Contents

Cover

Foreword

Chapter One: Framing the Resolutions

Chapter Two: Executing the Resolutions

Chapter Three: The Aftermath

About the Author

Foreword

Everybody makes resolutions right after the Christmas rush. Sometimes old friends send cards or greetings, and fond memories of bygone days return to stir old ambitions.

James Blaisdell was no exception. He not only made some resolutions for himself, but he also generously included his family in several. As Mr. Blaisdell was an average man and his family very much like the rest of us, his resolutions were ones that might be well for everyone to consider. Of his many resolutions the thirteenth one was the best. In fact, the widespread influence of this resolution affected the whole community. Mr. Blaisdell himself was surprised at the result.

In carrying out the resolutions there was food for serious thought and considerable argument. There was humor too, but the results counted oh so much both in the life of the church and in the life of each Blaisdell. The thirteenth resolution was the crowning resolution that every man, woman, and child should take unto himself.

Chapter One

Framing the Resolutions

James Blaisdell and his family sat around the breakfast table Saturday morning, January 1, 1929. James was an average citizen of Topeka, Kansas, with a pretty good business downtown. He was born in Kansas, and so were his pretty wife and his four children—two boys and two girls, Robert and Richard, Ruth and Rachel. “The four Rs we are,” Robert the oldest had said when he noticed the fact. “Readin’, ’ritin’, ’rithmetic, and—” as he paused for another R, Richard had suggested “rheumatism,” because the boy had, strange to say, been afflicted with a slight attack of that multiple disease. Neither James nor Mary, his wife, had intended to have such an alliterative family. They just happened to choose those names, and after the selecting was done, it could not very well be changed.

The Blaisdell family all belonged to a church, the name of which you could pronounce if you saw it in print. Robert was studying law at Washburn College, Richard was taking a course in music at the college, and Ruth and Rachel were in high school. The Blaisdells lived in a very comfortable dwelling, they had nice clothes, and they had every appearance of being healthy. There was a good car out in the garage at the back of the lot, a fairly good account down at the bank, and James Blaisdell on the occasion of this breakfast meeting on the first day of the new year had reason to feel decently proud of his wife, his children, and his life in general. James looked at each member of his family, then began a little “head of the table” talk before the family would scatter for the day.

“Now then, folks,” said Mr. Blaisdell as was his habit when addressing the family circle and speaking as the meal was finished, “I am going to make some resolutions for the new year, and I am going to read ’em to you.”

In order to understand all that follows, a little more ought to be said about this Blaisdell family. The father was one of a very few men, perhaps, who had a habit of taking every member of the household into his confidence and discussing freely matters of interest to all. He had a habit also of encouraging free questions and answer talk around the table, a habit which sometimes led to embarrassing moments, especially when the children interrupted or told their own experiences. He gave them much liberty and restrained them only when he thought they might be going too far with it. His reading of New Year’s resolutions, therefore, on this first day of the year, was simply characteristic of a general habit known by all the members of the family.

A word about Mrs. Blaisdell. She had been a farmer’s daughter; James and she had been classmates at Washburn College, where they began falling in love. Two years after graduating they had married and kept on falling for twenty-five years and were falling yet. Mary Blaisdell was not only in love with her husband, but she also had a real respect for him mingled with a continual amusement at his habits, among which were absentmindedness and a vein of left-handed humor that was continually surprising her. She looked at him now across the table with a gleam in her eyes that indicated a mixture of genuine affection and honest amusement.

Mr. Blaisdell paused a moment before beginning to read his resolutions. He was thinking, I wonder what that woman does to keep so good looking. She isn’t any older than when I was courting her on the campus.

A word about the four Rs. Robert was finishing his course in law school. He was twenty-two, tall, not especially good looking, but he had an honest face and a dignified manner. He rather took advantage of his age to overlord the rest of the family, but not in any way to provoke anything but good-natured protest.

