EBEN GETS A NEW PLACE.
EBEN'S wound proved a very serious matter. The joint inflamed, fever
set in, and for a time it really seemed as if Dr. Green's prediction
would be realized and Eben would lose his leg, after all. But, as Dr.
Henry said, faith, care, and water-dressings brought him round at last,
and by Christmas, Eben was able to be removed from the mill and carried
home. That was a joyful going home for all parties.
"Why, what does this mean?" asked Eben as Jeduthun helped him into the
little parlour. "Where did you get so much baseburner?"
"Oh, Mr. Francis sent that, and a great load of coal, besides—enough to
keep it going all winter," said Flora. "Just wait! You haven't seen it
all yet."
A very small bed-room opened from the parlour. It was too small, Mrs.
Fairchild declared, for any one to sleep in, and had therefore been
used for a kind of store-room. Flora opened the door and displayed to
Eben's astonished eyes the little room stretched out to three times its
former size by an addition, and neatly furnished with new furniture.
"There! That is your room," said she. "Mr. Francis had a man come over
from the Springs to do it, because he said you would need a bed-room
down stairs till your knee got well. He sent over the furniture himself
from Hobartown, and yesterday he came down to see the room."
"I kind of hated to have him do it at first," said Mrs. Fairchild. "It
seemed too much of an obligation, but he said you had saved him from
a great loss, and sacrificed your knee to him, and he didn't feel as
though he could do too much for you. It is a great convenience, you
see, and when you don't want it any more, it will do for a spare room."
"I am sure he is very good," said Eben, rather overwhelmed. "I didn't
do any more than my duty."
"Well, no, perhaps not," replied Jeduthun. "Few of us do, for that
matter. Fact is, Eben, you never knew quite how much you did do that
night, because it wasn't thought best to tell you while you was so
weak, but them fellows had laid all their plans to fire the mill. The
next day, when I was hunting round, I found a great bunch of paper
and shavings and kindlings soaked with kerosene stuffed in behind Mr.
Antis's desk. They meant to get all they could, and then set the mill
on fire. If that had gone, the sawmill must have gone too, and nobody
knows how much more!"
"Just to think what wickedness folks will do for money!" said Mrs.
Fairchild.
"It wasn't altogether for money, either," replied Jeduthun. "One of
the men had a spite at the old gentleman for trying to break up the
drinking and gambling hole he kept over in Hobartown. He chose his time
well, if he had but known it, for the insurance had been run out for
two or three days, so if the mills had burned, they would have been a
dead loss."
"I shouldn't suppose that Mr. Antis would have let the insurance run
out," remarked Flora.
"Well, he oughtn't to, that's so, Miss Flora, but that's about the only
fault I ever see in Mr. Antis. He's a little too apt to put things
off—to think they can just as well be done another time, when it comes
a little more convenient. That was the way about the bell-rope. But
he's got a lesson now, the boss has, and I don't think he'll ever
forget it. I never saw a man feel so bad as he did that time Eben was
crazy, and used to talk so much about the bell."
"Did I?" asked Eben. "I don't remember anything about it."
"Folks don't often remember what they say when they are out of their
heads," replied Jeduthun. "But for two or three days you were always
talking about that bell-rope, and saying if you could only get at it;
it was as much as I could do to keep you in bed sometimes. Well, once I
just stepped out of the door to get some ice, and there was Mr. Antis
leaning up against the wall listening and as white as a sheet. I made
as if I didn't notice him, for folks don't always like to be looked
at when they feel bad, but he caught hold of my hands and cried just
like a girl. 'Jeduthun,' said he, 'if that boy dies, I shall be his
murderer!'"
"I think that was going too far," said Flora. "I suppose it takes
intentions to make a murderer?"
"Well, I don't know about that," said Mrs. Fairchild. "Not that I think
Mr. Antis a murderer—far from it. But just look at Lucinda Bell's
children," alluding to a terrible kerosene tragedy which had taken
place in the neighbourhood not very long before. "Lucinda knew how
dangerous it was to fill a lighted kerosene lamp. I have told her of it
myself many a time, and so had Mr. Fairchild."
"'Lucinda,' says he, you will blow yourself up some day.'"
"'Oh no, I sha'n't!' says she. Well, finally she did blow herself up,
sure enough, only it fell mostly on the innocent little children. Now,
wasn't she responsible for the death of those little girls?"
"'Course she was!" said Jeduthun.
