THE DISAPPEARANCE OF BALAAM.
"Me Gineral Bonyparty, come by!"
The lad in the depths of the cellar vouchsafed no reply. He heard
distinctly, and Cleena knew that he did. This did not allay her rising
wrath.
"The spalpeen! That's what comes o' takin' in folks to do for. Ah,
Fayetty," she called wheedlingly.
Good Cleena had almost as many titles for her "adopted son" as her
"childer" had for her. Each one suggested to the simple fellow some
particular mood of the speaker. "Gineral" meant mild sarcasm, and when
"Bonyparty" was added, there was indicated a need for prompt and
unquestioning obedience. "Fayetty" was the forerunner of something
agreeable, to which might or might not be appended something equally
disagreeable.
Said Hallam, once: "Freely translated, 'Fayetty' stands for ginger
cookies, and sometimes the cookies must be earned."
The call came the third time:--
"Napoleon Bonyparty Lafayette Jimpson, come out o' that! Two twists of
a lamb's tail an' I'll fasten ye down!"
The reconstruction of Fayette gave Cleena plenty of employment, and in
one thing he disappointed her, sorely and continually: he utterly and
defiantly refused to work in the mill or elsewhere that would bring in
wages. Since Amy had become a daily toiler, this attitude on his part
angered the poor woman beyond endurance.
Yet there was not any laziness about Fayette. Nobody could have been
more industrious, or more illy have directed his industry. As long as it
was possible to work in the ground he had labored upon the barren soil
of Bareacre, and those who understood such matters assured the Kayes
that they would really have a fine garden spot, when another spring came
round.
"Surely, he that makes the wilderness to blossom is well engaged,
Cleena," Mr. Kaye had remonstrated once, in his quiet way.
"Faith, yes, master, but till them roses bloom there might be better
doin'," she had returned. In her heart she respected Mr. Kaye's judgment
less even than the mill boy's, though she veiled this contempt by an
outward deference.
To-day was a crisis. For good or ill, Cleena had determined to have the
question of wage-earning settled. Either the lad must go to work and
bring in something to pay for his keep, or he must "clear himself out."
"D'ye mean it?"
"Yes, avick, I means it! Up with ye, or stay below--for as long as I
please."
Fayette threw down his pick and crawled forward through the trench he
was digging. The idle suggestion of Hallam had taken firm hold of the
natural's mind, and with a dogged persistence, that he showed also in
other matters, he had now been daily laboring upon the cross-shaped
excavation which was to ventilate the cellars of "Charity House." He had
made a fine beginning, and so explained to Cleena, as his mud-stained
face appeared above the cellar stairs.
"A beginnin' o' nonsense. When all's done, what use? Sit down an' taste
the last o' the cakes me neighbor sent up. Here, you William, keep out
o' that! It's for Miss Amy, dear heart. Four weeks an' longer she's been
up before light, trudgin' away as gay as a mavis, with never a word that
she's bothered. Alanna, Mister Gladstone, what's now?"
A surplus of small Joneses had swarmed over the lower floor of the house
on the hill, and their presence was now accepted by Cleena with little
opposition, because of the generosity of their parents.
"True for ye, the babies be forever under me foot, but one never comes
atop the rise but there's doubled in his little fist the stuff to make
him welcome. It may be a cake, or a biscuit, or a bowl o' milk even.
It's something for some one."
"The 'some one' is generally the bearer of the loaf, or cake, eh,
Cleena?" asked Hallam, who was lingering in the kitchen, gathering what
warmth he could from the stove there. The coals provided in the autumn
were long ago consumed, and out of the scanty supply she had been able
to procure since then, Cleena wasted little below stairs. In the
master's studio above a fire was always burning, and if, as he sometimes
did, he asked whence the supply, the faithful servant put his inquiry
aside with some evasive remark.
He had now work at hand which engrossed him entirely, and to which heat
and physical comfort were a necessity. He was painting a life-sized
portrait of his wife, and not one of the household could do aught but
wish him God-speed on so precious a labor.
Meanwhile, Hallam lay so silent upon the settle beside the stove that
neither of them, Cleena nor Fayette, noticed him.
"Here you, William, Beatrice, Belinda, come by! Set yourselves down in
the corner, yon. Here's a fine bag o' scraps for you two little maids.
Pick 'em over that neat your mother'll be proud; and, William, take out
these things from Miss Amy's box till you puts them back as straight as
straight. Sure, it's long since herself's had the time, an' he's a smart
little gossoon, so he is."
The little girls emptied the bag of pieces on the floor, and sorting
them into piles began to roll them into tidy bundles. Along with
improving Fayette, Cleena had early set out upon the same lines with the
small Joneses. Even William Gladstone, the mite, was already learning to
distinguish between soiled hands and clean, and to enjoy the latter.
So now, while she talked, Cleena set the child to take out and replace
with exactness the few treasured letters and cards, or papers, which
were Amy's own, and kept in her big japanned box.
Once, idly, Cleena observed the child lingering over a square packet,
like an old-time letter, sealed with red wax. It was this bit of color
which the little one fancied, and she smiled to see his delight in it.