Richard was studying music with a fixed purpose to teach. He played several instruments, not any too well, it must be said, and not always with the cheerful consent of his sisters, who complained that he interfered with their quiet moments. He retorted by saying they never had any, but it was nothing more than a pleasant retort. Richard was the storyteller of the family and had a knack of remembering anecdotes with which he regaled the family at the table, sometimes to his father’s annoyance.

Ruth was the genius of the family and was sometimes addressed as the intelligencer. She was very much interested in her studies and was one of the editors of the high-school paper. She had an ambition to become a newspaper reporter and an author of romantic fiction.

Rachel was the exact opposite of her sister, a lover of social life and already marked as a beauty. She was much sought after for parties, and Richard was beginning to tease her about the beaux who had begun to call to take her to various entertainments.

Let it be understood that all four were for the most part in the family circle, loyal to the home as they understood it, and in their hearts proud of their father and mother, although their doings did not always seem to express that fact.

“Now then, folks,” repeated Mr. Blaisdell, “I have put my resolutions down in the order I thought of them. The first one is rather personal, but I guess I will give it. I am going to kiss your mother good-bye every morning before I leave the house for the store.”

“I wish, James, that you would get your mustache trimmed. I have spoken to you about it several times,” said Mrs. Blaisdell with a twinkle. “Can’t you stop into the barber’s on your way back from the store? Have it done the way I want it.”

Richard broke in. “Mother, did you see the list of quotations of the national proverbs in the Atlantic last month? I thought that one of the Spanish quotations was good.”

“What does that have to do with this resolution?” asked his father suspiciously.

“Well, the Spanish proverb is: ‘A kiss without a mustache is like an egg without salt.’ If you get your mustache—”

“Wait till you get a mustache, Son,” said his father, while the girls giggled and Robert roared. Without waiting for another interruption, Mr. Blaisdell proceeded.

“Second, I am going to do more walking. I need exercise. I am getting fat. I shall begin by walking down to the store this morning.”

“You don’t mean it, Father, do you?” said Ruth. “If you do, that will give us the use of the car a little more.”

“I don’t see how you could have use of it any more than you do now,” retorted her father. “The last time I took it downtown, I had to park it in front of the First Presbyterian Church on the west side of the state house square, and when I went to get it, it was gone. You and Rachel took it when you left school. Talk about using it a little more! That must be some of that fiction you are getting ready to compose. You don’t need to study that subject. You are an expert on it already.”

“But, James,” broke in Mrs. Blaisdell, “you don’t really mean that you will start to walk clear downtown. Why, it’s over two miles, and you are not a very good walker.”

“I know I’m not, and that’s the reason I have made this resolution. I will forget how to walk if I ride all the time. If car riding becomes a world habit, after a while a race of beings will be born without any feet.”

“How will they step on the gas?” asked Richard.

His father ignored him and went on to resolution three. “I have come to the conclusion that we are hurrying too much. It is just rush, rush, rush, all day long. Everything is in a whirl. I am going to take things easier, walk slower, talk slower, eat slower.”

“You finished your breakfast this morning before any of us,” put in his wife.

“Well, of course, I have not fairly begun to put these resolutions into practice. ‘Give a fellow time, won’t you,’ as the man said who was about to be hung.”

“That was a good story in the Ladies’ Home Journal about New Year’s resolutions, Father, did you notice?” asked Richard.

“Well, no. Let us have it so we can go on,” replied Mr. Blaisdell good-naturedly.

“A man was writing a letter to an old chum, and he said in the letter: ‘I tell you, George, I have come to the conclusion that we are hurrying too much. It is just rush, rush, rush, all day long. I have determined to take things easier. I am going to walk slower, talk slower, and eat slower and do everything slower. Yours in haste, Bill.’”

“You made that up,” broke in Mr. Blaisdell.

“No, Father, I believe I heard one of—”

“Never mind how you explain it. I must hurry on. Fourth: next Sunday this whole family is going to start to go to church and keep it up every Sunday.”

Dead silence reigned around the table, caused by the fact that the children, although members of the church, had not been going to the morning service. They all went to Sunday school but did not stay for the preaching service. This is a universal habit, by the way, of most families in the church to which the Blaisdells belong.

