It was noon, Christmas Day, when Austin stepped from the train at the watering-station just outside his old home village. Oh, the joy of familiar sights! He felt as if he should like to stoop and kiss the very earth under his feet, he was so glad to be at home again. He had not gone far till he saw familiar faces, but he did not stop, though all were glad to see him back again. His one thought was to see once more his beloved uncle. He hurried on, swinging his suitcase in his hand. For some reason it seemed much lighter than at other stages in his journey. He could hardly keep his feet on the ground, so light was his heart as he sped along.
At last the old farmhouse came in sight, and about the door were his cousins, who were wondering if Austin could have come on that train. They were expecting him any time and had a hearty welcome for him when he did come. Aunt Tillie had the Christmas dinner just ready to sit down to when the glad cry of the children announced Austin’s arrival. All of them were at home that day to celebrate their last Christmas in the old house, for their father had sold the homestead and they were to move the coming week. It was with joy that the extra plate was laid for the wanderer.
“Well, well, Austin! you are here at last! I suppose you thought we never intended to answer your letter,” said Uncle John laughing.
“I could not help wondering why you waited so long,” answered Austin reproachfully, for he still felt grieved at his uncle’s neglect.
“Look at this and tell me if you wonder that I did not answer it,” said Uncle John bringing out the card Austin had written him from Captain Albright’s home three weeks before. To Austin’s surprize it was unsigned.
“How was I to know who wrote this?” asked his uncle with twinkling eyes, “you will have to sign your name if you want money from me.”
“I do not see how I came to do anything like that,” said Austin, abashed at his mistake.
“We never suspected you, and after talking it over at the supper-table we all came to the conclusion that the card was from Wilbur, and that he had gotten into some trouble and wanted help. He is so trifling that I decided to let him fight his own battles, so paid no more attention to the matter,” explained his uncle.
“I felt sorry for the poor fellow so after a week or more wrote the letter you received,” said Frank, laughing.
“Then your answer came back to us all signed as it should be, but I thought it was Will trying to trick me further, so still did nothing. In fact, I had about forgotten the incident when a letter came from Amy telling us you had left home. Then we knew the S. O. S. was your call and waked immediately. That is why there was the long silence then the ticket by telegram. We were afraid you had given up hearing from us and left that place.”
When Uncle John had finished his explanation, all that had been dark to Austin cleared away, and he laughed with the rest at the queer mix-up. It relieved him to know that after all his uncle had not purposely neglected him.
And that dinner! Was there ever another feast as good as this one? It was indeed a table to tempt an appetite under any circumstances, and to Austin, who had absolute peace of mind for the first time in weeks, it seemed more delicious than could be expressed.
But before he had finished his dinner, thoughts of the little ones at home and the Christmas dinner cooked by inexperienced hands came into his view, and his own good fortune almost choked him. If only they, too, could have eaten with Aunt Tillie! And he remembered, also, that only last Christmas Mother was with them, and tears sprang to his eyes. How much had happened in that year!
When the others had gone about their own affairs, John Moore took his young nephew and had a long talk with him. Austin was free to tell him all that had happened and why he had left home. Mr. Moore could understand how Henry Hill had treated the boy, for he too had received evil for good at his hands. He was sorry for the little ones, but hoped the sight of their needs would waken the chords of real manhood which once stirred the heart of his brother-in-law.
“Austin, I am pained at all you tell me and am sorry that it is going so ill with dear Elizabeth’s children, but I can not see it our duty to bear your father’s burdens. You are welcome here with us. To me you are like one of my own sons, and I want you to feel as the weeks go by that you are at home. I shall do by you just as I do by them.”
Tears filled Austin’s eyes at the kindness of his uncle, but the stinging words of his father rang in his ears, “You could not exist a month on your own resources,” and he was determined to make his own way and prove to him that he could do for himself.
“No, Uncle John, I can not do that, though I appreciate your offer. I did not come here to live off your money, but I want to find work and support myself. I am strong enough to do it, and now that I have no care of the children I can do it I am certain.”
“But, Austin, a boy like you should be in school. You are not yet fifteen, and for a year you have not been in school to speak of. You can stay right here and go every day,” urged Mr. Moore.