"The blessed baby! Sure, he's the makings of a fine man in him, so he
has. Take a look, Fayetty, if yerself would copy yon."
"You'll let that youngster play with your things once too often. He's a
_hider_, Lionel Percival says so."
"Humph! An' what that silly heeram-skeeram says means naught. Now, hear
me, me gineral. This ends it. You goes to work, or you goes to play.
Which is it?"
"I--I won't."
"Which is it?" repeated Cleena, sternly.
The natural fidgeted. In his heart he was afraid of his self-constituted
"mother." He had no wish to return to the drudgery of the mill. He was
wholly interested in his cellar-digging. He had heard tales of mining,
and in some way he had obtained a miner's lantern. This he fastened to
his "parade hat," and wore to lighten his underground labors.
Vague visions of untold wealth floated in his dull brain. Somewhere in
the world he knew that other men were digging in other trenches for
gold. He had heard the "boys" say so often, and some of them had even
gone to do likewise. He had seen gold sometimes in Mr. Metcalf's office
safe. Not much of it, indeed, but enough to fire his fancy. All the time
he toiled he was looking for something round and glistening, like the
coins he had seen. He was not in the least discouraged because he had
found none. There was time enough, for he had not much more than begun
what he hoped to complete. Yet, as Cleena knew, he had made a
considerable opening under the west room and had carried out many
barrowfuls of earth. This he had utilized upon his garden, which was
almost as interesting to him as his mining.
"Which is it, avick?"
"Must I?"
"Troth, must ye? Indeed, look here." Leaning over the table she spread
before her charge's eyes a dilapidated pocket-book. It had been the
receptacle for the family funds, but it was now quite empty. Fayette
stared hard. Then he whistled.
"You don't say so! All gone? Every cent?"
Cleena nodded. Her face was very grave. It frightened the lad. He
glanced toward Hallam, apparently asleep on the settle, and whispered:--
"Where's hers? What she earns?"
"Humph! That little! Well, it's gone. The last week's wage to buy her
shoes. Faith, the poor little feet! Steppin' along to her duty with
never a turn aside, an' the holes clean through the soles. Oh, me
fathers, that ever I should see the day!"
Overcome by her memories of far different circumstances, Cleena bowed
her gray head upon her arms above the empty purse and shook in
suppressed grief. So faithful was she that she would not have counted
even her life of value if by sacrificing it she could have restored unto
her "folks" the departed joy and comfort of their house.
Fayette reached over and lifted the purse. He was not satisfied until he
had examined it for himself. Then he rose and took the lantern from his
hat.
"I'll fetch some," he said briefly, and turned toward the door.
But Hallam had not been so fast asleep as he seemed, and he demanded
whither Fayette was bound.
"It's nothin' to worry about, Master Hal. Just a little matter o'
business 'twixt me gineral here an' meself. Can't a body wear out her
shoes without so much ado?" she asked, thrusting into view her great
foot with its still unbroken, stout, calfskin brogan upon it.
Hallam smiled. "You can't deceive me, dear old Scrubbub. It's not you
that's wanting new shoes, and if Fayette is going millward, I am going
too."
"Master Hal, what for now? An' what'll the master be sayin' if he's
wantin' you betimes? Isn't it bad enough to keep him content without
Amy, let alone yerself? No, no; go up by. It's warmer in the paintin'
room, an' sure a body's still as you can't bother nobody, even a
artist."
But the cripple limped across the room and took from a recess his cap
and the short top-coat he wore when he rode Balaam. It was as warm as it
was clumsy, and gave his slender figure a width that was quite becoming.
Like Amy's, his headgear was always a Scotch Tam, and when it crowned
his fair face Cleena thought him exceeding good to look upon.
"Arrah musha, but you're the lad for me! An' after all, no matter if the
winds be cold, a ride'll do ye fine, an' make the oatmeal taste sweet in
your mouth."
"It's time something did. Oatmeal three times a day is a trifle
monotonous. Heigho! for one of your chicken pies, Goodsoul."
He was sorry as soon as he said that. Not to be able to give her
"childer" what they desired was always real distress to Cleena. So he
laughed her regret away, with the question:--
"If I bring home a pair of fowls, will you cook them?"
"Will I no? Fetch me the birds, an' I'll show you. Go on, Fayetty, an'
saddle the beast."
But Fayette was not, at that moment, inclined to do this office for the
other lad. He had resolved upon a kindly deed, one which involved
self-sacrifice on his part, and like many other wiser people he was
inclined to let the one generous act cover several meaner ones.
It was his heart's desire to own Balaam. If he took some of the money
which the superintendent was keeping for him and gave it to Cleena for
the housekeeping, he lessened his chance of obtaining his object by just
that much. If he gave Cleena the money, he wanted everybody to
understand that he fully realized, himself, how magnanimous he was.
However, in many respects Hallam was his hero, and between the two there
had been, of late, a little secret which Fayette was proud to share.
Each day he would ask, with extreme caution:--
"You hain't told nobody yet, have ye?"
Commonly the cripple would answer: "No; nor shall I. There's no use."
"Sho! Yes, there is. Read it an' see. If it's in the paper, it's so.
