THE OLD GENTLEMAN.
FLORA was later in falling asleep than usual, and consequently
overslept herself in the morning, and when she came down at last she
was far more vexed than pleased to find the fire all made, the table
set, the breakfast in a good state of forwardness, and Eben splitting
kindling wood in the shed, instead of reading every moment till
breakfast-time as had been his custom of late.
"Why didn't you call me?" was Flora's sharp greeting.
"You seemed so tired we thought we would let you sleep," said Mary
Clarke; "so Eben and I got the breakfast. Everything that is right I
did, and everything that is wrong he did."
"No such thing," called out Eben from the shed. "Don't you believe it,
Flossy. She would have drowned the coffee, if I hadn't stopped her, and
she didn't know whether the pork chops ought to be fried or broiled."
All this banter was not to Flora's taste. She chose to take it as a
sign that Eben and Mary were leagued against her, and resented it
accordingly.
"I am very sorry you should have had so much trouble," she said,
stiffly and coldly. "Getting breakfast is my work, and I don't know
that I thank anybody for taking it out of my hands. I am glad Eben
feels in such good spirits, but I don't, and—"
Flora stopped short as her mother came out of her room.
"Dear me! Do tell if you have got breakfast ready!" said she. "I've
been so broke of my rest lately with that poor baby, that when I get a
chance, I kind of oversleep myself. How nice your chops look, Flora!"
"They are not mine," said Flora. "Eben and Mary have taken my work out
of my hands this morning."
"So if you are poisoned, you must not blame Mary," said Eben.
"Do let's have our breakfast," said Flora, pettishly.
"I'm willing, for I haven't much time to spare. I want to be at the
mill particularly early."
The breakfast was not a very cheerful one, in spite of Mary's attempts
at conversation. Flora would neither talk nor eat, and Eben, though
he answered Mary pleasantly and cheerfully, did not seem in as good
spirits as usual. He got away as soon as he could, and was at the mill
as quickly as Jeduthun himself.
"Good!" said Jeduthun. "This looks like work. Some one was up bright
and early, I guess."
"That's so!" answered Eben. "I split up about half a cord of kindling
wood before breakfast—that is, so to speak, you know, as Grandma Badger
says. And, Jeduthun, while I have a chance, I want to tell you that
I know you were right and I was wrong yesterday. I have been very
neglectful of my work, and the reason was, as you say, because I have
been trying to serve two masters, but I see my mistake, and I am going
to try and do better."
"Good for you!" said Jeduthun, very much pleased. "I thought you'd come
out all right when you came to consider about it, and then you'd see
that I spoke as a friend."
"I'm sure of that," returned Eben. "I only hope you will always do the
same."
Eben was busy doing something in the office when Jeduthun put his head
in the room.
"I say, Mr. Antis, here's the old gentleman a-coming."
"The old gentleman! Not Mr. Francis!" exclaimed Mr. Antis, starting.
"What in the world has brought him so suddenly?"
Mr. Antis hastened down to the door to meet the mill owner.
Mr. Francis was a testy old gentleman with a pretty large sense of his
own consequence and dignity; nevertheless, those who knew him best
spoke highly of his uprightness and generosity. The moment that Mr.
Antis saw him he perceived that something had gone wrong.
"I think, Mr. Antis," was his first salutation—"I think you might have
exerted yourself so much as to send some one to meet me. I know it
is not the fashion just now to pay much respect to old people, but I
think, considering all things, you might have done as much as that."
"I am very sorry, sir," replied Mr. Antis. "If I had expected you, I
should have met you, certainly."
"And may I ask, Mr. Antis—not that it signifies, of course—but may I
ask why you did not expect me, when I wrote you three days ago that I
should be at the Springs this morning?"
"I never received your letter, Mr. Francis. Eben," asked Mr. Antis,
"did you go to the office last night?"
Eben started and coloured. The last mail came in about seven, and it
was Eben's duty to go for the letters and papers and carry them down to
Mr. Antis's house.
"I am very sorry, indeed, Mr. Antis," said he, "but the truth is, I
forgot all about it."
