Kitabı oku: «Running To Waste», sayfa 7

“Come, Captain, shake hands and forgive me.”

She stretched out her hand. The Captain hesitated – then took it.

“You’ll never regret this night’s work as long as you live, – never! And I’ll never go to sleep at night without a prayer for Captain Thompson.”

“Pray as much as you please, Hulda; I shall need it all. But if we are to be friends, not a word of what has been said to-night, in Cleverly. You understand?”

“If you insist on hiding your light under a bushel, I’m not mean enough to kick it over without your consent. But it’s a shame. Everybody ought to know what a good man you are.”

The Captain turned on his heel. “Good night, Hulda! Good night, Mark! I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Good night, Captain! You’ve made my sleep hearty to-night,” cried Small.

“Good night, Captain. God bless you!” cried Hulda. And so they parted.

The Captain laughed to himself, as he marched into the road; but there he met his son Harry. He pulled his hat over his eyes, and without recognition passed him by as he would a stranger.

“The Lord sent him, Mark, to-night, you believe that?” said Hulda, as the Captain disappeared.

“The Lord put a noble heart in his breast, and it turned him toward the old mill. It’s the same thing, Hulda; but you and I look at it in a different light. Now I’ll beau you home. You don’t get a beau every night, Hulda.”

“I never wanted but one, and he never happened along until to-night.”

They laughed merrily and started off, arm in arm, only a few steps, and they came plump upon Harry Thompson.

“Hullo! Small, is that you? I came up to offer a little friendly consolation, but you seem in good spirits. What, Aunt Hulda, you here! What’s the meaning of this?” and Harry for once, looked very sober.

“The fire is all out, Harry,” said Small, confused.

“Is it?” said Harry, “There’s no danger of its rekindling.” He looked hard at Aunt Hulda. He could not understand the situation. Until now, he supposed the two were strangers. Their confused manner was a puzzle, too.

“There’s no vestige of a flame there,” said Small, “not a spark. All dead and gone.”

Harry looked as though there was a flame very near to Small, but said nothing about it.

“I just ran up to look after you, Small, to see that you did not get down in the mouth, and to say for my mother, that if you need help, there’s money in her purse at your command. Good night! Look out for the sparks, Aunt Hulda.” And with a laugh he turned on his heel and walked away.

“Wonder if the Lord sent him?” growled Mark. Aunt Hulda said nothing. The situation in which she found herself, was very awkward, and she trudged along with her arm in Mark’s, very much like a lamb led to slaughter. This could not continue long however, and e’er they reached the Sleeper place, their tongues were loosened, and they found themselves building castles as airy and fleecy as lovers are accustomed to shape in the years allotted to youth and romance.

CHAPTER XI.
BECKY BEARDS THE LION IN HIS DEN

With the burning of the mill, Becky’s march towards independence was stayed for a while by the failure of supplies. There was a disposition on the part of Cleverly folks to lionize the young girl for the brave deed she had accomplished. Much to her surprise, people who had before shunned her took particular pains to call and thank her for the heroism she had displayed. Deacon Procter’s wife – a woman who, in the tomboy days, had caught her among the melons, who had told her she was on the broad road to destruction – smiled upon her kindly, patted her cheek, and called her a brave, good girl, and the pride of the town. Parson Arnold, who before had pulled his hat over his eyes, and stepped one side, when he met her, now benevolently laid his hand upon her head, with a blessing. Even the boys – Teddy’s cronies – gathered about the house, and, on her appearance at the door or the window, testified their approbation of her conduct by loud and prolonged cheering; while buxom Mrs. York visited the house regularly every day for a week, to clasp Becky in her arms with such a strength of gratitude that the girl really feared the breath would be driven from her body.

All this was a source of wonder to her. She had felt a glow of pleasure when she saw the flush on her mother’s cheek, the tears standing in her eyes, and a faint smile upon her lips. There was something very warming to her heart, when Aunt Hulda said, with a shake of the head, —

“What did I tell you? She’s a brave, good girl; and I knew she’d come out strong when she did come;” with a defiant glance at an invisible somebody, who might be inclined to doubt her.

Mrs. Thompson’s warm kiss of approval; Harry’s loud “Well done, pet! I’m proud of you!” all these were very gratifying to her. But these outward demonstrations seemed to her something to which she was not entitled, and so dismayed her that she took every opportunity possible to hide herself on the appearance of visitors.

