MOTHER’S ADVICE.
For the first time in my life I had some fears in regard to meeting my
father. I dreaded the terrible infirmity which was beginning to develop
itself anew in him. Under ordinary circumstances I should have been
glad to see him; and with a hundred dollars in my pocket--the first
money I had ever earned by my knowledge and skill--I should have been
delighted to tell him the history of the day. I should have been sure
of a proud and sympathetic listener in him as I detailed the means I
had used to raise the dummy.
I feared two things--first, that he would be intoxicated; and second,
that he would remember against me the deed I had done with the
strange-looking bottle in the forenoon. In relation to the latter, I
had come to see that the destruction of the whiskey was not the only
or the greater cause of offence. By emptying the bottle, I had censured
him, virtually, and made myself a judge of his condition and conduct.
My father was a plucky man, in spite of his position as an employee of
Colonel Wimpleton, and, right or wrong, would not suffer any one to be
a censor upon his actions.
I feared that his anger would not go down with the sun; and I had an
utter horror of any quarrel in the family. Besides, I had a great
admiration of my father. I considered him one of the best and one of
the most skilful men of his craft on the lake. I could not endure the
thought of any coldness on his part or the feeling that I had suffered
in his estimation. I knew he had been proud of me as a scholar, and
especially proud of the reputation I had earned as a young engineer.
My readers, therefore, will not be surprised when I say that my bosom
bounded with emotion as I thought of meeting him after the occurrences
of the day. If he was only sober, and in his right mind, all would be
well with me.
I had heard in Middleport that the Ruoara, on her down trip, had
obtained an engineer at Hitaca; therefore I supposed my father had gone
home. The storekeeper on the wharf had seen him; but I did not dare to
ask whether he was intoxicated. Never before, I repeat, had I gone to
my father’s house with any doubts or misgivings. It was quite dark when
I reached the mill wharf, and secured my skiff at its moorings. When
I started from Middleport with a hundred dollars in my pocket, I felt
like a rich man. During my silent pull across the lake I thought of our
family trouble, and when I landed at Centreport I felt as though I had
lost a hundred dollars, and that I was even poorer than usual.
With stealthy step I crept through the garden, fearful that I might
encounter my father intoxicated. There was a light in the kitchen, and
I stood on tiptoe, so that I could look in at the window. My father was
not there. The supper table was waiting in the middle of the room, and
my good mother sat at one corner of it, sewing, while my two sisters
were reading near her. I opened the back door and went in, but not
without the fear that I should be told my father was helpless in his
bed.
“Why, Wolfert, where have you been?” asked my mother, rising as I
entered. “I needn’t ask you, for I have heard all about it.”
“About what?”
“You have been over to Middleport, at work for the Toppleton boys.”
“I know it.”
“Why did you do it?”
“Why shouldn’t I do it, mother?” I inquired, not a little astonished to
find that she was inflamed by the rivalry between the two houses.
“Why shouldn’t you do it! Because it will make trouble, Wolfert.
When the boat brought over the news that you had raised the dummy,
or whatever they call the thing, and that you were running it on the
railroad over there, the people howled just as though you had set the
town on fire. The Wimpleton boys say they will mob you, tar and feather
you, and I don’t know what not,” said my poor mother, who appeared to
be really suffering under this manifestation of popular indignation.
“It seems just as though I am bound to put my foot in it, whether I
will or not. Do folks tell the rest of the story?” I inquired.
“The rest of what story?” asked my mother, opening her eyes.
“Do they say that I was hunted out of town like a wild beast?” I
demanded, indignantly.
“Why, no; they didn’t say anything of that kind. The girls came home
just before dark, and said everybody was talking about you; that you
had turned traitor.”
“Perhaps I have, mother; but I don’t care a fig for this three-cent
quarrel between the two sides of the lake. I hope you won’t turn
against me, mother,” I added, choking up with emotion, so that I could
not speak.
“Turn against you! Why, no, Wolfert, I shall never turn against you.
Who ever heard of such a thing?”
“You seem to blame me for what I have done,” I replied, wiping away a
truant tear, and struggling hard for utterance.
“I only said what you have done will make trouble. You know Colonel
Wimpleton will not like it; and he will punish us all for your acts.”
“I couldn’t help it, mother. I was driven away.”
“What do you mean by being driven away?”
It occurred to me that my mother knew nothing of what had happened
since Waddie had called to deliver the fictitious message from his
father; and I told her the whole story.
“If I know my father, he would kick me if I should get down on my knees
to Waddie Wimpleton. Be that as it may, I won’t do it,” I added.
“I don’t want you to do it. If it has come to that, I think we had all
better go to the poorhouse at once,” said my mother, with more spirit
than I remembered to have seen her exhibit before; and I felt then that
she was on my side.