"Old Mrs. Bell, her mother-in-law, was talking about mysterious
dispensations of Providence," continued Mrs. Fairchild, "and she went
on till I couldn't stand it, and says I:"
"'Now, Mrs. Bell, don't put it on Providence. If a man was to put
a match into a barrel of gunpowder, you wouldn't call that a very
mysterious dispensation of Providence if he was blown up,' says I.
'Lucinda had been warned times enough, and she knew her danger,'
says I, 'and Providence don't work miracles to keep folks from the
consequences of their own carelessness,' says I."
"And when I told the old lady how it happened, she hadn't another word
to say. Now, I do think that was something like a murder."
"I think so too," said Eben. "But I hope Mr. Antis will not distress
himself any more about me. I shall do very well, I dare say. Never
shall I forget how I felt when I got my hand fairly on the rope. I
should have been still more glad if I had known all about it. Did Mr.
Francis know that the insurance had run out?"
"Oh yes. Mr. Antis told him all about it."
"Did he scold?"
"Not a bit. All he said was, 'Mr. Antis, let this be a warning to you,
never to put off what needs to be done to a more convenient season.
That is what has wrecked thousands of men for time and for eternity,'
says he. I could see that touched Mr. Antis, because, you see, he's
been kind of on the fence this good while about religion—off and on,
as you might say. But he's made up his mind at last, and he's going to
join the church next Sunday. He told me so himself. However, Eben, you
have talked enough, and done enough, for one day. You'd better lie down
and rest, or you'll be getting feverish again. I'll bring over your
books and the rest of your things to-morrow."
Christmas brought a shower of presents to the Fairchild household. Mrs.
Fairchild said they should live on turkey till they should all begin
to gobble. Mr. Francis sent fruit and oysters, and all kind of good
things—presents for the children—and a beautiful muff and tippet for
Mrs. Fairchild. Miss Barnard sent Flora a package of valuable books,
and she had other presents from ladies for whom she had worked at the
Springs. There was no end to the nice and pretty and useful things
which came to the little white house that day. Mrs. Fairchild said she
never could have believed, when Mr. Fairchild died, that she could be
so happy again.
"To be sure, your dear father isn't here," said she, wiping her eyes,
"and it never can be the same without him, but I don't feel to murmur.
We have been so marvellously helped through this year, that seemed at
first as if it would be so dismal and so hard. Flora has more work than
she can do, and Eben, he makes friends on every side, and I could have
all the work I wanted going out nursing. I do think we have a great
deal to be thankful for. If Eben's knee was only well, I should feel
quite content."
Eben's knee was indeed his only serious trouble. He was gaining health
and strength day by day, but his knee was still stiff, and likely to
remain so. Dr. Porter, being one day at the Springs, rode over to see
him, and after examining the joint told him kindly but decidedly that
he would never have any use of it again. This was a terrible blow to
Eben. He had got used to his business in the mill, and liked it; he was
trusted, and had every prospect of rising, and now to be laid aside was
very hard. He had hoped that, by being careful and saving, he could
eventually lay aside money enough to gain the medical education on
which his heart was still set, but now that chance seemed to vanish
into air. He did not see how he was to earn his living, much less lay
by anything. He might, to be sure, learn bookkeeping, and in time get a
place as clerk or accountant, but he disliked figures, and never could
work at then long at a time without making his head ache. It was a
dreary lookout. Eben needed all his philosophy and all his religion to
meet it.
Two or three days after Dr. Porter's decision, Eben was agreeably
surprised by a visit from Dr. Henry. Eben happened to be alone in the
house when he came, for his mother had been sent for in desperate haste
to meet a sudden emergency, and Flora had seized the chance of a ride
to carry some work over to the Cure. The doctor, however, made his way
in without ceremony—with which, indeed, he was seldom troubled—and sat
down by Eben's sofa.
"All alone?" said he.
"Mother was called to go to Mrs. Bennett's in a desperate hurry just
now, and Flora had to go out," said Eben. "I suppose she will be back
presently."
"Your mother seems to make herself generally useful. So she ought, for
she is one of the best nurses I ever saw, and people who have that
talent ought not to hide it in the earth. Well, how are you getting on?"
"Pretty well," said Eben, but he sighed as he spoke.
"That didn't sound much like it. What's the matter? Does your knee pain
you still?"
"Not much, except at changes in the weather, but Dr. Porter was here
a few days ago, and he says I shall never have any use of the joint
again."
"That is as I supposed," said Dr. Henry. "It is a wonder you got off as
well as you did. Can't you bend it at all?"