The silence was broken by Robert saying with some stiffness, the nearest symptom he ever expressed to any opposition to his father’s wishes, “I thought, Dad, these were your New Year’s resolutions, but you seem to be making them for the whole family.”

“We won’t discuss it here,” replied his father quietly. “I want you all to think it over carefully. I have come to the conclusion that inasmuch as we are members of the church, we ought to support its services. It is time we reformed our habits in this respect. Thresh it out in your mutual council,” he said, referring to a habit the children had of discussing together any matters of dispute. Mr. Blaisdell went on with a cheerful attitude, although a shade of anxiety had crossed his wife’s face after hearing resolution number four.

“Fifth, I am going to stop swearing.”

The four Rs stared, and Mrs. Blaisdell exclaimed, “Why, James Blaisdell, you never swore in your life! What do you mean?”

“Yes, I do. I swear a good many times when I lose my temper. I say, ‘By thunder,’ and ‘Confound it!’”

Robert grinned at his father. “Do you call that swearing? You ought to hear some of our fellows.”

“I call it swearing because I mean more than I say!” maintained the head of the house stoutly. “And I am going to quit it. I think it is a poor habit and shows a great lack of self-control.”

“What will you use in the place of these words when you are excited?” asked Mrs. Blaisdell, as her eyes twinkled with amusement.

“Well, I don’t know yet, but I’ll find something. Number six: I am going to spend so much for luxuries, and whenever I do, I am going to put as much money into the church contribution box as I spend.”

Mr. Blaisdell looked around the table, and his eye stopped at Richard. “By the way, Richard, how much do you spend foolishly every month?”

“What has that to do with your resolutions, Father?”

“It has more than you think, as you will find out pretty soon when we come to another resolution. But how much do you spend out of your allowance?”

Richard hesitated. “Oh, I don’t know exactly.”

“Do you mean that you do not keep any account of your expenditures?” asked his father with unaccustomed sternness. “Do you spend two or three dollars a week?”

Rachel snickered. “Two or three dollars? It’s nearer five.”

Richard did not deny it and looked very much embarrassed.

“And how much do you give to the church budget?” asked his father.

“Twenty-five cents a week.”

“Doesn’t look very good to me,” replied his father thoughtfully. “Looks like robbing Peter to pay Judas Iscariot, but we shall take that up later.

“Number seven: I am going to double my church pledge on the annual budget this year. The rest of you can think it over.

“Number eight: I am going to close the store every Saturday afternoon.”

Mrs. Blaisdell stared. “Why, Jim Blaisdell, how can you do that? None of the other stores downtown do that. Saturday is your best day.”

“The banks close Saturday afternoon and the Santa Fe Offices, and the court house, and a number of other places. I am going to try it anyway. I believe that our clerks will be willing to try it also.”

“Will you pay them the same wages?” asked Robert who seemed to be very much interested in the resolution.

“Why of course I will.”

“How about Randall? What will he say?” Randall was Mr. Blaisdell’s partner in the store.

“Well, I’ll have to go over it with him, of course; but I think we can make it go all right. We are making money, and I believe in shorter hours.

“Number nine: I am going to read less trash and take up some intensive books this year. We take too may cheap magazines. They are full of silly love stories and nonsense. I have already bought the History of Philosophy, and the time I am going to stay at home I will have for improving my mind. No more trashy novels of modern stuff for me. By the way, Rachel, what was that book I saw in your room the other day? It looked to me that the picture on the cover ought to be arrested. I hope you don’t read much of that.”

Rachel blushed and then turned pale. She stammered and faltered, “It’s a book we use in our Dramatic Club. It has a plot in it for our next high-school entertainment.” Her father looked quietly at her, and Mrs. Blaisdell looked anxiously at her husband.

“Of course, Jim, the girls nowadays read some books that we never thought of when we were younger.”

“Maybe they do, Mary, but don’t you think it will make them older before they ought to be? We shall take that up in a minute.

