Why Charlie Didn’t Go
By Mary Joanna Porter
Edited by Jane Mouttet
“Dear me! Uncle Josh and Aunt Jane are on their way, and not a bed in the house is made!” Mrs. Upton glanced nervously at the clock, which was about to strike eleven. She looked around the disordered kitchen, through the open door into the dining room, where the unwashed breakfast dishes were still on the table, took her hands out of the bread dough, and ran to wash them at the faucet.
“Maria, Maria, hurry around. See what you can pick up while they get out of the cab. Isn’t it always just so?”
Maria, the fifteen-year-old daughter, hastily laid aside her novel and did her best to get the cups and saucers off the breakfast table, trying not to break one in her hurry. Meanwhile, her mother closed the kitchen door, gathered a pile of hats, coats, rubbers, and shawls from the living room sofa, threw them into a convenient closet, placed the colored cloth on the table, and hastened to open the front door to admit her guests.
“Come in! Come in! I’m so glad to see you, but you must take us as we are. Did you come on the train?”
“Yes, and got Jenkins to bring us up from the station. He’s to take us back at three o’clock this afternoon. We can’t make a long visit, but we’ll have lunch with you if it’s convenient.”
“Oh, yes! of course. It’s always convenient to have you.”
While Mrs. Upton spoke these hospitable words, her heart sank when she remembered her unbaked bread and that she forgot to order meat for dinner.
“Here, Maria, help Aunt Jane take off her jacket, I’ll be right back.”
Mrs. Upton rushed upstairs, carrying a pair of pants she had spent over an hour mending. Without them, Charlie had been unable to go to school that morning. He was reading in his room.
“Here, Charlie! Put these on, run down to the butcher’s, and get some steak. Stop at the baker’s, get some rolls and a pie, and tell them I’ll pay them tomorrow. I don’t know where my pocketbook is now.”
“Ma,” drawled Charlie in reply, “I don’t have my shoes up here, only my slippers and rubbers.”
“Well, wear them then and keep out of the mud. I don’t want you sick tonight. Be sure to come in the back so Uncle Josh won’t see you. He’ll think we’re always behind.”
If Uncle Josh had thought so, he would have been near the truth. Mrs. Upton was one of those unfortunate people who always seemed to be hard at work and always behind. Unfortunately, she would take hold of things at the wrong end first.
As water does not rise above its level, children are not apt to have better habits than their parents. Charlie, Maria, and the rest of the family lived in a state of constant confusion.
At noon, Mr. Upton came to dinner. It was not unusual for him to be forced to wait, and he had learned to be resigned, so he sat down patiently to talk with the visitors. Soon, three children came in from school, all eager to eat and go back to school. With their loud demands, the necessity for preparing extra vegetables and side dishes, and anxiety to please all around and to prevent her bread from growing sour, Mrs. Upton was nearly distracted. Maria tried to help, and Aunt Jane invariably looked upon matters with the kindly eye of charity. Things were not as bad as they might have been, and dinner was finally ready.
After the meal, the two visitors found a corner to talk.
“Wife,” said Uncle Josh, “Charlie’s too bright a young fellow to be left to grow up this way. Suppose we take him home with us for a while?”
“There’s nothing I would like better,” responded Aunt Jane, whose motherly heart was still full of grief for her own little Charlie, who had died years before.
When Mrs. Upton came out of the kitchen, they told her the proposal. She immediately gave her permission.
Charlie was next to be informed, but that was not easy. The boy could not be found.
“Perhaps he’s gone to school,” suggested Aunt Jane.
“No, I told him that since he had to be absent this morning, he might as well be absent all day. He’s somewhere about.”
A long search ended in the barn, where Charlie was finally found trying to whittle a ruler out of a piece of kindling wood. He wanted to draw maps but had mislaid or lost most of the tools he needed.
“Charlie!” exclaimed his mother, “Uncle Josh and Aunt Jane want to take you home with them for a long visit. We’ve been looking all over for you. I’ve been putting your best clothes in a bag, but you’ll have to hold it shut because I can’t find the key. Now hurry and dress yourself if you want to go.”
Charlie gave a loud whistle of delight and hastened to the house to arrange his toilet. He washed his face and hands, brushed his hair, put on a clean collar, and then went to the kitchen to blacken his shoes. He expected to find them on his feet, but lo! There were only the slippers and rubbers, which had been worn in the forenoon and forgotten until now.
“Ma! Where are my shoes?” he called in stentorian tones. Mrs. Upton replied from above the stairs, where she was putting a stitch in her son’s cap: “I don’t know—I haven’t seen them.”
“Well, I left them in the kitchen last night. Here, Maria, help me, won’t you? I can’t find my shoes, and it’s nearly train time. There’s Jenkins at the door now.”
The united efforts of all present resulted in finding the shoes entangled in an afghan, which Mrs. Upton had unintentionally placed in the heap in the closet when she cleaned off the sofa.
“Here they are,” shouted Charlie. Yet his joy was short-lived. One shoe wouldn’t go on. He had slipped it off on the previous night without unfastening it. There were several knots in the string, and all were unmanageable. He struggled breathlessly while Uncle Josh and Aunt Jane were getting into the cab, then broke the string in desperation just as Jenkins, hearing the car whistle, drove off to reach the train.
“Very sorry! Can’t wait another instant!” called out Uncle Josh. Having repaired damages as best he could, Charlie reached the front door in time to see the back of the carriage away down the street.
“Time and tide wait for no man,” observed his mother exasperatingly. Her quotation of the proverb carried with it the weight of her experience. Perhaps she thought it was her duty to teach moral lessons to her son, regardless of the illustrations.
Charlie’s disappointment was even more bitter when, the following week, they received a letter from Uncle Josh saying that he and Aunt Jane were about to take a trip to the West.
“Tell Charlie,” said the letter, “if we only had him with us, we should certainly take him along.”
“Isn’t it too bad,” said Charlie, “to think I’ve missed so much, and all through the want of a shoestring?”
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