"Oh you forgot all about it, did you?" said Mr. Francis, in his usual
sarcastic tones. "Then let me tell you, sir, that if you were my boy
you should have something to make you remember it next time. I suppose
this is your paragon—your Phœnix—Mr. Antis, that you wrote to me about?"
"This is Eben Fairchild," said Mr. Antis, briefly. "He is a good boy
in general, but he forgets sometimes like other boys, and men, too, I
might say."
"Humph! Well, Eben Fairchild, since that is your name, perhaps you will
take care of my horse. Have the goodness not to forget either to feed
or water him."
Eben thought there was no danger of his doing either. Jeduthun followed
him out on pretence of looking to see if the horse had not a shoe
loose, and took the opportunity of whispering:
"Now, Eben, I expect the old man is going to make things fly round.
He's awful cantankerous sometimes, but do you mind and keep your own
temper, and answer him respectfully, whatever he says. Remember, he is
the boss, and an old man besides. He does rile me awfully sometimes,
and I feel as if I needed to pray for patience whenever I see him
a-coming in one of his tantrums. I can tell what kind of a humour he is
in just as quick as I can see the top of his hat."
"I'll take care," said Eben, "but I wish he had come at any other time,
or that I hadn't been such a fool."
"And so do I, but there is no help for it now. We must make the best of
it. The machinery is all in order, that's one comfort."
Eben took all the pains possible in accommodating the horse, and
hastened back to the mill with a foreboding heart, stopping at the
post-office on his way, where, as he expected, he found Mr. Francis's
letter.
"It came last night," said. Mr. Badger, "and I had a great mind to send
it up, seeing you didn't come for it. I believe I should, only I was so
uneasy about the baby. Do you know what your ma thinks about him?"
"Oh, she doesn't despair of him, by any means," replied Eben, trying to
speak cheerfully. "She says she never gives a baby up to die as long
as the breath of life is in it. I dare say she is up at your house
now. Never mind about the letter, Mr. Badger; it was my fault, and not
yours."
Eben carried the letters into the office, and then busied himself with
putting everything in the nicest order, while Mr. Francis and Mr. Antis
were inspecting the upper part of the building. Jeduthun's department
was pretty sure to be all right, yet he heard the old gentleman's voice
growling in the distance, as though some one were getting a scolding.
"What is he blowing up Jeduthun for, I wonder?" he thought as he
brushed up the stove and dusted the chairs and desks. "There! I think
it looks pretty nicely now, and in good time, for here they come. Now
it will be my turn, I suppose. Never mind; I deserve it, that's one
thing."
Mr. Francis presently entered the office with Mr. Antis and Jeduthun,
Mr. Antis looking as though he did not quite know whether to be vexed
or amused, Jeduthun's dark face as inscrutable as a bronze mask,
save that there was a little spark in his eye and just the slightest
twitching about the corners of his mouth.
"Have you brought the letters, Eben?" asked Mr. Antis.
"Yes, sir; they are on your desk."
"And may I ask, young man, why you did not bring them to Mr. Antis
instead of laying them there on his desk?" asked Mr. Francis, in a tone
calculated to make the meekest boy double up his fists in the privacy
of his own pocket. "I suppose that was too much trouble for a young
gentleman like Mr. Fairchild?"
Eben's blood tingled a little, but he remembered Jeduthun's advice and
answered, respectfully:
"Mr. Antis always tells me to lay them on his desk, sir. He is afraid
they may be mislaid."
"Humph!" said Mr. Francis, his temper by no means improved by finding
himself in the wrong. "You are a wise pair, no doubt."
"So the boss has got to catch it, too," thought Eben. "Well, misery
loves company, they say."
"You may count up those bags of Dennison's, Eben, and have them ready
when he comes," said Mr. Antis. "Don't be out of the way, and, Eben—"
Eben came back to where Mr. Antis was standing by the office door. Mr.
Antis whispered:
"Just run round to the house and tell Mrs. Antis, the old gentleman is
here, and she must be sure to have a good dinner; and if you would get
your mother to go up and help her—"
"I guess she can," answered Eben. "Ma is at Mrs. Badger's, close by.
I'll run and tell her."
"Do; but come back as soon as you can." Eben's errands necessarily took
a little time. He found Mrs. Antis terribly alarmed at the prospect of
having to get dinner for the great man, especially as Mary had burnt
her hands and could be of little use.