"Only a very little," replied Eben, showing how much.
"I see. And how is your general health? Are you growing pretty strong
again?"
"Yes, sir; as far as that goes, I am picking up every day. I managed to
get to church yesterday, though it tired me a good deal, and to-day I
went over to the mill."
"Don't over-exert yourself at first. That is always bad economy. Well,
and what are you going to do when you get well? Go back to the mill
again?"
"No, sir, I am afraid not," replied Eben, sadly. "You see a person
needs the use of all his limbs to be a miller. I am very sorry, for I
was growing to like the business and had great hopes of getting on, but
I must bear it as well as I can," he added, sighing.
"Why do you do that?" asked Dr. Henry, bluntly, but kindly. "Why don't
you cast your burden on the Lord, and let him bear it for you?"
"I do try to," said Eben. "I have no doubt I shall be reconciled to
everything in time, doctor, but it does come hard at first."
"No doubt it does, and he means it should. When he chastises us, he
means to hurt us, I suppose. But now, Eben, I want to talk to you about
a plan of my own. Mr. Antis told me that day I met you on the train
that you had a great desire to study medicine. Is that still so?"
"Yes, indeed, sir!" replied Eben. "It was for that reason, more than
any other, that I wanted so much to keep on in the mill. I was earning
good wages, and I thought I might manage to lay by something, so that
in time I could afford to study."
"Well, well! There is more than one way to the woods," said Dr. Henry.
"How would you like to come to the Cure and study with me?"
"Like it?" said Eben. The words spoke a great deal.
"Then you think it would do, eh?"
"It would be the next thing to perfect happiness," said Eben, "but, you
see, doctor, there is a lion in the way."
"How so?"
"I must help my mother and Flora," said Eben. "I must at least try to
earn my own living, if I can do no more. I should never feel it right
to be living on them, as I must do while I was studying."
"I think that lion can be got out of the way, or at least tamed," said
Dr. Henry, smiling. "My plan for taming him is this: I want a young man
in the office, not as bookkeeper—Mr. Liston attends to all that—but
some one to take care of the mails, and attend to the library, and ring
the bells, and help the people out of the stage, and carry their things
to their rooms, and, in short, do a hundred and one odd jobs which
I can't think of now. I want a trusty, well-mannered person—trusty,
because he must occasionally take a good deal of responsibility, and
well-mannered, because he must meet with ladies and gentlemen. They say
I am sometimes a bit of a bear myself," added the doctor, smiling. "I
don't know how that is, but, at any rate, I mean to be the only bear in
the house. I think you could do all these things, and do them well, and
yet have plenty of time to study. We have an excellent medical library,
and Dr. Rose will always be at hand to help you. So you will be earning
your living and something besides, and your health will gain by the
change. Well, what do you say? Have I tamed your lion for you?"
"It seems too good to be true," said Eben "Do you really mean it?"
"I am not apt to say more than I mean," returned the doctor. "Oh, it
is no such great favour. I mean to have you earn your living, I assure
you, and besides, I shall expect you to take hold and help me when you
got your education."
"As if I could ask anything better than that!" said Eben. "Oh, Dr.
Henry, you don't know how I have dreamed of such a chance as this, and
never dared to hope for it, and now, in the very darkest time, when I
couldn't see anything before me but—"
"Tut, tut! Don't be hysterical!" said the doctor as Eben choked and
turned away his face. "Is this fresh water? There! Take that every
fifteen minutes, and get yourself quieted down. I am going over to see
Mr. Antis, and will look in again before I go home. You can talk to
your mother and see what she says."
When the doctor looked in again, Mrs. Fairchild had come home; and was
waiting to see him.
"Well, madam, and how is your patient?" asked the doctor.
"Oh, nicely. There wasn't anything to be scared at, but Mrs. Bennett's
nervous, and that Dr. Green is no more good than a tow string. If Eben
couldn't make a better doctor than he is, I should think he had better
do 'most anything else."
"Then you like my plan for him?"
"Indeed I do, and thank you with all my heart, and so would Mr.
Fairchild if he were here," replied Mrs. Fairchild. "I never did see
how things come round! I don't think I'll ever borrow trouble again.
Eben, he was saying something about leaving us alone, but, says I,
'Now, Eben, don't you say one word. You are not going to throw away any
such chance as this. It would be flying in the face of Providence,'
says I. Of course we shall be lonely without him, but then that's to
be looked for. Boys have to go away from home some time, and parents
shouldn't be selfish. I should like it if he could come home to spend
Sundays now and then."