“No, Uncle, I do not want to do that now. I am almost out of clothing. All I possess is in that suitcase, and I need to earn something for myself right away. Besides, Papa said I could not look out for myself.” persisted Austin.
“Humph! Well, if that is what is on your mind, I do not blame you for going to work. Prove that you can take care of yourself and after that look out for other things,” said Mr. Moore in hearty sympathy with the boy for resenting his father’s taunt.
“I wish none of you would write anything home about me. I do not want Papa to know where I am nor one thing about my affairs.”
“All right; I will inform the others of your wish. It will be hard on the children, but as for Henry, he ought to do a little worrying.”
The next week was a busy one for the Moore household, and Austin helped them with their moving, staying with them till the hard work was over, and then found himself a place. This was not hard, for he was well known and universally liked. Those who would hire him knew him to be reliable beyond his years. The wages he received were small, pitifully so, but they were sufficient to again clothe him suitably, and to give him that feeling of independence and self-respect that is good for any boy.
Though he was satisfied with his present lot so far as his own self was concerned, his mind was never at rest about the children. In spirit he lived constantly with them, and was ever longing to return to them and bear their burdens. Not once did he contemplate entirely forsaking them. He believed the cloud which now overshadowed him and them would pass away and he again be welcome under the home roof. He built great air-castles of the time when he should become rich and return and care for them. But he could not overcome the feeling of repugnance toward his father, nor did he really try to do so.
When Austin had again fitted himself with a suitable wardrobe, he remembered his uncle’s advice about going to school. Spring was at hand now, and the country-school term at a close, so he could do nothing for the present. But when Mr. Coles, a neighbor of his uncle’s, offered him a place for the summer at reasonable wages with the understanding that when the summer was over he might remain with him and attend school the coming winter, Austin thought it wise to accept the offer, though the wages were considerably less than he could have gotten elsewhere. He thought that the lesser wage which Mr. Coles paid him would make his board right for the coming winter, and he did not wish to get something for nothing.
So Austin all through the hot summer months worked away on the farm, of Mr. Coles, doing anything and everything there was to be done. He plowed and sowed and reaped, milked, and fed the calves and pigs, and worked in the garden and orchard. Mr. Coles had a willing hand all the summer through.
Some men set a high value upon honor, others will sell themselves for a trifle. The value of a man is not one whit higher than the value he sets on his honor. Some men scorn to be dishonest in the small affairs of life, and as friends and neighbors are ever upright and honorable, yet can be tempted in greater matters to sell their birthright for the gain of the profiteer or the influence of the politician. Other men abhor these greater forms of dishonor, but in little things are petty and mean. They are like the woman who prides herself on her cleverness when she cheats the milkman out of a quart of milk or the peddler out of a paper of pins. When a boy undertakes to look out for himself, he must learn to deal with these petty meannesses in others or be continually deceived.
Austin met the world with no expectation of fraud or ill will, and when he found these, he was surprized and grieved, and was quite unprepared to cope with the situation. His first summer’s work was to teach him a rather severe lesson in human nature. Farmer Coles knew the boy and that he was a good worker, and deliberately planned to get a farm-hand at a very reasonable rate. He was careful to see that Austin earned fully every dollar he received all the summer through, but he had no intention of keeping him during the winter. When school began the first of September, there was yet much to be done in the fields, and Austin consented, at the farmer’s suggestion, to keep at his work for another month, but the first of October he quit and started to school.
From the time he entered school, the atmosphere about the home, and Mr. Cole’s attitude toward his choreboy, changed completely. Where he had been pleasant, he now was surly and cross. He found fault with all that Austin did, and it seemed impossible to please him in anything.
One evening Mr. Coles told Austin to get out the car and have it lighted and ready, for he intended to go to a neighbor’s. This Austin did, carrying out with him a few matches to light the car-lamps. He had intended to take the surplus matches back to the kitchen, but as Mr. Coles came out ready to start, Austin forgot them. It was a thing forbidden about the Coles’ premises that a hired man should carry matches in his pockets. Mr. Coles had been particular about this rule, and thus far Austin had not offended.
