Eben's pride broke down, and he cried like a child, when he heard his mother give thanks for all the mercies that had been shown even in the midst of loss and bereavement, and especially for the gift of dutiful and affectionate children. When they rose, he wiped his eyes and said, manfully, but in rather a choked voice:
"I believe I have been very cross and disagreeable this evening."
"I am glad you have found it out," interrupted Flora.
"And I am very sorry and hope everybody will forgive me, and I will try to do better hereafter," continued Eben, without regarding the interruption. "Flossy, you were quite right in saying that I ought to do better. I don't make any excuses for myself, but if anybody is good enough to make them for me, I shall not be too proud to accept them."
"That's right, Eben, and spoken like a Christian. Come, now! Let us all kiss goodnight and go to bed."
Flora's father was wont to say that Flora, when she gave her mind to it, could be the best child and the naughtiest child he ever saw in his life. The naughty fit was on now. To do her justice, her temper was partly hysterical and the result of over-fatigue. She did not refuse Eben's proffered kiss, but when he whispered something in her ear, she answered aloud:
"I don't care much for displays and protestations, Eben; I like deeds better than words, and I don't think much of a religion that is all talk, as yours seems to be."
Flora did not say these words because she believed them, but because she knew that they would hurt Eben more than anything else she could say. She was wretched herself, and she felt a desire to make others so as well, and in her perversity, she was more vexed with her brother for owning himself in the wrong, than if he had justified himself through all. It was one of her old "moods," which had become very rare of late, and Eben knew that the best way to meet it was to let her alone till it went away. He took an opportunity of whispering to Mary:
"Don't say anything to her. She will come round best alone."
Mary nodded in token of intelligence. Unluckily, Flora saw both the look and the nod.
"I wish—" she began, when her mother checked her:
"Flora, don't you say another word to-night! Now, mind me! Not another word! You ain't yourself, and you don't half know what you do say, but, mind! I won't have another word said about this matter."
Flora obeyed, and went to bed without speaking another word.
Christian's fierce conflict with Apollyon came to pass just after he had descended into the Valley of Humiliation, "catching a slip or two by the way," a point in the story which shows Bunyan's wonderful knowledge of human nature and Christian experience. Eben had fondly imagined that, when he had acknowledged his faults and asked forgiveness of those he had offended, his task was done, but he was to find himself mistaken. His enemy was not vanquished, but only lying in ambush. Pride whispered to him that he had humbled himself needlessly as well as in vain, that he had been right all the time, that it was perfectly proper for him to employ all his leisure-time in learning, and that if Flora had not been very selfish she would have done anything rather than have him interrupted. Mr. Antis and Jeduthun had also been very unkind to him, and had made a great fuss about nothing, and, in short, he, Eben, was more ill-used than any one had ever been before.
Well as he knew Flora and her moods, the reproach she had cast upon his religion cut him to the quick, and all the more because he was conscious that there was some truth in it. He had neglected his religious duties; his Bible had remained unread in private; his prayers had been cold and formal, and, for the first time, his Sunday-school lessons had been forgotten, and only hastily looked over at the very last moment. He had suffered his armour to become dim and his sword to rust in the scabbard, and now that he needed them most they seemed likely to fail him.
But Eben's faith was a very real and strong faith, and he had the fixed habit of telling himself the truth about himself. There was no use, he very well knew, in trying to fight the battle in his own strength, and he did not try. He carried all his troubles to the place where he was wont to carry them, confessing all his faults and shortcomings, and praying for forgiveness for himself and the spirit to forgive others. When he arose, after a long time, his face was sad. He had not found the comfort he had hoped for. But he said to himself that that must come in time, and lying down at last, he was soon asleep.
THE OLD GENTLEMAN.
FLORA was later in falling asleep than usual, and consequently overslept herself in the morning, and when she came down at last she was far more vexed than pleased to find the fire all made, the table set, the breakfast in a good state of forwardness, and Eben splitting kindling wood in the shed, instead of reading every moment till breakfast-time as had been his custom of late.
"Why didn't you call me?" was Flora's sharp greeting.
"You seemed so tired we thought we would let you sleep," said Mary Clarke; "so Eben and I got the breakfast. Everything that is right I did, and everything that is wrong he did."
"No such thing," called out Eben from the shed. "Don't you believe it, Flossy. She would have drowned the coffee, if I hadn't stopped her, and she didn't know whether the pork chops ought to be fried or broiled."
All this banter was not to Flora's taste. She chose to take it as a sign that Eben and Mary were leagued against her, and resented it accordingly.
"I am very sorry you should have had so much trouble," she said, stiffly and coldly. "Getting breakfast is my work, and I don't know that I thank anybody for taking it out of my hands. I am glad Eben feels in such good spirits, but I don't, and—"
Flora stopped short as her mother came out of her room.
"Dear me! Do tell if you have got breakfast ready!" said she. "I've been so broke of my rest lately with that poor baby, that when I get a chance, I kind of oversleep myself. How nice your chops look, Flora!"
"They are not mine," said Flora. "Eben and Mary have taken my work out of my hands this morning."
"So if you are poisoned, you must not blame Mary," said Eben.
"Do let's have our breakfast," said Flora, pettishly.
"I'm willing, for I haven't much time to spare. I want to be at the mill particularly early."
The breakfast was not a very cheerful one, in spite of Mary's attempts at conversation. Flora would neither talk nor eat, and Eben, though he answered Mary pleasantly and cheerfully, did not seem in as good spirits as usual. He got away as soon as he could, and was at the mill as quickly as Jeduthun himself.
"Good!" said Jeduthun. "This looks like work. Some one was up bright and early, I guess."
"That's so!" answered Eben. "I split up about half a cord of kindling wood before breakfast—that is, so to speak, you know, as Grandma Badger says. And, Jeduthun, while I have a chance, I want to tell you that I know you were right and I was wrong yesterday. I have been very neglectful of my work, and the reason was, as you say, because I have been trying to serve two masters, but I see my mistake, and I am going to try and do better."
"Good for you!" said Jeduthun, very much pleased. "I thought you'd come out all right when you came to consider about it, and then you'd see that I spoke as a friend."
"I'm sure of that," returned Eben. "I only hope you will always do the same."
Eben was busy doing something in the office when Jeduthun put his head in the room.
"I say, Mr. Antis, here's the old gentleman a-coming."
"The old gentleman! Not Mr. Francis!" exclaimed Mr. Antis, starting. "What in the world has brought him so suddenly?"
Mr. Antis hastened down to the door to meet the mill owner.
Mr. Francis was a testy old gentleman with a pretty large sense of his own consequence and dignity; nevertheless, those who knew him best spoke highly of his uprightness and generosity. The moment that Mr. Antis saw him he perceived that something had gone wrong.
"I think, Mr. Antis," was his first salutation—"I think you might have exerted yourself so much as to send some one to meet me. I know it is not the fashion just now to pay much respect to old people, but I think, considering all things, you might have done as much as that."
"I am very sorry, sir," replied Mr. Antis. "If I had expected you, I should have met you, certainly."
"And may I ask, Mr. Antis—not that it signifies, of course—but may I ask why you did not expect me, when I wrote you three days ago that I should be at the Springs this morning?"
