NEEDS AND HELPERS.
"Sure, I thought ye had lost yourself or been ate by the rats!" cried
Cleena, as Fayette rather timidly peered in at the open kitchen door.
"But all rogues is fond o' good atin', so I suppose you've come for your
breakfast, eh?"
"No. I've et."
"Must ha' been up with the lark then. No, hold on. Don't go in there.
They're master Hallam an' Miss Amy still, an' always will be. They eats
by themselves, as the gentry should. If there's ought left when they're
done, time enough for you an' me."
"I've had my breakfast, I told you."
"Didn't seem to set well on your stummick either, by the way your temper
troubles ye. Are ye as ready to work as ye was yesterday?"
"Yes. What I come back for."
Cleena paused and studied the ill-shaped, vacant, though not vicious,
face of the unfortunate waif. Something drew her sympathy toward him,
and she pitied him for the mother whom he had never known. In the
adjoining room she could hear the voices of her own "childer," with
their cultured inflection and language, which was theirs by inheritance
and as unconsciously as were "Bony's" harsh tones and rude speech his
own.
"Arrah musha! but it's a queer world, I d'know. There's them an' there's
him, an' the Lord made 'em both. Hear me, me gineral. Take a hold o'
that broom o' yours, an' show me what it's made for. If you're as clean
as you're homebly, I might stand your good friend. What for no?"
Fayette had returned Cleena's cool stare with another as steady. He
liked her far better and more promptly than she liked him, yet in that
moment of scrutiny each had measured the other and formed a tacit
partnership. "For the family," was Cleena's watchword, and it had
already become the half-wit's.
Cleena went to the well, tied her clothesline to the leaky old bucket
and lowered it. On the night before she had obtained a pail of spring
water from the cottage at the foot of the knoll, from the same friendly
neighbor who had sold her the milk. But their own well must be fixed. To
her dismay she found that it was very deep, and that the bit of water
which remained in the bucket when it was drawn up was quite unfit even
for cleaning purposes.
This worried her. A scarcity of water was one of the few trials which
she had been spared, and she could hardly have met a heavier. As she
turned toward the house she saw that Fayette had carefully set out of
doors the old chairs and the other movable furniture which the kitchen
had contained, and that, before sweeping, he was using his broom to
brush the cobwebs from the ceiling. The sight filled her with joy and
amazement.
"Saints bless us! That's the first man body I ever met that had sense
like that!" and she lifted up her voice in a glad summons:--
"You, Napoleon Gineral Bonyparty, come by!"
"Before I finish here?"
"Before the wag o' dog's tail. Hurry up!"
"The wind'll blow it all over again."
"Leave it blow. Come by. Here's more trouble even nor cobwebs, avick!
First need is first served."
This summoned Hallam and Amy out to see what was going on, and after
learning the difficulty and peering into the depths of the old pit they
offered their suggestions. Said Amy:--
"We might draw it up, bucket by bucket, and throw it away. Then I
suppose it would fill with clean water, wouldn't it?"
"If we did, 'twould break all our backs an' there's more to do than
empty old wells. Master Hal, what's _your_ say?"
"Hmm, we might rig up some sort of machinery and stir it all up, and
with chemicals we could clear it and--"
"Troth we could, if we'd a month o' Sundays to do it in an' slathers o'
time an' money spoilin' to be spent."
Hallam was disgusted. Already he had blamed himself for his haughty
refusal of Mr. Wingate's offer, on the previous day, to send a practical
man to look over the premises and "set them going," as any landlord
would.
But the lad had replied, as one in authority to decide for his absent
parents: "We won't trouble you, sir. What happens to us, after we leave
Fairacres, is our own affair. If you get your rent, that should be
sufficient for you."
After that the offer was not renewed; for Mr. Wingate was not the man to
waste either money or service, and the lad's tone angered him.
Regrets were now, as always, useless, and Cleena's open disdain of
Hallam's suggestion sent him limping angrily away; though Amy laughed
over her own "valuable contribution to the solution of the dilemma," and
by her intentional use of the longest words at hand caused Fayette to
regard her with a wonderment that was ludicrous in itself.
"Well, Goodsoul, we've helped a lot. Ask our 'Rep-Dem-Prob' what his
'boys' would do."
"What for no? Sure, he's more sense nor the whole of us. Say, me
gineral, what's the way out?"
Fayette colored with pride. He had an inordinate vanity, and, like most
of his sort, he possessed an almost startling keenness of intelligence
in some respects, as contrasted with his foolishness in others.
Moreover, he had been disciplined by poverty, and had always lived among
working people and, for a long time, about the carpet mills.
