A WILL AND A WAY.
"THE next thing we want to do is to earn some money."
This, Jerry said, as he sat on the side step with Nettie, after sunset.
They had been having a long talk, planning the campaign against the
enemy, which they had made up their minds should be carried on with
vigor. At least, they had been trying to plan; but that obstacle which
seems to delight to step into the midst of so many plans and overturn
them, viz. money, met them at every point. So when Jerry made that
emphatic announcement, Nettie was prepared to agree with him fully; but
none the less did she turn anxious eyes on him as she said:
"How can we?"
"I don't know yet," Jerry said, whistling a few bars of
Oh, do not be discouraged,
and stopping in the middle of the line to answer, "But of course there
is a way. There was an old man who worked for my father, who used to
say so often: 'Where there's a will there's a way,' that after awhile
we boys got to calling him 'Will and Way' for short, you know; his name
was John," and here Jerry stopped to laugh a little over that method
of shortening a name; "but it was wonderful to see how true it proved;
he would make out to do the most surprising things that even my father
thought sometimes could not be done. We must _make_ a way to earn some
money."
Nettie laughed a little. "Well, I am sure," she said, "there is a will
in this case; in fact, there are two wills; for you seem to have a
large one, and I know if ever I was determined to do a thing I am now;
but for all that I can't think of a possible way to earn a cent."
Now Sarah Ann Smith was at this moment standing by the kitchen window,
looking out on the two schemers. Her sleeves were rolled above her
elbow, for she was about to set the sponge for bread; she had her large
neat work apron tied over her neat dress-up calico; and on her head was
perched the frame out of which, with Nettie's skilful help, and some
pieces of lace from her mother's old treasure bag, she meant to make
herself a bonnet every bit as pretty as the one worn by Miss Sherrill
the Sabbath before.
"Talk of keeping things seven years and they'll come good," said
Mrs. Smith, watching with satisfaction while Nettie tumbled over the
contents of the bag in eager haste and exclaimed over this and that
piece which would be "just lovely." "I've kept the rubbish in that bag
going on to twenty years, just because the pretty girls where I used
to do clear-starching, gave them to me. I had no kind of notion what
I should ever do with them; but they looked bright and pretty, and I
always was a master hand for bright colors, and so whenever they would
hand out a bit of ribbon or lace, and say, 'Cerinthy, do you want
that?' I was sure to say I did; and chuck it into this bag; and now to
think after keeping of them for more than twenty years, my girl should
be planning to make a bonnet out of them! Things is queer! I don't ever
mean to throw away _anything_. I never was much at throwing away; now
that's a fact."
Now the truth was that Sarah Ann, left to herself, would as soon
have thought of making a _house_ out of the contents of that bag, as
a bonnet; but Nettie Decker's deft fingers had a natural tact for
all cunning contrivances in lace and silk, and her skill in copying
what she saw, was something before which Sarah Ann stood in silent
admiration; when, therefore, she offered to construct for Sarah Ann,
out of the treasures of that bag, a bonnet which should be both
becoming and economical, Sarah Ann's gratitude knew no bounds. She went
that very afternoon to the milliner's to select her frame, and had it
perched at that moment as I said, on her head, while she listened to
the clear young voices under the window. She had a great desire to be
helpful; but money was far from plenty at Job Smith's.
What was it which made her at that moment think of a bit of news which
she had heard while at the milliner's? Why, nothing more remarkable
than that the color of Nettie Decker's hair in the fading light was
just the same as Mantie Horton's. But what made her suddenly speak her
bit of news, interrupting the young planners? Ah, that Sarah Ann does
not know; she only knows she felt just like saying it, so she said it.
"Mantie Horton's folks are all going to move to the city; they are
selling off lots of things; I saw her this afternoon when I was at the
milliner's, and she says about the only thing now that they don't know
what to do with is her old hen and chickens; a nice lot of chicks as
ever she saw, but of course they can't take them to the city. My! I
should think they would feel dreadful lonesome without chickens, nor
pigs, nor nothing! _We_ might have some chickens as well as not, if
we only had a place to keep 'em; enough scrapings come from the table
every day, to feed 'em, most."