The destruction of the mill was a bitter disappointment to her. She had set her heart on earning a hundred dollars. She had reached ninety, and the opportunity had vanished in fire and smoke. Not all the praise of Cleverly could compensate her for this loss. But though disappointed, she was not disheartened; and leaving the ninety safely locked, like the good woman in the Scriptures, she went searching about to discover the missing ten.

October came, and school opened once more, Mr. Drinkwater in his place, and Becky and Teddy among his pupils. For a time the young master, with his lively interest in their studies and out-door pastimes, his original way of making the most laborious duties pleasant, was missed; but Mr. Drinkwater was an earnest teacher, a kind and honorable man, methodical in his course of training, and under his charge the school prospered.

Harry Thompson was still an inmate of Mr. Drinkwater’s house, chafing under the restraint of inaction, yet obedient to the wishes of the mother to whom he owed his education, whose loving heart could not harbor the thought of a long absence, and whose faith in the reconciliation that would place her son in his home was still strong. How it was to be brought about, she knew not; but this separation was unnatural; it must have an end. Only have patience, and the perfect worker, in God’s good time, would mend the broken threads.

One cold November afternoon, Mrs. Thompson, with her knitting needles busily plying, sat in the sitting-room of the little brown house, now made very comfortable by the zealous workers. A miniature bonfire crackled and blazed in the broad fireplace, bountifully supplied by Harry Thompson, who lazily lounged in a rocking-chair before it, and divided his attention between a frequent piling of sticks and the contents of a portfolio in his lap.

Into this cosy retreat, with a rush of cold air, burst Becky Sleeper, in her usual dashing style, flinging her books on the sofa, her hat in one corner, her cloak in another, her gloves on the mantel-piece, and herself into a chair.

“There, Aunt Rebecca! I’ve stood this just as long as I’m a going to. I must earn money somehow. That hateful ten got into two of my sums to-day, and completely ruined them. It haunts me. Master Drinkwater asked me how many straight lines there were in a dollar mark, and I said ten; how many senses there were, and I said ten; and I got well laughed at. It’s no use. I never can succeed in anything more until I earn that ten dollars. So don’t oppose me, for I’m determined to get work at the woolen mill.”

Having emphatically launched this alarming threat, Becky applied herself to the task of raising the temperature of that truthful thermometer, – her nose, – which indicated a state of the weather but little above zero. This she did by a brisk application of her hand, with her eyes fastened upon her companions.

“Take care, Becky; you’ll rub it off. It’s very tender, and there’s but little of it,” said Harry, with a laugh. “Woolen mill, indeed! You can’t get up a blaze there; it’s brick.”

“Don’t think of such a thing, child. There’s no necessity for your earning money,” said Mrs. Thompson.

“Necessity or not, I mean to try. To-morrow morning I shall go there, and ask for work,” replied Becky; “so don’t try to stop me, for I know it’s right for me to do all I can for the support of the family.”

“Earn money in the woolen mill! Nonsense! Why, there’s talent enough in this portfolio to give you a handsome living, independent of the dust and dirt of an ugly, noisy mill.”

“In that portfolio?” said Becky. “What do you mean, Harry?”

“Why, didn’t you know, Becky, that men have made fortunes by their skill with the pencil and brush?”

“Men! Men can do anything; but girls can’t.”

“Don’t be so sure of that Becky. I know a young lady who earns twice as much as you ever did in the paper mill, by the use of a pencil.”

“You know a young lady?” said Becky, with a flush. “Who – where? What’s her name?”

Harry laughed.

“Ah, now you’re getting inquisitive, Miss Becky.”

“I know who it is, Becky,” said Mrs. Thompson. “He’s told me all about it, and I’ll tell you.”

“Mother, mother,” said Harry, with much sternness, “secrets are sacred. You must not tell.”

Becky began to feel decidedly uncomfortable. Here was a young lady she had never heard of. There was a secret, and it must not be told. O, dear! somebody was coming between Harry and herself. She covered her eyes with her hand; her face was burning.

“What a silly goose!” she thought, and fell to rubbing her nose again, which now indicated a very high degree of temperature.

“No matter, Becky,” said Harry, noticing her confusion; “I’ll make a clean breast of it, and let you into the secret. When I was at Cambridge, I boarded with a widow who had one daughter. She was about your age, and her name was Alice. Nice name – isn’t it!”