When they were ready to start for home, Mr. Coles had trouble in lighting his lamps, and his last match blew out. He was in the act of going in for another supply from his neighbor when Austin remembered those in his pocket and handed him one.
“Carrying matches, Austin?” asked the farmer sharply.
“No, not ordinarily, but I had two or three left from lighting the car this evening and had not yet carried them back to the kitchen.”
“See that you dispose of them at once when we get back.” But it was late and Austin was sleepy and again he forgot. He did not think of them till early in the morning while he was helping with the milking. His lantern went out, and he had started to the house for a match when he remembered those in his pocket, and, taking one out, struck it and lighted his lantern. Now the farmer had the excuse he was looking for. He had no intention of giving the boy his board all winter. Far was that from his mind. He had not liked to turn him out without a cause, but rather to make life so uncomfortable for him that he would not stay. Not till now had he found a real cause for an outburst of wrath, and using his opportunity to its fullest extent, he railed out at Austin, using abusive language.
“I am sorry, Mr. Coles, that I forgot to take the matches from my pocket, but you know very well that I do not smoke and have no need of them about me. Also you know how I came to have these at this time,” said Austin hotly, for his anger burned at the language and accusations heaped upon him.
Mr. Coles’ retort had been more bitter than ever, and Austin picked up the milk-bucket and lantern and walked out of the barn and to the house. Here he strained the milk, put away the lantern, washed himself, and went to his room, never saying a word to the farmer’s wife, who looked at him wonderingly because he had come to the house before the chores were finished. He did not come down to breakfast, for he was too angry to eat at the same table with Mr. Coles. A little later he was ready, and coming down-stairs with his suitcase, he stopped to bid Mrs. Coles good-by.
“Why, Austin, what does this mean? You are not leaving us!”
“Yes, Mr. Coles and I have had trouble, and I will not stay any longer.”
“Come, come, Austin, you are hasty. You kept your part of the agreement all summer, now do not leave as if we drove you off.”
“Mr. Coles knows he has been unjust,” said Austin going on out.
There were those who knew Mr. Coles to be the man he proved himself, and were not surprized when Austin gave up the place. One person who understood perfectly was Harry Coles, the farmer’s nephew. He was a young married man just starting in life. The help that Austin could give night and morning was just what Harry needed with his milking and other chores, and here Austin found a home at once.
This family was congenial, and Austin was soon settled and steady at his school-work. He was made to feel that what he did fully paid for what he received and that he was not in any way an object of charity. As the weeks moved on so smoothly and pleasantly, Austin also made good progress in school. But his very happiness made him more sad when he thought of the children. How his surroundings contrasted with theirs! While he was enjoying such kindness at the hands of these friends, he knew they were being neglected.
Though he had never written home, and they knew nothing about him, he kept in pretty good touch with their affairs through the letters the girls wrote to their cousins. In every one they had spoken of him, and when cold weather came on, the burden of their letters was for Austin.
After Austin left, his father had hired a woman to keep house for a while, but she did not stay long. Help such as he needed was hard to get, and he had not been able to procure another housekeeper. The girls were hardly old enough to understand how to keep all the ends of the housework going, and their father was as helpless as they. Home had gone in a most haphazard manner. Mr. Hill had encouraged the children to accept places to work as they had been offered. It was only occasionally that they were all at home together. A sense of love and loyalty for home was fading out of their minds, as was also the sense of moral obligation. The younger children were becoming rebellious and evil-minded. All this Austin read between the lines of the letters. His heart ached as he thought of his dear mother and how different it would have been had she lived. He would be jolly all the evening with Harry and his wife, but when he lay upon his bed, his pillow was often wet with his tears. As yet, though, he could not see it his duty to go home.
“Where do you suppose Austin is? Does he ever think of home? I wonder if he is yet alive. Have you heard anything of him?” wrote Amy in one of her letters.
“Do not worry about Austin,” her uncle had written in reply; “he is able to care for himself, and I am certain he is getting on all right.”
“Listen to what Uncle John says about Austin,” said Amy as she read the letter, “I have an idea he is with Uncle John, else he would not be so confident he is all right.”