"Well, the 'Supe's' force-pump."
"Hmm, I know, I know. But what's the 'Supe' an' his pump? Is he fish,
flesh, or fowl, eh?"
"He's the 'Supe' to the mill. Ain't ye any sense?"
"No. None left after botherin' with you. What's it, Miss Amy?"
"I know. You mean Mr. Metcalf, don't you?"
"Yes."
"What would he do? How could he help us?"
"Lend me the donkey. I'll ride and tell him. All them houses--see them
mill cottages, down yonder?"
"Certainly. They look very pretty from here, with all the trees about
them."
"They've got wells. Once in six months the wells has to be cleared out.
That's orders. Me an' another fellow goes down 'em, after the pump's
drawed out all it can. We bail 'em out. I clean cisterns, too. Ain't
another fellow in the village as good at a cistern as me. See, I'm slim.
I can get down a man-hole 't nobody else can. Shall I go?"
"I'll ask Hallam."
Who, upon consultation, replied:--
"I suppose it's the only thing we can do, but it does go against my
inclination to ask favors of anybody."
"Hal, that's silly. We must send Fayette to Mr. Metcalf, and will you
write the note, or shall I?"
"You, since you've seen him, personally."
"Which is the only way I could see him," laughed the girl, and ran into
the house to find a sheet of paper. Then the mill boy was given his
choice of the burros, to ride as messenger; and having selected Balaam,
departed down the slope in high glee. When he reached the mill, and Mr.
Metcalf was at liberty to see him, he began a voluble description of all
that had occurred since his chance meeting with Amy in the wood; but the
superintendent cut the story short.
"Now, see here, 'Bony.' This is the chance of your life. Understand?
They are, I should think, the very nicest folks you ever saw. Well,
treat them square. None of your monkey shines nor nonsense. Do
everything you can to help them. Of course you can have the pump, though
you can't carry it up to 'Hardscrabble' donkey-back. That fellow is as
black as his brother, or sister, is white. They're the prettiest donkeys
I ever saw. How my youngsters would like such. Well, go round to John.
There's no teaming to be done this morning, and he shall take the pump
there in the wagon. He'll help you too, no doubt, for a small payment."
"Say, 'Supe.'"
"Well?"
"I don't believe they've got any money. Don't look so they had a cent.
Ain't it queer? With all them purty things an' the way they act an'
talk. Ain't like nobody I ever saw before. Ain't never saw anybody liked
each other so much. I'm goin' to stay."
"Have they asked you?"
"No."
"Well, run along and get hold of John before he goes home for a nap, as
he might, with nothing needed here."
Then, when Fayette had left him, Mr. Metcalf took up Amy's note and
reread it.
The second perusal pleased the gentleman even more than the first. He
thought that the little letter was very characteristic of the girl he
had met, and he specially liked her statement that his former kindness
presupposed a later one. So he stopped John, the teamster, as he was
driving out of the mill yard, with the request:--
"You stay up there all day, if you can be of any use. Got your dinner
with you? and the horses'? Good enough. I've heard about that family
being turned out from their old home, and whether it was justly done or
not doesn't alter the fact of its hardness. Lend them a hand, as if it
were for me, John, and I'll make it all right with you."
"It's all right already, sir. I saw that girl, when she was down here
that day; saw her take her fine little handkerchief out of her pocket
and wipe that idiot's, or next door to idiot, wipe his lips as nice as
if he was her own brother. Ain't one of the mill girls'd do _that_.
They'd be too dainty. She wasn't, because she was quality. It always
tells. Pity though that such folks have so little common sense. Now--"
But Mr. Metcalf warded off any further talk of the good John, who had
lived at Ardsley all his life and knew the history of the Kaye household
almost better than they knew it themselves.
"I'll ask you to tell me about them another time. Just now I guess you'd
better hurry to get them a decent drink of water. Hold on, 'Bony.' Ride
over to the office door. I'll send a note back to Miss Kaye, and want
you to carry her a little basket."
So this was the note which answered Amy's, and that proved its writer to
be a gentleman, even though he had begun life a humble ash-boy in just
such a mill as he now managed so ably:--
"MY DEAR MISS AMY: The kindness is wholly on your side in allowing me to
serve you, and I hope you will command me in any further matter wherein
I can be of use.
"I am sending the pump by John Young, our teamster, with instructions to
remain under your orders for the rest of the day. You will find that
'Bony' thoroughly understands the business of well-cleaning, but you
will have to restrain him from venturing into any great hazard, because,
poor lad, he has not the caution to balance his daring.