Before this sentence was concluded, Jerry had turned and given Nettie
a sudden look as if to ask if she saw what he did; then he whistled a
low strain which had in it a note of triumph; and the moment Sarah Ann
paused for breath he asked: "Where do the Hortons live?"
"Why, out on the pike about a mile; that nice white house set back from
the road a piece; don't you know? It is just a pleasant walk out there."
Then Sarah Ann turned away to attend to her bread, and as she did so
her somewhat homely face was lighted by a smile; for an idea had just
dawned upon her, and she chuckled over it: "I shouldn't wonder if those
young things would go into business; he's got contrivance enough to
make a coop, any day, and mother would let them have the scrapings, and
welcome."
Sarah Ann was right; though Nettie, unused to country ways and plans,
did not think of such a thing, Jerry did. The next morning he was up,
even before the sun; in fact that luminary peeped at him just as he was
turning into the long carriage drive which led finally to the Horton
barnyard. There a beautiful sight met his eyes; a white and yellow
topknot mother, and eight or ten fluffy chickens scampering about her.
"They are nice and plump," said Jerry to himself; "I'm afraid I haven't
money enough to buy them; but then, there is a great deal of risk in
raising a brood of chickens like these; perhaps he will sell them
cheap."
Farmer Horton was an early riser, and was busy about his stables when
Jerry reached there. He was anxious to get rid of all his live stock,
and be away as soon as possible, and here was a customer anxious to
buy; so in much less time than Jerry had supposed it would take, the
hen and chickens changed owners and much whistling was done by the new
owner as he walked rapidly back to town to build a house for his family.
Mrs. Smith had been taken into confidence; so indeed had Job, before
the purchase was made; but the whole thing was to be a profound
surprise to Nettie. Therefore, she saw little of him that day, and I
will not deny was a trifle hurt because he kept himself so busy about
something which he did not share with her. But I want you to imagine,
if you can, her surprise the next morning when just as she was ready to
set the potatoes to frying, she heard Jerry's eager voice calling her
to come and see his house.
"See what?" asked Nettie, appearing in the doorway, coffee pot in hand.
"A new house. I built it yesterday, and rented it; the family moved in
last night. That is the reason I was so busy. I had to go out and help
move them; and I must say they were as ill-behaved a set as I ever had
anything to do with. The mother is the crossest party I ever saw; and
she has no government whatever; her children scurry around just where
they please."
"What are you talking about?" said astonished Nettie, her face growing
more and more bewildered as he continued his merry description.
"Come out and see. It is a new house, I tell you; I built it yesterday;
that is the reason I did not come to help you about the bonnet. Didn't
you miss me? Sarah Ann thinks it is actually nicer than the one Miss
Sherrill wore." And he broke into a merry laugh, checking himself to
urge Nettie once more to come out and see his treasures.
"Well," said Nettie, "wait until I cover the potatoes, and set the
teakettle off." This done she went in haste and eagerness to discover
what was taking place behind Job Smith's barn. A hen and chickens!
Beautiful little yellow darlings, racing about as though they were
crazy; and a speckled mother clucking after them in a dignified way,
pretending to have authority over them, when one could see at a glance
that they did exactly as they pleased.
Then came a storm of questions. "Where? and When? and Why?"
"It is a stock company concern," exclaimed Jerry, his merry eyes
dancing with pleasure. Nettie was fully as astonished and pleased as
he had hoped. "Don't you know I told you yesterday we must plan a way
to earn money? This is one way, planned for us. _We_ own Mrs. Biddy;
every feather on her knot, of which she is so proud, belongs to us, and
she must not only earn her own living and that of her children, but
bring us in a nice profit besides. Those are plump little fellows; I
can imagine them making lovely pot pies for some one who is willing to
pay a good price for them. Cannot you?"
"Poor little chickens," said Nettie in such a mournful tone that Jerry
went off into shouts of laughter. He was a humane boy, but he could not
help thinking it very funny that anybody should sigh over the thought
of a chicken pot pie.
