'Washing and ironing I daily have to do;Baking and brewing I must remember too;Three small children to maintain:Oh, how I wish I was single again!'"
'Washing and ironing I daily have to do;Baking and brewing I must remember too;Three small children to maintain:Oh, how I wish I was single again!'"
'Washing and ironing I daily have to do;Baking and brewing I must remember too;Three small children to maintain:Oh, how I wish I was single again!'"
'Washing and ironing I daily have to do;
Baking and brewing I must remember too;
Three small children to maintain:
Oh, how I wish I was single again!'"
sang Joe with irresistible drollery.
Granny laughed; but she winked her eyes hard, and something suspicious shone in them.
"It would be splendid, and no mistake! To think of having a piano, and learning French, and riding in a carriage—'A coach and four and a gold galore!' And then pretty Peggy we should"—
Joe made a great pause, for something stuck in his throat.
"But couldn't we ever see you?" asked Charlie.
An awesome silence fell over the little group.
"If you could come and see us once in a while," said Hal softly. "We would not so much mind not goingthere"—
"I'd run away and visit her," announced daring Charlie. "I'd hide about in the woods until I saw her some day, and then"—
"They'd set the dog on you."
"Hum! As if I was afraid of a dog, Joe Kenneth! I'd snap my fingers in his face, and ask him what he had for breakfast. Then I'd come back home and tell you all about it."
"The breakfast, or the dog?"
"Joseph, I am afraid you are getting in your dotage," said Charlie with a shake of the head. "But, if I started to, I know I'd find Florence."
"It is rather cruel," said Joe sturdily. "I don't see why she should want to take you entirely away from us."
"We cannot look at it just as the lady does," said Hal's mild voice. "I suppose she thinks, if she does so much for Flossy, that she ought to have a good deal of love in return."
"She is ashamed of us because we are poor. But maybe if we managed to get along, and grow up nicely—she wouldn't feel so—so particular about it."
"I don't believe she would," exclaimed Florence. "You see, people are so different; and—I'm sure I've always wanted you to have nice manners."
"So you have, Flossy," declared Joe. "And you were meant for a lady."
Hal and Granny sat on the doorstep after the rest had gone to bed, crying a little, and yet finding some comfort.
"It would be so nice for Florence!" Hal said in hispleading tone. "She would always have to work here, and not learn music and all those lovely things. And she has such a beautiful voice, you know, and such pretty hands, and nice, dainty ways"—
"But never to see her again!" groaned Granny.
"I think we shall see her,—some time. Perhaps Mrs. Osgood might die: she is not very well, and Flossy might come back to us. Oh, yes, Granny, I do believe we shall see her again!"
"I've loved you all so much!"
"And we should always love you, even if we went to Japan. Then, if Flossy should have to work hard, and be unhappy, we might be sorry that we kept her out of any thing so nice."
"I do believe you are right, Hal; only it's so hard to think of not seeing her again."
"I'll try to make it up, dear. You will always have me."
The soft young lips kissed those that quivered so piteously, and smoothed the wet, wrinkled cheek.
"We'll pray about it, Granny. Somehow it seems as if God made these things plain after a while; and it is in his hands. He hears the ravens cry, poor, hungry little birdies; and he must care for us. He will watch over Florence."
"O Hal, you talk like a minister! Maybe you will be one some day. And it is so sweet to have you, dear boy!"
"I shall never be half good enough," he said solemnly.
He crept up to his room, but laid awake a long while, watching the stars, and thinking.
Florence resolved the next day that she would not go, and braced herself to martyr-like endurance. But oh, how mean and poor every thing appeared by contrast! Charlie in rags,—you never could keep Charlie in whole clothes; Dot playing in the dirt, for, though you washed her twenty times an hour, she would not stay clean; the shabby, old fashioned, tumble-down cottage,—no, Mrs. Osgood never would want any of these wild Arabs visiting her.
So she shed many quiet tears. Perhaps it would be best to make the sacrifice, hard as it was.
Granny saw it all. Her old eyes were not blind, and her heart smote her for something akin to selfishness. Poor, aching heart.
"Flossy," she said, over her heart-break, "if Mr. Howard is satisfied, I think you had better go."
"I have about decided to give it up. Perhaps it is mydutyto stay."
Granny scanned the face eagerly, but found there no cheerful and sweet self-denial.
"I've been thinking it over"—her voice broken and quavering. "Perhaps it will be best. Though I don't like to part with you, for your poor father"—and Granny's inconsequent speech ended in tears.
"I'll stay home then, and do what I can; only it seems as if there were so many of us,—and the place so little, and I can't help being different, and liking music and education, and a nice orderly house"—
"No, you can't help it. Poor Joe—your father I mean—liked 'em all too. I've sometimes thought that maybe, if he'd gone away, he might have been a gentleman. He'd a master voice to sing. And God will watch over you there, and not let you come to harm. Oh, dear!"
Granny covered her face with her apron, and cried softly.
Mr. Howard called that evening. He had been quite favorably impressed with Mrs. Osgood's proposal.
"Her connections are all reputable people," he said; "and I think she means to treat Florence like a daughter. She can give her many advantages, and she is strongly attached to her already. But sheisexclusive and aristocratic. She wants Florence all to herself. Still, she has made one concession: she will allow her to write home once a year."
"And then I could tell you every thing!" exclaimed Florence overjoyed.
"But she is resolved not to permit any visiting. To be sure, time may soften this condition; yet, if Florence goes, she ought to abide by her promise."
"Yes," answered the child meekly.
"It does seem a remarkable opportunity. I do not know as it would be wise to refuse."
Ah, if onecouldknow what was for the best! The days flew by so rapidly, there was so much talking, but never any coming to a conclusion. Joe was loudly on Florence's side. So was Hal, for that matter; but from more thoughtful motives. And Granny was too conscientious to stand in the way of the child's advancement, much as she loved her, and longed to keep her.