"Oh, do get your mother to come if you can," said she. "Tell her I will
do anything for her, if she will."
"She won't mind the trouble, if only she can get away from that Badger
baby," replied Eben. "I'll do my best, but I must hurry."
Fortunately, the baby Badger was better, and its mother was disposed to
be accommodating.
"And do your very best, ma," begged Eben. "Make a chicken pie, and
the very best pudding you can, and see if you can't sweeten the old
gentleman up a little, for he needs it."
"I'll try," said Mrs. Fairchild. "I guess I'll make a nice light
pudding. Men are just like children. You can stop their mouths
quicker with a cake than you can with a stick, any day." With which
highly improper sentiment, wholly subversive of all good discipline,
Mrs. Fairchild put on her hood and shawl, and was soon enjoying her
favourite pursuit of cooking a good dinner.
The first sound Eben heard as he re-entered the mill and began sorting
his bags was his own name. The door was open, so he could not help
hearing what went on, and it seemed, from the tone in which Mr. Francis
spoke, that he at least had no objection to be overheard. Eben had no
difficulty in understanding the conversation. In the course of his
investigations, Mr. Francis had discovered Eben's neglect about the
letters, and the trouble and possible loss which had resulted therefrom.
"Perfect folly to put such a boy in such a place," he was saying.
"I should think anybody might have known it. What you wanted was a
responsible clerk, and not a mere lad, and such an untrustworthy lad as
this seems to be. I must say I never heard of a more absurd arrangement
in my life."
"I consulted you about the arrangement at the time, you know, Mr.
Francis," said Mr. Antis. "Eben had lived with me four months, and I
had found him perfectly faithful. If you will remember, I did nothing
in the matter without asking you, and waited for three weeks that I
might hear from you before engaging Eben." So that had been the cause
of the delay. But Mr. Francis was speaking again:
"I know that, Mr. Antis. No need to remind me of it, sir. I have not
quite lost my memory yet, I believe. I also remember telling you that
I thought it a risk to engage such a young lad, but you must use your
own judgment. It is evident that the boy is utterly unfit for the
place—that he cannot be trusted to do the simplest business properly."
Eben's heart sunk as he heard these words. At that moment Mr. Francis
caught sight of him through the open door.
"Come here, sir," he said, in a harsh voice; and as Eben obeyed, "So I
understand all this trouble comes from your carelessness! Do you think
that is the way to treat your employer?"
"No, sir," answered Eben, promptly.
"Humph! Why did you do it, then?"
"Because I was careless, and not minding what I was about," replied
Eben. "I was thinking of something else when I ought to have been
thinking of my work."
Now, Mr. Francis had settled it in his own mind that Eben would try to
excuse himself, that he, Mr. Francis, would put him down completely,
and then, if Eben appeared very much overcome, he would relent and
forgive him. He was a gentleman who had a great opinion of his own
penetration, and it was naturally aggravating to find himself mistaken.
So he took a pinch of snuff, and asked, sarcastically:
"Oh I you were thinking of something else, were you? And may I beg to
be informed as to what that something was?"
Eben hesitated a moment, and then answered frankly:
"Dr. Porter lent me some books about physiology and anatomy, and I got
so much interested in them, that I forgot what I was about. I am very
sorry, but—"
"Oh yes, you are very sorry, no doubt," interrupted Mr. Francis.
"Really, you are a very aspiring young gentleman. Anatomy and
physiology, indeed! Well, sir, since your tastes are so grand, I advise
you to go to your anatomy and physiology, and let milling alone. That
is my advice to you. What is the meaning of that bell, Mr. Antis?"
"It is twelve o'clock, sir, when we have an hour for dinner. I hope you
will go home and take some with me."
"Humph! Well, Mr. Antis, I don't mean to be too hard upon you, but
I must say that in this matter you have been too hasty—entirely too
hasty, Mr. Antis—and it has turned out as I expected. We have lost more
by this young man's carelessness and incapacity than all our profits
will make up."
Mr. Antis ventured to suggest that the loss was not certain yet, and
that at the worst it would be only a hundred or two dollars.
