HOW RENTI LEARNS A MOTTO
The alms commissioner had tried hard to have them keep Renti awhile
longer at Brook Farm, for he did not know what else to do with the
boy. There was no room for him in the poorhouse, and since everybody
declared him utterly useless for work, there was no prospect of finding
another place for him. The parish was not willing to pay for him in
the summer, as it did through the winter. The farmer at first vowed
he would have nothing more to do with the boy, but at last consented
to keep him a week or two longer. The field work would be increasing
throughout the summer, and perhaps after a while a place would be found
for Renti,--if not in Buschweil, where everybody knew the boy, then
perhaps in some neighboring parish.
So for the present Renti remained at Brook Farm; but he had a miserable
time of it, for the farmer was harsh toward him for having succeeded
in running away on the Saturday before in spite of all his vigilance.
Nor did Renti improve in his work; so he got nothing but harsh words,
and he grew uglier every day.
The season was an exceptionally bright and sunny one, so the spring
work could be carried on without interruption. The farmers who had
plenty of help might count on a rich harvest, for they were able to get
their seeds in early, and the warm sun promised rapid growth.
The last farm in the parish of Buschweil was Stony Acre. In fact,
it lay partly in the next parish, but the family came to church in
Buschweil. They lived a stern, arduous life at Stony Acre. From early
morning till late at night the farmer, with his five sons and two hired
men, were abroad plowing and sowing, while the wife went out into the
bean field, with a maidservant and a day laborer, and superintended
the digging of holes and the planting of the beans. When noon came she
would hurry home, get dinner, then run to the stables and feed the
stock, and then out into the bean field again; and so on all day long
without stopping, for she was known to have more energy and endurance
than any other woman in the community.
But "to be everywhere at the same time is impossible," she said to her
husband one evening. "I must have a boy. When you begin work in the
outlying fields and can't come home to dinner, how shall I cook the
meals and carry them out to you, and at the same time be here to feed
the cattle and look after the house?"
"Get a boy," said the farmer. "Choose one yourself and you will be
better satisfied."
But there was little choice for her. Far and near there was not a boy
to be had except Renti, and he had the reputation of being so stubborn
and ugly that no one could manage him.
"Indeed!" said the woman when this was told her; "I'd like to see the
boy I couldn't manage. I've brought many an older one to terms, and
we'll see how long it takes to make this youngster toe the mark."
She immediately sent word to Brook Farm that she needed a boy and that
they might send Renti.
When people heard that the boy was to go to Stony Acre they said that
this was the last chance of his ever amounting to anything, for if any
one in the world could discipline him, this woman could. She had tamed
many a wild fellow, and if anything could be done with Renti, she was
the one to do it.
Renti presented himself on the same day that he was sent for. The woman
happened to be all alone that afternoon, and was sitting out in front
of the house picking over seed peas. Beside her lay a big watchdog,
who growled at the slightest noise and sprang up barking furiously when
Renti appeared.
"Be quiet!" the woman commanded him. Then turning to Renti, she said:
"Come this way. He will not hurt you if you do nothing wrong. It is
fortunate that I have this opportunity of speaking to you quietly
before the others come, for I have something to say to you. You see
I've heard about your tricks, my boy, so you must not try any of them
here, for the first time you run away you'll get a thrashing such as
you never dreamed of. What do you say to that?"
"Nothing," said Renti in stubborn tones.
"Nothing? You mean to defy me? What did you do before when you got a
good thrashing for running away?"
"I ran away again the next day."
"Indeed? Then that was all the good it did? Well, I know something
better that will surely cure you." The woman called to the
dog,--"Nero!"--and pointing her finger at Renti, said, "Watch!"
The dog growled angrily and made a dash at the boy; but the woman held
him by the collar, and Renti shrank back in alarm.
[Illustration]
"I see you understand," the woman said to Renti. "Now the dog has
learned his lesson, and hereafter, when you carry dinner out into the
fields, or go on the slightest errand, he will go with you; for I can't
be watching you--I have other things to do. If you make any attempt to
get away, the dog will understand instantly, you may depend upon it. He
will seize you by the neck, and if he wanted to kill you, there would
be no help for you. Do you think you understand?"
"Yes," answered the boy in timid tones, for he trembled at the thought
of his fierce guard.
"Now as to your work. If you do your tasks properly, all will be well;
if not, remember that I have taken others by the ears. So make your
plans accordingly."
