Kitabı oku: «Owen's Fortune; Or, "Durable Riches"», sayfa 3

CHAPTER III.
MAKING HIS FORTUNE

OWEN sprang up and acknowledged the relationship, following the girl through the back of the shop, upstairs to a pleasant room, where tea was already spread.

"Father is busy with Dawson just for a few minutes," she said, "but mother will be here presently. Oh, there she is. Mother, here is Owen; where is he to sleep?"

"In the little room at the top of the stairs," replied a middle-aged, active-looking woman, who stood before Owen, without giving him a word of greeting, saying, critically, "You look pretty capable; are you willing to work?"

"Oh yes, ma'am; I will do anything I can."

"That is right," said Clarice, kindly; "come, I will show you your room, and you can wash your hands and face, and then come down to tea. I expect you want something after your journey."

Owen looked gratefully at his cousin as he carried his box upstairs after her. The little room in which she left him was dreary and cold, so different to his pretty little bedroom at home, which his father had made so cheerful and pleasant. But Owen was determined not to look on the dark side. He peeped out of the window; it looked down on the busy street, and the tops of the houses. As far as he could see were house-tops, and he wondered how far off the country could be. He felt a little sore at his aunt's cool manner, and was almost inclined to cry, as he turned to the washstand to follow his cousin's suggestion. The cold water refreshed him, and things looked brighter when he made his way down to the parlour, and found only Clarice waiting for him.

"You and I will have tea by ourselves," she said, cheerfully; "father is not ready yet, and mother has gone down to him. Would you like a slice of ham? Here is bread, and a nice hot cup of tea. I wonder how you will like the town."

So Clarice chatted away, trying to make the boy at home. The warm tea revived him, and his cousin's kindness won his heart, so that when she said, "I am so glad you have come, I know we shall be good friends," he was able to respond, "Yes, I am glad too; you are good and pretty."

Clarice laughed. "Nobody ever told me that before. I have to work too hard to be pretty. Father and mother let no one be idle. We must do all we can to make a fortune." But she said it somewhat bitterly, and Owen did not know how to reply, though he said, after a pause, "Don't you want to make a fortune?"

"I would rather enjoy what money we have," said Clarice. "What is the good of going on heaping up money all your life, and never enjoying what it brings at all?"

"That is what Mrs. Mitchell said."

"Who is Mrs. Mitchell?"

"A neighbour of ours. She said it was best to get 'durable riches.'"

"What sort of riches are they?"

"I don't quite know, but they are in the Bible; I read it there."

"Oh," said Clarice, "I don't know much of the Bible. Perhaps it would be better if I did, but father would not like me to spend time reading it. Will you have some more tea? No? Then we had better go down, and father and mother can come up. Father never likes to leave the counting-house unless one of us is there, but I don't see why he can't trust Dawson."

Owen followed his cousin downstairs. The shop was now brightly lighted up, and the fragrant smell of newly-ground coffee pervaded the place. Looking out at the door, he could see the twinkling lights of the pier at the end of the broad street, and the tall, dark masts of the vessels in the river; while nearer were rows of bright shops, and many feet hurrying past. It was a great change for the country-bred boy.

"What time do the people go to bed here?" he asked, as he returned to his cousin.

"Why, not yet for a long time."

"They all look as if it was the middle of the day, and in Westbrook every one was at home and quiet after tea."

Clarice laughed. "You will see a great difference here, Owen."

The next morning his uncle told him he must set to work, and gave him some employment at once, quite to Owen's satisfaction, for he did not care to be idle. It was a new thing to be busy about a shop, but he liked the change. It had been arranged that he should serve his uncle for the first three months without payment, only getting his board and lodging; but after that, if he proved capable, his uncle promised him a small salary.

"Of course you will have to buy your clothes out of it. But if you really wish to make your fortune, take my advice, never spend more than you can help! Save up all you can, and never buy anything you can possibly do without."

Owen promised obedience, and threw his whole heart into his work. Poor lad, he seemed in danger of forgetting his father's advice, and the unworldly lessons he had learnt in earlier days, as he made haste to be rich. For no one in his uncle's household seemed to think of anything beyond this present life. His uncle was somewhat strict with him, though on the whole he treated him kindly, while his aunt was very cool and stern. But Clarice was very fond of her young cousin, and whenever she could obtain her father's consent, would take him out with her, and walk along the river-side, or round the docks, where the boy never ceased to wonder at the new and strange things he saw.

Among the men and boys employed in the shop, Owen was much attracted by a young errand-boy, about his own age, whom everybody called "David," and he soon made friends with him. David was very obliging, and always willing to help Owen any way he could, which was not the case with Norris, one of the young men, who seemed to take a delight in thwarting and hindering him.

One day when David had some extra heavy parcels to carry, Owen was sent out with him, and as they walked along, he asked him his surname.

"David Netherclift," he replied.

"What!" said Owen, "Netherclift, did you say?"

"Yes, why not?"

"Why, Sam Netherclift was my greatest friend down home. It is funny you should have the same name."

"Where is your home?"

"At Westbrook, near Allenbury; a long way from here."

"Westbrook? I have often heard my father speak of it; his brother lives there. I expect Sam is my cousin. I'll ask father."

"Oh, do. Does your father live near here?"

"Not far off. But we must not go there now."

"Why not?"