“I don’t know. Yes – yes,” said Becky; “of course. Didn’t she have any other name?”

“Certainly – Alice Parks. But Alice is such a pretty name, it’s a pity it didn’t stand alone, and have no parks about it. Alice – Alice. I do like that name!”

“Why, Harry, what are you thinking of?” asked Mrs. Thompson, in surprise.

“Thinking of Alice, of course,” said Becky, with a little snap of temper. “I don’t see what that’s got to do with a pencil.”

“Then we’ll come to the point – of the story, not the pencil,” said Harry, who was evidently enjoying the confusion of Becky. “Well, you must know, I took a great fancy to this girl, she was so pretty, and so gentle and obliging. They were poor people, and found it hard to keep up a respectable appearance, and make their home comfortable, and table inviting. But they did it; and it was just the nicest, cosiest place in all the world, except home.” Harry sobered here, and looked at his mother. “Well, Alice had a talent for painting and drawing, and amused herself in her leisure moments with making sketches and water colors, with which to adorn their rooms. I was very grateful to them for their kindness to me; and one day I purloined some of Alice’s drawings, and took them into Boston. I had often played cricket with an Englishman, – John Woodfern, – who, I knew, was one of the best engravers in America. I took the sketches to him, told my story, and asked him to do something for the girl. He took a fancy to the drawings at once. He had a fancy for me already; and, fortunately, he had just taken a contract to supply a children’s magazine, then in successful operation. He sent for Alice, took a fancy to her, too, and at once set her to work. She is now a successful artist. So you see, Becky, what a young girl can do, when she has a smart, enterprising man to help her. Ahem!”

“Do you think I could do that too?” asked Becky, with sparkling eyes.

“Of course you could. John Woodfern could never refuse such convincing proofs as are packed away in this portfolio.”

“O, isn’t that splendid! I know I should like that work,” cried Becky, jumping up and clapping her hands. “I’ll go to Boston at once!”

“Hold on, hold on, aspiring genius!” exclaimed Harry. “You go to Boston – one hundred and twenty miles! Nonsense! You will stay at home, and go to school; and when the term is over, we’ll see what can be done.”

“But I can’t wait. I must have work. O, let me go. I can find the way, and Mr. John Woodfern, too.”

“No, no; I won’t aid you unless you strictly conform to my wishes. Am I not right, mother?”

“Yes, Harry,” said Mrs. Thompson; “it’s best that Becky give her attention to home and school this winter. Be patient, Becky. Harry has opened an agreeable field of labor to you, where you shall work in good time.”

“Yes, Becky, I’ve discovered the mine where lie concealed treasures of wealth, which you shall pick with the point of a pencil. Only wait until I give you the word.”

Discovered a mine? Ah, Master Harry, you’ve reared a mine of another sort, and laid a train, and put the match into the hands of a quick-witted girl. Look out for a speedy explosion.

This new idea so bewitched Becky, that the haunting figures ten were quickly rubbed out of existence in her day-dreams, to give place to the Utopian vision of fame and fortune, which Harry had conjured for her especial benefit. Mother and son departed. The girl sat and gazed into the fire, with mingled feelings of hope and disappointment. There was a bright prospect in the future for her. Harry had said she had the talent; her own heart told her she had the power to accomplish this new undertaking. But he had put the attempt a long way off, and bade her be patient. Patience, indeed! Wait until the end of the term – six months. In that time what an immense sum could be added to her store! No; she would act at once. Patience, as yet, was no prominent quality in her volatile disposition; and now, when so easy a victory over the crushing despot, dependence she so loathed was at her will, she could not heed its voice. She would act at once. And then the thought of the dear friends she must disappoint by her disobedience checked her. But again the ambitious fever raged, and into her musings crept Miss Alice Parks; Alice, of whom Harry was so fond! She would go. She would see this paragon, and know why he raved so about her. And so, two desires mingled in her meditations, the one born of a healthy ambition to achieve independence, the other springing from a jealous affection, too mischievous to be the happy tenant of a young girl’s heart.

For three days duty and inclination struggled with Becky for the mastery. In the afternoon of the fourth day she took from her box the carefully hoarded sum she had earned at the paper mill, and set out for school.

