Free The 13th Resolution by Charles M. Sheldon Page A

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