Then, on Friday evening they sat on the old stone doorstep, a sad group, going over the subject in low, sad tones, the pain of parting already in their voices. Granny's vehemence had subsided. Hal had Florence's soft hand in his, Kit's head was in her lap, and Charlie sat at her feet.
Should she go? When all the mists and glamor of desire cleared away, as they did now in the calm star-light, with God watching up above, she felt that it would be nobler and truer to remain with them, and share the poverty and the trials. For to have them ill, dying perhaps, without looking upon their dear faces, with no last words or last kisses to remember, was more than she could bear. Would it not seem selfish to go off to luxury and indolence, when they must struggle on with toil and care and poverty?
"Oh!" she exclaimed, going to Granny's arms, with a sob. "I believe I cannot leave you when itcomes to absolute parting. We have been happy, in spite of the troubles and wants. I should miss you all so much! And, if I could get to be a teacher, I might help a little."
Granny held her to her heart, and kissed the wet face again and again.
"My dear darling, God bless you!" she said brokenly.
Flossy thought herself a very heroic girl. There was a great lump in her throat, and she could not utter another word. It was a born princess turning her back on the palace.
Hal and Joe eyed each other inquisitively. It was the noblest thing she could do, but would it be the wisest?
But then it all looked so different by daylight! The old rickety house, the noisy children, the general shabbiness, and the life of hard work and dissatisfaction, stretching out interminably. For, to the eyes of fifteen, it seems a long way to fifty; and roses are so much more tempting than thorns!
Hal found her out in the garden crying.
"Dear Flossy," he began tenderly, "I think you had better go, after all. When the parting is over, Granny will be reconciled, and understand that it is for the best."
"But I ought to stay at home and help," she sobbed. "If I could do both"—
"That is not possible;" and Hal tried to smile away the tears in his eyes.
"It looks so—so foolish not to be able to make up one's mind."
"It is a hard case, and there is so much on Mrs. Osgood's side."
"Hal, what would you do?" and Florence glanced up earnestly.
"My darling, I think you want to go, and that you would always be unhappy and regretful if you staid. We can't help all our feelings and wants and tastes; and it seems as if you were born for a lady. That is natural too."
"But I do love you all, and dear Granny"—
"We shall never doubt that," he answered re-assuringly. "We shall often sit on the old doorstep, and talk about you, and try to imagine you in the beautiful house, with the pictures and the piano, and all the nice things you will be learning. It will be just lovely for us too. Then you can write every summer."
"And perhaps I shall come back when I am a woman!"
At this Florence brightened wonderfully, but after a moment said, "You don't think it very selfish, Hal?"
"My dear, no," replied brave little Hal. "I am sure it would be a great trial for me to give up any thing so splendid."
"If you would only tell Granny—again."
Hal nodded; for he couldn't say any more just then.
Granny wiped the tears out of her old eyes with the corner of her checked apron, and trod upon the cat, stretched out upon the floor, who added her pathetic howl to the fund of general sorrow.
So it came to pass, when Mrs. Osgood made her appearance, Florence was quite elegant and composed.The lady was very, very gracious. She expatiated on the great advantage this step would be to Florence, the pleasure toher, and the relief to Granny to know that one of her flock was provided for. Of course, she understood it was hard to part with her; but they had so many left, that in a little while they would hardly miss her. Then theywouldhear about her, and no doubt come to rejoice in her good fortune.
Indeed, by the time Mr. Howard arrived, she had talked them into quite a reasonable frame of mind. She promised to treat her like a daughter, educate her handsomely; so that, in case of her death, Florence would be able to take care of herself. If, at the end of the first year, she should feel unwilling to remain, Mrs. Osgood would not oppose her return.
Granny was calm, but very grave, while these preliminaries were being discussed. Hal kept swallowing over great sobs that wrenched his heart at every breath. The agreement was concluded and signed.
"Now, my dear, put on your hat," said Mrs. Osgood in her sweetest tone. "Brief partings are the kindest; are they not, Mr. Howard? I am much obliged for your assistance in this matter; and you must permit me to offer you a small donation for your pretty little church."
Granny's tears streamed afresh; but Hal managed her with delicate tenderness. Florence kissed them all many times. Dot wanted to go in the "booferwagon;" while Kit and Charlie looked on, with tearful, wondering eyes, not half understanding the importance of the step.
Then—she was driving away. One last, long look. Was that the waving of her pretty white hand? Their eyes were too dim to see.
"It seems to me that she will come back to the old house some time," said Hal, breaking the sad silence.
Granny turned away, and shut herself in the best room. For a long while they heard nothing of her. But God was listening to the heart-broken prayer, which he answered in his own time and his own way.
"So Flossy's gone!" exclaimed Joe soberly that night. "I can't make it seem a bit real. Air-castles don't generally turn into the substantial. After the king's ball I guess she will come home in glass slippers, and we will have her giving us loads of good advice. It is so sure to be true, Granny, that we can afford to take a little comfort meanwhile."
Granny did not laugh as usual. Kit chewed his thumb vigorously, and saw piles of violins in the distance.
But they confessed to being very lonesome on Sunday. Charlie declined wearing Flossy's second-best hat; for she insisted that she "felt it in her bones" that Florence would return, which Joe declared was incipient rheumatism, and that she must take a steam-bath over the spout of the tea-kettle. Yet secretly inhis heart he had greater faith in the mythical sea-captain who was to take him off with flying colors.
About a month afterwards they received a letter from Mrs. Osgood. Joe displayed the handsome monogram in great triumph, and begged Mr. Terry to let him run home with it at noon. They all crowded round him with eager eyes.
"It's Granny's letter," he said, handing it to her.
"Read it, Hal," she rejoined tremulously.