"Oh, I know they are to eat," Nettie said, smiling in answer to his
laughter, "and I know how to make nice crust for pot pie; but for
all that, I cannot help feeling sort of sorry for the pretty fluffy
chickens. Are you going to fat them all, to eat; or raise some of them
to lay eggs?"
"I don't know what _we_ are going to do, yet," Jerry said with pointed
emphasis on the we. "You see, we have not had time to consult; this is
a company concern, I told you. What do you think about it?"
Nettie's cheeks began to grow a deep pink; she looked down at the
hurrying chickens with a grave face for a moment, then said gently:
"You know, Jerry, I haven't any money to help buy the chickens, and I
cannot help own what I do not help buy; they are your chickens, but I
shall like to watch them and help you plan about them."
Jerry sat down on an old nail keg, crossed one foot over the other, and
clasped his hands over his knees, as Job Smith was fond of doing, and
prepared for argument:
"Now, see here, Nettie Decker, let us understand each other once for
all; I thought we had gone into partnership in this whole business;
that we were to fight that old fiend Rum, in every possible way we
could; and were to help each other plan, and work all the time, and in
all ways we possibly could. Now if you are tired of me and want to work
alone, why, I mustn't force myself upon you."
"O, Jerry!" came in a reproachful murmur from Nettie, whose cheeks were
now flaming.
"Well, what is a fellow to do? You see you hurt my feelings worse
than old Mother Topknot did this morning when she pecked me; I want to
belong, and I mean to; but all that kind of talk about helping to buy
these half-dozen little puff-balls is all nonsense, and a girl of your
sense ought to be ashamed of it."
Said Nettie, "O, Jerry, I smell the potatoes; they are scorching!" and
she ran away. Jerry looked after her a moment, as though astonished at
the sudden change of subject, then laughed, and rising slowly from the
nail-keg addressed himself to the hen.
"Now, Mother Topknot, I want you to understand that you belong to the
firm; that little woman who was just here is your mistress, and if you
peck her and scratch her as you did me, this morning, it will be the
worse for you. You are just like some people I have seen; haven't sense
enough to know who is your best friend; why, there is no end to the
nice little bits she will contrive for you and your children, if you
behave yourself; for that matter, I suspect she would do it whether you
behaved yourself or not; but that part it is quite as well you should
not understand. I want you to bring these children up to take care of
themselves, just as soon as you can; and then you are to give your
attention to laying a nice fresh egg every morning; and the sooner you
begin, the better we shall like it." Then he went in to breakfast.
There was no need to say anything more about the partnership.
Nettie seemed to come to the conclusion that she must be ashamed of
herself or her pride in the matter; and after a very short time grew
accustomed to hearing Jerry talk about "Our chicks," and dropped into
the fashion of caring for and planning about them. None the less was
she resolved to find some way of earning a little money for her share
of the stock company. Curiously enough it was Susie and little Sate
who helped again. They came in one morning, with their hands full of
the lovely field daisies. The moment Nettie looked at the two little
faces, she knew that a dispute of some sort was in progress. Susie's
lips were curved with that air of superior wisdom, not to say scorn,
which she knew how to assume; and little Sate's eyes were full of the
half-grieved but wholly positive look which they could wear on occasion.
"What is it?" Nettie asked, stopping on her way to the cellar with
a nice little pat of batter which she was saving for her father's
supper. Butter was a luxury which she had decided the children at
least, herself included, must not expect every day.
"Why," said Susie, her eyes flashing her contempt of the whole thing,
"she says these are folks; old women with caps, and eyes, and noses,
and everything; she says they look at her, and some of them are
pleasant, and some are cross. She is too silly for anything. They
don't look the least bit in the word like old women. I told her so,
fifty-eleven times, and she keeps saying it!"
Nettie held out her hand for the bunch of daisies, looked at them
carefully, and laughed.
"Can't you see them?" was little Sate's eager question. "They are just
as plain! Don't you see them a little bit of a speck, Nannie?"