Henry Hill read the letter carefully. He wanted Austin, he needed him. He had his lesson and would not nag the boy any more. While Austin was patient, it was plain to be seen that he would not stand to be trampled on. Thinking it all over, he decided to send a letter to his brother-in-law that would bring the boy home if he were there. It was not to be a harsh or authoritative letter, but an appeal for the children. He knew Austin would come home if he had assurance of better treatment.
While these matters were being worked out in the Hill home, Austin was tasting of pleasures which were to make him see life in a new light. We can not always see the plan of the Master in all his dealings with us, but afterward we look back and know that when the way seemed darkest and the path before us the most dim, the hand of God was guiding all the way.
Only those who have lived in a rural community can realize the place in the social life of the people the revival holds. In the city and larger town the movies and theaters with other places of amusement and social activities fill up the time, but here the occasional picnic, party, or dance is the only form of social diversion, and the younger people become starved for somewhere to go and something to do. And the older people, while they enjoy the spiritual enlivenment of the revival, also come under the power of social enjoyment and give themselves over to a season of communion together.
The little village at the edge of which Harry Coles lived was the center socially of the farming region round about, and the little church of the village the center of the village life. Joseph Bennet, pastor of the congregation, was a spiritual-minded man who had the interests of the people at heart. His life had been clean and sincere, and every one had confidence in him, so when he planned to begin a revival early in the winter, the entire community was ready to lend him assistance with their interest and presence. From the first this meeting gave promise of more than ordinary success. It was not a big meeting because of the work of some talented and eloquent evangelist, but was the joint effort of pastor and people striving under God’s hand to be a blessing to their community. The preaching was simple but plain and earnest and carried conviction to the hearts of the hearers.
Pastor Bennet was a wise man in many ways, and to enlist the interest and cooperation of the younger folk he formed a choir wholly of young people and gave them a place in the front of the building. This gave them a feeling of responsibility and overcame to a great extent the possibility of inattention or irreverence on their part. He thought it gave him a better chance of winning them for Christ, and that was his special aim in the meetings, the winning of souls for Christ.
Austin was interested in the meeting from the first, and was a regular attendant. And when he was invited to join the choir, he accepted, though he confessed himself a poor singer. Pastor Bennet was interested in this quiet boy and spoke to him at different times about giving his heart to God. Also Austin’s Sunday-school teacher, who was organist, was particularly interested in Austin and often spoke to him of his soul’s need. His place in the choir put him near her, and he was often conscious of her prayers for him.
Though Austin had always been an obedient boy and was extremely conscientious in all he did, he had never professed faith in Christ. He had always been conscious of the will and desire of his mother and had sought to walk pleasing to her, rather than to acknowledge his allegiance to God. But in the perplexities of the past year since his mother had been away he had often blindly called out to God for help and had felt that God did help and strengthen him. But now, as he sat under the preaching of God’s word, he became conscious of a longing in his soul that only acquaintance with God could satisfy. He desired with all his heart to be a Christian.
But the same obstacles stood in his way that hinder the spiritual progress of other boys. He was timid, extremely so, and the thought of going forward and kneeling with the other seekers at the altar of prayer frightened him. And he feared he could not hold out if he did start, which would be worse than not starting at all. There was the possibility of ridicule and mockery that he might receive at the hands of others, which, made the way look fearful. So, halting between two opinions, he waited from night to night before he at last made his decision.
The meeting was the one great subject of conversation in the home where he lived. Though none of the family were professors, all of them were in sympathy with the meeting, all respected the pastor and wished him success, and all honestly believed that it was better for any person to “make a start,” as they expressed it. They were all genuinely pleased when Nell Purdy’s brother and John Finley’s son, Sam, forsook their wild ways and “joined church.” And they watched closely to see who else of their neighbors and friends seemed to be most interested and might before the meeting closed “make a start.” If one of them had to remain away, he was always eager to inquire of the others how the meeting was and who “went forward.” And the Coles home was a sample of all the homes in the neighborhood. There was no doubt but that the meeting was getting hold of the people in a way to bring lasting good.