"A hundred or two dollars! I am glad you feel so rich, sir. When I
was at your age, Mr. Antis, a hundred or two dollars were of some
consequence to me. But, however, we will drop the subject for the
present, as your good wife's dinner must not be kept waiting. Anatomy
and physiology, indeed! Now, sir, you had better give your whole
attention to your anatomy henceforth, for, take my word for it, you
will never make a miller."
Eben went home to his dinner feeling as if a gulf had opened under his
feet. Somehow, the idea of being discharged had never entered his head.
He expected to be found fault with, and to have his wages lowered, but
he had never thought of this. It seemed as though he had not only lost
everything, but as though he were disgraced for ever. Who would employ
him if it were known that Mr. Antis had turned him off, and for such a
reason? What would his mother and Flora say? He felt utterly stunned
and miserable, and for the first time since their troubles commenced,
he was ready to give up in despair.
"Why, Eben, what is the matter?" exclaimed Mary Clarke as he entered
the house. "You are as white as a sheet!"
"I suppose you have got the sick headache by reading all night again,"
said Flora. "I should think you have tried that often enough already."
It was one of the worst features of Flora's "moods" that she seemed
determined to hurt in some way every person within her reach, and make
everybody as unhappy as herself. Eben answered her briefly:
"I have not the sick headache, and I did not read a word last night
after I went up stairs. I have lost my place at the mill."
"Lost your place!" exclaimed both the girls, and Mary asked, "How did
that happen?"
"By my own fault, I suppose," said Eben. "I forgot some letters, and
made a great deal of trouble; in short, I did not mind my business, and
so I have lost it."
"What a perfect shame!" said Flora, glad, as it seemed, of a legitimate
object to expend her ill-humour upon. "Just as though anybody could not
make such a mistake! But that is just like Mr. Antis, and all that set,
for that matter. You thought so much of him—nobody like Mr. Antis—and
now, because he has got all he wants of you, or has got somebody he
wants to put into the place, he turns you off without a moment's
warning. I dare say Jeduthun Cooke is at the bottom of it. It would be
quite in the line of his tremendous piety."
"If you will listen a moment, Flora, you will see that you are making
bricks without straw," said Eben. "It was Mr. Francis that turned me
off. Mr. Antis had nothing to do with the matter."
"Oh no, of course not."
"On the contrary, he took my part all he could. Mr. Antis has been a
kind friend to me—" Eben's voice failed, and he went quickly out of the
room.
"Well, Flora," said Mary Clarke, "I have heard of Job's comforters,
but I never saw one before. I should think you would be ashamed of
yourself, treating your brother so!"
"What have I done now?"
"When you see he feels so unhappy, I should think you might try to
comfort him. Instead of that, you seem anxious to make him feel just as
badly as you can, by abusing Mr. Antis and Jeduthun—friends that you
know he thinks everything of. I wouldn't have believed it of you."
And Mary in turn departed, leaving Flora alone. She was a very gentle,
amiable girl, and Flora had never heard such an outburst from her
before. It had the effect of bringing her in some degree to her senses,
for she both loved and respected Mary, and she was sensitive to the
good opinion of those whom she respected. It was with a much-softened
tone and manner that she said as she called Eben and Mary to dinner:
"I have made some tea, for once. I am sure Eben's head aches, though he
won't own it, and no wonder. I should like to give that old Mr. Francis
a piece of my mind."
"I don't suppose that would do any good," said Eben, trying to smile.
"But you must not be too hard on him, Flora. He is a very exact
business-man, and the prospect of such a loss is naturally very
vexatious."
"How much?" asked Mary.
"A hundred or two dollars, Mr. Antis says. However, it is not certainly
lost yet."
The girls looked at each other in dismay. "A hundred or two dollars"
looked a much more formidable sum to them than to Mr. Antis.
"The thing that makes me feel the worst," continued Eben, "is, that Mr.
Antis took me into the place against Mr. Francis's will and judgment.
Mr. Francis wanted him to have a regular clerk, but Mr. Antis thought I
was trusty, and he wanted me to have the place and the wages. He said I
could do the work as well as if I were older, and so I could have done
if only I had had my wits about me. And now Mr. Antis has to bear the
blame of all just because he trusted me."
