THE NEW AVENUE.
The sound of Tom's loud talk to his oxen, started Bertie; and he tried
to stop crying and see whether Jerry was walking by the side of the
drag.
Mr. Curtis motioned to the man to stop, and Tom wondered not a little to
see how stern the Squire's face had grown. Bertie's eyes, too, were red
and swollen with crying. What could it mean?
"Mr. Grant," began Mr. Curtis, "can you tell me whether the head mason
down there is a habitual drunkard?"
"He has the name of it, Squire, I'm sorry to say," answered Tom, greatly
confused.
"Wait a moment, I may need you;" and Mr. Curtis walked quickly down the
bulkhead into the cellar.
The mason who had been drinking was sitting on a stone, holding his
hand to his head. The other one kept on with his work though he could
do nothing to advantage alone.
Mr. Curtis picked up the bottle, and, holding it in his fingers, said to
the sober man,--
"Do you use this vile stuff?"
"No, sir; not a drop. I see too much of it to want to put myself in the
power of any kind of liquor."
"Do you live with Jerrold?"
"Yes, sir, he's a second cousin to my father. He could be a rich man,
sir, if he'd let drink alone."
"He has done his last day's work for me. I _will not_ employ a man who
swears or makes a beast of himself with liquor. If you have a mind to
work and can comply with my conditions, you may get an assistant and
take Jerrold's place. I shall know in a few days whether you are capable
of carrying on the whole job."
"I thank you, sir, all the same; but it'll be a terrible disappointment
to Jerrold. His wife is a good woman; and she'll take it to heart
terribly. He was overcome with liquor, and didn't know what he said to
the boy."
"My son has told me nothing," explained Mr. Curtis. "I saw him throw the
bottle in your face; and I heard what you said to him. I should wish
your answer at once, whether you would choose to go on with the work."
"Yes, sir, I'll take it and do the best I can, and much obleeged for the
chance."
Tom, all this time, had stood on the top of the bank where he could
hear every word. His face looked very sober as he turned back to his
oxen, and he said to himself,--
"There's a lesson for you, Tom Grant. You may thank your old mother that
you haven't tasted a drop of spirits for a year."
"Now, Bertie; jump on the drag," said Mr. Curtis, in a cheerful tone.
"Jerry is waiting by the lake for you; and I'll show you what a trench
is."
Bertie obeyed; but his father saw it was hard for him to keep back his
tears. The gentleman walked along with Tom, talking about the work as
if nothing unpleasant had occurred; but it was evident that the man was
thinking of something else.
At last, just as they had reached the lake, he turned to his master and
said, earnestly,--
"Squire, one year ago I was as great a drunkard as Jerrold. I was going
right straight to ruin, when my old mother came to live with me. She
begged and begged me to take a pledge never to taste spirits again; and
at last I yielded to her, and since that I've airned enough to support
my family and buy these oxen.
"Now, Squire, I didn't think of religion till I see how it worked with
you. If I didn't think your religion was the out-and-out Bible kind, I'd
never ask you the question I'm going to now.
"If mother can persuade Jerrold to take the pledge as I did, and knock
off drinkin' and swearin', will you take him back?"
"With all my heart, Tom; and any help I or my wife can give your mother
in such a good work, we'll do it with the greatest pleasure."
"Come up, Bright, gee;" began Tom, wiping his eye with his shirt sleeve,
when he suddenly turned round again, and said, fervently,--
"There's a good many Oxford people, Squire Curtis, are praying that your
wife's life and yours may be spared to us, to be a blessing to the whole
town."
Tom drew his load of small stones and rubbish close to the edge of a
ditch about twenty-two feet wide and two feet deep, when he stopped the
oxen and threw the stones in.
The Irishmen who had dug the cellar, were working away; and the two men
with the oxen had as much as they could do to fill the trench as fast as
it was dug.
Jerry came forward looking so clean and neat Bertie scarcely knew him.
"I've brought my donkey," he said; "but if you don't mind I should like
to ask papa about the trench before we go to ride."
Jerry looked quite satisfied but did not dare to speak. So his father
answered for him,--
"He's in no hurry, I'm sure, Master Bertie. But he's too shamefaced to
talk much before strangers. If he takes you to see his tame squirrels,
or the mice he's taught to eat out of his hand, his tongue will move
fast enough, I reckon."
"I don't see, papa," said Bertie, "what is the use of digging out the
earth and filling it right up again."
"I am filling it with stones, my dear, so that the water, when it
rains, will drain through and keep the walk dry."
"But, papa, horses can't walk on those rough stones."
"Of course not. I intend to cover them with coarse gravel, and then on
the top put a dressing of broken oyster shells mixed with small stones
from the beach. These will gradually work down till the avenue is as
hard as a brick."
"I understand now, papa, what a trench is."
"And how to make a cellar?" added papa, laughing.
"Yes, sir; I know the earth has to be dug out and carried off, and a
wall made, and pointed with cement, which grows very hard, so that the
underpinning which you bought can lie on the top of it; but I don't know
how the wood is fastened on."
"That is the carpenter's job," answered his father; "we shall come to
that by and by."