"I never received your letter, Mr. Francis. Eben," asked Mr. Antis, "did you go to the office last night?"
Eben started and coloured. The last mail came in about seven, and it was Eben's duty to go for the letters and papers and carry them down to Mr. Antis's house.
"I am very sorry, indeed, Mr. Antis," said he, "but the truth is, I forgot all about it."
"Oh you forgot all about it, did you?" said Mr. Francis, in his usual sarcastic tones. "Then let me tell you, sir, that if you were my boy you should have something to make you remember it next time. I suppose this is your paragon—your Phœnix—Mr. Antis, that you wrote to me about?"
"This is Eben Fairchild," said Mr. Antis, briefly. "He is a good boy in general, but he forgets sometimes like other boys, and men, too, I might say."
"Humph! Well, Eben Fairchild, since that is your name, perhaps you will take care of my horse. Have the goodness not to forget either to feed or water him."
Eben thought there was no danger of his doing either. Jeduthun followed him out on pretence of looking to see if the horse had not a shoe loose, and took the opportunity of whispering:
"Now, Eben, I expect the old man is going to make things fly round. He's awful cantankerous sometimes, but do you mind and keep your own temper, and answer him respectfully, whatever he says. Remember, he is the boss, and an old man besides. He does rile me awfully sometimes, and I feel as if I needed to pray for patience whenever I see him a-coming in one of his tantrums. I can tell what kind of a humour he is in just as quick as I can see the top of his hat."
"I'll take care," said Eben, "but I wish he had come at any other time, or that I hadn't been such a fool."
"And so do I, but there is no help for it now. We must make the best of it. The machinery is all in order, that's one comfort."
Eben took all the pains possible in accommodating the horse, and hastened back to the mill with a foreboding heart, stopping at the post-office on his way, where, as he expected, he found Mr. Francis's letter.
"It came last night," said. Mr. Badger, "and I had a great mind to send it up, seeing you didn't come for it. I believe I should, only I was so uneasy about the baby. Do you know what your ma thinks about him?"
"Oh, she doesn't despair of him, by any means," replied Eben, trying to speak cheerfully. "She says she never gives a baby up to die as long as the breath of life is in it. I dare say she is up at your house now. Never mind about the letter, Mr. Badger; it was my fault, and not yours."
Eben carried the letters into the office, and then busied himself with putting everything in the nicest order, while Mr. Francis and Mr. Antis were inspecting the upper part of the building. Jeduthun's department was pretty sure to be all right, yet he heard the old gentleman's voice growling in the distance, as though some one were getting a scolding.
"What is he blowing up Jeduthun for, I wonder?" he thought as he brushed up the stove and dusted the chairs and desks. "There! I think it looks pretty nicely now, and in good time, for here they come. Now it will be my turn, I suppose. Never mind; I deserve it, that's one thing."
Mr. Francis presently entered the office with Mr. Antis and Jeduthun, Mr. Antis looking as though he did not quite know whether to be vexed or amused, Jeduthun's dark face as inscrutable as a bronze mask, save that there was a little spark in his eye and just the slightest twitching about the corners of his mouth.
"Have you brought the letters, Eben?" asked Mr. Antis.
"Yes, sir; they are on your desk."
"And may I ask, young man, why you did not bring them to Mr. Antis instead of laying them there on his desk?" asked Mr. Francis, in a tone calculated to make the meekest boy double up his fists in the privacy of his own pocket. "I suppose that was too much trouble for a young gentleman like Mr. Fairchild?"
Eben's blood tingled a little, but he remembered Jeduthun's advice and answered, respectfully:
"Mr. Antis always tells me to lay them on his desk, sir. He is afraid they may be mislaid."
"Humph!" said Mr. Francis, his temper by no means improved by finding himself in the wrong. "You are a wise pair, no doubt."
"So the boss has got to catch it, too," thought Eben. "Well, misery loves company, they say."
"You may count up those bags of Dennison's, Eben, and have them ready when he comes," said Mr. Antis. "Don't be out of the way, and, Eben—"
Eben came back to where Mr. Antis was standing by the office door. Mr. Antis whispered:
"Just run round to the house and tell Mrs. Antis, the old gentleman is here, and she must be sure to have a good dinner; and if you would get your mother to go up and help her—"
"I guess she can," answered Eben. "Ma is at Mrs. Badger's, close by. I'll run and tell her."
"Do; but come back as soon as you can." Eben's errands necessarily took a little time. He found Mrs. Antis terribly alarmed at the prospect of having to get dinner for the great man, especially as Mary had burnt her hands and could be of little use.
"Oh, do get your mother to come if you can," said she. "Tell her I will do anything for her, if she will."
"She won't mind the trouble, if only she can get away from that Badger baby," replied Eben. "I'll do my best, but I must hurry."
Fortunately, the baby Badger was better, and its mother was disposed to be accommodating.
"And do your very best, ma," begged Eben. "Make a chicken pie, and the very best pudding you can, and see if you can't sweeten the old gentleman up a little, for he needs it."
"I'll try," said Mrs. Fairchild. "I guess I'll make a nice light pudding. Men are just like children. You can stop their mouths quicker with a cake than you can with a stick, any day." With which highly improper sentiment, wholly subversive of all good discipline, Mrs. Fairchild put on her hood and shawl, and was soon enjoying her favourite pursuit of cooking a good dinner.
The first sound Eben heard as he re-entered the mill and began sorting his bags was his own name. The door was open, so he could not help hearing what went on, and it seemed, from the tone in which Mr. Francis spoke, that he at least had no objection to be overheard. Eben had no difficulty in understanding the conversation. In the course of his investigations, Mr. Francis had discovered Eben's neglect about the letters, and the trouble and possible loss which had resulted therefrom.
"Perfect folly to put such a boy in such a place," he was saying. "I should think anybody might have known it. What you wanted was a responsible clerk, and not a mere lad, and such an untrustworthy lad as this seems to be. I must say I never heard of a more absurd arrangement in my life."
"I consulted you about the arrangement at the time, you know, Mr. Francis," said Mr. Antis. "Eben had lived with me four months, and I had found him perfectly faithful. If you will remember, I did nothing in the matter without asking you, and waited for three weeks that I might hear from you before engaging Eben." So that had been the cause of the delay. But Mr. Francis was speaking again:
"I know that, Mr. Antis. No need to remind me of it, sir. I have not quite lost my memory yet, I believe. I also remember telling you that I thought it a risk to engage such a young lad, but you must use your own judgment. It is evident that the boy is utterly unfit for the place—that he cannot be trusted to do the simplest business properly."
Eben's heart sunk as he heard these words. At that moment Mr. Francis caught sight of him through the open door.
"Come here, sir," he said, in a harsh voice; and as Eben obeyed, "So I understand all this trouble comes from your carelessness! Do you think that is the way to treat your employer?"
"No, sir," answered Eben, promptly.
"Humph! Why did you do it, then?"
"Because I was careless, and not minding what I was about," replied Eben. "I was thinking of something else when I ought to have been thinking of my work."
