JOE'S FORTUNE.
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 to
Florence 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. _We_ had 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! There _was_ nothing 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 pleasant word 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 girls _ever_ go 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, except a
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, one _could_ make 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 fathers and 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 gave a 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 he _did_ keep
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 knives and 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.
"What _is_ the 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?