“It is not mere flesh and blood, Ruleson, that moves the earth on its axis. It is men whose intelligent brows wear the constant plait of tension, whose manner reveals a debility beneath which we know that suffering lurks, and who have an unconscious plaintiveness about them. Such men have fits of languor, but let the occasion come and they command their intellect and their hands just as easily as a workman commands his tools. The mother of this boy of ours was a physical tyrant in her 132 home, and she never suspected that she had under her control and keeping a spirit touched and prepared for the finest issues of life. Oh, Ruleson,
“Sad it is to be weak,
And sadder to be wrong,
But if the strong God’s statutes break,
’Tis saddest to be strong.”
The child became rapidly an integral part of the household. No one thought of him as a transient guest, no one wanted him in that light, and he unconsciously made many changes. Margot often spoke to Christine of them: “Were you noticing your feyther this afternoon, Christine?” she asked one day, when little James had been two weeks with them. “Were you noticing him?”
“How, Mither, or whatna for?”
“Weel, as soon as he was inside the house, the laddie had his hand, and when he sat down he was on his knee, and showing him the book, and saying his letters to him—without missing ane o’ them, and granddad listening, and praising him, and telling him it was wonderfu’, an’ the like o’ that.”
“Weel, then, it is wonderfu’! He learns as if he was supping new milk. He’ll be ready for the school when the school is ready for him. And he’s nae trouble in ony way. The house would be gey dull wanting him.”
“That’s truth itsel’. I like to hear his soft footsteps, 133 and I would miss his crooning voice going o’er his lessons. You mustna gie him too lang, or too many lessons. I hae heard learning tasks were bad for sickly weans.”