Mrs. Osgood gave a delightful account of Florence; declaring that she already loved her as a mother, and, the homesickness being over, she was studying industriously. There was no doubt but that she would make a very fine musician; and it was extremely fortunate that such talent could be rescued in time to make the most of it. Then Florence added a few words, to say that she was very happy, and that it seemed like fairy-land, every thing was so beautiful. She enclosed a gift for them all, and said good-by until next year.
They felt then how surely they were divided; yet they all rejoiced in Flossy's good fortune. Mr. and Mrs. Howard were very kind; but I think Hal's tender love did more towards comforting Granny than all the rest. She kept telling herself that it was foolish to grieve; yet there was a dumb ache way down in the poor old heart, an empty corner where one birdling had flown out of the home-nest.
The affair had created quite an excitement in Madison. Joe pictured it in the most gorgeous style, and made Mrs. Osgood an actual fairy godmother. Mrs. Van Wyck, who still held a little grudge against her, insisted that it was not half as grand as the Kenneths represented it.
"Now, Mr. Howard," she said at one of the parsonage gatherings, "is it really true? Did this woman adopt that flyaway Kenneth girl, or only take her as a sort of servant? And is she so very rich?"
"Mrs. Osgood is a lady of means and position, and is connected with some of the most reliable people in New York. She has legally adopted Florence, and I was a witness to the agreement. It certainly was a rather remarkable event."
"Well, she's nothing but a bunch of vanity, anyhow. She'll make one of the high-flyers, without a grain of sense, and I dare say elope with the coachman. I wish the woman joy of her bargain;" and Mrs. Van Wyck set her cap-streamers in violent motion.
Autumn came on apace. Poor Granny was grievously perplexed when she entered the clothing-campaign. Florence's fertile brain and handy fingers were sorely missed. Granny did her best; but the tasty touches the child was wont to add, that transformed the commonest garb into certain prettiness, were lacking now. Still, Charlie thought it a godsend to have so many clothes all at once, having fallen heir to Flossy's discarded heritage.
"Granny!" exclaimed Hal, rushing in breathless one afternoon, "Mr. Kinsey says he will take all my chickens to market! Isn't that splendid? He is going on Friday, and again next Tuesday; and he showed me how to make a crate to pack them in. Now is the very time, he says."
"But we'll have to kill 'em, Hal!" exclaimed Granny aghast.
"To be sure: that's the hard part of it, isn't it;" and Hal looked sober.
"They seem a'most like human beings. They patter round after Dot, and talk to her in their queer fashion, and eat out of her hand. But, then, we couldn't keep them all through the winter."
"We shall save the pets. There are some that I could not spare. But you must not grow chicken-hearted, Granny;" and he laughed softly at her.
"Deary me! Somehow I can't bear to part with any thing any more. What a foolish old cretur!"
"The dearest old creature in the world!" and Hal kissed her. "I wouldn't have you changed a mite, except, that, when you were almost a hundred, I'd like to set you back so that we could keep you always."
"I sha'n't be worth it, Hal;" and she shook her head.
"I shall have to stay home from school on Tuesday. I am quite anxious to know what our fortune will be, and whether it has paid."
For Hal had gone back to school, as there seemed no business opening for him. Mr. Terry had raised Joe's wages; and, one way and another, they managed to get along quite comfortably. Hal tried to make up for the absence of Florence, and comforted Granny in many tender, girlish ways. He would pull her cap straight, and find her glasses and her thimble, two things that were forever going astray. Then he borrowed books from one and another to read aloud evenings; and, though Granny sat in the chimney-corner and nodded, she always declared that it was the loveliest thing in the world, and that she didn't believe but Hal would write a book some day himself, he was so powerful fond of them.
To Charlie and Kit this was a great enjoyment. Indeed, it seemed as if in most things they listened more readily than they ever had to Florence. Dear, sweet-souled Hal! Your uses and duties in the world were manifold. And yet it tries our faith to see such fine gold dropped into the crucible. Is it those whom the Lord loveth?
They had a great time on Thursday. Joe was up early in the morning, as he thought there was some fun in making an onslaught upon the army of chickens; so when Hal and Granny stepped over the threshold, they saw a great pile of decapitated fowls.
"Why, Hal, you'll make a mint of money!" exclaimed Joe. "I suppose you mean to put it in government bonds."
Hal only laughed.
But he and Granny were busy as bees all day. About four o'clock Mr. Kinsey came over to see how the packing progressed.
"There are just two dozen," said Hal; "and I shall have two dozen again next week."
"They're beauties too! Why, I believe they go ahead of mine. You've plucked them nicely. Poultry's pretty high this year; retailing at twenty-five and twenty-eight, I heard."
They weighed them, and then laid them snugly in the crate; plump and yellow, looking almost good enough to eat without a pinch of salt, Mr. Kinsey said.
"Now I shall send them all over to the station, and they'll go through in the freight-train. Jim will soon be here with the wagon."
Joe and Hal counted up the possible profit that evening. They had raised, with all their broods, sixty-five chickens. The actual outlay for food had been seventeen dollars; and Hal had sold eggs to the value of two dollars and a half.
"It's better than keeping store, I do believe!" ejaculated Joe. "Hal, you have a genius for farming."
"Does raising chickens prove it?"
"If a hundred of corn-meal costs two fifty, what will the biggest chanticleer in the lot come to? There's a question for you, Granny."
"Why, it would depend on—how much he weighed," said Granny cautiously.
"Oh, no! it would depend on how you cooked him. In my kitchen he'd come to pot-pie, according to the double rule of a good hot fire."
"You won't sell 'em all, Hal?" said Charlie anxiously.
"No: we will have a little Thanksgiving for ourselves."
Granny sighed. They all knew of whom she was thinking,—a sweet, fair face dropped out of the circle. Now that Flossy was gone, they remembered only her pleasant qualities; and it seemed as if Joe did not care half so much for making a noise when she was not here to be teased.
Mr. Kinsey did not return until Saturday, but he came over with a smiling face.