Now, Mr. Francis had settled it in his own mind that Eben would try to excuse himself, that he, Mr. Francis, would put him down completely, and then, if Eben appeared very much overcome, he would relent and forgive him. He was a gentleman who had a great opinion of his own penetration, and it was naturally aggravating to find himself mistaken. So he took a pinch of snuff, and asked, sarcastically:
"Oh I you were thinking of something else, were you? And may I beg to be informed as to what that something was?"
Eben hesitated a moment, and then answered frankly:
"Dr. Porter lent me some books about physiology and anatomy, and I got so much interested in them, that I forgot what I was about. I am very sorry, but—"
"Oh yes, you are very sorry, no doubt," interrupted Mr. Francis. "Really, you are a very aspiring young gentleman. Anatomy and physiology, indeed! Well, sir, since your tastes are so grand, I advise you to go to your anatomy and physiology, and let milling alone. That is my advice to you. What is the meaning of that bell, Mr. Antis?"
"It is twelve o'clock, sir, when we have an hour for dinner. I hope you will go home and take some with me."
"Humph! Well, Mr. Antis, I don't mean to be too hard upon you, but I must say that in this matter you have been too hasty—entirely too hasty, Mr. Antis—and it has turned out as I expected. We have lost more by this young man's carelessness and incapacity than all our profits will make up."
Mr. Antis ventured to suggest that the loss was not certain yet, and that at the worst it would be only a hundred or two dollars.
"A hundred or two dollars! I am glad you feel so rich, sir. When I was at your age, Mr. Antis, a hundred or two dollars were of some consequence to me. But, however, we will drop the subject for the present, as your good wife's dinner must not be kept waiting. Anatomy and physiology, indeed! Now, sir, you had better give your whole attention to your anatomy henceforth, for, take my word for it, you will never make a miller."
Eben went home to his dinner feeling as if a gulf had opened under his feet. Somehow, the idea of being discharged had never entered his head. He expected to be found fault with, and to have his wages lowered, but he had never thought of this. It seemed as though he had not only lost everything, but as though he were disgraced for ever. Who would employ him if it were known that Mr. Antis had turned him off, and for such a reason? What would his mother and Flora say? He felt utterly stunned and miserable, and for the first time since their troubles commenced, he was ready to give up in despair.
"Why, Eben, what is the matter?" exclaimed Mary Clarke as he entered the house. "You are as white as a sheet!"
"I suppose you have got the sick headache by reading all night again," said Flora. "I should think you have tried that often enough already."
It was one of the worst features of Flora's "moods" that she seemed determined to hurt in some way every person within her reach, and make everybody as unhappy as herself. Eben answered her briefly:
"I have not the sick headache, and I did not read a word last night after I went up stairs. I have lost my place at the mill."
"Lost your place!" exclaimed both the girls, and Mary asked, "How did that happen?"
"By my own fault, I suppose," said Eben. "I forgot some letters, and made a great deal of trouble; in short, I did not mind my business, and so I have lost it."
"What a perfect shame!" said Flora, glad, as it seemed, of a legitimate object to expend her ill-humour upon. "Just as though anybody could not make such a mistake! But that is just like Mr. Antis, and all that set, for that matter. You thought so much of him—nobody like Mr. Antis—and now, because he has got all he wants of you, or has got somebody he wants to put into the place, he turns you off without a moment's warning. I dare say Jeduthun Cooke is at the bottom of it. It would be quite in the line of his tremendous piety."
"If you will listen a moment, Flora, you will see that you are making bricks without straw," said Eben. "It was Mr. Francis that turned me off. Mr. Antis had nothing to do with the matter."
"Oh no, of course not."
"On the contrary, he took my part all he could. Mr. Antis has been a kind friend to me—" Eben's voice failed, and he went quickly out of the room.
"Well, Flora," said Mary Clarke, "I have heard of Job's comforters, but I never saw one before. I should think you would be ashamed of yourself, treating your brother so!"
"What have I done now?"
"When you see he feels so unhappy, I should think you might try to comfort him. Instead of that, you seem anxious to make him feel just as badly as you can, by abusing Mr. Antis and Jeduthun—friends that you know he thinks everything of. I wouldn't have believed it of you."
And Mary in turn departed, leaving Flora alone. She was a very gentle, amiable girl, and Flora had never heard such an outburst from her before. It had the effect of bringing her in some degree to her senses, for she both loved and respected Mary, and she was sensitive to the good opinion of those whom she respected. It was with a much-softened tone and manner that she said as she called Eben and Mary to dinner:
"I have made some tea, for once. I am sure Eben's head aches, though he won't own it, and no wonder. I should like to give that old Mr. Francis a piece of my mind."
"I don't suppose that would do any good," said Eben, trying to smile. "But you must not be too hard on him, Flora. He is a very exact business-man, and the prospect of such a loss is naturally very vexatious."
"How much?" asked Mary.
"A hundred or two dollars, Mr. Antis says. However, it is not certainly lost yet."
The girls looked at each other in dismay. "A hundred or two dollars" looked a much more formidable sum to them than to Mr. Antis.
"The thing that makes me feel the worst," continued Eben, "is, that Mr. Antis took me into the place against Mr. Francis's will and judgment. Mr. Francis wanted him to have a regular clerk, but Mr. Antis thought I was trusty, and he wanted me to have the place and the wages. He said I could do the work as well as if I were older, and so I could have done if only I had had my wits about me. And now Mr. Antis has to bear the blame of all just because he trusted me."
Eben's head went down on the table-cloth. Flora began to experience the sore pain at her heart which was always left behind by her "tantrums," as Jeduthun would have called them. It did not make her any more amiable towards Mr. Francis.
"The old prig! The hateful old miser!" she exclaimed. "Just as though he had never made a mistake himself! Do try to drink your tea and eat some dinner, Eben. I am sure you need it."
Eben drank the tea, but the dinner was beyond his power.
"I can't eat, thank you, Flora, but I will have some more tea, and then go back and let Jeduthun get his dinner, and put everything in order, so Mr. Antis need not get any more scolding on my account."
"I wouldn't put my foot inside the mill if I were you," said Flora. "I would let Mr. Francis put things in order himself, since he is so very particular."
"Now, I should feel as Eben does—as if I wanted to leave everything in the most perfect state," said Mary. "I should have a pride in not leaving the least thing out of the way."
"Well, I don't know but I should too," agreed Flora; "yes, I think I should. Does ma know anything about it?"
"No, unless she has heard it from Mr. Antis. She went up there to help Mrs. Antis about her dinner, because Mary has burnt her hand."
"I wish I had the seasoning of his dinner,' said Flora, venomously, and with this amiable sentiment the remainder of her ill-humour evaporated, and she set herself about preparing Eben's favourite cake for supper.
"Well, Jeduthun, I've come back once more," said Eben as he entered the mill. "You may as well go to your dinner."
"Once more," echoed Jeduthun. "What do you mean?"
"I mean that I have got my walking-paper, as Tom Wilbur says. Mr. Francis has turned me out of the mill."
"No!" exclaimed Jeduthun, starting up from the heap of bags where he had been reposing. "I guess you're mistaken, Eben. What did he say?"
