After that first perfect Latin lesson, Johnny’s road to success seemed in a measure broken, and though he by no means achieved perfection every time, his failures were less total and humiliating, day by day, and, to use his own beautiful about the hat, he began to find “pegs” in his head whereon he could hang his daily of Latin. But it was still hard work; there was no denying that; and if his affection for his father had not been very strong and true, the task would have been still more difficult. But somehow, whenever Mr. Leslie came home looking more tired than usual, or turned into a joke one of the many little acts of self-denial and unselfish courtesy which helped to make his home so bright, it seemed to Johnny that it would be mean indeed to over this one thing, which he was doing to please his father.  
He had been much impressed by the manner in which he had learned that first perfect lesson, for, on the previous Sunday, when he had recited the verses which told how the five loaves and two small fishes had fed the hungry multitude in the , he had thought, and said, that it must have been easier for those people who saw the Master perform such miracles, to follow him, than it was now for those who must “walk by faith” , with no gracious face and voice to draw them on.
 
His mother did not contradict him, just then; she rarely did, when he said anything like that; she preferred to wait, and let him find out for himself, with more or less help from her. So she only answered, this time,—
 
“Was the thimble really hidden last night, Johnny? You know I was called away before anybody found it, and you were all declaring that this time, you were sure, it couldn’t be ‘in plain sight.’”
 
Johnny laughed, but he looked a little foolish, too, as he answered,—
 
“Why no, mamma—it was perched on the damper of the stove. I declare, that game puzzles me more and more every time we play it; I might as well be an idiot and be done with it! But what made you think of that just now, mamma dear?”
 
“I suppose it came into my mind because I want you to look a little harder before you let yourself be quite certain about the miracles,” replied his mother, “and I will give you a sort of clue. You know papa’s business is a very absorbing one, and you often hear people wondering how he finds time for all the other things he does, but I never wonder; it seems to me that he gives all his time to the Master, and that he is so free from worrying care—so sure he will have time enough for all that is really needful, that he loses none in or hesitating; he just goes right on. There is a dear old saying of the Friends that I always like—‘Proceed as the way opens.’ Now if you will think about it, and about how uses for money, and for all our gifts and talents, come in some way to all who are in earnest about using them rightly, perhaps you will see what I mean. ‘A heart at leisure from itself’ can do a truly wonderful amount of work for other people.”
 
A dim idea of his mother’s meaning had come into Johnny’s mind, even then, and suddenly, after he had done work which he had thought would fill half an hour, in fifteen minutes, a flash of light followed, and he “saw plainly.”
 
I cannot tell you of all the small chances which came to him daily, but many of them you can guess by looking for your own. He tried hard to remember what his mother had said about willing service and cheerful giving. “Oh bother!” was not heard very often, now, and when it was, it was generally followed speedily by some “little deed of kindness” which showed that it had been of.
 
He was rushing home from school one day in one of his “cyclones,” as Tiny called the wild charges which he made upon the house when he was really in a hurry. It was a half-holiday, and most of the boys had agreed to go skating together, just as soon as some ten or fifteen mothers could be brought within shouting distance. The ice was unusually late, and the weather was clear and cold, but everybody knew that a must come before long, in the nature of things, and everybody who skated felt that it really was a sort of duty to make the most of the ice, while it lasted.
 
Johnny was like the Irishman’s gun in one respect—he could “shoot round a corner;” but he did not always succeed in hitting anything, as he did to-day. The anything, this time, happened to be Jim Brady, and as Jim was going very nearly as fast as Johnny was, neither had breath enough left, after the collision, to say anything for at least a minute. Then Jim managed to inquire, between his gasps,—
 
“Any lives lost on your side, Johnny?”
 
“No, I b’lieve not,” said Johnny, rather feebly, and then they both leaned against the fence, and laughed.
 
“I was coming after you, Johnny,” began Jim, and then he stopped to breathe again.
 
“Well, you found me!” said Johnny, who, being smaller and than Jim, was first to recover from the shock, “but tell me what it is, please, quick, for I’m in a hurry!”
 
And almost without knowing that he did so, he squared his elbows to run on again. Jim saw the motion, and his face clouded over.
 
“I can’t tell you everything I had to say in half a second, so I’ll not bother you; maybe, I can find somebody else,” and Jim began to walk off.
 
Johnny sprang after him, caught his arm, and gave him a little shake, saying as he did so,—
 
“See here, Jim Brady, if you don’t stop putting on airs at me like this, I’ll—I’ll—” and he stopped for want of a threat enough for the occasion.
 
“I would,” said Jim, dryly, “but if I were you, I’d find out first what airs was—were—and who was putting ’em on. I see you’re in a hurry, and I’m sorry I stopped you. Let go of my arm, will you?”
 
“No, I won’t!” said Johnny, “so there now! And if you won’t be decent, and turn ’round, and walk towards home with me, why, I’ll walk along with you till you tell me what you were going to say. I never did see such a&md............