"Royal luck for you, Hal!" he said in his hearty tone. "I've half a mind to make you guess, and keep all that is over."
"But I might guess high;" and a bright smile brought sunshine into the boy's face.
"Try it, then."
"Thirty dollars," ventured Hal, rather hesitatingly. "Though I don't believe itisas much as that."
"Thirty-two dollars; and the same man has spoken for your next lot. They were about the handsomest chickens in the market."
"Oh! isn't that splendid?" said Hal. "Why, I can hardly believe it!"
"There's the money. I've always observed that there's no eye-salve like money;" and Mr. Kinsey laughed.
"You ought to have something for your trouble."
"No, my fine little fellow. I shall only take out the freight. I'm glad to see you so energetic; and I do hope you will prosper as well in every thing you undertake."
Hal thanked Mr. Kinsey again and again, and insisted that he should come over and do some work for the farmer; but that gentleman only laughed.
"Have your second lot ready on Tuesday evening," said he, as he wished them good-day.
The next was still more of a success, for they netted thirty-four dollars. Hal was overjoyed.
"That certainly is 'bully!' our dear Flossy to the contrary," declared Joe. "Why, I'm so glad that I could stand on my head or the tip of my little finger. Whatwillyou do with it all? Granny, was there ever so much money in this old house? It's lucky that I have a pistol to keep guard."
Granny smiled, but a tear crept to the corner of her eye.
"Now let us reckon it all up," said Hal. "Here is my book."
Every item had been put down in the most systematic manner. They made a list of the expenses, and added the column, then subtracted it from the whole sum.
"Forty-seven dollars!"
"All that clear!" asked Granny in amaze.
"Yes. Isn't it wonderful?"
Joe could hold in no longer; but took a tour over the chairs, as if they had been a part of the flying trapeze. Hal's eyes were as large as saucers,—small ones.
"I wouldn't a' believed it! But you've been very ekernomical, Hal, and used every thing, and raised so much corn"—
"And the buckwheat-field was so nice for them! If we can only keep them comfortable through the winter, and have them lay lots of eggs!"
"It's astonishing how contrary they are when eggs are scarce," said Joe gravely. "What do you suppose is the reason, Charlie?"
"Forty-seven dollars!" said Charlie, loftily ignoring the last remark.
"Enough to buy me a fiddle," Kit remarked.
"It will have to buy a good many things," said Hal. "I am so very, very thankful for it."
Granny insisted that Hal should have a suit of clothes, and finally persuaded him into buying a complete outfit. That took twenty-three dollars. Then some boots for Kit, shoes for Charley, a pretty dressfor Dot, a barrel of flour, and there was very little of it left.
"But it was really magnificent!" said Hal with a sigh of pleasure. "I shall try it again next year, if you don't mind the trouble, Granny."
Granny said that she should not.
Their Christmas festival was quiet compared to the last one. Flossy had helped make them gay then, and there had been the wonderful shoe. Would any thing ever be quite as brilliant again?
"It almost seems as if Flossy was dead, doesn't it?" Hal said softly to granny. "And yet I suppose she has had lots of presents, and is—very—happy."
"God keep her safely," answered Granny.
Before spring some changes came to Madison. Grandmother Kinsey died, having reached a good old age; and Mr. Kinsey resolved to put his pet project into execution,—removing to the West, and farming on a large scale. Everybody was very sorry to have them go. It seemed to Granny as if she were losing her best friend. Ah! by and by the world would look very wide and desolate.
But the Kenneths had a little recompense for their loss. In casting about for a parting gift to Hal, fortune seemed to put an excellent one right in his way. In having some dealings with Farmer Peters, he took the small piece of land that Hal had made so profitable, and deeded it to the boy.
"It is not much," he said; "but it may help along a little. I only wish you were going out West with me. That's the place for boys!"
Hal almost wished that he could.
"But you will come and visit us some day, I know. You are a brave, ambitious little chap, and deserve to prosper. I hope you will, indeed."
Hal was a good deal astonished, and wonderfully thankful for his gift. To think of being actual owner of some land!
"You beat the Dutch for luck, Hal! I never did see any thing like it," was Joe's comment.
All Madison bewailed the Kinseys. They were some of the oldest settlers, and it was like removing a landmark. Mrs. Kinsey did not forget Granny, but sent her many useful articles in the way of old clothes, and some furniture that would have brought but a trifle at auction, yet served to quite renovate the little cottage. But when Granny tried to thank her kind friend, Mrs. Kinsey said,—
"I've always been glad to do what I could; for when I thought of you at your age, taking charge of all those little ones, it seemed as if every one ought to stand by you. And they will be a comfort to you, I know. God will not let you go without some reward."
Granny wiped the tears from her eyes, and answered brokenly. One and another were dropping out of her world.
She had hardly recovered from this blow when one night Joe came home in high glee.
"The luck's changed, Hal!" he said in his laughing, breezy voice. "Just guess"—
"More wages?"
"No indeed! Better still, a great sight. If you have tears, please wring out your pocket-handkerchers, and prepare to shed 'em! Slightly altered from Shakspeare. I'm going to sea! Hip, hip, hurrah!"
Joe swung his old hat so hard that crown and brim parted, the crown landing on the mantle-piece.
"Couldn't have done better if I'd tried. I'm a dead shot, for certain!"
"Going to sea?"
Granny came out at that.
"Yes. A cousin of Mr. Terry's has been visiting there; and we have struck up a friendship and a bargain,—Cap'n Burton. He owns a sloop that goes to Albany and around, and wants a boy who can keep books a little, and all that. It's just as jolly as a lark!"
It was plain to be seen that Joe no longer stood in awe of Florence's ladylike reprimands.
Granny's eyes grew larger and larger. She fairly clutched Joe's arm as she gasped,—
"Going—to sea!"
"Yes, Granny. Don't get solemn new, as if you thought a shark would devour me the first thing,—bodyand boots. You know it alwayswasmy idea, and this is real splendid! And there's no more danger than driving Mr. Terry's grocery-wagon."