“Number ten: I am going to write to some of my old friends whom I have neglected for years.”

“And while you are making that resolution, I will match it, James. I don’t know when I have felt so bad as I did the other day when that letter came saying that our old classmate June Beverley had died out there in Oregon. You remember all she did for me when I was so sick that winter and had to leave the dormitory and go to the hospital? And I might have helped her.” A tear stood in Mrs. Blaisdell’s blue eye, and Mr. Blaisdell glanced sympathetically at it. “And think of the time we have wasted over parties, receptions, and banquets, and then excused ourselves for not writing letters to old friends, some of them right here in Topeka.”

“Yes, which reminds me of resolution number eleven. I am going to go to see some of the shut-ins this year. There’s Professor Albert right down the street. He’s been an invalid for three years, and he used to be one of our best teachers at Washburn. I feel ashamed of myself for not going in to call, and then I complain because I don’t have time. I belong to too many organizations. I’m going to quit some of them this year.

“Well, folks, here’s number twelve. Well, I am resolving that this year I want to know my family a little better.”

The four Rs eyed one another in a circle. They were used to a good many surprises in their father and that was one of the characteristics that made him refreshingly interesting to them; but just what he was up to now, they could not guess.

“You can’t guess what I mean by this resolution, so I had better tell you. I feel that you folks have been going the gait pretty well independently. I haven’t pried into your personal affairs and I give you fair warning I am not going to spy on you or enter in on anything that is none of my business; but I am your father and the only one you have and I have a notion that I have a right to know some of the interests that belong to us all. I haven’t asked you where you are nights and other times because I have trusted you, but I don’t know what you are studying in college or school, I don’t know who your teachers are or your companions. You all have liberal allowances and I have seldom asked you how you spend them; but I give you fair notice. I am going to ask you to let me know about a number of things this year. I want you to tell me without my asking very often. Take the matter of books and amusements. Seems to me Mother and I have some right to say something about them, without interfering with our own liberty. In the matter of your associates, I—”

Richard spoke up, glancing over at Rachel. “Rachel has so many beaux that they form a line clear across the lawn on Friday nights.”

Rachel looked indignantly at her brother. “It’s not true, Father. It is one of his stories.”

“Did you see that story in the Saturday Evening Blade, Mother? One of the high-school fellows who took Rachel out to the class party last week made me think of it.”

“Does this story illustrate what we are discussing?” asked Richard’s father.

“Yes, sir, it sure does. It seems a young man was calling on a girl, and he was waiting in the parlor for the girl to come down. He had been there for what seemed to him like three or four hours when the young lady’s little brother came into the parlor holding out his hand closed over something and said to the anxious young man, ‘You don’t know what is in my hand.’ ‘Of course I don’t,’ says the young man, ‘unless I can see what you have.’ The little brother opened his hand, and the young man looked over and said, ‘Why, those are beans.’ ‘You do know beans, don’t you?’ said the little brother. ‘I heard my father say you didn’t.’”

Rachel looked angrily at her brother, but Mr. Blaisdell spoke up, “Now, Rachel, don’t worry. This is the last story Richard will be allowed to tell at this meeting. If this young fellow really does know beans he knows more than some seem to know whom I have noticed around the house. Oh I am not so unobserving as you folks sometimes seem to think; but let me get on. Number thirteen: I want to be of more use to the church in every way this year, and I am going to see how many of my business acquaintances I can persuade to join it. This town is full of men who are not professing Christians, and I have never in all my life spoken to one of my friends about the Christian life.”

Perhaps nothing Mr. Blaisdell had ever done had cost him quite so much as this simple statement made to the members of his own family. The effect of it on them was almost magical. For all their lives these children had never for one moment had any occasion to question the perfect sincerity of their father. He had never made any pretense to an ideal life, made few promises, and was the furthest possible removed from hypocrisy; so the statement he now made of a desire to extend his influence as a Christian moved them all deeply. Mrs. Blaisdell had tears again in her eyes, but this time they were not of remorse or self-reproach; they were glistening jewels of pride in her husband that overcame any other feeling she ever had for him.