That afternoon Captain Thompson, as was his usual custom, was seated at his desk in the corner of the sitting-room, making up his accounts for the day. He was alone; his good wife, as was her usual afternoon custom, was at Mrs. Sleeper’s – a proceeding of which the peppery captain took not the least apparent notice. But he knew all that had happened during the year; knew what was happening now – the daily meetings of his wife and son; the reformation of Becky; his son’s brave deed in the dam; the girl’s heroism at the burning mill. But he never made any comments, and to all seemed an uninterested man, wrapped in ship-building and monetary speculations.

But one single thread connected him with any interest in the Sleeper affairs. He and Teddy Sleeper had become warm friends. Teddy had wandered into the ship-yard one day, had watched the ship upon the stocks, and the men at work, and, desiring some information, had coolly walked up to Captain Thompson, and asked a question. The captain looked at him in surprise, then kindly answered him, found he was interested in the ship, and, to the astonishment of everybody, sat down, and told him all about it. From that time Teddy’s out-door life was passed in the ship-yard. After school found him there, and the captain expecting him. They drove about town together; and people said the boy had got the right side of the captain, and his fortune would be made.

But not a word of home dropped from Teddy’s lips. The captain never asked questions in that direction; and Teddy was too shrewd to peril their friendship by treading on forbidden ground. This day Teddy had not put in an appearance, and for that or some other reason the captain was in his unhappiest mood. He blotted his ledger, spilled his ink, hitched about in his chair, and puffed and worried, until he worked himself into a steaming mood, that required frequent applications of his handkerchief. In his highest state of excitement came a knock at the front door.

“Here, you, Silly, you silly thing! where are you?” he shouted. “See who’s at the door.”

There was a “clap-clap-clap” in the next room, and Silly York made her appearance.

“Do you want me, captain?”

“No, I don’t want you. Somebody’s at the door. If they want you, they’re welcome to you.”

“Do you want me to go to the door?”

“Of course I do. What else are you here for? Start yourself, quick!”

Silly stepped across the room, and opened a door, and passed into the front entry.

“Here, you! mind! I’m busy, and don’t want to see anybody. Shut that door!”

Silly slammed the door after her. Then the captain heard a scream, and Silly’s voice.

“O, you dear little thing! I must hug you! Come right in.”

The door flew open.

“Didn’t I tell you I wouldn’t see anybody?” shouted the captain.

“You don’t know who it is. You wouldn’t shut her out – would you? She saved my sister!”

“Hang your sister! She – ” And then he stopped, for in the room stood Silly, and the last one he ever expected to meet in his house – Becky Sleeper.

The captain looked at her in astonishment. He knew her well. They had never spoken to each other since that first day at school – but he had watched her since then – was well informed as to her progress. And yet, the bright, young, well-dressed, graceful girl, with a smile on her face, standing before him, took him by surprise, and made a gentle man of him at once.

“I hope I do not interrupt you, Captain Thompson,” said Becky, very gently; “but I have a little business with you; and if you would kindly give me five minutes, I should be very much obliged.”

The captain got up from his chair, and made a low bow. It surprised him as soon as it was done; but he couldn’t help it.

“Certainly, Miss Becky, if I can be of service to you, – Silly, you needn’t stop.”

“But I want to,” said Silly. “She saved my sister.”

Becky laughed.

“I’ll come out and see you before I go,” she said. “You’re not afraid to trust me alone with the captain – are you?”

Silly looked at the captain and then at Becky, evidently believing that it was her duty to stay and protect Becky.

“Here; you start your boots – quick!”

The captain mounted his high horse, and Silly started for the kitchen in a hurry.

“Now, Miss Becky, what have you to say?”

The captain sat at his desk, and motioned Becky to a chair. She did not obey his motion, but came to his side.

“Captain Thompson, I’ve been wanting to come to you, to thank you for being so kind to us all, for helping – no, not helping, for you have done everything. You have given us food and clothing; and without your aid I don’t know what would have become of us.”

“O, pshaw!” said the captain. “Is that all you came for?”

“No. I came to beg your pardon for being so much trouble to you when I was a wild tomboy. I was young then; didn’t know how wrong it was. I’m older now, and see my error.”

The captain looked at her with increasing wonder. Could this be the tomboy who had snatched his whip from his hand, stolen his horse, and given him such a chase – this little woman, with her sweet voice and penitent air? Or was this some new trick?

“Well,” said he at last, gruffly; “is that all you came for?”

