The time of settlement came at last. The members of the church and
congregation were requested to bring to Deacon Sterne and his coadjutors
an account of money and produce already paid by each, and also a
statement of the sum they intended to subscribe for the minister's
support during the ensuing half year. After a delay which, considering
all things, was not more than reasonable, this was done, and the
different accounts being put into regular form by the proper persons,
they were laid before the minister for his inspection and approval.
This was done by Deacons Fish and Slowcome alone. Deacon Sterne, as his
brethren in office intimated to Mrs Nasmyth, when she received them,
having just then his hands fall of his own affairs. Deacon Fish
"expected" that brother Sterne had got into trouble. It had been coming
on for some time. His son, the only boy he had left, had been over to
Rixford, and had done something dreadful, folks said, he did not exactly
know what, and the deacon had gone over to see about it. Deacon Sterne
was Janet's favourite among the men in office, and apart from her regret
that he should not be present on an occasion so important, she was
greatly concerned for him on his own account.
"Dear me!" said she, "I saw him at the kirk on the Sabbath-day, looking
just as usual."
"Well, yes, I expect so," said Mr Fish. "Brother Sterne looks always
pretty much so. He ain't apt to show his feelin's, if he's got any.
He'll have something to suffer with his son William, I guess, whether he
shows it or not."
Janet liked both father and son, though it was well known in the town
that there was trouble between them; so instead of making any answer,
she hastened to usher them into the study. The minister awaited them,
and business began. First was displayed the list of subscriptions for
the coming half-year. This was quite encouraging. Three hundred and
fifty and odd dollars. This looked well. There had never been so much
subscribed in Merleville before. The deacons were elated, and evidently
expected that the minister should be so, too. He would be well off now,
said they. But the minister was always a quiet man, and said little,
and the last half-year's settlement was turned to.
There were several sheets of it. The minister in danger of getting
bewildered among the items, turned to the sum total. "Two hundred and
seventy-two dollars, sixty-two and a-half cents." He was a little
mystified still, and looked so.
"If there is anything wrong, anything that you object to, it must be put
right," said Deacon Slowcome.
Deacon Fish presumed, "that when Mr Elliott should have compared it
with the account which he had no doubt kept, it would be found to be all
right."
Mr Elliott had to confess that no such account had been kept. He
supposed it was all it should be. He really could say nothing with
regard to it. He left the management of household affairs entirely to
his daughter and Mrs Nasmyth. It was suggested that Mrs Nasmyth
should be called in, and the deacon cleared his voice to read it to her.
"If there's anything you don't seem to understand or remember," prefaced
the accommodating Deacon Slowcome, "don't feel troubled about saying so.
I expect we'll make things pretty straight after a while."
Mrs Nasmyth looked at the minister, but the minister did not look at
her, and the reading began. After the name of each person, came the
days' work, horse hire, loads of firewood, bushels of corn, pounds of
butter and cheese, sugar and dried apples, which he or she had
contributed. Deacon Fish's subscription was chiefly paid by his horse
and his cow. The former had carried the minister on two or three of his
most distant visits, and the latter had supplied a quart or two of milk
daily during a great part of the winter. It was overpaid indeed by just
seventeen and a-half cents, which, however, the deacon seemed inclined
to make light of.
"There ain't no matter about it. It can go right on to the next half
year. It ain't no matter about it anyhow," said he, in liberal mood.
He had an attentive listener. Mrs Nasmyth listened with vain efforts
not to let her face betray her utter bewilderment at the whole
proceeding, only assenting briefly when Mr Slowcome interrupted the
reading, now and then, to say interrogatively,--
"You remember?"
It dawned upon her at last that these were the items that made up the
subscription for the half year that was over; but except that her face
changed a little, she gave no sign. It is possible the deacon had had
some slight misgiving as to how Mrs Nasmyth might receive the
statement; certainly his voice took a relieved tone as he drew near the
end, and at last read the sum total: "Two hundred and seventy-two
dollars sixty-two and a-half cents."
Again Janet's eye sought the minister's, and this time he did not avoid
her look. The rather pained surprise had all gone out of his face.