“Well, folks,” said Mr. Blaisdell after the silence, speaking cheerfully as he folded up the paper and put it in his pocket, “I must be going.” He took out his watch, and he rose and said, “Thunder, I must hurry if I want to get down in time to meet Randall. I promised to be there at nine, and if I walk, I’ll have to move.” He ran into the coat room off the hall and came back saying, “Good-bye, folks. I’ll be back for lunch. We close up this afternoon anyway, you know, on account of New Year’s.”

“James, you’ve forgotten something!” called Mrs. Blaisdell to him as he reached the front door.

Mr. Blaisdell paused only a fraction of a second. Then he came slowly back and put his arms around his wife, as she had risen from her place at the table, and kissed her twice. “Once for forgetting and twice for remembering,” he said with a look she fully understood. As though unable to say more, he turned and went out. As the door shut, Mrs. Blaisdell looked at her girls.

“My daily prayer is that you may be as fortunate as I have been,” she said, and there was a reverent silence around the table for some time.

Chapter Two

Executing the Resolutions

James Blaisdell walked along at a good swift pace for several blocks. Then he began to slow down as he realized he had a corn on one foot that felt as hot as though it were roasted. He began to limp disgracefully and was irritated to think people he passed were noticing him. Soon he was aware that a big touring car had slid close up to the curb, and as he looked up, there were the four Rs. Robert shouted as the car came to a stop, “Better get in and ride down the rest of the way, Dad.”

“Yes, come on, Father, you’ve kept enough of that resolution,” seconded Rachel, beckoning with a slim and daintily gloved hand.

James Blaisdell looked over at the round faces and then said, “No, I’m going to walk all the way. Much obliged to you. If I am not asking too much, might I venture to ask where you are all going?”

Robert replied with some unwonted hesitation, “Why, we were going down to Lawrence to see some of the boys who couldn’t get home for the holidays.”

“And then where?” insisted Mr. Blaisdell, easing his sore feet a little.

Rachel blushed a little. “We were planning to come back to town this afternoon.…”

“There’s a party on for tonight, Father,” said Ruth, “and we were going to that, after a tea at one of the girls’ houses.”

“Oh,” said Mr. Blaisdell rather indifferently. “I didn’t know, seeing it was New Year’s Day that—perhaps your mother and I—well, never mind. Don’t let me keep any of you waiting.”

“Oh, Dad, please get in, and let us take you to the store,” cried Rachel.

“No, I prefer to walk. A happy New Year to you all!” He started along bravely enough, but the effort caused him almost as much pain as though he were walking on hot griddles. The four Rs looked at him in silence; then the car started up again and continued down the street.

They had crossed the Santa Fe tracks before any of them said anything. Robert broke the embarrassing silence by saying, “I say, fellows, we are a set of chumps. We ought to have climbed out and made Dad ride. He was limping.”

“It does seem almost a shame, doesn’t it, that we don’t all get together tonight, New Year’s,” volunteered Ruth.

“But I don’t see how I can give up the party,” argued Rachel, her pretty face frowning with anxiety. “I promised—”

“Pretty rotten, I call it,” broke in Robert again. “Dad has done everything for us, and we—”

“What are we going to do about this going-to-church business?” spoke up Richard. “I don’t see how I can go. I play in the Sunday-school orchestra, I go to the Record Class afterwards, and I’m too tired to—”

“Better not make that alibi,” interrupted Robert. “You know it’s bunk. Nobody’s ever too tired to do what he wants to do.”

“Why did father want to make such a ridiculous resolution?” cried Rachel petulantly. “Church is too stupid for anything. I don’t understand the Doctor’s sermons. They bore me to death.”

“But you could try to look interested, you know,” suggested Robert. “The duller he becomes the more you might lean forward and look intelligent. It might help him to be more interesting. That’s psychology, you know.”

