[Illustration]
It doesn’t seem possible,--I declare it doesn’t!” exclaimed Henri,
“that anybody could ever have cared to be near that horrid old
man,--least of all, our nice, sweet grandma.”
“But you must not forget that he was not _always horrid_. He was as
fair and bright then, as you are, Max. And I tell you, my children,
if you are ever led to follow in his steps, and form the appetite
for strong drink which he did, you would not be one whit better in
appearance or condition in a few years than old Joe is to-day. It may
well make you shudder, my boy, but I tell you the truth, and I only
hope you will keep the object lesson which you have learned to-day
always before you.
“I did not dream, at this time, any more than poor Joe, what this would
lead to.
“A few days after this,” continued grandma, “his aunt sent him to our
house to do an errand for her, and told him he might stay half an hour.
After a little, while we were quietly playing, I noticed that Joey
began acting strangely. When he tried to talk, his tongue seemed thick,
and his eyes were red and dull.
“‘What’s the matter, Joey?’ I asked, in real alarm, for I had never
seen any one act so before.
“‘Nothin’ smatter. Little too much Aunt Magsh shider. Bezzer go home
now,’ and poor Joe walked unsteadily down the lane to the road. But
even then it did not occur to me that my little playmate was actually
a trifle drunk. I only thought he was trying to plague me, or was
possibly a little sick, so I didn’t mention it. But the very next week
I was sent to Aunt Maggie’s to borrow a pattern. When I asked for Joey,
she said she guessed he was around somewhere, she didn’t know where,
she hadn’t seen him all the morning.
“Of course, I scampered off to find him, for I wanted to spend the
precious hour that mother had allotted me in which to play with Joey,
in repairing our latest playhouse.
[Illustration: “_Bezzer go home now_”]
“‘Joey! Joey!’ I called. ‘Come quick! For I can’t stay very long. Come
and let’s mend the playhouse!’
“But there was no answer. I called again and again. It took me a
long time to find him, but at last, just as I was getting a little
frightened, I turned around a corner of the old barn, and there,
leaning against the corncrib, with his round face quite white, was
Master Joey, sucking away bravely on an old clay pipe which we had
often used to blow soap bubbles with.
“The smell of the tobacco smoke was quite strong, so I knew at once
what my poor young friend was attempting to do. I had heard my father
say that smoking was a very bad habit, and the smell of the nasty stuff
made me feel sick, myself, for I was not accustomed to it.
“When Joe saw that he was fairly caught, he tried to put on an air of
great importance, and began stuffing more of the vile tobacco into his
pipe; but I could see that his hand trembled so that he could hardly
hold the pipe.
[Illustration: “_His round face quite white_”]
“‘Why, Joe Brandon!’ I exclaimed, now fairly aroused. ‘I’ll tell Aunt
Maggie, there now,--I declare, I will!’ and I started toward the house.
“‘Come back, I tell you! I wouldn’t be a little telltale!’ shouted
Joey, though his voice sounded weak and strange. ‘You just march back
here, Miss Tattler, or I’ll never build you another playhouse as long
as I live, or play with you another minute. Every single time a fellow
wants to have a little fun, then you begin to threaten to tell Aunt
Maggie! As much as I’ve done for you,--and as many playhouses as I’ve
made for you! Never you mind, Miss Tattler, it’s the last--the very
last!’
“My children, I am ashamed to say I hung my head and slowly sauntered
back; but I felt guilty.
“Joe tried to laugh boisterously, as he saw me coming back, and though
he was really a kind-hearted boy, he began to mock me, and threatened
to tell my mother that I had stolen the tobacco from the grocery for
him.
“‘But you know that isn’t true, Joe Brandon!’ I protested with
trembling voice, for it was the first quarrel we had ever had.
“‘I’m no sissy boy, I’ll have you understand, Miss Jennie Brown! Lots
of the best and richest men in town smoke. Even the new minister smokes
cigars, for I saw him, and I’m going to smoke, too. It’s no worse for
me than it is for them. So there! I guess you’ll hold your tongue now,
Miss Jennie Brown!’”
“Why, grandma!” exclaimed Henri; “he was surely very impolite, for a
boy who was trying so hard to be a man. He deserved a good flogging;
if I’d been there, I never would have allowed him to speak like that
to my grandma.”
“Surely Joe must have been a bad boy. Did he ever talk to you like that
before?” asked Bertha, whose face had grown very red.
“O no, Bertha; but you see one cannot expect much from a glutton or an
intemperate person. And poor Joe had been a glutton so long and had
taxed his weak stomach so many years with rich food, and stimulating
tea and coffee, pepper and spices, that all this began to be felt in
his nervous system, and led to all sorts of evil; until, when he was
only ten years old, he had such a craving for something strong and
exciting that he began learning the tobacco habit. The Bible says truly
that none can bring a clean thing out of an unclean. So, how could
sweet and gentle words come from lips through which passed so much
calculated to destroy and break down the body and ruin the nervous
system?”
“Did Aunt Maggie find it out at last?” questioned Max.
“O yes; I will tell you about it; finally after Joe had smoked his pipe
out, I said to him, ‘come, now; my hour is almost up, and I’ve been
waiting for you all this time. I hope you are ready to come with me now
and fix our new playhouse.’ Then I turned to look at Joe. I tell you,
children, I _was_ frightened this time and no mistake. The poor lad’s
eyes were turned up and rolling wildly in their sockets. His cheeks
were as white as marble and his lips were purple and drawn; his hands
were clenched, and he rolled down like a log by the side of the straw
stack. Still he groaned, ‘don’t you tell Aunt Maggie--no, no!’
[Illustration: “_He’ll die, won’t he?_”]
“‘I must! I must! I guess you are going to die, Joey, I must call her!
I can’t let you die here, all alone!’ But all poor Joe could do was
just to curl up in a heap, and snarl, ‘Tattle, tattle!’ between groans.
“I was just deciding to run home and leave him to his fate, for surely
I thought him dying, when I looked up, and there stood Aunt Maggie. She
took in the situation at a glance. She had begun to worry about Joe’s
being gone so long, and had started out to find us.
“There, by the side of the sick and spueing lad, lay the old pipe,
the cause of all the mischief. The good lady was terribly disgusted,
besides being considerably frightened. For a moment she did not speak,
though her lips trembled; I was the first to scream:--
“‘O Aunt Maggie! he’ll die, won’t he?’
“‘Die?--No; but may be it would be better in the end if he should,
before he breaks all our hearts.’
“Aunt Maggie was large and strong, and I had always thought her too
stouthearted to cry, but something very much like a sob broke from her
trembling lips, as she said, not unkindly, kneeling by the side of the
sick boy, and putting his damp head in her motherly arms:--
“‘Joe, lad, I’ve been _thinking_ all wasn’t right with you of late.
I’ve been missing the hard cider in the cellar, and I’ve thought you
acted strange. No wonder. Now, Joe, if this doesn’t kill you, you must
stop it at once. Where did you get the stuff?’
“‘I’ll not tell you! I’ll die first!’ groaned Joe.
“That’s all I heard,” continued grandma, “for I turned on my heel,
and ran just as fast as my little feet could fly, nor stopped until I
reached home, a very frightened and a very breathless little girl.”
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