Intense amusement at Janet's changing face, on which bewilderment,
incredulity and indignation were successively written, banished, for a
moment, every other feeling. But that passed, and by the look that
followed Janet knew that she must keep back the words that were rising
to her lips. It required an effort, however, and a rather awkward
silence followed. Deacon Slowcome spoke first:
"Well, I suppose, we may consider that it stands all right. And I, for
one, feel encouraged to expect great things."
"I doubt, sirs," said Janet in a voice ominously mild and civil, "there
are some things that haena been put down on yon paper. There was a cum
apples, and a bit o' unco spare rib, and--"
"Well, it's possible there are some folks ain't sent in their accounts
yet. That can be seen to another time."
Janet paid no attention to the interruption.
"There were some eggs from Mrs Sterne--a dozen and three, I think--and
a goose at the New Year from somebody else; and your wife sent a
pumpkin-pie; and there was the porridge and milk that Judge Merle
brought over when first we came here--"
"Ah! the pie was a present from my wife," said Deacon Fish, on whom Mrs
Nasmyth's awful irony was quite lost.
"And I presume Judge Merle didn't mean to charge for the porridge, or
hominy, or whatever it was," said Deacon Slowcome.
"And what for no'?" demanded Janet, turning on him sharply. "I'm sure
we got far more good and pleasure from it than ever we got o' your
bloody fore-quarter of beef, that near scunnered the bairns ere we were
done with it. Things should stand on your papers at their true value."
Deacon Slowcome was not, in reality, more surprised at this outbreak
than he had been when his "fore-quarter of bloody beef" had been
accepted unchallenged, but he professed to be so; and in his elaborate
astonishment allowed Janet's remarks about a slight mistake she had
made, and about the impropriety of "looking a gift horse in the mouth"
to pass unanswered.
"You were at liberty to return the beef if you didn't want it," said he,
with an injured air.
"Weel, I'll mind that next time," said she in a milder tone, by no means
sure how the minister might approve of her plain speaking. Deacon Fish
made a diversion in favour of peace, by holding up the new
subscription-list, and asking her triumphantly if that "didn't look
well."
"Ay, on paper," said Janet, dryly. "Figures are no' dollars. And if
your folk have been thinking that the minister and his family hae been
living only on the bits o' things written down on your paper you are
mistaken. The gude money that has helped it has been worth far more
than the like o' that, as I ken weel, who hae had the spending o' it;
but I daresay you're no' needing me longer, sir," she added, addressing
the minister, and she left the room.
This matter was not alluded to again for several days, but it did Janet
a deal of good to think about it. She had no time to indulge in
homesick musings, with so definite a subject of indignant speculation as
the meanness of the deacons. She "was nettled at herself beyond all
patience" that she should have allowed herself, to fancy that so many of
the things on the paper had been tokens of the people's good-will.
"Two hundred and seventy dollars and more," she repeated. "Things mount
up, I ken weel; but I maun take another look at it. And I'll hae more
sense anither time, I'm thinking."
She did not speak to Graeme. There would be no use to vex her; but she
would fain have had a few words with the minister, but his manner did
not encourage her to introduce the subject. A circumstance soon
occurred which gave her an opening, and the subject, from first to last,
was thoroughly discussed.
March was nearly over. The nights were cold still, but the sun was
powerful during the day, and there were many tokens that the earth was
about to wake from her long sleep and prepare for the refreshment of her
children. "And time for her," sighed Janet, taking a retrospective view
of all that had happened since she saw her face.
The boys had been thrown into a state of great excitement by a proposal
made to them by their friend Mr Snow. He had offered to give them
sixty of the best trees in his sugar place, with all the articles
necessary to the making of sugar, on terms that, to them, seemed easy
enough. They were to make their own preparations, gather the sap, cut
their own wood, in short, carry on the business entirely themselves;
and, nothing daunted, they went the very first fine day to see the
ground and make a beginning. Graeme and the other girls went with them
as far as Mr Snow's house, and Janet was left alone. The minister was
in his study as usual, and when they were all gone, uncomfortable with
the unaccustomed quietness of the house, she arose and went to the door
and looked rather sadly down the street. She had not long to indulge
her feelings of loneliness, however. A sleigh came slowly grating along
the half-bare street, and its occupant, Mr Silas Spears, not one of her
favourites, stopped before the door, and lost no time in "hitching" his
horse to the post. Janet set him a chair, and waited for the accustomed
question whether the minister was at home, and whether he could see him.