"Of course she doesn't!" said scornful Susie. "Nobody but a silly baby
like you would think of such a thing."
"I don't know," said Nettie, still smiling, "I don't think I see them
as plain as Sate does, but maybe we can, after awhile; wait till I get
my butter put away, and I'll put on my spectacles and see what I can
find."
So the two waited, Susie incredulous and disgusted, Sate with a hopeful
light in her eyes, which made Nettie very anxious to find the old
ladies. On her way up stairs she felt in her pocket for the pencil
Jerry had sharpened with such care the evening before; yes, it was
there, and the point was safe. Jerry had made a neat little tube of
soft wood for it to slip into, and so protect itself.
"Now, let us look for the old lady," she said, taking a daisy in hand
and retiring to the closet window for inspection; it was the work of
a moment for her fingers which often ached for such work, to fashion
a pair of eyes, a nose, and a mouth; and then to turn down the white
petals for a cap border, leaving two under the chin for strings!
"Does your old lady look anything like that?" she questioned, as she
came out from her hiding place. Little Sate looked, and clasped her
hands in an ecstacy of delight: "Look, Susie, look, quick! there she
is, just as plain! O Nannie! I'm _so_ glad you found her."
"Humph!" said Susie, "she made her with a pencil; she wasn't there at
all; and there couldn't nobody have found her. So!"
And to this day, I suppose it would not be possible to make Susie
Decker believe that the spirits of beautiful old ladies hid in the
daisies! Some people cannot see things, you know, show them as much as
you may.
But Nettie was charmed with the little old woman. She left the potatoes
waiting to be washed, and sat down on the steps with eager little
Sate, and made old lady after old lady. Some with spectacles, and some
without. Some with smooth hair drawn quietly back from quiet foreheads,
some with the old-fashioned puffs and curls which she had seen in old,
old pictures of "truly" grandmothers. What fun they had! The potatoes
came near being forgotten entirely. It was the faithful old clock in
Mrs. Smith's kitchen which finally clanged out the hour and made Nettie
rise in haste, scattering old ladies right and left. But little Sate
gathered them, every one, holding them with as careful hand as though
she feared a rough touch would really hurt their feelings, and went out
to hunt Susie and soothe her ruffled dignity. She did not find Susie;
that young woman was helping Jerry nail laths on the chicken coop;
but she found her sweet-faced Sabbath-school teacher, who was sure
to stop and kiss the child, whenever she passed. To her, Sate at once
showed the sweet old women. "Nannie found them," she explained; "Susie
could not see them at all, and she kept saying they were not there; but
Nannie said she would make them look plainer so Susie could see, and
now Susie thinks she made them out of a pencil; but they were there,
before, I saw them."
"Oh, you quaint little darling!" said Miss Sherrill, kissing her again.
"And so your sister Nettie made them plainer for you. I must say she
has done it with a skilful hand. Sate dear, would you give one little
old woman to me? Just one; this dear old face with puffs, I want her
very much."
So Sate gazed at her with wistful, tender eyes, kissed her tenderly,
and let Miss Sherrill carry her away.
She carried her straight to the minister's study, and laid her on the
open page of a great black commentary which he was studying. "Did
you ever see anything so cunning? That little darling of a Sate says
Nannie 'found' her; she doesn't seem to think it was made, but simply
developed, you know, so that commoner eyes than hers could see it;
that child was born for a poet, or an artist, I don't know which.
Tremayne, I'm going to take this down to the flower committee, and get
them to invite Nettie to make some bouquets of dear old grandmothers,
and let little Sate come to the flower party and sell them. Won't that
be lovely? Every gentleman there will want a bouquet of the nice old
ladies in caps, and spectacles; we will make it the fashion; then they
will sell beautifully, and the little merchant shall go shares on the
proceeds, for the sake of her artist sister."
"It is a good idea," said the minister. "I infer from what that
handsome boy Jerry has told me, that they have some scheme on hand
which requires money. I am very much interested in those young people,
my dear. I wish you would keep a watch on them, and lend a helping hand
when you can."