Eben's head went down on the table-cloth. Flora began to experience the
sore pain at her heart which was always left behind by her "tantrums,"
as Jeduthun would have called them. It did not make her any more
amiable towards Mr. Francis.
"The old prig! The hateful old miser!" she exclaimed. "Just as though
he had never made a mistake himself! Do try to drink your tea and eat
some dinner, Eben. I am sure you need it."
Eben drank the tea, but the dinner was beyond his power.
"I can't eat, thank you, Flora, but I will have some more tea, and then
go back and let Jeduthun get his dinner, and put everything in order,
so Mr. Antis need not get any more scolding on my account."
"I wouldn't put my foot inside the mill if I were you," said Flora. "I
would let Mr. Francis put things in order himself, since he is so very
particular."
"Now, I should feel as Eben does—as if I wanted to leave everything
in the most perfect state," said Mary. "I should have a pride in not
leaving the least thing out of the way."
"Well, I don't know but I should too," agreed Flora; "yes, I think I
should. Does ma know anything about it?"
"No, unless she has heard it from Mr. Antis. She went up there to help
Mrs. Antis about her dinner, because Mary has burnt her hand."
"I wish I had the seasoning of his dinner,' said Flora, venomously, and
with this amiable sentiment the remainder of her ill-humour evaporated,
and she set herself about preparing Eben's favourite cake for supper.
"Well, Jeduthun, I've come back once more," said Eben as he entered the
mill. "You may as well go to your dinner."
"Once more," echoed Jeduthun. "What do you mean?"
"I mean that I have got my walking-paper, as Tom Wilbur says. Mr.
Francis has turned me out of the mill."
"No!" exclaimed Jeduthun, starting up from the heap of bags where he
had been reposing. "I guess you're mistaken, Eben. What did he say?"
Eben repeated Mr. Francis's words as well as he could remember them.
"I rather guess you're borrowing trouble," said Jeduthun. "I don't
think the old gentleman meant to turn you off, only to show off his
own wit. You see, he thinks he's awful sharp and sarcastic—which is
a dreadful good receipt for any man that wants to make a fool of
himself—and he was kind of riled this morning. Anyhow, don't despair
yet—not till you know for certain. I guess I'll go to dinner, as you
say, and when I come back I'll find out all about it. The old gentleman
will feel better when he has had a real good dinner—kind of oils his
works, don't you see?—and I guess we'll make it all right yet."
"You are real clever, not to say 'I told you so,'" said Eben.
"Well, that ain't my kind," returned Jeduthun. "It don't make a man
feel much better when he has just broken a leg to stick a pin into him.
But don't you give up yet."
Mr. Francis did not seem in any hurry to get back to the mill, and when
he did come it was evident, as Jeduthun had predicted, that he was
in a better humour. He was complimenting Mr. Antis on having such an
excellent wife.
"A woman who can get up such a dinner as that, Mr. Antis, is worth a
thousand strong-minded females who can't cook a decent meal."
"My wife is a very good cook," replied Mr. Antis, "but I suspect the
credit of the dinner belongs mostly to a kind neighbour who slipped in
to assist her—Mrs. Fairchild, poor Eben's mother."
"That's the widow of Fairchild, who signed for Furness and lost his
property, and afterwards died?"
"The same, sir. They live here in the village."
"And how are they off? I heard that poor Fairchild behaved very
honourably. Did he lose everything?"
"Pretty much everything. The daughter has a sewing machine, and the
mother has gone out nursing, and with that and Eben's wages they live
comfortably, though I fancy they pinch pretty closely sometimes."
"Indeed! I am sorry to hear it. I shall be glad if you will send them
a bag of fine flour, with my compliments, Mr. Antis—or I will speak to
the boy myself. Jeduthun, where is young Fairchild?"
"I guess he is up in the loft, sir," replied Jeduthun. "He feels
dreadful badly about losing his place, but he says he means to leave
everything in first-rate order, so he's putting the loft to rights, to
begin with."
"Losing his place! What do you mean?" asked Mr. Francis. "Who has
dismissed him?"
"He thought you had."
"Nonsense!" said Mr. Francis. "Nothing of the kind. Send him here
directly."