"The body has some sense and discretion," said Janet to herself, as he
announced instead that he "wa'ant a going to stay but a minute, and it
wouldn't be worth while troubling the minister." He did stay, however,
telling news and giving his opinion on matters and things in general in
a way which was tolerable to Janet in her solitude. He rose to go at
last.
"I've got a bucket of sugar out here," said he. "Our folks didn't seem
to want it, and I thought I'd fetch it along down. I took it to Cook's
store, but they didn't want it, and they didn't care enough about it at
Sheldon's to want to pay for it, so I thought I might as well turn it in
to pay my minister's tax."
So in he came within a minute.
"There's just exactly twenty-nine pounds with the bucket. Sugar's been
sellin' for twelve and a-half this winter, and I guess I ought to have
that for it, then we'll be about even, according to my calculation."
"Sugar!" ejaculated Janet, touching the solid black mass with her
finger. "Call you _that_ sugar?"
"Why, yes, I call it sugar. Not the best, maybe, but it's better than
it looks. It'll be considerable whiter by the time you drain it off, I
expect."
"And weigh considerable lighter, I expect," said Mrs Nasmyth,
unconsciously imitating Mr Spears' tone and manner in her rising wrath.
"I'm very much obliged to you, but we're in no especial need o' sugar
at this time, and we'll do without a while before we spend good siller
on staff like that."
"Well I'll say eleven cents, or maybe ten, as sugarin' time is 'most
here. It _ain't_ first-rate," he added, candidly. "It mightn't just do
for tea, but it's as good as any to sweeten pies and cakes."
"Many thanks to you. But we're no' given to the makin' o' pies and
cakes in this house. Plain bread, or a sup porridge and milk does for
us, and it's mair than we're like to get, if things dinna mend with us.
So you'll just take it with you again."
"Well," said Mr Spears, slightly at a loss, "I guess I'll leave it. I
ain't particular about the price. Mr Elliott can allow me what he
thinks it worth, come to use it. I'll leave it anyhow."
"But you'll no' leave it with my consent. Deacon Slowcome said the
minister wasna needing to take anything he didna want, and the like o'
that we could make no use of."
"The deacon might have said that in a general kind of way, but I rather
guess he didn't mean you to take him up so. I've been calculating to
pay my minister's tax with that sugar, and I don't know as I've got
anything else handy. I'll leave it, and if you don't conclude to keep
it, you better speak to the deacon about it, and maybe he'll give you
the money for it. I'll leave it anyhow."
"But you'll no leave it here," exclaimed Mrs Nasmyth, whose patience
was not proof against his persistence, and seizing the bucket, she
rushed out at the door, and depositing it in the sleigh, was in again
before the astonished Mr Spears quite realised her intention.
"You'll no' find me failing in my duty to the minister, as I hae done
before," exclaimed she, a little breathless with the exertion. "If the
minister canna hae his stipend paid in good siller as he has been used
wi', he shall at least hae nae trash like yon. So dinna bring here
again what ither folk winna hae from you, for I'll hae none o' it."
"I should like to see the minister a minute," said Mr Spears, seating
himself with dignity. "I don't consider that you are the one to settle
this business."
"There's many a thing that you dinna consider that there's sense in,
notwithstanding. It's just me that is to decide this business, and a'
business where the minister's welfare, as regards meat and drink, is
concerned. So dinna fash yourself and me mair about it."
"I'd like to see him, anyhow," said he, taking a step towards the
study-door.
"But you'll no' see him about any such matter," and Janet placed herself
before him. "I'm no' to hae the minister vexed with the like o' that
nonsense to-night, or any night. I wonder you dinna think shame, to
hold up your face to me, forby the minister. What kens the minister
about the like o' that? He has other things to think about. It's weel
that there's aye me to stand between him and the like o' your `glegs and
corbies'."--And Janet, as her manner was when excited, degenerated into
Scotch to such a degree, that her opponent forgot his indignation in
astonishment, and listened in silence. Janet was successful. Mr
Spears was utterly nonplussed, and took his way homeward, by no means
sure that he hadn't been abused! "Considerable beat, anyhow."
