Pearl and Periwinkle | Page 7

was
her faith. Do you suppose it would be just as good, Joe?"
Joe was somewhat surprised that his young pupil had thus

unconsciously stumbled upon a disputed point that has led many minds
astray, but he answered firmly and with conviction:
"No, Peri; the Fat Woman could not keep the law of love perfectly. Do
you think she did?" he challenged suddenly.
"No," cried Pearl, who had been listening intently. "Once or twice she
slapped us when we hadn't done a thing, and sometimes she got very
spiteful at Mr. Barleydon, and she used to tell mother that the tight-rope
walker made her sick. That's not doing unto others as we wish them to
do unto us. But," the loyal youngster hastened to defend her friend, "the
tight-rope walker was enough to make anybody sick and then I guess
the Fat Woman never heard about Jesus saying: 'Love your enemies.'"
"Perhaps she did know it," replied Joe, "but she couldn't have kept the
rule perfectly anyway. Nobody can, Pearl, even those who know God's
law best, although they must always try very hard. God showed His
great love for us by sending Jesus Christ to keep the law for us. He
could not do wrong or fail to keep the law. And now if we believe in
Him and come to Him as children come to their father for help, He will
count it the same as if our lives were as good and perfect as His
own.--But I'm afraid that I can't make it clear to you and it will be
pretty hard to understand," he added.
"Joe," said Periwinkle gravely, his hands in his pockets and his eyes on
his young friend's face, "did you ever hear anything you didn't just
exactly want to understand, something that's too nice to get right down
on a footing with yourself? Once I was reading one of Mr. Barleydon's
books of poetry that made you feel like a breeze was carrying you right
up to the gates of heaven. Mr. Barleydon looked at me in surprise, then
looked at the book and asked kind of funny, 'Do you understand it,
boy?' 'No sir!' I told him, 'but somehow I feel it better for not being able
to understand it quite.' And that's how I feel about some of the things
you told us. Do you suppose that's all right?"
"I think, Peri," said Joe soberly, "that is the real understanding."
"Say, you know what a fellow's driving at," cried Periwinkle with

delight. "Jerry, the clown was sympathetic like that. I think that Jerry,
next to you and your dad, is the most Christian person, I know. Aunt
Hetty ain't one though," he finished rather bluntly.
"Why Peri," protested the minister's son, "your Aunt Hetty is one of the
best workers in the church. She belongs--" Joe smiled as he hesitated,
"to our Ladies Aid, the Adult Bible Class, the Ladies Missionary
Society, and if I am not mistaken also to a Temperance Union, an
Anti-cigarette Club and a host of others."
"But she doesn't love her enemies," was Periwinkle's reply.
Joe smiled to see how deep an impression this injunction made on both
children.
"And all the Greys are her enemies," continued Periwinkle, "especially
Mr. Robert Grey. Now I think he is a fine man."
"He is," was the warm rejoinder.
"I guess they were in love once. And then--just because of a pig--I
think it's dreadful, Joe."
The boy had touched on a subject that was a matter of concern with his
teacher and one to which he had given much thought.
"Peri," he cried, "if I had the chance my father has every Sunday, I
would tell them that they are showing themselves to be mighty poor
Christians. But then dad knows best, of course. He's had years of
experience to help him. Only I don't see how he stands it. For three
years he has been trying to bring the Maises and the Greys together and
he is not discouraged, though I can't see any results, Peri--" Joe stopped
suddenly.
"What, Joe?"
"You'll be starting to school soon. There will be Greys and Maises
there. I know that if I speak to them about it--and I will--the Greys

won't pitch into you unless you start something."
"I won't do it. I'd just as lief fight a Maise as a Grey any day. I ain't--b i
g o t e d."
A sudden smile lit up the features of Joe Smith. It shone from his eyes,
parted his lips, lurked in the dimple in his chin, and then slowly died
away. His eyes held it the longest.
That smile had won many a friend for the lad. It made him a favorite at
college, in the village, and in the church