“We won’t go to the poorhouse,” I replied, taking the hundred dollars
from my wallet. “I made that to-day.”
My mother opened her eyes again, as she was in the habit of doing when
astonished. Then she counted the money, and for an instant a smile
overspread her pleasant face. To me it was the pleasantest face in all
the world, and I had never before seen it saddened for so long a time
as it had been that day.
“A hundred dollars!” exclaimed she, looking at me.
“Yes, mother; that is what Major Toppleton gave me for getting the
dummy out of the water, and putting it on the track. It was a good job.”
“The major is liberal; and I only wish he and the colonel would be
friends again.”
“I wish they would; but whether they are or not, I’m not going to fight
the battle of either one of them. Now, mother, I want to make a clean
breast of it. What you said to me after the colonel went away wasn’t
lost upon me. I was sorry I called Waddie a liar to his face, though
all the world knows that he is one; and I was really sorry that I had
said anything saucy to the colonel. When Waddie said he was going to
lick me, I apologized to him; and I did to the colonel when I saw him.
I think I did it handsomely, considering that they were going to lick
me.”
“I’m glad you did, Wolfert.”
“It was like pulling out half a dozen of my teeth to do it, but I did
it; and I was sincere in doing it, too. I won’t go down on my knees to
any one, and I won’t confess a crime of which I’m not guilty;” and
in my zeal I struck the table a blow with my fist which made all the
dishes dance upon it.
“Do right, Wolfert, and pray to God for strength. He will help you, and
all will be well in the end. Have you seen anything of your father?”
“I haven’t seen him; but he came over on the Ruoara from the other
side. I supposed he was at home,” I replied.
“I haven’t seen anything of him since he went out this morning,” she
added, looking very anxious.
I ate my supper, still discussing the exciting topic of the day. I
felt better; for, if my mother was on my side, I could afford to have
almost everybody else against me; and she was a Christian woman, who
would rather have buried me than had me do any great wrong. Whatever
my readers, old and young, may think of me, I feel bound to say that
I had tried to do right. I had been goaded into the use of impudent
speech by the intolerable tyranny of the magnate of Centreport; but
I had apologized for it, and had been willing to make any reasonable
reparation. My mother had taught me, as a child, to go down on my
knees before God, but never to man.
I kissed my sisters, who were younger than I, and they went to bed
about eight o’clock. My mother and I could now talk about the condition
of my father, which neither of us was willing to do before them. We
wondered what had become of him; but I was pretty sure that he was
somewhere in Centreport. It was a new experience in our family to be
waiting at night for him, for he always spent his evenings at home.
I told my mother of the offer which Major Toppleton had made me to run
the dummy. For a boy of my age, and at a distance from the great city,
the proposition was a liberal one, for my father only had sixty dollars
a month. It is true I was to do a man’s work for half wages; but no boy
in that region could make half the money offered to me at that time.
“I don’t see how you can take up with the offer,” said my mother.
“Colonel Wimpleton would not have anything to do with us if we did
anything to help along the people on the other side.”
“I don’t know that I can accept it, but it is a great pity I cannot,”
I replied, moodily; for I should have been glad to run the dummy for
nothing if the major was not willing to pay me.
“It is a pity; but only think how mad the colonel would be if you
should go!”
“I don’t know that he could be any madder than he is now. I am sick and
disgusted with this stupid quarrel!”
“I’m sure he would discharge your father if he should let you go over
to Middleport to work for the major. Those two men hate each other like
evil spirits,” replied my mother.
“Of course I don’t want father to lose his situation; and if it comes
to that, I suppose I must decline the offer.”
“I think you must, Wolfert.”
“I will, mother,” I added, sorely aggrieved at the alternative. “I will
not do anything to make a quarrel, though I think it is about time I
should be earning something.”
“Perhaps there will be a chance for you on this side; for I am sure the
colonel will do something to get even with the major on that railroad.
He will get up another railroad, a balloon, a flying machine, or
something or other.”
“He can’t build any railroad on this side,” I replied. “The country
is so rough that it would cost him all he is worth. But if he did, he
wouldn’t give me anything to do upon it.”
“Perhaps he”--
My mother’s remark was interrupted by a noise in the garden; and,
fearful that my poor father had come home in a helpless condition, I
went out to ascertain the cause of it. It was not my father; but I
heard sounds which indicated that several persons were running away
from the house. I ran to the fence, and saw three boys hastening up
the road towards the Institute. If I was not much mistaken, Waddie
Wimpleton was one of them; and I concluded that he was still intent
upon punishing me for calling him a liar.
As I was about to go into the house, I discovered another form in the
darkness, walking down the road. I knew the step. It was my father. I
was very thankful that he was able to walk, though I noticed that his
step was a little unsteady.