Scarcely had he taken his departure, when Mr Elliott made his
appearance, having had some idea that something unusual had been going
on. Though loth to do so, Janet thought best to give a faithful account
of what had taken place. He laughed heartily at her success and Mr
Spears' discomfiture, but it was easy to see he was not quite at his
ease about the matter.
"I am at a loss to know how all this will end," he said, gravely, after
a minute.
"Indeed, sir, you need be at no loss about that. It will end in a `toom
pantry' for us, and that before very long."
This was the beginning of a conversation with regard to their affairs,
that lasted till the children came home. Much earnest thought did the
minister bestow on the subject for the next three days, and on the
evening of the fourth, at the close of a full conference meeting, when
most of the members of the church were present, the result of his
meditations was given to the public. He did not use many words, but
they were to the point.
He told them of the settlement for the past, and the prospect for the
future. He told them that the value to his family of the articles
brought in, was not equal to their value, as named in the
subscription-lists, their real value he supposed. They could not live
in comfort on these terms, and they should never try it. He had a
proposal to make to them. The deacon had estimated that an annual
amount equal to seven hundred dollars could be raised. Let each
subscriber deduct a seventh part of what he had promised to pay, and let
the remainder be paid in money to the treasurer, so that he might
receive his salary in quarterly payments. This would be the means of
avoiding much that was annoying to all parties, and was the only terms
on which he would think it wise to remain in Merleville.
He alluded to a report that had lately reached him, as to his having
money invested in Scotland. In the hand of a friend he had deposited
sufficient to defray the expenses of his eldest son, until his education
should be completed. He had no more. The comfort of his family must
depend upon his salary; and what that was to be, and how it was to be
paid, must be decided without loss of time.
He said just two or three words about his wish to stay, about the love
he felt for many of them, and of his earnest desire to benefit them all.
He had no other desire than to cast in his lot with theirs, and to live
and die among them. But no real union or confidence could be maintained
between them, while the matter of support was liable at any moment to
become a source of discomfort and misunderstanding to all concerned. He
added, that as so many were present, perhaps no better time than
to-night could be found for arranging the matter, and so he left them.
There was quite a gathering that night. Judge Merle was there, and the
deacons, and the Pages, and Mr Spears, and a great many besides.
Behind the door, in a corner seat, sat Mr Snow, and near him, Mr
Greenleaf. He evidently felt he was not expected to remain, and made a
movement to go, but Sampson laid his hand on his arm.
"Hold on, Squire," he whispered; "as like as not they'd spare us, but
I'm bound to see this through."
There was a long pause. Then Deacon Fish got up and cleared his throat,
and "felt as though he felt," and went over much ground, without
accomplishing much. Deacon Slowcome did pretty much the same. Judge
Merle came a little nearer the mark, and when he sat down, there was a
movement behind the door, and Sampson Snow rose, and stepped out. He
laid his hand on the door latch, and then turned round and opened his
lips.
"I expect you'll all think it ain't my place to speak in meetin', and I
ain't goin' to say a great deal. It's no more than two hours or so
since I got home from Rixford, and Squire Stone, he told me that their
minister had given notice that he was goin' to quit. Goin' to Boston, I
guess. And the Squire, says he to me, `We've a notion of talking a
little to your Mr Elliott,' and says he, `We wouldn't begrudge him a
thousand dollars cash down, and no mistake.' So now don't worry any
about the minister. _He's_ all right, and worth his pay any day.
That's all I've got to say," and Mr Snow opened the door and walked
out.
Sampson's speech was short, but it was the speech of the evening, and
told. That night, or within a few days, arrangements were made for the
carrying out of the plan suggested by Mr Elliott, with this difference,
that the seventh part was not to be deducted because of money payment.
And the good people of Merleville did not regret their promptitude, when
the very next week there came a deputation from Rixford, to ascertain
whether Mr Elliott was to remain in Merleville, and if not, whether he
would accept an invitation to settle in the larger town.
Mr Elliott's answer was brief and decided. He had no wish to leave
Merleville while the people wished him to remain. He hoped never to
leave them while he lived. And he never did.