ONCE AGAIN A NEW ENGLANDER
During all those years we had never seen or heard of any of our old
neighbors. They had hardly ever entered our thoughts except as very
occasionally the boy ran across one of his former playmates. Shortly
after this, however, business took me out into the old neighborhood
and I was curious enough to make a few inquiries. There was no change.
My trim little house stood just as it then stood and around it were
the other trim little houses. There were a few new houses and a few
new-comers, but all the old-timers were still there. I met Grover, who
was just recovering from a long sickness. He didn't recognize me at
first. I was tanned and had filled out a good deal.
"Why, yes," he said, after I had told my name. "Let me see, you went
off to Australia or somewhere, didn't you, Carleton?"
"I emigrated," I answered.
He looked up eagerly.
"I remember now. It seems to have agreed with you."
"You're still with the leather firm?" I inquired.
He almost started at this unexpected question.
"Yes," he answered.
His eyes turned back to his trim little house, then to me as though he
feared I was bringing him bad news.
"But I've been laid up for six weeks," he faltered.
I knew what was troubling him. He was wondering whether he would find
his job when he got back. Poor devil! If he didn't what would become
of his trim little house? Grover was older by five years than I had
been when the axe fell.
I talked with him a few minutes. There had been a death or two in the
neighborhood and the children had grown up. That was the only change.
The sight of Grover made me uncomfortable, so I hurried about my
business, eager to get home again.
God pity the poor? Bah! The poor are all right if by poor you mean the
tenement dwellers. When you pray again pray God to pity the
middle-class American on a salary. Pray that he may not lose his job;
pray that if he does it shall be when he is very young; pray that he
may find the route to America. The tenement dwellers are safe enough.
Pray--and pray hard--for the dwellers in the trim little houses of the
suburbs.
I've had my ups and downs, my profits and losses since I entered
business for myself but I've come out at the end of each year well
ahead of the game. I never made again as much in so short a time as I
made on that first job. One reason is that as soon as I was solidly on
my feet I started a profit sharing scheme, dividing with the men what
was made on every job over a certain per cent. Many of the original
gang have left and gone into business for themselves of one sort and
another but each one when he went, picked a good man to take his place
and handed down to him the spirit of the gang.
Dick went through college and is now in my office. He's a hustler and
is going to make a good business man. But thank God he has a heart in
him as well as brains. He hopes to make "Carleton and Son" a big firm
some day and he will. If he does, every man who faithfully and
honestly handles his shovel will be part of the big firm. His idea
isn't to make things easy for the men; it's to preserve the spirit
they come over with and give them a share of the success due to that
spirit.
We didn't move away from our dear, true friends until the other boy
came. Then I bought two or three deserted farms outside the
city--fifty acres in all. I bought them on time and at a bargain. I'm
trying another experiment here. I want to see if the pioneer spirit
won't bring even these worn out acres to life. I find that some of my
foreign neighbors have made their old farms pay even though the good
Americans who left them nearly starved to death. I have some cows and
chickens and pigs and am using every square foot of the soil for one
purpose or another. We pretty nearly get our living from the farm now.
We entertain a good deal but we don't entertain our new neighbors.
There isn't a week summer or winter that I don't have one or more
families of Carleton's gang out here for a half holiday. It's the only
way I can reconcile myself to having moved away from among them. Ruth
keeps very closely in touch with them all and has any number of
schemes to help them. Her pet one just now is for us to raise enough
cows so that we can sell fresh milk at cost to those families which
have kiddies.
Dan comes out to see us every now and then. He's making ten dollars to
my one. He says he's going to be mayor of the city some day. I told
him I'd do my best to prevent it. That didn't seem to worry him.
"If ye was an Irishmon, now," he said, "I'd be after sittin' up nights
in fear of ye. But ye ain't."
I'm almost done. This has been a hard job for me. And yet it's been a
pleasant job. It's always pleasant to talk about Ruth. I found that
even by taking away her pad and pencil I didn't accomplish much in the
way of making her less busy. Even with three children to look after
instead of one she does just as much planning about the housework. And
we don't have sirloin steaks even now. We don't want them. Our daily
fare doesn't vary much from what it was in the tenement.
Ruth just came in with Billy, Jr., in her arms and read over these
last few paragraphs. She says she's glad I'm getting through with this
because she doesn't know what I might tell about next. But there's
nothing more to tell about except that to-day as at the beginning
Ruth is the biggest thing in my life. I can't wish any better luck for
those trying to fight their way out than they may find for a partner
half as good a wife as Ruth. I wouldn't be afraid to start all over
again to-day with her by my side.
THE END
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| Typographical errors corrected in text: |
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| Page 129: semed replaced with seemed |
| Page 219: exitement replaced with excitement |
| Page 231: beafsteak replaced with beefsteak |
| Page 252: dependdent replaced with dependent |
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| The following words are legitimate alternate spelling, |
| and left as found: |
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| Shakespere |
| goodby |
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