One night Austin stood singing with the others the touching invitation hymn, when he noticed that Theo Kelsey, who stood next to him, was trembling violently. Austin’s own heart beat faster as he saw Theo thinking seriously of his soul’s salvation. The organist, looking up, saw the concern and interest written on each boyish face and silently prayed as she played. Another worker saw, too, and came and talked to the boys, but both shook their heads at her invitation; however, when she was gone, Theo said in a whisper to Austin, “I will go if you will.”
“All right,” said Austin, hardly thinking Theo would have the courage to walk out past the others to the place of prayer. But Theo was in earnest and hesitating but a moment he walked past Austin and the others to the altar. Austin was a boy to keep his promise, and it had been only timidity that had kept him away from the place of prayer for several nights, and he too stepped forward just behind Theo.
He bowed himself at the end of the altar almost at his Sunday-school teacher’s feet, and she left her post at the organ at once and knelt beside him. At first he was bewildered and could hardly breathe for the wild beating of his heart, but in a little while he remembered why he was there and the promises of God to those who come to him. His teacher was by his side to instruct and teach him, and in only a short time he felt in his heart that God had forgiven him for his past sins, and that he was His child. A sweet sensation of peace and quiet filled his heart, and he rose from his knees a new creature. Some who had been converted had shouted aloud the praises of God, but he did not feel like doing that. When the Pastor spoke to him a little later and asked him if he had received that which he sought, he smiled and said he thought he had.
“Then be ready to tell to others what God has done for you,” said Pastor Bennet as he passed on to speak to another.
Before the services closed opportunity was given for those who had found the Lord to testify of his love, and Austin, true to his natural principles of honesty and sincerity, rose and, in very trembling tones, told that he believed Jesus saved him.
Austin had been the only member of the Coles household to go to church that night, and the next morning he said nothing to the family about what had happened to him, but went on about his chores as usual. When Harry, while they were busy milking, asked him who had gone forward, Austin spoke of two or three whom he had seen go before he went, but said nothing about himself. He was not ashamed, but he was yet very timid. That night Harry soon saw that Austin was among the converts. He chided him a little when they reached home again for not telling him about it, but added kindly, “Stay with it, Austin. It is the best thing any man can do.”
The meeting soon closed, but Pastor Bennet, being a wise man, as we have said, set to work finding something for the young converts to do. He did not find them all ready to begin active service, but in Austin Hill he found a young Christian who, though timid, was ready to do all he could for God’s glory. The Pastor instructed him to use every opportunity for prayer and testimony, and Austin, following this advice, was soon bold to move forward when the others were yet standing back timidly. His prayers and testimonies he knew to be often poorly worded, and at times he was tempted with the thought that they did no one any good, but he remembered that they were doing him good and exercised himself accordingly.
At the first business meeting of the church after the new members were taken in, Austin was elected as assistant class-leader. He did not refuse the place, but went to his pastor puzzled.
“I am young, only a boy, and many in the congregation are old men. How could I lead a meeting? It is all I can do to testify, and I am afraid I will make poor success.”
“I know you are young, Austin, but you are earnest, and the Lord will help you. All that is necessary on your part anyway is to be here and see that the meeting starts on time, and read a portion of Scripture, possibly with a few comments. You need not feel you must preach a sermon. And, for a little hint—the best leader is the one who can get others to do something,” said his pastor in reply.
The congregation in the village was not supplied with a pastor all its own, Mr. Bennet also served another church. He seldom could be with the village church on prayer-meeting night, so the responsibility that fell upon the class-leader was increased. Also it so happened that the man who was acknowledged as class-leader had fallen back in his religious life until he needed the excitement of a big meeting to stir him up to diligence. Austin already knew when he was elected as assistant that to him would fall most of the meetings, for Deacon Bond was seldom there.
The advice given by the Pastor was of great service to Austin, and following it he sought out each week some one who was willing to read a portion of the Word and give the few comments necessary. He was proving himself a good leader for the meetings, and Pastor Bennet took a real delight in him.
Before many weeks the time for the quarterly meeting had once more rolled around, and the presiding elder was guest of the Pastor. He had come in late on prayer-meeting evening and went with Brother Bennet to the meeting. Both men had spent the day in travel and conversation and were quite weary, and they knew the congregation was not expecting them and had expected to have their meeting without the pastor’s presence. Therefore they insisted, when Austin came to them to offer them the charge of the meeting, that he go ahead as had been planned, as if no preacher were present.