"Because this is the time for work. Father says it is as bad as stealing to take my master's time for my own use. I'll ask him all about it to-night, and tell you in the morning."

"I expect your father is something like mine was," said Owen; "he was so good, and never let me do wrong if he could help it."

"Is he dead?" asked David.

"Yes, he died some time ago. If he had been alive I should not be here, for I would never have left him."

When the boys returned to the shop, they were both set busily to work, and had no time for further conversation. But next day David found opportunity to say, "Sam is my cousin, and father says he hopes you will come and see him some day; he would like to hear about Westbrook."

Owen was getting rapidly initiated into business habits, and being a quick, intelligent boy, did not often want telling twice how to do a thing, so that his uncle regarded him with favour, and at times allowed him to help Clarice in the counting-house when she was extra busy. The boy missed the country life, the long walks, the skating, the thousand pleasures of unfettered rural life, and he sometimes wished he could have a holiday, though he never said so to his uncle, but stuck manfully to his work till late every night, and then threw himself on his bed, and went sound asleep.

Mr. Hadleigh seldom went to church; indeed, the whole family were generally too tired on a Sunday, after a week of incessant labour, to do anything but rest. In fine weather Clarice generally went for a walk in the afternoon, and her father sometimes accompanied her. But on winter evenings they sat round the fire, yawning and tired, wishing the hours would pass rapidly by, so that the shop could be opened again. Mr. Hadleigh really cared for nothing but business.

The first Sunday or two Owen was very miserable. Sundays had been such bright days in his old home. He had always gone to church with his father in the morning, and to a class he held for elder boys in the afternoon; and though he had not always taken heed to the lessons as he ought, he had at any rate enjoyed the time. And he looked back to the Westbrook Sundays as days of peaceful rest. The first Sunday after he had found out that David was a cousin of his old friend Sam, he ventured to ask his uncle if he might go and spend the afternoon with the Netherclifts. His uncle gave him leave, not caring what he did on Sundays, so long as he attended well to his work during the week.

Owen started off eagerly, and just round the corner saw David, who had come to meet him by agreement. They walked some little distance, till they reached a narrower street, with smaller houses—a dingy street Owen thought it. But David stopped at a house which looked brighter than the rest, having clean blinds and curtains to the windows, and a very white stone step at the door. Owen noticed this as he followed David in.

"This is Owen Hadleigh, father," he said, bringing him into the little sitting-room.

"I am very glad to see you," said Mr. Netherclift; "but I cannot rise to greet you. I am a constant prisoner with rheumatism."

And then Owen noticed that the man's hands, too, were twisted and swollen with the same painful disease. He hardly knew what to say. But Mr. Netherclift was anxious to set him at his ease, and bid David bring a chair forward, as he remarked—

"You have come from Westbrook, David tells me. I used to go there often, many years ago."

"Did you really?" asked Owen, eagerly, ready for a talk with one who knew his old home. "Did you know my father, too?"

"I have seen him, but I don't think I ever spoke to him. My visits to my brother were always short, so I did not get to know many of his friends. And so your father is now home with Christ; it is a blessed change even from such a pretty place as Westbrook."

"Yes, and he was glad to go; though he was sorry to leave me," said the boy, wistfully. "Mother died when I was a baby, so now I have nobody."

"Have you not got Christ?"

Owen looked up inquiringly; he did not quite know his friend's meaning.

"The blessed Saviour loves you, my boy; have you no love in your heart for Him? Those who belong to Him can never say they have nobody to love them. Are you not his child?"

The question was asked very tenderly, and Owen looked into the kind face that watched his so earnestly, as he said, slowly, "I don't think so."

"Then I am sure you are both poor and lonely."

"Yes, I am poor, because father had very little to leave me—only a few books and furniture. But I have come to Barmston to make my fortune."

"I hope you will find the truest fortune; it is already made for you, and all you have to do is to accept it."

"What is the truest fortune?"

"It is to belong to Christ, the King of kings. The peace and rest and joy He gives are riches of untold price, more valuable—infinitely so—than any wealth of earth. And they are riches that will last for ever."

"How can we get them?"

"By first of all realising our poverty, that we, you and I, are poor lost sinners in ourselves, fit for nothing but hell, and that we can do nothing to save ourselves. Then, knowing this fact, because God says it, to come just as we are, and believe in His Son, who died to save us from all sin."

Owen listened earnestly, the boy's heart was roused; it was God's message to him. He looked thoughtfully into the fire for a few moments. Presently he said, "Father's last words to me were to seek the heavenly riches."

"Have you sought them?"

"There is no time here in Barmston. From morning to night I am as busy as can be, often till ten o'clock, and then I am so tired I almost drop asleep while I am undressing."

"Poor boy, you are hard-worked. But remember this, God never puts you into any place where you cannot seek Him. Do you never read your Bible, or speak to God in prayer?"

"DID YOU KNOW MY FATHER?"—Page 33.

"Not now. Perhaps I shall have more time when I am older."

"Nay, never think that. God says, 'Now is the day of salvation.' You may not live to be older."

The conversation was interrupted by Mrs. Netherclift coming in with the tea, and directly after the two boys went out together to a neighbouring mission-hall, where David's father knew they would hear an earnest Gospel message. He, being unable to walk, remained at home, earnestly praying that both lads might get a blessing.