JIM.
For various reasons, after a flourishing existence of two winters, the
G.N. Club was given up, or perhaps it should be said was merged in the
Order of the Big Front Door, which still held monthly meetings, and
whose members wore their silver keys and tried in different ways to
carry out their motto.
There was hardly time in the press of school work for the weekly
meetings, and, besides, out of the little club had grown what was
known as the Boys' Civic League, an organization among schoolboys, in
which, under the direction of one of their professors, they studied
the history of their own town and pledged themselves to do all they
could for its welfare. So, as Mrs. Howard wished it, the Good
Neighbors gave up their club and joined the League.
They still considered themselves her boys, however, and a week seldom
passed in which some of them did not spend an hour with her. They owed
more than they knew to her companionship, for in varying degrees her
love for what was pure and true had left its impress on their
characters. Her interest in them had grown with their years, and she
looked forward with regret to the next winter, when most of them would
go away to school. She would miss their boyish devotion, and she
dreaded the temptations which they must so surely meet. Each one must
fight his own battle, she knew, and she had not much fear for quiet,
painstaking Will, or even for Carl, with all his faults; Ikey was
still a good deal of a child, conscientious and open-hearted; but
Aleck, with his brightness and indolence, and Jim, with his handsome
face, engaging ways, and money, gave her most concern.
Three years had brought about some changes. Little John's place was
vacant. A sudden sharp illness, and the frail life went out, leaving a
sweet and gentle memory, for John had helped in ways he did not dream
of. Every one of those merry girls and boys was more thoughtful and
tender for the association with him. Seeing the pleasure their
companionship gave him, they learned the value of simple friendliness.
Fred Ames had gone to Chicago to live, and this reduced the members of
the Order to ten, not counting, of course, the "Honoraries," as Miss
Brown and Aunt Zelie were called.
"I can't imagine what ails Jim," Carl remarked at the lunch table one
day, a week or two after Uncle William's birthday; "he wasn't at
school and when I stopped there on my way home the man said he
believed he had a headache and could not see anyone. That is not in
the least like Jim."
"I see nothing so strange in that. A headache can be a very serious
thing while it lasts," said his father.
"But if you had seen the man. He looked as if he were making it up."
"Much study has affected your imagination, Carl," laughed Cousin
Helen.
"And what is the matter with you, then, Cousin Helen? Who sent Aunt
Zelie a postal card with nothing on it but the address?" inquired
Louise.
This caused a laugh, for Miss Hazeltine was just now the target for
all the teasing her young relatives could contrive.
Always somewhat famous for her absent mindedness, now that she was
soon to be married they chose to lay anything of the kind to the fact
of her being so deeply in love.
"Let me tell you the latest joke," cried Aleck. "Last Sunday, when Mr.
Arthur was here, they went to service at St. John's. The usher wanted
to take them up front, but Sister Helen, being very modest, stopped at
a seat half-way and asked politely, 'Can't we _occupew this py_?'"
"Aleck, you are too bad! I only half said it," exclaimed the victim,
while the others shouted.
Bess and Louise were in the seventh heaven of delight at the prospect
of being bridesmaids, and took a rapturous interest in all the
preparations, their only regret being that Mr. Caruth was not to be
the groom. Everybody was so occupied with other things that afternoon
that Carl's remark about Jim was forgotten till he came in at
dinner-time, looking very much excited.
"You won't think I am crazy now. The Carters have gone to smash, and
it is reported that Mr. Carter tried to kill himself."
"Carl! How dreadful! Are you sure?" Aunt Zelie dropped her book in her
astonishment.
"I am not altogether surprised," said Mr. Hazeltine, coming in. "He
was known as one of the most reckless speculators in the country. His
wealth was gained in that way, and now it has gone as it came."
"Think of poor Jim," said Carl.
"Poor boy! And yet it may not be the worst thing for him," added Mrs.
Howard.
"What shall I do?" asked Carl. "I am awfully sorry for him, but I am
afraid he won't want to see me, and I shouldn't know what to say,
anyway. I wonder if he will have to give up college and everything.
Poor Jim!"
