Kitabı oku: «Bertie and the Gardeners: or, The Way to be Happy», sayfa 3

CHAPTER V.
THE SORROWING FATHER

In another volume of this series, I have told you about Mr. Cahart who brought the stone steps from the granite quarry. He had a son who gave him great trouble, and whom he promised that that he would send to Oxford for Bertie to take to his mamma, hoping she would do him good.

Every day for a long time the little fellow expected the boy would come up the avenue at Woodlawn. But nothing had ever been seen or heard from him; and now more than a month had passed.

One lovely afternoon during the pleasant season called the Indian summer, Mr. Curtis invited his wife, Bertie and Winnie to ride with him to the quarry where he wished to pay the balance of his bill, part of which Bertie had paid Mr. Cahart.

The lady gladly consented and told Nancy to dress the children as soon as possible.

The country never had looked so delightful to Mrs. Curtis as now that the fields were dressed in their gay, autumn attire. Their road lay through rich woods of maple, birch and oak, brilliant in their red and yellow hues.

Mrs. Curtis could scarcely express her delight.

"Oh, there is a branch so perfect! I must have that!" or, "Lawrence, it's too bad to trouble you again; but it does seem wicked to pass so many beauties. They would look so lovely in our new house."

And Lawrence, the most indulgent of husbands, would check up his gay horses, and spring from the carriage and break off branch after branch as she directed.

Herbert had inherited all his mother's love for the beauties of nature, as well as her enthusiasm. His cheeks glowed and his blue eyes sparkled as she piled her treasures in his lap, charging him to guard them with care.

At length they reached the town and drove at once to the hotel, where Mr. Curtis left them, promising to return in fifteen or twenty minutes.

The air was so fine that Mrs. Curtis preferred to sit in the carriage, which she could easily do as the hostler stood at the horses' heads.

The children were chatting gayly when a loud geeing was heard; and presently an ox-team was seen slowly approaching from the direction of the granite quarry.

"Oh, mamma!" said Bertie greatly excited, "there's Mr. Cahart. I do hope he will stop and speak to me. I want to know why his son did not come to Woodlawn as he promised."

The child leaned as far as he could from the carriage, hoping to attract attention; but the man did not once glance toward him. His face looked very sober, as if his heart were sore.

Just as the great load of granite was opposite the carriage Bertie shouted in an excited tone:

"Mr. Cahart! Oh, Mr. Cahart! Please stop! I want to see you!"

Mrs. Curtis was surprised at the effect of her son's voice on the man. He started, gazed about him, and then spying the little fellow in the carriage, came quickly toward them, seizing the small hand Bertie so cordially held out, and exclaiming with great energy:

"Aye, aye, boy, I'm powerful glad to see you!"

"This is my mamma," explained Bertie. "We came to pay Mr. Fuller's bill, and I hoped I should see you somewhere; but why didn't you let your son come to see us?"

Mr. Cahart's face worked convulsively. For a moment he seemed unable to articulate one word; but presently recovering himself he said, with a gasp:

"I've never set eyes on that boy since."

"Why, I'm so sorry, where is he?"

"Run off."

"Oh, dear! how could he do so?"

"Did you never find where he had gone?" inquired Mrs. Curtis in a deeply sympathizing tone.

"I followed him to the city, ma'am, found he'd sailed the morning before, in company with one of his mates, the worst boy in town."

The last words were accompanied by a groan.

"Where was the vessel bound?" asked the lady.

"For the West Indies, ma'am. She's due next week; but I'm afeard that during the voyage my boy has learned nothing but wickedness in company with those rough, swearing sailors."

Mrs. Curtis thought this so probable that she could not think of a word to comfort the poor father's heart, and Bertie could only gaze sorrowfully in his face.

The man turned away, and made a step towards his oxen, but then came back and said abruptly:

"I never shall forget your boy, ma'am. His words led me to the Bible. Bad as wife and I have taken on since our only child ran away from us, we should have been a great deal worse but for the words of comfort we found in God's book."

"I am truly rejoiced to hear you say that," exclaimed Mrs. Curtis, warmly. "If you have learned to pray, you will find comfort in leaving your child in the hands of the almighty Friend whose eye has followed him in all his wanderings. Remember the heart of our Saviour yearns over the creatures for whom he has shed his blood."