"But you might get drownded," Granny said awesomely.
"Tell you what I'll do, Granny. Tie a rope to my leg, and fasten it to the mast. Then you know, if I fall overboard, I can haul in. There isn't a bit of danger. Why, Capt. Burton's been all his life. There, don't cry. You are the dearest old grandmother that ever was; but we can't stay under your wing forever."
"You have not made your bargain?" asked Hal, surprised that another dream should come true.
"Well,—almost. He's coming down here in the morning to have a talk with Granny. He will give me ten dollars a month and found, which mean, tea and fish and baccy."
"Oh!" said Hal, "you won't chew tobacco?"
"Sailors always do. But ten dollars a monthisbetter than eight, and my board thrown in. I'm going, Granny."
Granny sighed. It was useless to endeavor to talk Joe out of his project; and so she might as well keep silence.
Capt. Burton came the next morning. He had taken a wonderful fancy to Joe, and was very anxious to engage him.
"He's just the kind of lad that I need," exclaimedthe captain. "I want some one who is handy, and quick in figgers; who can keep my accounts for me, as my eyes are getting rather poor; and do arrants; and I've taken a 'mazing liking to him. I'll keep a good watch over him; and he can come home once in a while."
"How far do you go?" asked Granny.
"To Albany, mostly. Now and then I take a trip around Long Island, or up the Sound. Your boy has taken a 'mazing fancy to the sea; and he will never be satisfied until he's had a taste of salt water, in my 'pinion."
"No, that I won't!" declared Joe stoutly.
"We haul off in the winter 'bout three months; which'll give him a holiday. Sence he hankers after it so, you better consent, I think. Cousin Terry will tell you that I ain't a hard master."
What could Granny say? Nothing but cry a little, look up Joe's clothes, and kiss him a hundred times, or more, after the fashion of Mrs. Malloy and her dear Pat. Joe was so delighted, that he could hardly "hold in his skin," as he said to Kit, who sagely advised him not to get into a cast-iron sweat,—Kit's chronic fear on remarkable occasions.
There was not much time for consideration. In two days Joe was off, bag and baggage, whistling, "The girl I left behind me."
And so the gay household thinned out. They missedJoe terribly. To be sure, vacation commenced after a while; and Kit and Charlie were in mischief continually, or in rags: Granny hardly knew which was worse.
They had some glowing letters from Joe, who didn't believe there was any thing finer in Europe than New York and the Hudson River. Capt. Burton was a "jolly old tar;" and nautical phrases were sprinkled about thick as blackberries.
Mr. Terry offered the place in the store to Hal, who consulted awhile with Granny.
"I think I could make as much money by working round, and raising chickens, and all that; and then I could go to school. I believe I should like it better; and there is so much that I want to learn!"
"But you know a master sight now, Hal," said Granny in admiration.
So the proposal was very kindly declined.
Charlie thought Fourth of July was "awful dull" this year. She lamented Joe loudly.
"If she had only been a boy!" said Hal regretfully.
The latter part of July, Joe came home for a flying visit. It seemed as if he had grown taller in this brief while. His curly hair had been cropped close; and he was brown as an Indian. Charlie made herself a perpetual interrogation-point; and Joe told her the most marvellous yarns that ever were invented. She soon learned every thing about the sloop, andwished that she could be a sailor, but finally comforted herself by thinking that shemightmarry a sea-captain.
Then, to crown all, they had a letter from Florence. It was written on tinted paper, and had a beautiful monogram in green and gold. She was very well, very happy; had grown a little taller than Mrs. Osgood; and was studying every thing. She could play quite well, and read French, and went to dancing-school, besides lovely little parties. Then the house was so elegant! She had never been homesick at all.
Perhaps she thought it would be wrong to wish to see them; for that was never once expressed.
"But I am glad she is happy," said Granny, striving to be heroic.
Hal's chickens were a success again, though it cost more for him to get them to market this fall. And, since eggs seemed to be a very profitable speculation, they concluded to winter over quite a number, mostly spring broods. Hal enlarged their house; as he had a wonderful gift, Granny declared, for building. And a very nice place it was, I can assure you.
Granny still wove rag-carpets and the like, and now and then helped a neighbor at house-cleaning; but she had not worked out so much since the Kinseys went away. It troubled Hal to have her do it at all.
"When I get a little older, you never shall, Granny," he would say, giving her a fond hug; and she would answer,—
"You're a great blessing, Hal. Whatever should I have done without you?"
Dot grew nicely, though she was still "small for her size." Joe said. But now she kept quite well; and she was as fair as a lily, with tiny golden curls that never seemed to grow long. There the resemblance toFlorence ceased. She was such an odd, old-fashioned little thing! and reminded Hal more of Granny than any one else.
"It would be sweet to have her a baby always, now that she is well, and doesn't cry all the time," said Hal. "I'm sorry to have her lose all her crooked baby words. Joe use to laugh so over 'pety poket,' and 'poky hontis,' and 'umbebella tause it wained.' Dear, dear! shall we ever have such nice, gay times again, Granny, when there wasn't any thing but mush and molasses for supper, and a crowd of hungry children?"
Granny sighed at the remembrance.
"And yet it is a comfort to grow up, and be able to do something for you."
Hal studied hard, and spent much of his leisure time in reading. Charlie was wilder than a hawk, combining Joe's love of mischief with perfect lawlessness. Mr. Fielder tried every motive of reward, and every method of punishment; and Charlie cried one moment, but laughed the next, and, what was infinitely more aggravating, made all the children laugh. If every thing else failed her, she could draw funny faces on her slate, that set every one in a titter. And then she climbed trees, jumped fences, or perched herself on a post, and made Fourth-of-July orations. She could talk Irish with a true national screech and whoop, or broken German as if she had just come over; she could make "pigs under the gate," cats in a terrible combat,and a litter of puppies under your feet that would absolutely frighten you.