Austin carried this word back to the old brother who had promised to read the Word that evening, but he fainted in spirit at sight of two preachers and would do nothing. There was no way but that the young class-leader take the meeting, which he did with fair success and a rich blessing to his own soul. This little incident was always a source of much encouragement to Austin in his life as a Christian, for in it he learned that if he did his duty, God would help him through.
It was perhaps March or April when Austin went to his uncle’s to spend a few hours. As soon as he arrived, they brought him Amy’s latest letter. It bore a special message for him.
“Is Austin there?” she asked. “If he is tell him to come home. We all want him so much, and Papa says he wishes he would come,” and continuing she told how much he was needed.
Austin listened while they read the letter to him, and all the family watched his face to see what he would think about it. He sat quietly a while, a great light coming into his face. This was what he had been waiting for, and praying for—word that his father wanted him to come. He knew that if he went home without such word, his father would taunt him about it, but that if he waited till his father humbled himself ever so little he would be spared that trial.
School-time for the spring was nearly over, and Austin, in the quick mental survey which he took of his affairs while the letter was being read, thought he could easily sacrifice the few remaining weeks. If he could have followed his own impulses, he would have set off that night, but such a step was not practical.
“I shall go home at once, Uncle John. I have thought for a long time that I ought to go, and this letter makes me certain.”
“I am glad that is your decision, Austin, and while we shall miss you, your aunt and I shall feel much better satisfied about the children if you are with them. I have not liked the way Henry has been managing them. It is not a good thing for children to have too many homes,” replied Mr. Moore.
“I wish I could start tonight, but I can hardly do that. I shall spend next Sunday with them, see if I don’t,” said Austin with his face beaming.
Strong as the home cords were pulling, Austin found it hard to say farewell to his many friends where he was. Especially had his life in the village congregation been most sweet. The Pastor had been encouraging him in Christian service, and deep in Austin’s heart was a desire to be of real use in the Master’s vineyard. He wondered if some time he might not, like good Pastor Bennet, preach the gospel. His efforts in the class meetings had given him a boldness and confidence that was making him a leader among them in other ways. He had a Sunday-school class, which would miss him very much. All these things Austin considered that night after he had gone to bed, and found that even his joy for going would be mixed with regret at leaving his church home.
After talking the whole matter over frankly with Uncle John, Austin had returned to his boarding-place in the home of Harry Coles and told Harry and his wife his new plans. They sympathized with him, for they had known something of his homesick longings, but they were sorry to lose his comradeship out of their home, for they had grown to love him.
“You had better see your school term through. You may never have another chance,” Harry suggested.
“I can not do it, Harry. I should be no good in school after this. I must go at once. I would start tonight if I could get ready,” said Austin, his face shining with animation.
His school-teacher was sorry to lose her earnest, faithful pupil and told him so. He found himself regretting leaving her who had made his path clear through the winter’s study.
Saying good-by to Pastor Bennet proved to be quite an undertaking. Austin did not realize how he had learned to love this friend, nor all that his pastor had been to him; but now, as he stood before him for the last time, his lips trembled and his heart sank. Who would give him the advice and council so needed by every young Christian? To whom should he go in times of spiritual darkness and perplexity?
“Austin, you will have peculiar trials in your father’s home, for you tell me he is not only unsaved, but a drinking man also. If you settle it in your heart to be a bold witness for Christ from the beginning, you will have little trouble with discouragements from him. Be bold and determined and keep your faith strong in God, and you will be able to meet the hardest trials.”
“Brother Bennet, Christ is needed in my father’s house. I mean to do my duty by the children, and if possible lead them to the Savior. I will neither turn back nor give up, and by God’s grace I shall be bold to speak for Him when I ought. Pray for me that I may be able to prove myself a real Christian.”
“Another thing, Austin, seek out some spiritual people and meet with them regularly. It is far more difficult to live a Christian life without the encouragement of fellow travelers in the way.”