“Oh dear, well,” was all Richard could contribute; and it was not by any means a happy New Year’s car load of Rs that finally rolled down the hill into Lawrence.

Just as they were going up the street near the Eldridge Hotel, Robert delivered himself of an ultimatum. “I want to say to the rest of you fellows, that in my opinion we are a set of chumps. Here’s Dad slaved all his life for us, giving us everything we ask for, liberal allowance, a good home, education and all that, and we know how good he is all the time, and then when he asks for some little favor, we feel grieved. You can do what you like, but I’m going to cut out the party tonight and stay at home. You will find me in the family pew tomorrow if I have to sit there alone. Fix up your alibis.”

When the car came to a stop on Massachusetts Avenue, the Blaisdell “fellows” sat there for some time, looking at one another but not saying much.

When James Blaisdell finally limped into the store, it was half past nine. He went into his office and found his partner there. Randall was a large, heavy-featured man, and he was plainly disturbed by Mr. Blaisdell’s late arrival. “Look over that invoice, will you?” he said as his partner came in.

Mr. Blaisdell cut short his “Happy New Year, Dan!” He took the paper and began to look at it when the head bookkeeper came to the office door, beaming all over.

“Happy New Year, Mr. Blaisdell, Mr. Randall. The stork left a fine ten-pound boy at our house early this morning.”

“Congratulations,” offered Mr. Blaisdell. “You ought to take a whole day off and go home to visit that newcomer. He must weigh more than ten pounds by this time.”

“We’re going to name him Blaisdell Cummings, with your permission, Mr. Blaisdell,” said Cummings.

James felt a glow all over. “It’s a compliment. I appreciate it. Tell Mrs. Cummings so for me. Thank you, Cummings, thank you. Happy New Year, a lot of ’em.”

As soon as Cummings stepped out, Randall said, “Well, you see that doesn’t look very good, does it? Looks like a dead loss.”

“What does?” asked Mr. Blaisdell. “You don’t mean Cummings’ ten pounder?”

“Ten pounder nothing. Read the invoice. It means a thousand dollar loss to us. Bad beginning for a New Year.”

Mr. Blaisdell read the paper and grasped the meaning of a financial blunder somewhere. At once he realized that it was not an opportune time to propose to his partner the resolution to close the store on Saturday afternoons. He spent the rest of the morning going over several trying events that Randall managed to drag in to spoil a holiday.

At one o’clock after the store finally closed, Mr. Blaisdell went out, caught a crowded streetcar, and reached home tired and dispirited to find Mary waiting for him with a good lunch all ready. His feet hurt him so much that he lay down in the library. There was a drizzling sleet falling, and the day was darkening with signs of a dull storm coming on.

Mary came up to the couch where her husband was lying, doing his best to choke down a groan. “It’s too bad, James. You ought not to try to walk that far. I told the children to hurry up with the car, catch up with you, and take you down. Did they find you? They were not certain just what street you took.”

“They found me all right, but I thought I’d better stick to my resolution. I think they really felt bad to go on without me.” He brightened a little as he recalled the look and the voice of Rachel.

“Where were they going?” asked Mary.

“Didn’t they tell you?”

“I was called over to the telephone while they were getting the car out, and I guess they forgot. They had gone when I came back into the dining room.”

“Well, they were going down to Lawrence to see some of their friends, and then they were coming back to town for the afternoon, and this evening they were all going to a party.”

Mary did not speak. She was bending over her husband, pretending to replace a hot cloth on the sore foot; but she could not prevent a warm tear from falling on James’ hand as he reached out to pat her cheek. “Never mind, dear, we have each other.”

“Yes, we have each other,” faltered Mary.

“Looks like it’s going to be a stormy night,” said Mr. Blaisdell as he sat up and put an arm around Mary.

“Yes,” she replied, as she ran her fingers through her husband’s rather ragged locks, “it does look like a stormy afternoon and night; but we have each other.”

“Each other,” murmured James Blaisdell, cheerfully. “Nobody can rob us of each other, can they, Mary?”