“No,” answered Becky. “When I found that we were indebted to you for food and clothing, when I began to be a better girl, I felt it was mean to let you do everything, and I, strong and active, doing nothing; so I went to work in the paper mill. You know how it was destroyed.”

“Yes; and how a brave girl, at the risk of her own life, saved a weak and helpless companion,” burst out the captain. “O, I know it!”

“Yes,” said Becky, with heightened color, “the mill was burned. I had saved ninety dollars. O, I did so want to make it a hundred! But I couldn’t. I meant to bring it to you, to pay you in part for what you had done for me and mine. But I’ve brought you the ninety.” And Becky suddenly laid upon the desk before the eyes of the astonished captain her savings.

The captain started, then stared at the little pile of money very hard, then harder still at Becky, and back at the money again, until tears began to drop from his eyes, when, without any further ceremony, he pulled out his handkerchief, and blubbered like a big school-boy. It was now Becky’s turn to be surprised.

“O, captain, I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. I only wanted to repay you just a little for your kindness. I didn’t mean any harm – indeed I didn’t.”

“Becky Sleeper, you’re a little angel, and I’m an ugly old brute. Pick up your money. I don’t want it. To think that I’ve been abusing you all this time, and you coming in this way to pour coals of fire on my head. I’m an old fool! Take your money – quick!”

“No, captain, don’t ask me to do that. If you knew what a temptation that money has been to me, you would never ask me – never.”

“Temptation! What do you mean?”

“I’ll tell you, captain, a secret. You must not tell, not even Aunt Rebecca. You won’t – will you?” Becky smiled at the captain. “Honor bright.”

The captain smiled at Becky. It was a good-humored smile. They were getting on famously.

“I’ll keep your secret, Becky, when I get it.”

“Well, then, you must know that I’ve just learned of a very nice way to make money, one I should like very much. To get it in this nice way, it is necessary to make a journey to Boston, to see a certain man, and he would give me drawing, for engravings. Aunt Rebecca – no, Harry – told me of it; your Harry.”

The captain did not stop her at the mention of that name, a name forbidden to be spoken in that house. There was a little more color in his face; but he looked steadily at her.

“I had the money to take me there, and I was tempted to use it; tempted, O, so hard! till at last I remembered it was your money; and, to put the temptation from me, I brought it to you. I didn’t want to until I had the hundred. Now I’m glad I did. Had I gone, I should have disobeyed Aunt Rebecca, and – Harry.”

“Why disobeyed Aunt Rebecca?” said the captain, quietly dropping the other party.

“Because they,” said Becky, not relishing the dropping game, “forbade my going until the expiration of the school term.”

“How? She forbid you! It’s a good idea; a nice way of earning money; and you want to go still?”

“O, indeed I do, if only it was right.”

“Right? Of course it’s right,” said the captain, roused at a chance for opposition. “She’s no right to prevent you, and I should like to see her do it. You want to go to Boston. You shall go.”

Becky flushed with pleasure.

“O, if could only go! I know I could succeed. But what would Aunt Rebecca and – ”

“Hang Aunt Rebecca!” shouted the captain, cutting in to prevent the addition of the other name. “I’ve just as much right to direct your actions as she has. I’m going to Boston to-morrow morning. You shall go with me.”

Before the appearance of Becky, the captain had no intention of taking a journey.

“O, that will be splendid – if I only could.”

“You can, and shall. Go home, get ready, and to-morrow morning at five o’clock meet me at the school-house. Phil shall drive us over to Foxtown. We’ll take the cars there, and be in Boston at one. Here, take your money;” and the captain swept it from the desk, and put it in her hand. “When I want it, I’ll ask for it.”

“But how can I ever pay you?”

“By shaking hands, and being friends with the old man. You may add a kiss if you like.”

“A dozen!” cried Becky, throwing her arms about the captain’s neck. “You dear, good, kind, noble old captain!”

“Now, good by, little one. Be sure and be on time to-morrow morning at five.”

“When the clock strikes, you’ll find me there. Good by.”

Becky ran home with a happy heart, bounced into the sitting room, and told them all about it – Mrs. Thompson and Harry; then ran to her mother’s room, and told her; then to the kitchen, and told Aunt Hulda. And such a surprised household it would be hard to find.

Harry Thompson frowned, and was inclined to put a stop to the journey; but his mother looked happy.

“Our little witch has caught the captain. Do not interfere, for out of this friendship I foresee a happy day for you and me. ‘Let patience have her perfect work.’”