"Thank you, ma'am," faltered the man, his eyes growing dim. "I wish wife could have heard you talk; but I shall tell her every word I can remember. I don't mind saying to you, that wife and I were never so nigh each other as since we began to pray. There used to be high words between us, I accusing her of humoring the boy; and she calling me a hard old tyrant. But each of us sees now that we were both in the wrong. If we'd taught him the Bible from the first, he would have stuck to it. There's the promise, 'Train up a child in the way he should go, and when he is old he will not depart from it.'"

At this moment Mr. Curtis was seen hurrying toward them; and Mr. Cahart with a "God bless your boy, ma'am," turned abruptly away.

CHAPTER VI.
CLEARING THE CREEK

Albert Dodge, the new gardener passed ten days while he was recruiting his health, in visiting gardens and green houses, trying to improve his taste and gain all the information in his power. He had agreed with Mr. Curtis to return to Oxford as soon as the family were settled at Woodlawn and remain as long as the weather would allow out-door work. When the frost forbade further improvements, he was to leave and spend three months in the employ of Hantz, the celebrated florist.

But one morning the very last of October, as Mr. Curtis was sauntering along near the lake, absorbed in a project he had just formed, the daily coach stopped before the gate, and who should spring from it but Albert Dodge.

This young man, as I have already described, had such a merry face that few could meet him without a warmth in the region of the heart. Certainly his new master could not, and advancing cordially he held out his hand, exclaiming:

"I was just thinking of you, and wishing you were at hand to help me plan a little. I want to do something with this brook."

"I came on purpose to offer a suggestion, sir. I've been here and there on an exploring tour; and I am happy to say I have found no place which has so many natural advantages as ours."

He laid some stress on the word; his eye twinkling, and then added:

"It is my intention to make myself so important to you, that you will never part with me. I already feel almost as much interest in Woodlawn as if the deeds stood registered in the name of Albert Dodge."

"I'm glad of it," answered the Squire, laughing, "and to prove my confidence in your ability, I will ask you what I shall do with this little creek; it spreads itself out very awkwardly just at this point where it ought to be most graceful."

"I have it, sir," said Dodge after a careful survey. "I should clear the stream which runs muddy in this place by throwing pebbles to the bottom; widen it twenty feet more; make a pretty little egg-shaped island in the centre, upon which I should plant a few shrubs and perhaps a weeping willow, which would thrive admirably in this wet soil."

"Good! good! It shall be done! When shall you be ready to go to work?"

"To-day, if Grant can come with his oxen. I can postpone one visit I wish to make till winter."

The next morning Bertie came riding to the spot on Whitefoot's back. Buck and Bright were there, the wagon backed down to the very edge of the water, while Star and Spot were dragging off a load of mud scraped or scooped up from the bed of the shallow brook.

"Where is papa?" inquired Bertie, after he had sat awhile watching the operations.

"Gone with the new gardener to buy some trees," answered Tom, laughing. "The Squire's up to all sorts of improvements. Shouldn't wonder a mite if he should take down yonder mountain to give him a view of the city."

"I think this will be very pretty when it's done," remarked the child. "How long did they say they should be gone?"

"Didn't say in my hearing. Bertie I wish you'd ask the Squire if he'd like a load of beach pebbles, 'cause if he does, I'll bring him a load to-morrow morning. Those are the kind to make this water run clear."

"Oh, there they are!" shouted the boy, trotting off to meet them. "Have you bought the trees, Papa?"

"Yes, and brought them home, don't you see them?"

"What, those little things?"

"Willows grow very fast, my son. They will thrive better than if they were larger."

"But, papa, how can we get to the island? Shall we have a bridge?"

"You must ask Dodge, Bertie. He is the author of this plan."

"I'll tell you what would be better than a bridge," explained Dodge, laughing. "You must learn to row a boat; and then you can land at any place, you know. But our island is more for ornament than for profit. We don't expect to have a settlement there."

"Why wouldn't it be pretty to have a little house for the swans on it? Joe Allen told me they could be taught to come on shore for their feed."

"We will consider that proposal, my dear, when the island is in existence," answered papa; "in the meantime you may think of a pretty name for it."