Huckleberries! You ain't no more pluck than a skeeter."
Then Hallam would reread the scrap of newspaper he carried in his
pocket; and each time, after such a reading, a brighter light shone in
the eyes of both boys, and the foundling would observe:--
"It's worth tryin'. I say, it's worth tryin'. _I_ ain't tired yet. Keep
her up."
Hallam knew the half-column of print by heart. It had been brought him
by Amy, on the day she went to Mr. Metcalf's office. She had asked the
loan of the newspaper, and had received it as a gift. She had hurried
home, full of enthusiasm, and showed it to Hallam. He had not been
enthusiastic, and had apparently tossed the article aside as worthless
to him. Amy was too busy to give the matter further thought, and did not
know that after she had left the room her brother had read the paragraph
a second time, and had then carefully preserved it.
Even now, as they started for the mill, Fayette requested to "hear it
again," but Hallam declined.
"It's too cold. And if I don't hurry and do what I set out to, I'm
afraid I'll back out."
"Is it somethin' ye hate to do?"
"Yes; it--Don't let's talk about it."
"Just the way I feel. I'd ruther live on one meal a day 'n do it. Once I
give it to her, I shan't never see no more of it. Oh, I know _her_!
She's a regular boss, she is."
"Cleena? But she's a dear old creature, even so."
"Oh, I like her. I like her first rate. She's a good cook an' middlin'
good-lookin'. I hain't got nothin' again her. They say, to the village,
how 't John Young talks o' sparkin' her."
"What? Teamster John? Our Cleena? Well, he'd better not!"
In his indignation Hallam nearly slipped from his saddle. He did let one
of his crutches fall, and Fayette picked up that, took the other, and
cheerfully "packed" them to the end of their journey.
"Why not? His wife's dead."
"Yes. But--our Cleena! Cleena Keegan! Well, there's no danger of her
encouraging him. Between her own 'folks,' yourself, and the Joneses, I
think she has all she can attend to without taking in a man to worry
with."
The subject was idlest village gossip, but it served to divert Hallam's
thoughts from his impending errand, and he arrived at the office of the
mill in good spirits. Then he remembered a saying he had heard in the
community:--
"All roads lead to the mill," and quoted it for Fayette's benefit.
"That's so. But, say, I hate that old Wingate that's got it now. He
licked me when I worked for him. Licked me more 'n once, just because I
fooled a little with his horses. I was bound out to him from the
poor-farm, an' I run away. He treated me bad. I'm goin' to get even with
him some day. You watch an' see."
"Well, here we are. Is this the office? Will you go in with me and help
me find the superintendent? I've never been here, you know."
"Huckleberries! Ain't that queer? And Amy comes every day."
Fayette meant no reproach. His thoughts were never profound, but Hallam
flushed and felt ashamed.
"That's true. The more disgrace to me. Well, cripple or not, that's the
last time anybody shall ever say, truthfully, that my little sister has
set me an example of courage and effort. Hurry up. Open the door."
A moment later both lads stood within the little room wherein so many
big money transactions took place; and it is doubtful if any speculator
coming there had felt greater anxiety over the outcome of his visit than
these two whose "operations" were to be of such a modest limit.
"Boss, I've come after my money. I want the whole lot."
"Good day, 'Bony'; good day, Hallam Kaye, I believe."
Hallam bowed, and before his courage could wane, replied:--
"Yes; I'm sorry to interrupt you in business hours, but--will you buy
Balaam, Pepita's brother?"
Before the gentleman could answer, Fayette had clutched Hallam's
shoulder.
"What's that? Did you come here to sell that donkey?"
"I came to try to sell it, certainly."
"Then I'm sorry I ever touched to help you. I want him myself. I come
to get my money a purpose. My money is as good as his. He shan't have
it. I'll have it myself."
Mr. Metcalf interrupted:--
"But, 'Bony,' you can't afford to keep such an animal. It would take all
your capital to pay for him. Wait. Sometime, if you're industrious,
you'll be rich enough to have a horse and carriage. Indeed, I mean it;
and, yes, Hallam, I will very gladly buy your burro. I've wanted him
ever since Amy let us have Pepita. I--"
"You shan't have him, then. You never shall. I want him, an' I'll keep
him. You see!"
The door opened and shut with a bang. Whether purposely or not, it was
impossible to say, but in his outward rush the half-wit brushed so
rudely past Hallam that he knocked his crutch from his grasp, so that he
would have fallen, had not the superintendent caught and steadied the
lad to a seat.
"That's 'Bony' all over. As irresponsible as a child and ungovernable in
his rage. Yet, never fear; he'll be back again, sometime."
"But--he has taken Balaam. What can I do now?"
Mr. Metcalf walked to the window and looked out. There was a dash of
something black disappearing at the turn of the road.
"Humph! That's bad. He's taken the road to the mountains. When his
'wood fit' comes over him, summer or winter, he vanishes. Sometimes he
is gone for months."
"And he's taken Balaam with him," repeated the other.
"Yes; he certainly has;" but when the superintendent looked toward
Hallam he was startled by the hopeless expression of the lad's fine
face.