"There will be no trouble about that," said Dr. Henry. "I think, from
what I have seen, that Eben will suit me exactly."
"Eben isn't as smart as some," said his mother. "No, Flora, he isn't!"
as Flora made a gesture of dissent. "Flora never likes to have me say
that, but it's true. Eben isn't naturally as quick as some, but he
makes it up in another way. He's such a faithful boy. You always know
just where to find him. If he promises to do a thing, he does it, and
if he undertakes any work, he never disappoints you."
"That is better than being smart," said the doctor.
"Oh, he isn't any way deficient," replied Mrs. Fairchild; "all I mean
is that Eben isn't as quick to learn as some. Now, there was that poor
Tom Wilbur. He could always learn anything in half the time it took
Eben, but he never would stick to anything longer than it went easy and
he liked it, and see what he has come to. I've been very much blessed
in my children, and every other way," said Mrs. Fairchild as Flora left
the room for a minute. "Flossy has her little ways, to be sure, but a
more industrious, generous girl don't live, and now that she has got a
real sense of religion through Eben's sickness, I don't seem to have
anything left to wish for her. Then, Mary Clarke is such a good girl,
and the same as a daughter to me, and as for Eben, he always was a
comfort from the very first day he came into the house. I did feel to
murmur last spring when he went into the mill, because, you see, Mr.
Fairchild had set his heart on Eben's getting an education and being a
doctor, and I am afraid I was very rebellious. But it's all come round
right now, and I don't seem to want for any good thing. I feel as if
the Lord had been better to me than I deserve."
"So he is to all of us," said the doctor.
The next week saw Eben established in the Cure, liking his place and
doing well in it, the happiest boy in all Lake county. He had the
pleasure of seeing Flora and his mother very often, for as the Cure
and the hotels filled up for summer, Flora's work became more and
more celebrated, till she had more than she could do. Mrs. Fairchild,
too, was not unfrequently sent for to supply some one who needed the
exclusive attention of a nurse, and at last, by the advice of all her
friends, Mrs. Fairchild rented her house at Boonville and established
herself permanently at the Springs, where her nursing and Flora's
machine afforded a handsome maintenance without any help from Eben's
earnings. Eben is now attending lectures at Hobartown, and has every
prospect of making a good physician.
In the course of one of his yearly wanderings into all sorts of wild
places in search of the rest from professional labours he so much
needed, Dr. Henry stumbled over poor Tom Wilbur, sick, alone, and
dying, in a forlorn little settlement at the West. He had been in
several good situations, but never stayed in any of them, because
there was always something he did not like—"something that wasn't very
pleasant," as he said—but he had come to the end of all his wanderings
at last. The poor fellow was very penitent, and sent a great many
messages to Mr. Antis and his father, as well as to Eben.
"Eben was always in luck," said he. "He wasn't a bit smart in school;
the boys always used to call him the slow coach. But somehow, he has
always got on. I'm glad of it, too, for it isn't very pleasant to be
lying here as I am."
"How did you get into such a scrape as that about robbing the mill?"
asked the doctor.
"Well, you see Smith lent me money and gave me credit. I began by
taking things out of the store for him—sugar, and so on—and so he got
me in his power, so I couldn't help myself, or thought I couldn't. I
happened to let out one day that I had seen Mr. Antis draw some money
from the bank, and said, joking, that I could get it if I was a mind
to, because I had the key of the mill. You see, I'd carried it off with
me without meaning to. So, then, Smith and the other man got up this
scheme, and they made me go along. But I never knew they meant to burn
the mill."
"How did they make you?"
"Well, they told me that they would certainly kill me if I didn't, and
they would make me," continued Tom, feebly. "But, doctor, you tell them
I never meant to hurt Eben nor to burn the mill."
These were the poor fellow's last words.
Dr. Henry saw him decently buried, and carried home his messages to his
friends. Such was the end of Tom Wilbur, a boy endowed with abundant
talents and favoured with every chance for making a man of himself, but
throwing them all away because he could never make up his mind to do
anything which he did not like to do.
I shall have failed in my design if the moral of this story does not
tell itself. But if any one is troubled to discover the same, he may
find it in two very short texts of Holy Scripture:
"He that is faithful in that which is least, is faithful also
in much."
"Whatsoever thy hand findeth to do, do it with thy might."
In these two Bible proverbs may be found the secret both of Eben's
success and of Tom's failure.
THE END.