Eben repeated Mr. Francis's words as well as he could remember them.
"I rather guess you're borrowing trouble," said Jeduthun. "I don't think the old gentleman meant to turn you off, only to show off his own wit. You see, he thinks he's awful sharp and sarcastic—which is a dreadful good receipt for any man that wants to make a fool of himself—and he was kind of riled this morning. Anyhow, don't despair yet—not till you know for certain. I guess I'll go to dinner, as you say, and when I come back I'll find out all about it. The old gentleman will feel better when he has had a real good dinner—kind of oils his works, don't you see?—and I guess we'll make it all right yet."
"You are real clever, not to say 'I told you so,'" said Eben.
"Well, that ain't my kind," returned Jeduthun. "It don't make a man feel much better when he has just broken a leg to stick a pin into him. But don't you give up yet."
Mr. Francis did not seem in any hurry to get back to the mill, and when he did come it was evident, as Jeduthun had predicted, that he was in a better humour. He was complimenting Mr. Antis on having such an excellent wife.
"A woman who can get up such a dinner as that, Mr. Antis, is worth a thousand strong-minded females who can't cook a decent meal."
"My wife is a very good cook," replied Mr. Antis, "but I suspect the credit of the dinner belongs mostly to a kind neighbour who slipped in to assist her—Mrs. Fairchild, poor Eben's mother."
"That's the widow of Fairchild, who signed for Furness and lost his property, and afterwards died?"
"The same, sir. They live here in the village."
"And how are they off? I heard that poor Fairchild behaved very honourably. Did he lose everything?"
"Pretty much everything. The daughter has a sewing machine, and the mother has gone out nursing, and with that and Eben's wages they live comfortably, though I fancy they pinch pretty closely sometimes."
"Indeed! I am sorry to hear it. I shall be glad if you will send them a bag of fine flour, with my compliments, Mr. Antis—or I will speak to the boy myself. Jeduthun, where is young Fairchild?"
"I guess he is up in the loft, sir," replied Jeduthun. "He feels dreadful badly about losing his place, but he says he means to leave everything in first-rate order, so he's putting the loft to rights, to begin with."
"Losing his place! What do you mean?" asked Mr. Francis. "Who has dismissed him?"
"He thought you had."
"Nonsense!" said Mr. Francis. "Nothing of the kind. Send him here directly."
"The old gentleman wants to speak to you," said Jeduthun, coming into the loft. "Now, keep up a good heart, and let him have it all his own way. I knew he'd feel better after dinner. Law bless you, he thinks he's a great man, but I can read him just like a book. There! Don't keep him waiting, whatever you do."
Eben hastened down stairs, and entered the office with a beating heart.
"Come here, Fairchild," said Mr. Francis. "So you thought I meant to dismiss you, did you?"
"Yes, sir, I thought so."
"Not at all, not at all, my boy. You should not be so hasty. What made you take me up in that way?"
"I thought you told me to go, sir, and you thought it was so foolish in Mr. Antis to hire me—"
"So I did think so," said Mr. Francis, "but it don't always follow that because a man has done a foolish thing, that the next thing is to undo it. Your father, for instance, did a foolish thing in endorsing for Furness, but it was better for him to pay his obligations, like the honourable man he was, even though he lost all he had, than to sneak out of paying his just debts, as Furness himself did. Don't you think so?"
"Yes, indeed, sir," said Eben, heartily. "I always thought so."
"Then you thought right," returned Mr. Francis, in a still more friendly tone. "So you see, I think it wasn't very wise in Mr. Antis to put so much responsibility on such a young boy, but it doesn't follow that he would be right to turn you off the first time you did anything wrong."
"Then I am to keep on with my work, sir?" asked Eben, hardly able to believe his ears.
"Of course. Keep on and do the best you can, and if you convince me that Mr. Antis was right and I was mistaken, why, so much the better, that's all. I dare say I was cross this morning. I got up very early and had a poor breakfast, which disturbed my digestion, and I have had a good deal to worry me. Now go about your business, and when you go home carry a sack of fine flour to your mother, with my compliments. Do you hear?"
Eben expressed his thanks he hardly knew how, and went about his work with a grateful and thankful heart, longing for the time when he could run home and relieve Flora by the news.
"Mr. Antis, how far is it from here to Lyons? Could you drive me over there in two hours?"
"Oh yes, sir, easily," replied Mr. Antis. "The mare will do the distance in less time."
"I believe I will go there, see Mr. Jones to-night, and run over to Millby to-morrow," said Mr. Francis. "I suppose the roads are good. Can you send some one over to the Springs with a telegram? Here's young Fairchild; let him go."
"You can ride the old gray, you know, Eben," said Mr. Antis.
He interpreted this commission as a full and free pardon to the boy, and was pleased accordingly, for he was very fond of Eben.
"Well, be off and get ready," said Mr. Francis. "How soon can you set out?"
"Just as quick as I can saddle the horse, sir, only I should like to stop at home and get my coat," replied Eben, rejoicing in the chance to tell the good news a little sooner. "I won't be ten minutes."
Eben's cheerful shout brought Flora out to the gate.
"It's all right, Flossy. I can't stop now to tell you, but it is all right, and I keep my place. I must get over to the Springs with this message, but I'll be home as soon as I can. I'm glad mother didn't know anything about it."
It was a joyful party that assembled to eat Flora's cake and what remained of the nice pudding, which Mrs. Antis had insisted on Mrs. Fairchild's taking home with her. At first Flora was disposed to blame Eben for being so readily "coaxed round," as she said, but she was led to see that it would have been neither right nor wise for him to quarrel with his bread and butter, and displease Mr. Francis.
"Well, I am glad he had the sense to come round at last," said she.
"I guess he had been put out about something," remarked Mrs. Fairchild. "He's quite an old gentleman now, Mr. Francis is. I remember him a young man studying law in Ithaca, when I was a little girl going to school, and his father lived in the Baldwin place, next my grandfather's. He's always been called an odd-tempered man, and was as long ago as that, but he has always had the name of being honourable and generous. I dare say he thought he'd been too hasty."
"It was all your pudding and chicken pie, ma," said Eben, laughing. "Jeduthun said he'd feel better when he had his works greased."
"Well, that shows what I've often said—that it never does any harm to be neighbourly," replied Mrs. Fairchild. "However, all's well that ends well, and I guess maybe we've all got a lesson that will be worth what it cost."
EBEN GETS AN ADVANCE.
"SEEMS to me I don't see you with your big books any more," said Mary Clarke to Eben as they walked home from prayer meeting one night. Neither Flora nor Mrs. Fairchild had cared to go, and Mary and Eben were walking slowly and enjoying the beauty of the evening.
"I have never looked at them since that night," replied Eben. "A burnt child dreads the fire, you know."
"But because the child has burnt himself once, he need not go cold all the rest of his life," said Mary, smiling.
"That's true, but to tell you the truth I don't think I shall ever make much of it," said Eben, in rather a desponding tone. "Even before I left off studying I found I forgot, and mixed things up so that I got discouraged and out of patience with the books, and myself, and everybody."
"That was because you worked too fiercely," said Mary. "You didn't allow yourself a minute's rest or recreation. I did just so when I first came here to go to school."
