Jack's Ward; Or The Boy Guardian Read online

  CHAPTER II

  THE EVENTS OF AN EVENING

  "I am glad you've come, Jack," said his mother. "Rachel was justpredicting that you were run over or drowned."

  "I hope you're not very much disappointed to see me safe and well, AuntRachel," said Jack, merrily. "I don't think I've been drowned."

  "There's things worse than drowning," replied Rachel, severely.

  "Such as what?"

  "A man that's born to be hanged is safe from drowning."

  "Thank you for the compliment, Aunt Rachel, if you mean me. But, mother,I didn't tell you of my good luck. See this," and he displayed thedollar bill.

  "How did you get it?" asked his mother.

  "Holding horses. Here, take it, mother; I warrant you'll find a use forit."

  "It comes in good time," said Mrs. Harding. "We're out of flour, and Ihad no money to buy any. Before you take off your boots, Jack, I wishyou'd run over to the grocery store, and buy half a dozen pounds. Youmay get a pound of sugar, and quarter of a pound of tea also."

  "You see the Lord hasn't forgotten us," she remarked, as Jack started onhis errand.

  "What's a dollar?" said Rachel, gloomily. "Will it carry us through thewinter?"

  "It will carry us through to-night, and perhaps Timothy will have workto-morrow. Hark, that's his step."

  At this moment the outer door opened, and Timothy Harding entered, notwith the quick, elastic step of one who brings good tidings, but slowlyand deliberately, with a quiet gravity of demeanor in which his wifecould read only too well that he had failed in his efforts to procurework.

  Reading all this in his manner, she had the delicacy to forbearintruding upon him questions to which she saw it would only give himpain to reply.

  Not so Aunt Rachel.

  "I needn't ask," she began, "whether you've got work, Timothy. I knewbeforehand you wouldn't. There ain't no use in tryin'! The times isawful dull, and mark my words, they'll be wuss before they're better. Wemayn't live to see 'em. I don't expect we shall. Folks can't livewithout money; and if we can't get that, we shall have to starve."

  "Not so bad as that, Rachel," said the cooper, trying to look cheerful;"I don't talk about starving till the time comes. Anyhow," glancing atthe table, on which was spread a good plain meal, "we needn't talk aboutstarving till to-morrow with that before us. Where's Jack?"

  "Gone after some flour," replied his wife.

  "On credit?" asked the cooper.

  "No, he's got money enough to pay for a few pounds," said Mrs. Harding,smiling with an air of mystery.

  "Where did it come from?" asked Timothy, who was puzzled, as his wifeanticipated. "I didn't know you had any money in the house."

  "No more we had; but he earned it himself, holding horses, thisafternoon."

  "Come, that's good," said the cooper, cheerfully. "We ain't so bad offas we might be, you see, Rachel."

  "Very likely the bill's bad," she said, with the air of one who ratherhoped it was.

  "Now, Rachel, what's the use of anticipating evil?" said Mrs. Harding."You see you're wrong, for here's Jack with the flour."

  The family sat down to supper.

  "You haven't told us," said Mrs. Harding, seeing her husband'scheerfulness in a measure restored, "what Mr. Blodgett said about thechances for employment."

  "Not much that was encouraging," answered Timothy. "He isn't at all surewhen it will be safe to commence work; perhaps not before spring."

  "Didn't I tell you so?" commented Rachel, with sepulchral sadness.

  Even Mrs. Harding couldn't help looking sober.

  "I suppose, Timothy, you haven't formed any plans," she said.

  "No, I haven't had time. I must try to get something else to do."

  "What, for instance?"

  "Anything by which I can earn a little; I don't care if it's only sawingwood. We shall have to get along as economically as we can--cut our coataccording to our cloth."

  "Oh, you'll be able to earn something, and we can live very plain," saidMrs. Harding, affecting a cheerfulness she didn't feel.

  "Pity you hadn't done it sooner," was the comforting suggestion ofRachel.

  "Mustn't cry over spilt milk," said the cooper, good-humoredly. "Perhapswe might have lived a leetle more economically, but I don't think we'vebeen extravagant."

  "Besides, I can earn something, father," said Jack, hopefully. "You knowI did this afternoon."

  "So you can," said his mother, brightly.

  "There ain't horses to hold every day," said Rachel, apparently fearingthat the family might become too cheerful, when, like herself, it wastheir duty to be profoundly gloomy.

  "You're always tryin' to discourage people, Aunt Rachel," said Jack,discontentedly.

  Rachel took instant umbrage at these words.

  "I'm sure," said she, mournfully, "I don't want to make you unhappy. Ifyou can find anything to be cheerful about when you're on the verge ofstarvation, I hope you'll enjoy yourselves, and not mind me. I'm a poor,dependent creetur, and I feel I'm a burden."