Mary answered bravely, as the afternoon darkened quickly, “No, no, nobody.”

Chapter Three

The Aftermath

One year later in the Blaisdell home on New Year’s Eve, James and Mary Blaisdell were sitting in their front room. It was decorated for a special event. A hum of pleasant voices sounded from upstairs, but for the moment James and Mary were together alone. There was a look of joy and peace on their faces that seemed to be established. Mr. Blaisdell said, “We have so much to be thankful for, Mary, dear, haven’t we?”

“Yes, but it didn’t look like it a year ago, did it?”

“Well, hardly, I lay there on that couch with a corn-founded foot, and you were weeping like a thunder cloud. When all of a sudden—”

“Yes,” interrupted Mrs. Blaisdell with a tearful laugh, “like a fairy story, in came the four Rs, with their friends. My, what an evening we did have! Do you remember how the children made us stay in here while they prepared dinner?”

“Do I? It was bum dinner, for you know Ruth and Rachel couldn’t cook a boiled egg without burning it, and they knew Maggie had gone home for New Year’s; but it was the best dinner we ever ate.”

“What a year we have had, James, dearest.”

“Yes, it’s been a great year. Too good to be true. Those resolutions went up in smoke, some of them.”

“But some of them took fire. How can you ever tell what your example about the money for the church did for other members? It has been wonderful.”

Mr. Blaisdell was silent for a moment. “You know I had no idea of making that public, but it got out somehow, and it seemed to take with quite a group of the church members. It added over a thousand dollars to the treasury.”

“And the doubling of your pledge, James. How that spread. Why, we never can tell how much that meant to the committee at the every member canvass last month. The Doctor says the budget went clear over the top for the first time in the history of the church.”

“Yes, that was great, but I don’t take the credit for that.”

“You remember Richard doubled his.”

“Yes, give him a medal. I bought him a new violin. Saved it for New Year’s instead of Christmas to celebrate this occasion.”

“You have? Where is it?”

“I left it at the store, but I’ll ask Cummings to bring it out.” James walked over to the telephone and called up Cummings.

When he returned, he was greatly excited. “Mary, Cummings says he and his wife are coming right out to pay a New Year’s call if we don’t mind, and they’re bringing Blaisdell. He says the boy can talk several languages and can walk with a little help from his grandfather and grandmother. I hope Cummings will see that boy grows up without corns. He must not begin to walk too soon.”

“How many boys have the store clerks named after you, Jim?”

“By—well, it’s getting embarrassing. I have to buy a number of silver cups and things every time. But we never got the store closed Saturdays. Randall wouldn’t hear to it.”

“That’s a small matter, James, but you have learned to slow down and not rush so much, haven’t you?”

“Well, yes, I guess so, but I come pretty near having a wreck yesterday crossing Topeka Avenue. I forgot the stop sign.”

“I have been thinking, James, about the best one of all. Your resolution about the … the—talking to men about church life. If you hadn’t made any other resolution, James, that alone would have made a New Year for you.”

“It certainly would.” They were both silent again, for this was one of the resolutions they could not talk about much, but the past year had been a great experience for James Blaisdell. In some ways it was the greatest he had ever known, and no one except his pastor and a few others will ever know the meaning of that resolution in the lives of several men.

“And the Sunday resolution. The children with us. And the example has spread.”

“Yes, and I believe the preaching is more interesting. Some psychology perhaps.”

“I have been thinking that we ought to be most thankful about the children, James. What a wonderful thing to have them with us tonight.”

“Wonderful, but we came pretty near to losing Rachel.”

“I can’t bear to think of that. Oh, James, if you hadn’t come to feel that the children ought to share their lives with us, what a tragedy we might have for our memories tonight.”

“That fellow whom Rachel seemed to be infatuated with! It stopped just in time. How the girl ever—well, Mary, we didn’t begin right with the children. I’m going to tell you now why I had that resolution meeting a year ago. The facts I found out about the children’s habits of reading, their associates, and all that made me fairly sick for a while. But I believe they had a foundation, and you are to thank for that, of solid common sense that saved the situation many times. The children are all with us and happy tonight. Fairies do exist, don’t they?”