"I know it," remarked Eben. "You thought you couldn't spare an evening for prayer meeting any way in the world."
"Exactly so, and I soon found out what a mistake I was making. I got so tired and so confused I couldn't remember anything straight, and I began to think I was getting softening of the brain. I told Dr. Henry about it, and he said my brain must have been pretty soft to begin with not to see that it was nothing but overwork that ailed me. Now I rest two evenings in the week—one at prayer meeting and the other at sewing society—and I find I gain by it."
"Well," said Eben, as Mary paused, "and what then?"
"Why, if I were you, I wouldn't give up the anatomy altogether, but I would take it moderately. Set yourself a certain amount—say as much as you can do in an hour—and go over it again and again till it is fixed in your mind, and then put it away. I believe you would learn more in that way than you did in driving away as hard as you did the other time."
"Maybe so. I'll think about it. I can tell you, however, Mary, that it was not so much my studying that got me into the scrape as some other things. I just lived in a world of my own about those days. I was thinking all the time I was busy in the mill of the time when I should be a great doctor, and have people coming to me from all over the world; and in short," said Eben, candidly, "if there was a bigger fool in Lake County than I was in those days, I should like to see him, that's all. I got off a great deal better than I deserved."
"Didn't Dr. Porter say something about your studying French?" asked Mary, after a little silence.
"Yes; he advised me to leave off my Latin and go to work at French. He said that the modern languages would be more useful to me if I ever studied medicine."
"I was thinking," said Mary, "that if we studied French, Flora might join us, and it would be so good for her to have something to think of besides her everlasting sewing machine, and tucks, and ruffles."
"I didn't think of that, I am ashamed to say," replied Eben. "Flora likes languages too, and she is a very good Latin scholar, considering. I believe we will do that thing, Mary, and we will set about it directly."
Flora entered into the plan with enthusiasm, and henceforth an hour of every evening was spent over the French grammar and exercises. Mrs. Fairchild was much pleased with the arrangement.
"It's so much nicer for you to be doing something that you can all do together," was her comment. "My grandfather used to say that the day was the time for separate work and the evening for sociability. He was a very sensible man, was Grandfather Fisher. I think Eben takes after him more than any of the other children. Sister Fletcher's children ain't a bit like the family. They're all Fletcher."
Eben smiled, as he often did, to see how entirely his mother had forgotten the fact of his being an adopted child.
"Did you ever study French, Aunty Fairchild?" asked Mary.
"Oh yes; when I went to school in Ithaca, we had a native French master, the nicest and funniest old man that ever was, who used to give us sugar-plums when we learned our lessons well. I don't suppose I could remember a word, though. Yes, I learned French and music. I could play quite a good deal before I was married, and Mr. Fairchild always said he meant Flora should have a piano and learn to play. Dear me! How different things do turn out from what we expect! But, after all, we might be a good deal worse off. Your dear father was so unhappy about leaving us. I often wish that he could look at us and know how nicely we get on, after all."
"Perhaps he does," said Eben.
The French went on prosperously, and Eben found a new and most unexpected help in Jeduthun Cooke. One most uncompromisingly rainy day, when there was not likely to be much doing at the mill, Eben ventured to carry his French grammar up with his dinner-basket to amuse himself with in his hour of intermission at noon. He fancied himself alone in the counting-room, and was busily going over with, "How many figs has the grocer?" when the question was unexpectedly answered in good French by a voice behind him. He turned round in a hurry, and saw Jeduthun standing in the door.
"Why, Jeduthun, was that you?"
"I reckon," answered Jeduthun, returning to the vernacular, and sitting down by Eben, he took his book out of his hands.
"So you're learning French?" said he, turning over the leaves. "What sets you about that?"
Eben explained that he was doing so on Dr. Porter's recommendation.
"Ay, the old doctor knows French, he does. I had a nice talk with him one day when I met him over at the Springs. Learned it in Paris, he did, when he was a student. Maybe that's what you'll do some time. I shouldn't wonder a bit. I should be awful proud to get a French letter from you from Paris, Eben."
"I will be sure to write you one if ever I go there," said Eben. "If I ever turn out anything, it will be as much your doing as anybody's. But you haven't told me yet how it was you learned French."
"Oh! Well, it's a kind of native language of mine," said Jeduthun. "I was brought up in New Orleans till I was quite a boy, and then my young master married a Virginia lady, and went there to live. I couldn't speak much but French when I was twelve years old. I forgot pretty much all about it, till once, when I was down South, they had two Creole boys in the hospital. Creoles, you know, are people born in this country of French or Spanish parents. The father of these boys had come from Lyons and set up in New Orleans, and so they got into the army, and there they were both sick with fever. Well, nobody could speak French, so they got me in to take care of them, and with a little practice I found I could talk the lingo as well as ever. After that I kind of thought that I would like to keep it up, so I bought a French Bible and some other books, and studied it a little."
"How glad I am!" said Eben. "Now you can help us, and I do want to learn to speak so much!"
"Well, if you want to learn to speak, you must speak, that's all," said Jeduthun. "Practice makes perfect, you know. Now, I'm going to talk to you in French, and you must answer me. That's the only way anybody learns to any purpose. See how quickly the Germans learn English—just because they are obliged to."
After this the French went on swimmingly. Jeduthun was flint and adamant in the matter of speaking French, and Eben found it necessary, in self-defence, to be fluent and ready. Jeduthun advised the young people not to spend all their time on the grammar, but to begin translating directly.
"Same as if you wanted to learn to be a miller, why, you must go to milling," said he. "A man might spend half his life in reading books about milling and about the different kinds of flour and feed, and yet be as helpless as a baby the first time you put him in a grist mill. That's the way a great many folks do things. They never accomplish anything that is any good to them, because they spend all their time learning how and getting ready."
"There's a great deal in that," remarked Mrs. Fairchild, at whose house this conversation took place. "I've noticed folks never learn to keep house till they have it to do themselves."
"Exactly so, ma'am," said Jeduthun, bowing to Mrs. Fairchild. "One of those poor Creoles I was telling you about put me up to a notch about that. He said if I wanted to learn French well, it was a good way to translate something from French into English, and then back again into French, as well as I could, and then compare my French with that in the book; so I used to work at it with him and his brother, teaching them English while they taught me French. Poor boys! It kind of amused them, and kept them from being homesick, you see."
"Poor things!" said Mrs. Fairchild. "What became of them?"
"Oh, they both died—one of fever, and the other, I verily believe, because he wouldn't live without his brother. They were twins, you see, and had always been together. They dictated a letter to their grandfather in France—in Lyons the old gentleman lived—and after they died I added some to it, and sent it away. By and by I got a real good letter from the poor old man. I'll show it to you some day."
"Just think how nice it was that you could speak French!" said Mrs. Fairchild. "I always say to the children, 'Learn all you can of all sorts of good things. Learning is light luggage, and you never know when you may have occasion to use it.'"
"That is certainly so," said Flora. "I little thought, when I was amusing myself with Aunt Lizzy's sewing machine, learning to do all sorts of nice things on it, how convenient the knowledge would come some day."