“I promise to do that, and to get the children into Sunday-school as soon as I can,” replied the boy.
There was to Austin a great deal of satisfaction in the fact that he should go back to his father with good evidence of having taken care of himself. He left home with only the clothes that he had put into one small suitcase; he returned with two suitcases well packed. Besides this, he had money for his fare home and a goodly sum besides. That this money would go for the needs of the children he very well knew, and possibly for that reason he had been a little more lavish in buying for himself now, while he had it.
Besides thus providing himself with means and clothes, he had been able to get almost a full winter’s schooling. This afforded him pleasure, for he realized to some extent the handicap it is to any man to lack in learning. He would have liked to continue in school a while longer, but to him the path of duty pointed plainly back to his charge. Now he had lost the vision of his mother to urge him on to duty and had in her place the will of his God. He possessed a deep feeling of reverence and love for God, and went back to his place of responsibility resolved not to let the influence of unholy surroundings hinder him in the service of his Savior.
The evening came that he was to start for home. Time had slipped by quickly, for he had been careful not to give himself more time than was actually necessary for his preparations. He stood again at the same little station with Aunt Tillie and Uncle John. Less than two years had passed since he, with the children, had stood there before waiting for the train, but it seemed to him he had lived many times that long. Then he had gone with a child’s trust into the unknown future, now he knew to some extent what the trials were before him. Then he had only the vision of his mother as a star to lead him on, now he had the blessed Son of God as his Example and Pattern.
The writing of the letter to Uncle John in which they had so urged that Austin come home had been a great joy to Amy. After she had sent the letter, she began a rather impatient wait for the reply. She believed Austin would come if he was really at Uncle John’s, but how could she be sure he was there? For several days her heart beat very fast when she saw the mail-carrier coming, and drooped again when he had gone by without leaving the letter.
They had moved from the place where they had lived when Austin went away and were instead in a house near a thriving town not very far distant. I say they were living here, but in reality the family was broken up, for Henry Hill had fulfilled Austin’s greatest fear, and had allowed the children to become scattered till there were none of them at home. Some of them had places to work, while others were staying with friends for accommodation’s sake. But the children while they were in the little wayside house had enjoyed it much better than the lonely spot near the oil-fields.
At this time Nell was with a farmer helping his wife in her work. She was given the care of the small children. Harry was working for another farmer, doing what he could to pay for his board.
Amy helped a lady in town part of the time. The little ones were cared for by strangers. Will had come to his father, and the two men worked most of the time, but spent what they earned as rapidly as they earned it. It was hard now to get the drink they both loved, for their State had gone dry. Altogether it was a torn and scattered family Austin was to find on his return.
Amy had not made the best of a success as housekeeper. She hated work in the house, cooking and dish-washing especially. If her father had been more kind, she would have done better, but he was quick to criticize and slow to approve, and she had been glad to see the family scattered that she might be free from the drudgery. Though she was glad for the freedom from responsibility, yet she did not like being drifted about, and longed for Austin. She knew he would lift the load and make it easier for all of them.
One day a young fellow alighted from the passenger-coach with a suitcase in each hand and a look of eagerness in his face. He set out at once to find the little wayside house, and came to it only to find it a bachelor’s camp, there being no children about. He inquired and learned where he could find Amy and the little ones.
“Austin! Amy, Amy, look! Isn’t that Austin coming?” Lila’s excited little voice rang with joy. Amy rushed to the door in time to see the little ones well down the street where a tall man was receiving them with open arms. She knew him at a glance and ran to meet him as fast as they had run. It seemed that she could never take her arms from about his neck. Doyle and Lila were clinging to him, and he was trying to greet them all at once. None of them could get through pressing their rosy lips to his cheeks. If he had had any misgivings as to his welcome, they were quick to dispel them.
“Where are Nell and Harry?” asked Austin when he could get his breath.
“Nell is caring for Mrs. Blaine’s children, and Harry is riding Mr. Smith’s lead horse,” promptly explained Doyle.
“Papa found places for all of us, and we like it better than staying at home alone. It is so lonely without you, Austin. Now we can all come back home again,” and Amy’s eyes were filled with tears as she looked into her beloved brother’s face.