Nobody could see what Granny Kenneth would do with Charlie. Florence, now, had been a lady; but Charlie was a regular wild Indian. She could work like a Trojan, but she did not like it; and as for sewing—well, there was no word that could describe the performance. With all her faults, she had a warm, tender side to her character. She fought Kit's battles, and always came off triumphant. She was never cruel to any thing smaller and weaker than herself; and I think no one ever could remember her telling a lie. But as Dot said in her sage way, with a solemn shake of the head,—
"She was the worstest child we had."
Joe came home the latter part of December as important as the Great Mogul himself.Wehad been selling out the old craft, and were bargaining for a regular little beauty,—a trading-vessel to make trips between New York and the West Indies, Cuba, and all those places. The boys opened their eyes at that. Joe Kenneth actually going to Havana, to be feasted continually upon oranges, figs, cocoanuts, and bananas!
Why, it was wonderful! incredible! Therewasnothing like being a sailor, and travelling all over the world. Joe took upon himself the tallest kind of airs, confused the boys with his flying-jib and spanker and mizzen-mast and capstan and larboard and starboard, and forty other things that he knew all about, and they didn't. And then the frolics and tricks, the sailors' yarns, the storms and dangers, held them all spell-bound. Indeed, I don't believe Joe ever knew so much again in all his life.
Capt. Burton followed him about a week later. "The Morning Star" had been purchased, and was being repaired a little.
The captain's principal errand in Madison was to see Granny Kenneth.
"Joe and me gets along tip-top," he said. "He's a sailor all over: there isn't a hair in his head but loves salt water. And I'm as glad to have him as he is to go; but, as we were making a new bargain all round, it wouldn't 'a been the thing not to come here and have a talk with you."
"Yes," replied Granny with a bob of her curls, though for her life she could not have told to what she was assenting.
"It's just here, you see. If the lad means to be a sailor, he can't have a much better chance. He's smart and quick in figgers, which suits me to a shaving; and I'd like to take him for the next two years. I'll give twelve dollars a month, beginning now, and look after him as if he'd a been my own son. I had a lad once,—about like him. It all came back when I was at Cousin Terry's last winter, watching him, so full of pranks and tricks, and with a smile and a pleasantword for everybody. My Dick was jest so. I took him on a trip with me, for he had a hankerin' after the sea; but his poor mother she most grieved herself sick. There wa'n't no gals to comfort her. He was all we had. So I left him home next time. I can jest see him, with the tears shining in his eyes, and a' choking over his good-by; and then how he turned round and put his face right between his mother's neck and shoulder, so's I shouldn't see him cry. Well, when I came back my poor Dick was dead and buried."
Granny gave a little sob, and Capt. Burton drew the back of his hand across his eyes.
"Yes, 'twas a fever. His poor mother was 'most crazy. So I tried to comfort her. 'Sweetheart,' said I, 'God is all over, on the sea as well as the land, and he's brought our Dick into a better port, though we can't understand it jest now in our grief. If we didn't know there was a wiser hand than ours in it, we couldn't bear it; but that will help to cheer a bit. But it was a hard blow."
Capt. Burton wiped his eyes, and cleared the huskiness from his voice.
"So I took a 'mazing fancy to this lad; and I'm proud to say I like him better'n better. He's trusty, for all his fun and nonsense, and bright as steel. So, if you'll agree, I will promise to do my best, and put him along as fast as I can, so that by the time he's a man he will be able to manage a craft of his own. He's a smart lad."
Granny was glad to hear the good report; and as for the bargain,—why, there was nothing to do but to consent. She did not know as it would be any worse to have Joe go to Cuba than to Albany.
"It won't be as bad," said he. "Why, I can come home every time that we're in port unloading. It's the most splendid streak of luck that I ever heard of. And, Granny, I'm bound to go to China some day."
Granny consented inwardly, with a great quaking of the heart.
"And you'll have the green-house, Hal! Wasn't it funny that we should plan it all up in the old garret?"
Hal's eyes sparkled with a distant hope.
"Can't girlsevergo to sea?" asked Charlie.
"Oh, yes! they can go to see their friends and take tea, or go to Europe if they have money enough."
"I did not mean that!" she said with contempt.
"Tell you what, Charlie," and there was a sly twinkle in Joe's eye: "there is something that you can do if you would like to be a boy."
"What?" and Charlie was on tiptoe.
"Why, there's a kind of mill somewhere; and they put girls in it, and grind 'em all up fine, and they come out boys!"
"O Joe!"
"Fact," said Joe solemnly.
"I wonder—if—'twould—hurt much?" and Charlie considered on her powers of endurance.
That was too much for Joe, and even Hal joined the laugh.
"I knew it wasn't true," said Charlie, red with anger and disappointment. "But I do hate to be a girl, and you having all the fun and going everywhere."
"Well, you can run away. There is a bright opening for your future."
"You see if I don't!" returned Charlie.
So Joe went off again in capital spirits. At Capt. Burton's suggestion he told Granny that he meant to give her half his pay; which she, simple soul, thought the noblest thing in the world.
"I mean to do a good deal for you by and by, Granny. I'll be a captain some day, and make oceans of money."
"It is nice to have Joe settled and in good hands," Hal said after he was gone. "And I hope we'll all be an honor to you, Granny."
"You've been a comfort since the day you were born," was Granny's tremulous answer.
They found Joe's six dollars a month a great help; and then the two were missed out of the dish, as well as the household circle. Hal still kept to his thoughtful ways, reading and studying, and planning how he should make his wants and his opportunities join hands. For somehow he did mean to compass the green-house.
Joe's letters and stories were wonderfully entertaining. He began to lose the boy's braggadocio: indeed, the facts themselves were interesting enough, without much embellishment. One by one the islands came in for a share. Moro Castle and all the old Spanish fortifications, the natives who were so new and peculiar, the different modes of life, the business, the days and nights of listless, lovely sailing, the storms and dangers, gave a great variety to his life.