The days were now growing rapidly shorter, and the hills and woods about Boonville were in all their autumn glory. Eben had found or made time to take up all Mrs. Antis's tender bulbs and put her garden in order for winter, and she in return had given him a fine assortment of geraniums and other plants for his mother's south and east windows. There was a great deal of business going on at the mill, and Eben came home every night so tired that he fell asleep over his French books, and laughingly declared that he was no more fit for study than one of the team horses. He and Jeduthun practiced speaking French at every opportunity, till at last they unwittingly gave serious offence to old Mr. Wilbur, who sent to Mr. Antis and complained that Eben and Jeduthun were impudent to him.
"I'm sure I didn't mean any impudence," said Eben, when called to account. "What did I say, Mr. Wilbur, that you thought was impudent?"
"I didn't know what you said, that was the thing of it," returned Mr. Wilbur. "You went on talking your French all the time I was hitching my horses and unloading my bags, and I know you were talking about me."
"Oh no," replied Eben, suppressing a smile. "We were not saying a word about you, Mr. Wilbur. Jeduthun understands French, and I speak with him for practice—that's all, I assure you."
"I don't think either Eben or Jeduthun meant any offence," said Mr. Antis.
"Oh, well, if you like to stand such nonsense, I'm sure I don't care," returned Mr. Wilbur. "I'd just like to see any boy that worked for me pretending to talk French, that's all. That black fellow's a sight too big for his place, anyhow."
After this Jeduthun and Eben were more careful.
One day, as Eben passed the office door, Mr. Antis called him in. "I want to speak to you, Eben," said he. "I have just received a letter from Mr. Francis which concerns you. Sit down."
"I wonder what kink the old gentleman has got in his head now," thought Eben, but he said nothing, and sat down as desired.
"Mr. Francis has taken a fancy that we ought to have a watchman in the mill," continued Mr. Antis, unfolding the letter he held in his hand, "or at least somebody to sleep in the building. Here is what he says: 'I do not think it safe to leave the mill alone, now that there are so many robberies all over the country. I think we should have a watchman, or at least some one to sleep in the building. Perhaps young Fairchild would be willing to do the latter. There is a very decent bed-room on the floor above the office, if I remember rightly, and if he chooses he can fit it up from that furniture of mine which has been so long stored in the loft. He is a stout young fellow, and seems to be upright and trustworthy. You may suggest it to him, and if he agrees, you may as well give him what you used to give Barnard—forty dollars a month.'"
"That is quite an increase of wages, you see," said Mr. Antis, laying down the letter. "Really, I don't think there is much, if any, danger from robbers, and you might fix up a very nice, pretty little room. Why, Eben, you look very much pleased."
"I am," said Eben—"not so much about the money, though ten dollars more a month will help us a great deal through the winter, but I am so pleased to think—"
"That the old gentleman trusts you?" asked Mr. Antis, smiling, as Eben hesitated.
"Yes, sir."
"Oh, he is sure to do that," said Jeduthun, who had "assisted," as the French say, at the conference. "Once the old gentleman takes anybody up, he does it for good and all. I've no doubt he thinks by this time that he invented you in the first place. He has his ways, Mr. Francis has, but he's as good as gold and as true as steel."
"That he is, and I am glad he has taken a liking to Eben. Well, my boy, what do you say?"
"I should like to talk to mother about it before I decide, Mr. Antis," replied Eben. "I don't know but she will be afraid to stay alone."
"There's an easy way of fixing that," said Jeduthun. "Mr. Barton wants a place to board this winter—you know his wife is dead, and he's going to send his little children home to their grandmother in Hobartown, and break up housekeeping. He is a steady, clever, middle-aged man, and a very pleasant, quiet man to live with, else he never could have stood it with that wife of his'n, and I know he'd jump at the chance of going to Mrs. Fairchild's to board. Everybody knows there isn't such a cook anywhere round as Mrs. Fairchild."
"Well, you can talk to your mother and settle the matter, only decide as soon as you can, that I may write to Mr. Francis," said Mr. Antis. "He is always in a hurry to get everything settled."
Mrs. Fairchild demurred a little at first, and thought she could not have Eben run such a risk. Eben, however, made light of the danger, and assured her that he should be as safe as if he were at home in his own room.
"It will save me a deal of work in winter," said he, "because I shall be on hand to make the fires and ring the bell in the morning. I can do all that before I come home to breakfast; of course I shall spend my evenings at home the same as ever. Then, if Mr. Barton comes to board here, he will take just as good care of you as I could do."
"That is true, and he's willing to pay a good price for his board, and I don't suppose he will be much trouble about the house."
"He will never be here except at meal-times and at night," said Eben. "He stays at the mill all the evening."
"It isn't only Eben's wages that I am thinking of, but the trust that Mr. Francis puts in him," remarked Flora. "It isn't often that a young man of Eben's age gets put into such a place."
"That's true, and I think all the more of it, coming from Mr. Francis. He is so very strict in his notions."
At last, after a great deal more talking, the matter was settled. Mr. Francis was evidently pleased, wrote Eben a gracious letter, and empowered him to take anything he needed from the furniture stored in the loft for the embellishment of his apartment, adding that he believed there were some rolls of old-fashioned wall-paper in a certain drawer which Eben might use to cover his walls.
All young folks and most old folks love to fit up a room, and to young folks at least the pleasure is wonderfully heightened by the necessity of shifts and expedients. Great was the delight felt by our three young friends in hunting up and pasting on the pretty though cheap and old-fashioned paper, in pulling out and putting in nice order the furniture necessary to Eben's room, and making wonderful discoveries, such as a pair of old plated candlesticks, some water-coloured pictures and engravings in tarnished gilt frames, and, best of all, a trunk full of books, principally travels and biographies, and a set of mahogany hanging shelves. Eben hesitated, however, about appropriating these till he consulted Mr. Antis.
"I don't think it will do any harm," said Mr. Antis. "However, if you think there is any doubt about the matter, you had better write to the old gentleman yourself."
Eben wrote, and received the following curt answer:
"DEAR FAIRCHILD: Yours of the 16th received and noted.Of course! Anything you can find. Yours truly,""J. B. FRANCIS.""P. S. It was very proper for you to ask, however."
When Eben's room was finally finished, it would have been hard to find a prettier or snugger little place, with its old-fashioned but roomy bureau, on the top of which stood the two plated candlesticks, which Mrs. Fairchild had cleaned up to look nearly as good as new, his well-filled book-shelves hanging over the cherry desk his father had given him long before, the walls hung with old engravings and all the various knickknacks which the girls had routed out of the garret. Eben loved what was pretty and elegant as well as any young lady, and as he looked around he thought he had never seen a room so much to his taste. He had a kind of house-warming, with Mr. Antis's permission, when he took possession of his new abode, and had his mother and the girls to spend the evening with him.
"Yes, it is all very nice," said his mother. "I'm only afraid it is too nice, and that Eben will be tempted to spend his evenings here."
"No danger," said Eben; "I am not so fond of my own company as all that."
MR. ANTIS FORGETS THE BELL-ROPE.
