he only stared and laughed. He didn"t know the names of "em, anyhow, as you do, and at last he got really almost angry and said I made him feel so "buggy" and "creepy" that he wouldn"t dare look at himself in the gla.s.s if I kept on, for fear some one he"d never known was there should jump out at him."
Mr. Jack chuckled.
"Well, I suspect, David, that Perry knew one of your gentlemen by the name of "conscience," perhaps; and I also suspect that maybe conscience does pretty nearly fill the bill, and that you"ve been having a bout with that. Eh? Now, what is the trouble? Tell me about it."
David stirred uneasily. Instead of answering, he asked another question.
"Mr. Jack, it is a beautiful world, isn"t it?"
For a moment there was no, answer; then a low voice replied:--
"Your father said it was, David."
Again David moved restlessly.
"Yes; but father was on the mountain. And down here--well, down here there are lots of things that I don"t believe he knew about."
"What, for instance?"
"Why, lots of things--too many to tell. Of course there are things like catching fish, and killing birds and squirrels and other things to eat, and plaguing cats and dogs. Father never would have called those beautiful. Then there are others like little Jimmy Clark who can"t walk, and the man at the Marstons" who"s sick, and Joe Glaspell who is blind. Then there are still different ones like Mr. Holly"s little boy.
Perry says he ran away years and years ago, and made his people very unhappy. Father wouldn"t call that a beautiful world, would he? And how can people like that always play in tune? And there are the Princess and the Pauper that you told about."
"Oh, the story?"
"Yes; and people like them can"t be happy and think the world is beautiful, of course."
"Why not?"
"Because they didn"t end right. They didn"t get married and live happy ever after, you know."
"Well, I don"t think I"d worry about that, David,--at least, not about the Princess. I fancy the world was very beautiful to her, all right.
The Pauper--well, perhaps he wasn"t very happy. But, after all, David, you know happiness is something inside of yourself. Perhaps half of these people are happy, in their way."
"There! and that"s another thing," sighed David. "You see, I found that out--that it was inside of yourself--quite a while ago, and I told the Lady of the Roses. But now I--can"t make it work myself."
"What"s the matter?"
"Well, you see then something was going to happen--something that I liked; and I found that just thinking of it made it so that I didn"t mind raking or hoeing, or anything like that; and I told the Lady of the Roses. And I told her that even if it wasn"t going to happen she could THINK it was going to, and that that would be just the same, because "t was the thinking that made my hours sunny ones. It wasn"t the DOING at all. I said I knew because I hadn"t DONE it yet. See?"
"I--think so, David."
"Well, I"ve found out that it isn"t the same at all; for now that I KNOW that this beautiful thing isn"t ever going to happen to me, I can think and think all day, and it doesn"t do a mite of good. The sun is just as hot, and my back aches just as hard, and the field is just as big and endless as it used to be when I had to call it that those hours didn"t count. Now, what is the matter?"
Mr. Jack laughed, but he shook his head a little sadly.
"You"re getting into too deep waters for me, David. I suspect you"re floundering in a sea that has upset the boats of sages since the world began. But what is it that was so nice, and that isn"t going to happen?
Perhaps I MIGHT help on that."
"No, you couldn"t," frowned David; "and there couldn"t anybody, either, you see, because I wouldn"t go back now and LET it happen, anyhow, as long as I know what I do. Why, if I did, there wouldn"t be ANY hours that were sunny then--not even the ones after four o"clock; I--I"d feel so mean! But what I don"t see is just how I can fix it up with the Lady of the Roses."
"What has she to do with it?"
"Why, at the very first, when she said she didn"t have ANY sunshiny hours, I told her--"
"When she said what?" interposed Mr. Jack, coming suddenly erect in his chair.
"That she didn"t have any hours to count, you know."
"To--COUNT?"
"Yes; it was the sundial. Didn"t I tell you? Yes, I know I did--about the words on it--not counting any hours that weren"t sunny, you know.
And she said she wouldn"t have ANY hours to count; that the sun never shone for her."
"Why, David," demurred Mr. Jack in a voice that shook a little, "are you sure? Did she say just that? You--you must be mistaken--when she has--has everything to make her happy."
"I wasn"t, because I said that same thing to her myself--afterwards.
And then I told her--when I found out myself, you know--about its being what was inside of you, after all, that counted; and then is when I asked her if she couldn"t think of something nice that was going to happen to her sometime."
"Well, what did she say?"
"She shook her head, and said "No." Then she looked away, and her eyes got soft and dark like little pools in the brook where the water stops to rest. And she said she had hoped once that this something would happen; but that it hadn"t, and that it would take something more than thinking to bring it. And I know now what she meant, because thinking isn"t all that counts, is it?"