"I am offering, also, a little basket of fruit which came my way this
morning, and which looks, I fancy, as if it wanted to be eaten by just
such a girl as you.
"FAITHFULLY YOURS,
"WILLIAM METCALF."
When Amy read this note aloud to Hallam and Cleena, she did so in a
proud and happy voice.
"Well, I've written letters for mother, and father, too, sometimes, but
I've not had many of my own. This is. I'm going to keep it always. The
very first one that has come here. Isn't he just the dearest man? Oh! I
am so happy I must just sing. It's such a beautiful world, after all,
and maybe we've had all our old things taken away just to teach us that
_folks_ are better than _things_. I feel as if I'd come out of a musty
room into the open air."
"Amy Kaye! You should be ashamed of yourself. Have you no heart at all?
As for musty rooms, if you can find any to beat these at 'Spite House,'
you'll do well."
"I know. I'm 'bad,' of course, but come on. I'll fetch you all father's
tubes and brushes that are in such a muddle, and you can sort them right
near the well, and watch John fix it, and take care of Fayette; I'm
going in and help Cleena, in any way I can."
Amy's cheerfulness was certainly infectious. It was also helpful to
Hallam's gloomy mood that just then there should be the well and cistern
cleaning, Mr. Young having discovered a cistern beneath a pile of
decayed boards, at a little distance from the house. But the water in
both being unfit for use, Amy bravely picked up a couple of pails and
started down hill to their new neighbor's cottage.
"Wait, Amy, I'll rig up something," called the cripple; and by the aid
of a rope, a barrel stave, and some wire he managed to hang the pails on
either side Pepita's saddle. "So all you'll have to do will be walk up
and down and make her behave," referring to Pepita's uncertain temper.
"If I had a barrel I'd better that job," said John the teamster. "I'd
drive down once and get all you needed for the day."
"But there isn't any barrel that will hold water," answered the girl.
"So I'll play 'Jack and Jill' with Pepita, as long as Cleena wishes.
Besides, the cottage children think she's beautiful, and they are so
kind they help me fill the pails each trip, as well as give us the water
in them."
John wiped his brow and looked admiringly upon her. "Keep that spirit,
lass, and it'll make small difference to you whether your purse is empty
or full. But 'give' you the water? I should say yes. The Lord gave it to
them in the first place, free as the air of heaven. Well, there'll be
water to spare up here, too, soon, for we've got the pump about ready
for work."
It was a long time, though, before any impression was made upon the
accumulation of water in the deep well. After a while, however, less
came with each draft, and it was thicker and fouler. Finally, the pump
ceased to be of any use, and was drawn up and laid beside the broken
curb. Then came the interesting part of the task, as well as the
perilous.
Keeping an eye upon all of Fayette's movements, John had allowed him "to
boss the job," partly because the lad did fully understand his business,
and partly to give him pleasure. But now was need for utmost caution.
"Will you fetch me a candle?" the teamster asked Cleena; and when she
had done so he fastened it to the end of the clothesline and slowly
lowered it into the shaft. The flame was instantly extinguished.
"Hmm, have to wait a spell, I reckon. Might as well tackle the cistern."
"What made the candle go out? Was there a wind?" asked Amy.
"Carbonic acid gas," answered her brother.
"Huh," said Fayette, contemptuously, "'twa'n't neither. Just choke damp
an' fixed air. Soon's the candle'll stay lighted, I'll go down.
Cistern's the same, only wider. Got a powder here'll fix it, if it don't
clear soon."
After the cistern was cleaned, and this was a much easier task than the
well, Fayette returned to the curb, again lighted the candle, and
lowered it. The foul and poisonous gases had mostly passed away, and the
flame continued to burn as far down as the clothesline would reach.
"That's all right; I'll tackle it now."
"No, you'll not. None o' your foolhardiness here."
"Who made you boss o' me, John Young?"
"I did. I'll prevent you, if I have to hold on to you. Best leave it
open till to-morrow, or longer even," said John. "I'm going to eat my
dinner now. Come and have some."
"Bime-by. I'm goin' to take off my shoes. Work best when I'm barefoot."
The answer gave John no concern, for he knew this peculiarity of
Fayette's; so he walked quietly away toward the old shed where he had
tied his horses, to give them their food and secure his own. Before he
reached them, however, he heard a loud shout, and, turning, saw the
foolish boy capering about on the beam which had been laid across the
top of the well, and from which the rope and bucket were still
suspended.
"'Bony,' you fool, get off that! A misstep and you're gone!"
"All right, I'll get off!"
There was a wild waving of arms, a burst of derisive laughter, and
"Bony" had disappeared.