WHEN Eben came back from seeing home his mother and the girls, and shut himself into his room, with no company but his lamp and his little stove, he did not find the solitude so pleasant. He could not but own that the voice of the water as it rushed and moaned and gurgled under the mill, and the sound of the wind around the corners of the large building, were rather airy and lonesome. The room itself was as bright and cheerful as possible, but he did not quite like to think that it was the only inhabited corner in the great rambling old building, where ever so many people might hide and never be found out.
"But this will never do!" said Eben, rousing himself from the mood that was stealing over him. "I shall be seeing robbers next. I am just as well off here as if I were at home, and I am not going to be afraid, now that I have undertaken the job. So come down here, old Carpenter, and let's have a grind at you before bed-time, if you have no objection."
Old Carpenter made no objection, and by the time Eben had mastered the subject of insect respiration his fancies had vanished, and his dreams that night were haunted by nothing worse than the persuasion that he was obliged to breathe through holes in his sides, like a caterpillar, and found himself sadly embarrassed by his clothes. After a few nights, he grew accustomed to his solitude, and liked it, and he never had a thought of being afraid.
"So, Fairchild, you have fitted up a very snug place here?" said Mr. Francis, surveying Eben's room with approbation on the occasion of his first visit. "The old books look very well. I had no notion there were so many. Where is the first volume of that set of Hume?"
"I took it home to read aloud to my mother and the girls," replied Eben. "I will be very careful of it."
"Very good, very good!" said the old gentleman. "So you spend your evenings at home? Very right! Always a very good sign to see a young man attentive to his mother and sisters. But I thought you had only one sister?"
"Mary Clarke boards at our house this winter," said Eben, blushing a little, he hardly knew why.
"Oh ho!" said the old gentleman, smiling. "So she's 'the girls,' is she? And I suppose she's a very nice girl—all the same as your sister, eh? Very good! I am pleased with you, Fairchild. You seem to be doing well in every respect, and I am much pleased with you. I have suggested to Mr. Antis that the rope from the mill bell be carried into this room, so that you can reach it in a moment if anything happens. Yes, yes, I am pleased with you, and especially that you are so dutiful to your mother. Very nice thing to have girls at home to read to, eh?"
And the old gentleman departed chuckling, leaving Eben not quite certain whether he was much pleased or vexed.
Day after day passed by, and still the bell-rope was not altered. It could not be done without making some changes which involved a half day of carpenter's work, and the one Boonville carpenter was a man of consequence, and not to be easily obtained. Jeduthun more than once asked Mr. Antis to let him do the work, declaring that if it were not fixed before the old gentleman came again he would make them all see sights, but Mr. Antis said Jeduthun had enough to do now, and the carpenter had promised to come the first of next week to set glass and do a good many odd jobs, and there was no use in doing his work for him. But a good many things were destined to happen before the first of next week came round.
Eben had had a very fatiguing day, and had gone to bed early, too tired even for the hour's "grind" with Carpenter which he usually permitted himself after returning to his hermitage, as the girls called his room at the mill. It seemed to him that he had only just fallen asleep when he was awakened by some sudden noise below, as he thought at the mill door. He sat up in bed and listened. There was certainly something going on below. He could hear steps, and even whispers, and then some one in the office.
"Oh, that bell-rope!" was his first thought as he sprang to his feet, and striking a light, proceeded to hurry on his clothes. "If it was here at the head of my bed, as it ought to have been, I could have given the alarm by this time, and now, there it hangs by the office door, as much out of my reach as though it were in China. What will the old gentleman say? But I will have a try for it, or at least for the front window, where I can make somebody hear. There would be no use in shouting from this one. If it were summer, I could drop out into the water and take my chance, but the water is too cold now to run the risk. Lord, help me to do what is right!"
All these thoughts passed through Eben's mind in much less time than it has taken to write them down. He opened the door of his room, and was disagreeably met by a hand on his throat which thrust him into a chair, while the owner of the hand, a stout, rough-looking man in a mask, stood over him.
"Now, look here, young man!" said he. "You just keep quiet and answer questions, and I won't hurt you. I know Mr. Antis got a thousand dollars at the bank yesterday. Where is it? Here in the safe or at his house?"
"Here, I suppose," said Eben. He was not certain about the matter, but judged it best to keep on the safe side, and spare Mrs. Antis, who was very delicate, the alarm of a visit from burglars.
"Have you got the keys of the safe?" was the next question. Eben would not answer at first, but in reply to repeated threats, he said, "I'll get them for you, if you'll let me get up."
"No, you don't!" said the robber. "I know a trick worth two of that. Where are they?"
"All my keys are in that little upper drawer," was the answer. "The key to that is in my pocket."
Eben could not see, but he could hear, the drawer opened and the keys taken out. The robbers then proceeded to tie his hands and feet, and to put a gag in his mouth. They then left him and went down stairs.
Eben might have been excused for being a good deal scared, for his position was far from being agreeable. He was entirely in the power of a set of ruffians, who might kill him on the spot, or, worse still, set the mill on fire and go off, leaving him helpless to perish in the flames. A good deal to his own surprise, however, he found himself perfectly cool and collected, and able to consider clearly all the details of his situation and all the chances of escape. In giving up the keys, he had not thought it necessary to say that they belonged to an old safe in the loft filled with account books, and it was even with a feeling of amusement that he heard the robbers below in the office working at the lock.
"They must be rather green hands," he thought, "or they would see in a minute that the keys don't fit. There! They have got tired of it. I wonder what next?"
One of the robbers now came up stairs and said to Eben:
"Do you understand the lock?"
Eben nodded.
"Then come down and show us the trick of it. We can't get it open."
"Better knock him in the head and blow the lock open!" growled the other man.
"Yes, and make no end of noise and take no end of time," said the first. "No, no, the shortest way is to make the boy do it. Now, I am going to untie you, young man, and take you down stairs, and, remember, my revolver is close behind you."
A thrill of joy passed through Eben's heart at these words. He thought he saw a chance for giving the alarm, if not for escaping, and he determined to run any risk in order to do so. The bell-rope hung in a dark corner just outside the office door, and he knew that the very first clang of the bell would bring Jeduthun to his aid. He uttered a short, fervent prayer for help, and then professed his willingness to go down stairs.
"I don't want to unlock the safe myself," said he, "but I can show you how to do it. There is a trick to the lock."
"Come along, then," said the least brutal of the men; "nobody wants to hurt you, if you'll be accommodating."
Never had the mill stairs seemed so long to Eben as on this occasion, but they reached the office at last, where another person was standing, engaged in transferring a box of Mr. Antis's choice cigars, a present from Mr. Francis, to his own pocket. The man was masked, but something about him seemed familiar, and Eben started to hear him say, half aloud, "Well, I wouldn't have believed Eben would give up so easy."
"Hold your tongue, you fool!" growled Eben's first acquaintance. "Now, young man, show us the trick of the lock, or unlock it yourself."
"I don't want to do that, but I can show you how it goes," said Eben, whose object was to keep near the door. "You must hold the plate back with one hand while you turn the key with the other. No, no! Push the plate back and up. The key always turns very hard."