Now and then he brought them some choice fruits; and, while Charlie and Kit devoured them, Hal used to sit and listen to the description of orange-groves, and how pine-apples and bananas grew. It was something to have been on the spot, and looked at them with your own eyes,—ever so much better than a book.
Thus the months and years ran on. Joe was past sixteen, tall, and, though not thin, had a round, supple look, and could dance a break-down to perfection. He did not practise standing on his head quite so much, but I dare say he could have done it with equal grace. He was just as droll and as merry as ever; and you would always be able to tell him by the twinkle in his fun-loving eye. In fact, Joe Kenneth was "somebody" at Madison.
Hal was much smaller of his age. Charlie began to evince symptoms of shooting up into a May-pole, and being all arms and legs. She was still thin, lanky indeed, and always burned as brown as a berry, excepta few weeks at mid-winter; and her eyes looked larger than ever; while her hair was cropped close,—she would have it so, and, to her great disgust, it seemed as if it was actually turning red.
"Because you always ran in the sun so much," Hal would say.
They heard from Flossy, who was happy and prosperous,—a great lady indeed. She had elegant dresses, and went to grand parties, had created a sensation at Saratoga, been to Niagara Falls, and expected to spend the winter at Fifth-avenue Hotel.
Ah, how far she had drifted beyond them! They could not cross the golden river that flowed between. Did she ever long for them a little? Would she be glad to drop down upon them in all her glory and beauty, and be kissed by the dear old lips that prayed daily and nightly for her welfare?
There came some quite important changes to Madison. A new railroad was projected, that would shorten the distance to the intervening cities, and bring it within an hour's ride from the great emporium, New York. Then began a great era of activity. Streets were laid out around the station; quite an extensive woollen-mill was put in operation, which caused an influx of population. The old sawing-mill was enlarged, so great became the demand for lumber; the Kinsey farm was divided into building-lots, some rather elegant mansions were raised, and a new church erected.
The Kenneth place was rather out of range of all this.
"But our little farm may be quite valuable by and by," declared Hal. "It would be astonishing, Granny, if you were to become a rich woman before you died."
"I'll have to live a good long while;" and Granny gave her cracked but still pleasant little laugh.
Joe remained nearly two years and a half with Capt. Burton, when the crowning good fortune of his life, as he thought it, occurred. This was nothing less than an opportunity to go to China, his great ambition.
It almost broke Granny's heart. To have him away two or three months had appeared a long while; but when it came to be years—
"Of course I shall return," declared Joe. "Did you ever hear of a fish being drowned, or a bad penny that didn't come back? And then for a silk gown, Granny, and a crape shawl! You shall have one if you are a hundred years old, and have to hobble around with a crutch."
"I'd rather have you than a hundred silk gowns."
"And I expect you to have me. The very handsomest grandson in the family. If you are not proud of me, Granny, I shall cut you off with a shilling, and wear a willow garland all the days of my life, in token of grief."
So he kept them laughing to the latest moment;and, after all, it was not so very different from the other partings. But he declared, if Granny didn't live to see him come home, he never should be able to forgive her.
Hal actually went down to New York to see him off, and had a pleasant visit with Mrs. Burton. It was a great event in the boy's life.
"I didn't think there ever could be quite such a splendid place!" he said on his return. "And the great beautiful bay, with its crowds and crowds of shipping, looking like flocks of birds in the distance; but the people almost frightened me, for it seemed as if one could never get out of the tangle. Then the park is just like fairy-land. And I found a place where a man buys cut-flowers, especially all kinds of beautiful white ones. And, Granny, onecouldmake a good deal of money with a hot-house."
"I hope you'll have it," Granny answered; though, truth to tell, she had no very clear ideas upon the subject, except that Hal of all others deserved to have his dream come true.
Hal had treated himself to a book on gardening, and another on floriculture. He was fifteen now,—a steady, industrious little chap; and the farmers round were very glad to have him when they were in a hurry or ran short of help. For Hal had a good many very sensible ideas, and sometimes quite astonished the country people who went on in the same groove as their fathersand grandfathers. To be sure, they laughed and pooh-poohed a little; but, when his plans proved more fortunate in some respect, they admitted that he had an old head on young shoulders.
"I'm going to have some nice hot-beds for next spring," he said to Granny. "I'm sure I can sell early lettuce and radishes, and some of those things."
So he worked on, spending his leisure days in improving his own little garden-spot. The place had begun "to blossom like a rose," dear Joe said. There were honeysuckle and roses trained over the house, making it a pretty little nest, in spite of want of paint and a general tumbling into decay. Over the kitchen part crept clusters of wisteria; and in front there were two mounds of flowers, making the small dooryard bright and attractive.
The chickens had to be kept by themselves, on Hal's farm. Every day he felt thankful for that little plot of ground. Mr. Terry was glad to take all their eggs, for Hal managed that they should be large and choice.
"And if I should have a hot-house by the time Joe comes back, it will be just royal!"
Granny smiled.
Poor dear Hal! One day he was working out in the hayfield, gay as a lark; and Farmer Morris said his boys did as much again work when Hal was there. The last load was going home. Hal mounted to the top, calling merrily to the group, when the horses gavea sudden start. It seemed as if he only slid down, and the distance was not very great; but he lay quite still. They waited for a laugh or a shout, and then ran; but Hal's face was over in the grass.
Great brawny Sam lifted him up, uttering a sharp cry; for Hal was deathly white, and could not stand. A deep groan escaped the lips that had laughed with gladness only a moment ago, and were now drawn to a thin blue line.
They crowded round with awe-stricken faces.
"Oh, he isn't dead!"
"No, I guess not;" and Sam's voice had a quiver in it, as if tears were not far off. "O father, father!"
Mr. Morris hurried to the spot.