“Yes, and you’re one of them. Here comes the rest of them.”

There was a rush down the stairs, and the four Rs came into the front room shouting. They made for their dad and mother and gathered them up in a circling embrace. If there was a happier family in town, James and Mary Blaisdell did not know where it could be. Resolution thirteen proved to be lucky. Mr. Blaisdell looked proud of his flock. Mary looked younger than when he courted her on the campus. Robert had thickened up a little and had added dignity, for his shingle was out and he was a full-fledged lawyer with an office over his father’s store. Richard was to graduate in music next year and had begun to write what he called musical stories. Ruth succeeded in getting an article in The Youth’s Companion and never cashed the check but mounted it in a frame. Rachel gave up some of the artificial coloring and enhanced her beauty accordingly. She clung to her father that happy night a little longer than the others, for she had begun to realize from all her dad saved her.

The whole group waited for the Cummings, including Blaisdell, the ten pounder who had grown to twenty-six. “Twenty-six. Just my wife’s age and mine when we were married, Mrs. Cummings,” said Mr. Blaisdell as he grabbed his namesake, under protest from Mary that he hold the child right side up.

“We planned to get here just in time for dinner,” said Cummings, as he looked into the dining room.

“And you’re mighty lucky that Maggie is staying over this year, and you’ll get a good one,” replied Mr. Blaisdell, winking at the girls.

“Dinner is served,” announced Maggie, who had a new hat made by Mary and a new necklace given to her by the girls, for Maggie was one of the family and had named one of her children after Mary.

After Mr. Blaisdell asked grace, he looked around. “Where’s that bundle you brought out, Cummings?”

Cummings excused himself, went to the hall, and brought out the new violin. As soon as Mr. Blaisdell handed the package to Richard, the boy opened it and rested his new violin on his shoulder with a look of supreme delight. “Father, have you heard my musical story about the first family in the Garden of Eden?”

“If it’s one of your compositions, play it now,” replied Mr. Blaisdell.

“Words and music all my own,” said Richard, winking at Rachel:

“Oh, there was a happy family

In Eden years ago,

It hadn’t any past, for there wasn’t any, you know;

It hadn’t any neighbors,

To bother it at all,

And every day was summer

Until there was a fall;

It celebrated New Year’s

With jollity and fun,

And there wasn’t another family in all the world

As happy as this one.

Oh, this family in Eden

Wasn’t anybody’s fool,

But they never went to college

For there wasn’t any school;

And it never had to worry

Over any income tax

For there wasn’t any income

To supply the country’s lacks.

And it might have been all summer

If it hadn’t been for fall,

For of all the families living

’Twas the happiest of all.”

Mr. Blaisdell looked across the table at Mary, who wore the “permanent wave” smile. It was there to stay all through the year of our Lord, nineteen hundred and thirty.

About the Author

Charles M. Sheldon (1857–1946) was an American social reformer who was best known for his authorship of the best-selling inspirational novel In His Steps (1897). A longtime pastor in Topeka, Kansas, he was an early advocate of civil rights and social services for African Americans and a firm believer in putting one’s religion into practice in daily life.

THE THIRTEENTH RESOLUTION

Published by David C Cook

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All rights reserved. No part of this ebook may be reproduced, scanned, resold, or distributed by or through any print or electronic medium without written permission from the publisher. This ebook is licensed solely for the personal and noncommercial use of the original authorized purchaser, subject to the terms of use under which it was purchased. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights.

This story is a work of fiction. Characters and events are the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to any person, living or dead, is coincidental.

eISBN 978-1-4347-0659-1

© 1928, 2012 David C Cook

First printed edition published by David C Cook in 1928.

Written by Charles M. Sheldon

First Digital Edition 2012

Table of Contents

Cover

Foreword

Chapter One: Framing the Resolutions

Chapter Two: Executing the Resolutions

Chapter Three: The Aftermath

About the Author