“Well, do not cry now, Sister, for I am at home and to stay. I will not leave you any more. Let us all get on out home and begin housekeeping again,” Austin said bruskly to cover his feelings. Tears were on his cheeks, and a choke in his throat as he looked at the little motherless children so joyful to see him. He looked up with a new feeling of responsibility to God, whom he believed was pleased to have him again take the children.
In the next two hours the children tried to tell him all that had happened in his absence, while he listened half abstractedly, trying to plan the course he should take. He could not set up housekeeping permanently without his father’s consent and support, but he felt certain that his father meant to do his part. Before the day was done, he had etablished himself in the little house by the side of the road, and had the three children with him.
“I hear that Austin is home, Nellie,” said Mr. Blaine an evening or two later, after he had returned from town.
“Mr. Blaine, is that true? I want to go home right away. I want to see him! I must see him! Are you sure he is home?” and the little face looked up into his tremulously.
“I see I have made a mistake. Mrs. Blaine will be after me for making her nurse-girl dissatisfied,” laughed Mr. Blaine.
“I have to see him!” and the child began to cry.
“There, there, don’t cry, Nellie. I will be going over that way one of these days and will take you over,” soothed the man.
“I can’t wait a day or two. I want to see him now. I’ll walk home in the morning, I will. I have to see Austin.” Nellie had dried her tears instantly at the thought of being put off a few days. Her black eyes were snapping.
“Well, we shall see about it in the morning,” and the man passed into the kitchen to wash in preparation for supper.
Nellie’s fears were high that Mrs. Blaine might object to letting her go and demand that she remain longer, for she was really needed; but so determined and defiant was she that she would have gladly undertaken the walk across the prairies to her home rather than remain away from her brother.
But Mrs. Blaine understood how Nellie felt, and let her go, and Nell rode with Mr. Blaine, who passed by the Hill home on his way to town. His children’s little nurse fairly flew up the path into the house and, bouncing in, sprang into Austin’s arms. She sobbed out her joy on his shoulder. Dear little Nell! Austin loved the others, but already he had seen in Nell something of the same devotion to duty and to the younger children that had filled his own heart. Home would mean little to him without her.
Before the week was out Harry had heard and came home to be with Austin. He had them all together again. Home had a new meaning to all of them now. Austin wept with joy at their present happiness and with pity for their past neglect This was his work, his place in life. He would stay at home now through rough and smooth sailing. They should not be left alone again as they had been. Many were the vows he made in those first few days after his home-coming.
His father had received him kindly, with no reference to his hasty departure nor the cause of it. He seemed satisfied that Austin should take the reins of home government again, and did not openly oppose him in any way, neither did he lend him assistance nor encouragement. Will came over to see his brother, but they had so little in common that he did not remain very long.
Austin found his days filled with active service. He had little time for reverie; but at night when all was quiet, he lay and mused and planned. He was now almost sixteen. He marveled at his undertaking the care of the children as he did when he was but thirteen. The responsibility looked greater to him now than then. He had thought only of their physical comfort then, now he began to consider their spiritual training also. Would he be able to lead them to Christ? What ought he to do first? He looked back over the months since his mother’s death and saw that God had led him all the way, and he reached out to his heavenly Father now for guidance and grace.
He remembered his promise to Brother Bennet, and even at their first meal had bidden the children to stop while he asked God’s blessing on the food. The children had looked at him curiously. It had been a little difficult to bow and thank God at the first meal after his father was with them. Henry Hill was not a reverent man, and while he had not openly opposed his son in this pious act, he had gone ahead as if no blessing were being asked. And always since he had ignored completely the fact that Austin said grace at meals. The children waited without prompting for him to finish his prayer. To establish the family altar had been even more difficult, yet he had found time to read and pray with the children. They lent themselves to his ways, for they were glad to have him with them again. But the new order of things in the house proved in time to be very vexing to Henry Hill. Every word and act of his godly son was a stab in his conscience, and as he had no thought of turning to God, he hated accordingly the one who caused his uneasiness. Wilbur laughed at Austin for his queer ways, as he called them, and scoffed and mocked, yet down in his heart respected him. He would not have had his brother different.