Poor Jim, indeed! There could not have been found a more wretchedly
miserable boy than he. The loss of their money he hardly thought
of,--did not realize,--but the horrid notoriety of it all made him
sick.
With burning face he read the sensational newspaper reports, and
thought how the boys at school were talking about him--perhaps pitying
him. He did not want their pity; he would rather have them
indifferent. He wished he might never see any of them again.
Toward his father he felt a certain resentment. It was not true that
Mr. Carter had tried to kill himself, but mind and body had given way
under the long strain, and he was ill with brain fever.
Mrs. Carter was altogether unnerved by the suddenness of the calamity,
so that she was not allowed in her husband's room. If it had not been
for her Jim would have run away, but he was very fond of his mother.
He was the chief object of her interest and affection since his
sisters had married and left home. She laughingly declared that Jim
could make her do anything, and certainly he brought about many
improvements. She received good-naturedly his hints that Mrs. Howard
did this, or that at the Hazeltines' things were done so. He could not
desert her now that she had no one else to depend on.
Two dreadful days passed slowly, a number of his friends called to
inquire, and left kind messages, for he would not see them. He spent
his time strolling aimlessly through the handsome house, occasionally
going in to see his mother. He was very gentle to her, though he found
her lamentations hard to bear.
Late in the afternoon of the second day he sat in his room, trying to
read. He was quite worn out with anxiety and loss of sleep, and was
half-dozing, when his attention was attracted by a gleam of sunshine
reflected in something on the table beside him. It was the little
silver key. The words of the motto stared him in the face: "They
Helped." How much it recalled to him--such pleasant companionships,
and some real effort to be kind and useful! Was he going to fail now?
Perhaps this was his great opportunity. If _he_ did not help, who
would?
He stood up before the mirror, stretching himself to his full
height,--a tall, broad-shouldered young fellow.
"Many a boy younger than I takes care of himself, and so can I, and of
my mother too," and wide awake now he sat down to think.
On the table lay a note from Mrs. Howard, which he had only half read.
He took it up now, and the warm affection it expressed, and the
confidence that he would bear his trouble bravely, stirred his
manliness--he would not disappoint her. "I have been a coward," he
said, and with the same prompt decision which had surprised his
companions on that Halloween so long ago he turned his back on his
pride and useless regrets and became a man. When his father's brother
arrived that night Jim met him, saw to his comfort, explained all he
knew about the trouble, and asked such intelligent questions, with
such an evident determination to help himself, that his uncle was
greatly pleased.
There were weeks of anxious nursing while Mr. Carter hung between life
and death, and his son, strong and gentle, made himself most useful in
the sick-room. When at last the once sturdy, ambitious man struggled
back to life he was only the wreck of what he had been.
Jim returned to school when his father was out of danger, as his uncle
thought he ought to finish the term. He was very much subdued, but his
companions appreciated his manliness, and gave him a warm welcome.
"He has lots of pluck," said Carl warmly; "he was as anxious to go to
college as any of us, but he doesn't say a word about it now--says he
is going to work this summer."
"I wish you would tell him how pleased I am with him," said Aunt
Zelie. "I see so little of him lately, he seems almost shy."
The big house was sold, and when Mr. Carter could be moved he was
taken to their new home, a little place that belonged to his wife.
When everything was settled it was found that they would have a small
income, enough to support two people in some degree of comfort. Then
Jim's uncle, to everybody's surprise, offered to send him to college.
"I don't believe in it very much, but you are such a likely boy you
may make something out of it, so if you want to go I'll foot the
bills."
Jim brought the news one Friday night to a meeting of the O.B.F.D. It
was early, and only Carl and his aunt were in the room.
"I shall work very hard, for I mean to pay Uncle James back some day,"
he said.
"That is right; I am sure you will, and I am glad for you and proud of
you, for you deserve it," Aunt Zelie said earnestly.
"Are you really?" he asked humbly, but looking in his pleasure quite
like his old self.
"Why, of course we are _all_ proud of you, boy," said Carl.
And Jim thought he had never been so happy before. He had discovered
that there are some things better even than money.