THE LOAD OF CHIPS.
WHEN Mrs. Irvington returned to her house, she accompanied Arthur to
the cellar and explained what was to be done. During her absence,
Joseph had accomplished but little. And she foresaw that if she
depended on him, her chips would remain un-housed for some time. Still,
as her object was rather to do good to the little fellow than to be
herself accommodated she resolved to allow them to go on.
"Look, Arthur," she said, "you may put your chips here at this end of
the cellar, then you and Joseph may try who will have the largest pile
at night.
"Joseph, you have had the cart all the morning. Arthur may take it now;
and I will give you a basket."
She smiled encouragingly upon them and left them. When her husband
came home to dinner, she gave him an animated account of her protégés,
and he laughingly predicted they would turn out as nine-tenths of her
protégés did,—that they would soon tire of labor, and prefer their old
business of begging from door to door.
"I am sure of Arthur," she urged warmly. "He has a good mother. As for
Joseph, I cannot believe a word he tells me."
When the boys were alone, Jo threw himself down on the clean, cemented
floor of the cellar, and cried out with a yawn:
"It's harder than begging. I'm a fool to stay here."
"You told me through the knot-hole it was fun."
"Oh, that was when I had just begun!"
By this time Arthur was out in the yard loading his cart. He began to
throw in some large splinters, but finding they filled it too soon, he
tried another way. He first picked up the small pieces which Joseph had
scattered about, and then, when the body of the cart was full, stuck
up some long pieces edgeways, making an enclosure into which he could
throw as many more.
He looked very happy as he surveyed his work, and as he commenced to
draw his load into the cellar, he could not restrain a shout of joy.
"Look! Look!" he exclaimed. "See how many I have got. I like to work
ever so much."
"So did I at first," muttered Jo. "But whew! How did you get so many?"
After a while, the lazy boy rose from his seat on the floor, and began
to fill his basket.
"I must do enough to earn a shilling for old Meg, or she will give me
a whaling," he explained grumbling; "but I never was made to work.
Wouldn't Tim Scott laugh if he could see us now?"
"I don't care who laughs," answered Arthur, working while he talked.
"I'm so glad to have a job. I wish Mrs. Irvington would have chips
brought every day."
"Oh! What a greeny you are," shouted Jo, laughing boisterously.
Toward night, Mrs. Irvington again visited the cellar. Arthur, unused
to labor, and feeble for want of regular food, looked paler than in
the morning, but his eyes shone with satisfaction as he pointed to the
large pile he had packed as closely as possible in the corner.
Joseph's pile was little larger than at noon, and the chips were
scattered about from the door to the bin in the corner.
"You have worked well," the lady said to Arthur, and she gave him a
shilling.
"I am sorry you have not been more industrious," she added, addressing
the lazy boy. "You have not earned sixpence. Will you come to-morrow,
and try to do better?"
"Yes, mum, I have worked to-day: but I ain't used to it; and mammy
thinks it hurts me."
"Has he a mother, Arthur?" demanded Mrs. Irvington.
"Yes, mum."
"Is she blind?"
"Oh, no, mum! She can see very well. She beats Jo every day when he
does not get enough by begging."
"Poor child. I was afraid he had not been well taught. Well, Joseph, I
will give you a sixpence. And if you will come every day, I will find
something for you to do, something much better than begging."
"May I come, too, mum?" entreated Arthur anxiously.
"Certainly, I will have something else ready, when the chips are
carried in."
The next morning when Mrs. Irvington was dressing, she heard a boy
whistling in the back yard. Looking from the window, she saw Arthur
piling wood into the cart.
"You had better send another load of chips," she said to her husband.
"It will help me to keep my little fellow at work."
"I hope you give him good wages," was his laughing reply. "He will be
tired long before night, if he goes on at that rate. Just see him tug
at that big piece. There, he has run a splinter into his finger. He has
hard work to keep from crying. I wish Willie were at home to see how
bravely he bears the pain."
"I will get it out for him," said the lady hurriedly arranging her
collar, "and he shall have a good breakfast. Dear child, I have loved
him ever since I saw him saving a piece of bread for his sick mother."
The morning passed away, but Joseph did not make his appearance.
In the afternoon Mrs. Irvington was passing through one of the main
streets when she saw two boys sitting on the steps belonging to a
church. They were laughing and chatting merrily, but as soon as they
saw her, one of them darted down the steps and commenced a piteous cry.
"What is the trouble, child?" inquired a lady, in front of Mrs.
Irvington.
"I've lost my shilling, mum, and daddy 'll beat me awful. Boo! Hoo,
hoo!"
The lady was opening her purse when Mrs. Irvington touched her.
"Excuse me," she said, "but I think the boy is imposing on you.
Joseph," she added, sternly addressing the boy, "you,—"
But he waited to hear no more. With an oath, he darted down a side
street, and was presently out of sight.
"I saw the whole game," explained the lady, "and was unwilling you
should give to an unworthy object."
"Thank you. It is dreadful to think so young a child has learned to lie
and swear."
"Joseph has been in a hard school. He is bright, but vicious. If he
were to be taken away from the city, I think he might be saved."