The first robber did as directed. Insensibly, in his interest in watching the process of unlocking the safe, Eben's guard loosed his hold. In an instant Eben's hand grasped the bell-rope, which hung close by him, and he gave it three or four quick jerks, making the loud bell send forth an irregular peal, which he knew would arouse Jeduthun and Mr. Antis at once. Then, by a violent wrench freeing himself from his detainer, he darted round the corner, followed by a shot from a revolver. His object was to reach the lever by which the water was let on the wheel. He knew that the moment Mr. Antis opened his door, he would hear the sound of the mill and know that something was wrong.
He succeeded in finding the lever in the darkness, and made one desperate exertion of his fast-failing strength. He knew that he was wounded and bleeding terribly, but he hung on with desperate energy till he heard the dash of the water and the clank and hum of the machinery. Then a deadly faintness overcame him, and he dropped upon a heap of oats close by. He heard heavy feet, a shout from Jeduthun's trumpet voice, then more shots, and his own name called. He tried to answer, but his voice failed him, and he knew no more.
As Eben had anticipated, Jeduthun was awakened by the first sound of the bell, and before the echo had died away he had struggled into his clothes as only a soldier can, snatched his revolver, and was flying towards the mill. Mr. Antis was there as quickly as himself, only to be knocked down by a man issuing from the door. Crack! went Jeduthun's pistol, followed by a plunge into the water, and when Mr. Antis rose, he found Jeduthun holding down a prostrate figure, from which proceeded a voice begging for mercy.
"What's the matter?" asked Mr. Antis, stunned and half bewildered by the blow he had received, which was a heavy one.
"Lots of things," returned Jeduthun. "Are you hurt, boss?"
"No, I guess not," said Mr. Antis, only half comprehending the situation.
"Then take hold of this fellow and help me tie him. If you don't lie still, you rascal, I'll put a bullet through you!" said Jeduthun, whose wild blood was up with the excitement.
"Oh, don't! Oh, Mr. Antis, don't let him kill me!"
"Don't I know that voice?" exclaimed Mr. Antis.
"Of course you do," said Jeduthun, "but never mind now. I want to find out what they've done with Eben. I'm afraid they've made way with the boy."
"He got away," said Tom Wilbur, for it was no other. "Oh, Mr. Antis, let me go, and I'll never come near here again!"
"But where is the man that knocked me down?" asked Mr. Antis, still a little confused.
"He ain't far off, I guess!" replied Jeduthun, grimly. "I reckon he's got all he wants, and a little over. Here, Barton, do take hold of this fellow. Boss has got all the sense knocked out of him, I think."
"Not quite, I hope," said Mr. Antis. "I am all right now. Barton, is this you?"
"Yes, sir," said Mr. Barton, who, like Jeduthun, had been aroused by the bell, but who, living farther away, had only just reached the scene of action. "What has happened? Is anybody hurt?"
By this time Jeduthun had produced a light from somewhere. Tom was secured, and the party entered the mill. The office was examined first, and then Mr. Antis went up to Eben's room.
"He is not here," called he from the top of the stairs. "What can have become of him?"
At that moment Jeduthun discovered the trail of blood on the floor. Uttering an exclamation of horror, he followed it up till he found Eben lying on the pile of oats, senseless and apparently dead.
JEDUTHUN IS GROSSLY CARELESS.
WHEN Eben at last recovered his consciousness, he was lying on his own bed in the mill, with his mother and Jeduthun attending him. He felt very weak and confused, and almost thought he must be dreaming, till he heard Jeduthun say, emphatically, "Praise the Lord! He's coming to himself." Then he roused himself a little more, and drank the contents of the glass which his mother held to his lips.
"What has happened?" said he, faintly. "Oh, I remember now. Did they get the money?"
"No!" replied Jeduthun. "Everything is safe but yourself. Ah! Take care! Don't move!" For Eben had uttered a sharp cry of pain.
"Oh, my knee!" he exclaimed.
"There! Keep still as you can," said Jeduthun. "We've stopped the blood, and Barton has gone over to the Springs for the doctor, but you mustn't move till he comes. If the blood starts again, you are done for."
Eben lay still a few minutes. Then he asked, "What time is it?"
"Just morning. It's getting gray in the east this minute."
"If I could only have got hold of the rope before," said Eben, in a dreaming tone. "I heard them when they first got in, and I was just making a reach for the rope when they stopped me. There were three of them. Did they get away?"
"All but one," replied Jeduthun.
"He mustn't talk any more," said Mrs. Fairchild. "His pulse is nothing now. Keep still, my son, like a good boy!"
"I will!" said Eben. "Only, Jeduthun, if I should die, will you please return Dr. Porter's books, and tell Mr. Francis I did the best I could? He'll scold because the bell-rope wasn't altered, but that wasn't my fault. I read in the spelling book that we shouldn't put off till to-day what could be done to-morrow; or was it the other way?"
"The other way, I guess, but it don't matter," said Jeduthun. "You keep still, and I'll tell the old gentleman all about it. He's kind of wandering in his mind, ma'am," added Jeduthun, in a whisper, in answer to Mrs. Fairchild's look of alarm. "That's nothing strange. Likely enough, he'll be as crazy as a loon before he gets through. I wish the doctor would come."
It was a long hour, with the best speed he could make, before Mr. Barton got back with the doctor. The young surgeon dressed the wound, but looked very grave over it. It was a bad business, and he was afraid the leg would have to be taken off.
"Not if I know it—at least, not till we have had better advice than his'n," said Jeduthun, after the doctor had gone. "Don't you feel too bad, Miss Flora. I've seen more gunshot wounds than ever he did. We'll get Dr. Rose from the Cure; he has been in the army and knows a thing or two, and boss has telegraphed to the old gentleman to bring Dr. Porter over with him. I'd cut a better surgeon out of a pumpkin shell than this fellow, with all his airs. I don't see what Barton got him for."
"Then you don't think there is any danger of Eben's losing his leg?" said Flora, greatly comforted by Jeduthun's contemptuous disparagement of the doctor.
"Well, I wouldn't say there is no danger," was Jeduthun's prudent reply. "It is an ugly business—a wound in the knee—but we shall see when Dr. Rose comes."
"Dr. Green won't like it if we call in any one else," said Flora.
"Then he may give it up," replied Jeduthun, conclusively. "I guess he hain't got a patent-right to all the legs in Lake county! If Green was a real surgeon, he wouldn't be in such a hurry to cut off folks's legs."
Mr. Antis had sent a telegraphic message to Mr. Francis with the first dawn of light, and ten o'clock brought with it the old gentleman, together with Dr. Porter and Dr. Rose from the Cure. Both the young and the old surgeon laughed at the idea of amputation.
"It is a bad wound, and will be a long time in getting well, and I am afraid it is more than likely the knee will be stiff," said Dr. Porter; "but as for the boy's losing his leg, you may put that entirely out of your head, Mrs. Fairchild. I have not the least idea that it will be necessary."
"I'm sure I'm very glad to hear it," said Mrs. Fairchild, wiping her eyes. "Of course we ought not to murmur so long as his life is spared, but it did seem a dreadful thing that my boy should lose his leg. I've thought this morning it might be a judgment on me because I was so fond and proud of him."