  "Now, Rachel, that's all foolishness," said Timothy. "You don't feelanything of the kind."

  "Perhaps others can tell how I feel better than I can myself," answeredhis sister, with the air of a martyr. "If it hadn't been for me, I knowyou'd have been able to lay up money, and have something to carry youthrough the winter. It's hard to be a burden on your relations, andbring a brother's family to this poverty."

  "Don't talk of being a burden, Rachel," said Mrs. Harding. "You've beena great help to me in many ways. That pair of stockings, now, you'reknitting for Jack--that's a help, for I couldn't have got time for themmyself."

  "I don't expect," said Aunt Rachel, in the same sunny manner, "that Ishall be able to do it long. From the pains I have in my handssometimes, I expect I'm goin' to lose the use of 'em soon, and be asuseless as old Mrs. Sprague, who for the last ten years of her life hadto sit with her hands folded on her lap. But I wouldn't stay to be aburden--I'd go to the poorhouse first. But perhaps," with the look of amartyr, "they wouldn't want me there, because I'd be discouragin' 'emtoo much."

  Poor Jack, who had so unwittingly raised this storm, winced under thelast words, which he knew were directed at him.

  "Then why," asked he, half in extenuation, "why don't you try to lookpleasant and cheerful? Why won't you be jolly, as Tom Piper's aunt is?"

  "I dare say I ain't pleasant," said Rachel, "as my own nephew twits mewith it. There is some folks that can be cheerful when their house isa-burnin' down before their eyes, and I've heard of one young man thatlaughed at his aunt's funeral," directing a severe glance at Jack; "butI'm not one of that kind. I think, with the Scriptures, that there's atime to weep."

  "Doesn't it say there's a time to laugh, too?" asked Mrs. Harding.

  "When I see anything to laugh about, I'm ready to laugh," said AuntRachel; "but human nater ain't to be forced. I can't see anything tolaugh at now, and perhaps you won't by and by."

  It was evidently quite useless to persuade Rachel tocheerfulness, and the subject dropped.

  The tea things were cleared away by Mrs. Harding, who then sat down toher sewing. Aunt Rachel continued to knit in grim silence, while Jackseated himself on a three-legged stool near his aunt, and began towhittle out a boat, after a model lent him by Tom Piper, a younggentleman whose aunt has already been referred to.

  The cooper took out his spectacles, wiped them carefully with hishandkerchief, and as carefully adjusted them to his nose. He then tookdown from the mantelpiece one of the few books belonging to hislibrary--"Dr. Kane's Arctic Explorations"--and began to read, for thetenth time, it might be, the record of these daring explorers.

  The plain little room presented a picture of graceful tranquillity, butit proved to be only the calm which preceded the storm.

  The storm in question, I regret to say, was brought about by theluckless Jack. As has been said, he was engaged in constructing a boat,the particular operation he was now intent upon being the excavation, orhollo
wing out. Now three-legged stools are not the most secure seats inthe world. This, I think, no one will deny who has any practicalacquaintance with them. Jack was working quite vigorously, the blockfrom which the boat was to be fashioned being held firmly between hisknees. His knife having got wedged in the wood, he made an unusualeffort to draw it out, in which he lost his balance, and disturbed theequilibrium of his stool, which, with its load, tumbled over backward.Now, it very unfortunately happened that Aunt Rachel sat close behind,and the treacherous stool came down with considerable force upon herfoot.

  A piercing shriek was heard, and Aunt Rachel, lifting her foot, clung toit convulsively, while an expression of pain disturbed her features.

  At the sound, the cooper hastily removed his spectacles, and, letting"Dr. Kane" fall to the floor, started up in great dismay. Mrs. Hardinglikewise dropped her sewing, and jumped to her feet in alarm.

  It did not take long to see how matters stood.

  "Hurt ye much, Rachel?" inquired Timothy.

  "It's about killed me," groaned the afflicted maiden. "Oh, I shall haveto have my foot cut off, or be a cripple anyway." Then, turning uponJack fiercely: "You careless, wicked, ungrateful boy, that I've beenwearin' myself out knittin' for. I'm almost sure you did it a purpose.You won't be satisfied till you've got me out of the world, andthen--then, perhaps"--here Rachel began to whimper--"perhaps you'll getTom Piper's aunt to knit your stockings."

  "I didn't mean to, Aunt Rachel," said Jack, penitently, eying his aunt,who was rocking to and fro in her chair. "You know I didn't. Besides, Ihurt myself like thunder," rubbing himself vigorously.

  "Served you right," said his aunt, still clasping her foot.

  "Shan't I get something for you to put on it, Rachel?" asked Mrs.Harding.

  But this Rachel steadily refused, and, after a few more posturesindicating a great amount of anguish, limped out of the room, andascended the stairs to her own apartment.