"The old gentleman wants to speak to you," said Jeduthun, coming into
the loft. "Now, keep up a good heart, and let him have it all his own
way. I knew he'd feel better after dinner. Law bless you, he thinks
he's a great man, but I can read him just like a book. There! Don't
keep him waiting, whatever you do."
Eben hastened down stairs, and entered the office with a beating heart.
"Come here, Fairchild," said Mr. Francis. "So you thought I meant to
dismiss you, did you?"
"Yes, sir, I thought so."
"Not at all, not at all, my boy. You should not be so hasty. What made
you take me up in that way?"
"I thought you told me to go, sir, and you thought it was so foolish in
Mr. Antis to hire me—"
"So I did think so," said Mr. Francis, "but it don't always follow that
because a man has done a foolish thing, that the next thing is to undo
it. Your father, for instance, did a foolish thing in endorsing for
Furness, but it was better for him to pay his obligations, like the
honourable man he was, even though he lost all he had, than to sneak
out of paying his just debts, as Furness himself did. Don't you think
so?"
"Yes, indeed, sir," said Eben, heartily. "I always thought so."
"Then you thought right," returned Mr. Francis, in a still more
friendly tone. "So you see, I think it wasn't very wise in Mr. Antis to
put so much responsibility on such a young boy, but it doesn't follow
that he would be right to turn you off the first time you did anything
wrong."
"Then I am to keep on with my work, sir?" asked Eben, hardly able to
believe his ears.
"Of course. Keep on and do the best you can, and if you convince me
that Mr. Antis was right and I was mistaken, why, so much the better,
that's all. I dare say I was cross this morning. I got up very early
and had a poor breakfast, which disturbed my digestion, and I have had
a good deal to worry me. Now go about your business, and when you go
home carry a sack of fine flour to your mother, with my compliments. Do
you hear?"
Eben expressed his thanks he hardly knew how, and went about his work
with a grateful and thankful heart, longing for the time when he could
run home and relieve Flora by the news.
"Mr. Antis, how far is it from here to Lyons? Could you drive me over
there in two hours?"
"Oh yes, sir, easily," replied Mr. Antis. "The mare will do the
distance in less time."
"I believe I will go there, see Mr. Jones to-night, and run over to
Millby to-morrow," said Mr. Francis. "I suppose the roads are good. Can
you send some one over to the Springs with a telegram? Here's young
Fairchild; let him go."
"You can ride the old gray, you know, Eben," said Mr. Antis.
He interpreted this commission as a full and free pardon to the boy,
and was pleased accordingly, for he was very fond of Eben.
"Well, be off and get ready," said Mr. Francis. "How soon can you set
out?"
"Just as quick as I can saddle the horse, sir, only I should like to
stop at home and get my coat," replied Eben, rejoicing in the chance to
tell the good news a little sooner. "I won't be ten minutes."
Eben's cheerful shout brought Flora out to the gate.
"It's all right, Flossy. I can't stop now to tell you, but it is all
right, and I keep my place. I must get over to the Springs with this
message, but I'll be home as soon as I can. I'm glad mother didn't know
anything about it."
It was a joyful party that assembled to eat Flora's cake and what
remained of the nice pudding, which Mrs. Antis had insisted on Mrs.
Fairchild's taking home with her. At first Flora was disposed to blame
Eben for being so readily "coaxed round," as she said, but she was
led to see that it would have been neither right nor wise for him to
quarrel with his bread and butter, and displease Mr. Francis.
"Well, I am glad he had the sense to come round at last," said she.
"I guess he had been put out about something," remarked Mrs. Fairchild.
"He's quite an old gentleman now, Mr. Francis is. I remember him a
young man studying law in Ithaca, when I was a little girl going
to school, and his father lived in the Baldwin place, next my
grandfather's. He's always been called an odd-tempered man, and was as
long ago as that, but he has always had the name of being honourable
and generous. I dare say he thought he'd been too hasty."
"It was all your pudding and chicken pie, ma," said Eben, laughing.
"Jeduthun said he'd feel better when he had his works greased."
"Well, that shows what I've often said—that it never does any harm to
be neighbourly," replied Mrs. Fairchild. "However, all's well that ends
well, and I guess maybe we've all got a lesson that will be worth what
it cost."