“So much for the Montessori method,” said Josie. “I believe carrying soup without spilling it is the especial triumph of their system of training. You told me the boys had been to a Montessori school, did you not, Ursula?”
“Yes, that was one of the times when I had my way in spite of Mr. Cheatham.”
Irene had made the boys little linen aprons and caps and wonderfully charming they looked, with their flushed and eager faces, as they seriously and conscientiously served the guests.
“The boys at school try to tease me for doin’ it,” Ben confessed to Josie, “but I jes’ tell ’em that Alfred the Great had to mind the cakes an’ what a king ain’t above doin’ I ain’t either—only ol’ Alfred let the cakes burn an’ I don’t never let my waffles get mor’n a golden brown. I reckon kings ain’t much account when it comes to head work. It takes head work to do things ’zackly right.”
“It certainly does,” laughed Josie. “It is wonderful to find that out when you are a boy, Ben, because some persons get to be old as old can be and never know it. If you bake waffles as well as they can be baked, when that is the job before you, it will be easier to tackle the bigger job when it comes to you. I remember a story I heard a lecturer tell once that always has stayed with me.”
“Please tell it to me,” begged Ben, who could not decide which to love the more, the “Lady in the Chair” or Josie. He had almost decided on Josie, since Philip could go on caring for Irene above all others besides Sister. So Josie told this story:
“Well, this gentleman, who was a great preacher and lecturer, said when he was a little boy his father, who was also a noted divine, drew him to him one day when he was in his study and with his arm around him said: ‘My boy, have you thought what you would like to be when you grow to manhood?’ ‘Yes, Father! I want to be a hack driver.’ His father paused for a moment evidently somewhat nonplused at the strange ambition of his son, then he said earnestly: ‘All right, my boy, but mind you, be the best hack driver in town.’”
“Oh I see what you mean. Well, I reckon I’m the best waffle baker in town already—that is, the best boy waffle baker, and I’ll jes’ keep on bein’ an’ tell the fellows what tease me to go swallow themselves.”
“Exactly!” laughed Josie, “but it might be more tactful to ask them to come swallow some waffles.”
“Gee, no! That wouldn’t ever do. I ain’t sayin’ I can bake waffles fast enough to fill up boys. They are reg’lar rat holes for emptiness.”