"Poor Hal! Let's take him home, and send for a doctor. I wouldn't had it happen for a hundred dollars! It'll about kill his grandmother."
Hal gave another groan, but did not open his eyes.
"Can't we rig up some kind of a litter? for, if he's hurt much, it will never do to carry him by hand. Run get a shutter, Sam. Dick, go and bring a hatful of water. Poor boy! I'd rather it had been one of my own."
Dick flew to the brook, and brought back some water, with which they bathed the small white face. Then Sam made his appearance, with a shutter on his shoulder.
"Raise him softly, so. Dick, run after Dr. Meade as fast as you can go. We'll take him home."
They lifted him with tender hands; but both soul and body were unconscious of pain. Sam brushed away some tears with his shirt-sleeve, and Farmer Morris spread his linen coat over the silent figure. It was some distance to Mrs. Kenneth's.
Charlie was firing stones at a mark; but she rushed to the gate and screamed, "Granny, Granny!"
When Granny Kenneth saw them with their burden, a speechless agony seized every pulse. She could not even utter a cry.
"He isn't dead," Farmer Morris hurried to say. "But it's a sad day's work, and I'd a hundred times rather it had been my Dick."
"O Hal, my darling! The greatest comfort your poor old Granny had! No, I can't have him die. Oh! will God hear us, and pity me a little? I've had a sight o' troubles in my day, but this"—
They laid him on Granny's bed, and washed his face with camphor, feeling of the limp wrists, and chafing the cold hands.
A little quiver seemed to run along the lips, deepening into a shudder, and then a groan which they were thankful to hear.
"No, he isn't dead. Thank God for that!"
Fortunately Dr. Meade was at home, and he lost no time in coming over immediately.
Mr. Morris and the doctor stripped off Hal's clothes, and began to examine the limbs. The arms were all right,—ankles, knees, ah, what was this!
Hal opened his eyes, and uttered an excruciating cry.
Granny rocked herself to and fro, her poor old brain wild with apprehension, for his pain was hers.
"The trouble's here,—in the thigh. Not a break, I hope; but it's bad enough!"
Bad enough they found it,—a severe and complicated fracture, and perhaps internal injuries.
"Do your best, doctor," said Mr. Morris. "I'm going to foot this bill; and if any thing'll save him"—
He sent Sam back for some articles that they needed, and tried patiently to understand the full extent of the injury. Part of the time Hal was unconscious. And after a long while they laid him on his back, bandaged, but more dead than alive.
"My wife will come over and stay with you," Mr. Morris said to Granny. "She's a master hand at nursing."
Dot hid herself in the shadow of Granny's skirts, clinging fast with her little hands; and Kit and Charlie huddled in the corner of the kitchen window-sill, crying softly. No one wanted any supper, except the chickens, who asked in vain.
All night Granny prayed in her broken, wandering way. God had her own dear Joe up in heaven. Flossy was gone; little Joe was on the wide ocean; and how could she live without her precious Hal! Not but what he was good enough to be an angel, only—only—and the poor heart seemed breaking.
God listened and answered. The August weather was hot and sultry; and Hal had to battle with fever, with dreadful languor and mortal pain. He used to think sometimes that it would be blessed to die, and have a little rest, but for Granny's sake!—
After the first fortnight the danger was over, and the case progressing fairly. Hal's back had received some injury, that was evident, and recovery would be tedious. But Granny was so thankful to have him any way.
Everybody was very kind. Mr. and Mrs. Howard came often; the Terrys sent in many luxuries; Sam Morris drew a cord of wood, sawed, split, and piled it; and there was nothing wanting. But Hal lay there white and wan, his fingers growing almost as thin as Dot's little bird's claws.
"I can't understand why it had to happen to you, Hal," Granny would exclaim piteously. "Now, if it had been Charlie, who is always sky-larking round; but you, the very best one of 'em all!"
Hal would sigh. He couldn't exactly understand it, either. But somehow—God was so much greater than them all; and hedidkeep watch, for it was better to be lying here than in the churchyard yonder.
Mr. Fielder had gone away, and Hal felt the loss sorely. He was a little afraid of Mr. Howard, and could not seem to talk of his plans and his flowers, and ask any question that puzzled him; though Mr.Howard kindly sent him entertaining books, and used to drop in for a chat now and then.
September passed. Hal was still unable to sit up, and he began to grow weary of the confinement.
"Granny," he said one day, "I believe I'll have to be a girl, and learn to make myself useful. I could knit a little once, or I might sew patchwork. There is no one to laugh at me."
"Dear heart, so you shall," replied Granny.
So she cut him out a pile of pretty bright calicoes begged of the dressmaker. And then he knit Charlie a pair of yarn mittens, and crocheted some edging for Dot's white apron.
Indeed, Dot was a great comfort to him. She used to climb up on his bed with her "Red Riding Hood," or "Mother Goose Melodies," and read him stories by the hour. Then she would twine her fingers in his soft brown hair to make him "pretty," as she said, and cuddle him in various ways, always ending with a host of kisses and, "Dotty so sorry for you, Hal!"
For she was still a little midget, and cried so dreadfully the first day she went to school that they let her stay home. Hal had taught her a great deal; but she was so shy that she would hardly say a word to a stranger.
Charlie began to improve a little, it must be confessed; though she had fits of abstraction, when she salted the pan of dish-water in the closet, and threw the knivesand forks out of doors, and one day boiled the dish-cloth instead of the potatoes, which Hal fancied must be army-soup; and sometimes, without the slightest apparent cause, she would almost laugh herself into hysterics.
"Whatisthe matter?" Granny would ask. "Are you out of your head?"
And Charlie would answer, "I was only thinking."
"I'd like to get inside of her brain, and see what was there," Hal would sometimes remark.
The chickens had to be made ready and taken to market this year without any of Hal's assistance. And then he began to wonder if he ever would get well? Suppose he did not?