After these preliminaries the woman told him what his duties would be.
That very evening he was sent out to the fields with supper for the
men, and the dog went with him, never for a moment stirring from his
side. Renti saw that there would be no more chance of running away.
The following week was a hard one for the boy. But he himself had now
grown hard. He never was so stubborn before. At Lindenhof he had never
felt like being insolent; but now, when the woman would say to him,
"Why do you stand there staring into space? why don't you go on with
your work?" he would answer sullenly, "Because." And when she called
out to him, "Be quick, or I will come and help you!" he would say, "Who
cares!"
One day, when she had set him to weeding the garden, he went about it
so fiercely that she stopped to watch him. He drove his hoe into the
ground so hard that he could scarcely pull it out, thus giving vent to
his inner rage. She called to him to be careful, or he might be sorry.
He muttered angrily that he didn't care what happened.
More than once he was taken by the ears for his saucy answers. It was
a week full of secret rage on the boy's part, and of indignation and
angry outbursts on the woman's part.
On Sunday morning after church, when her acquaintances gathered about
her, all anxious to hear how she was getting on with the boy, she
exclaimed over and over: "He drives me frantic! I don't wonder that no
one would take him. Such a sulky, impudent rascal--you wouldn't believe
it unless you heard him. And his work doesn't amount to anything. But I
will not give in until I master him."
Then the women all agreed among themselves, "He must be a bad one," and
told their husbands when they got home, "If she succeeds in bringing
him to time it will be a miracle."
In the afternoon Renti was told to carry some tools that needed
repairing down to the smithy. "As it is Sunday, you may stay out until
five o'clock; but see that you get home in time. If you are not here at
five, you will regret it."
Renti took the tools and went. He had but to leave them at the smithy,
so that they might be repaired in the morning, and thus no precious
time would be taken from the working hours for this errand.
Ridding himself of his load as quickly as possible, Renti was off and
away into the sunny afternoon. He would go and visit the pasture once
more, and the little stone wall, and the alder trees. While he was yet
at a distance he saw that Gretchen was sitting on the wall. As soon as
she saw him she came running eagerly toward him.
"How nice that you have come once again!" she called to him. "It is
so long since I have heard anything of you! It is Sunday, and you
could come to-day without running away, so we will be happy all the
afternoon."
They had reached the wall; Gretchen seated herself upon it, and Renti
stood before her.
"No, I did not run away," he said sullenly; "but at five I am to be
back. I won't do it, though; the dog isn't here, and I won't go home
until dark; I don't care what happens."
"O Renti! are you beginning your bad ways again?" wailed Gretchen.
"They said that at Stony Acre you might be made to behave; but now
you mean to disobey your mistress, and you will get a whipping, and
everything will be as bad as before."
"It has been all the time," Renti replied, casting wild looks about,
and growing more and more violent in his speech as he proceeded. "If
she wants to thrash me, I don't care; and if she wants to pound me to
death, so much the better. It's all over with me anyway. If I could
only chop down every tree on her whole farm!"
"O Renti, Renti! do not say such things!" cried Gretchen in terror;
for she saw in imagination the hideous wish fulfilled, and all the
beautiful trees lying prone upon the ground. "If you yield to your
temper in this way, you will grow worse and worse, and finally--yes,
Renti, father said that if you did not mend your ways it would go hard
with you. Oh, if you could only be good again, as you used to be!" And
Gretchen covered her face with both hands and broke out into bitter
weeping.
Renti threw himself on the ground, moaning: "I can't be good any more;
I don't know how, and there isn't any hope for me, and I'd like to die
this minute!"
Then Gretchen dried her eyes and said earnestly: "There is help for
you. If you had faith, and would pray, you would feel at once that God
was your friend."
"But how can God help me?" groaned Renti, with his face still buried in
the ground.
"I don't know, but I'm sure the dear God knows, and if _he_ would help
you, you might be good again, as you used to be, Renti. Oh, I can't
bear to see you so changed! Do, for my sake, Renti," pleaded Gretchen,
entreatingly; "do try to be good! Then we shall all be happy again."
"Then I will," said Renti, rising from the ground; "if you won't cry
any more, and won't be angry with me for having been so bad."
"No, indeed; indeed, I won't!" Gretchen assured him. "But I wasn't
angry, Renti; I was only sad; and if you will do now as you have
promised, what good times we shall have!"
"Do you really think so?" Renti asked doubtfully, for he could think of
nothing that would ever make him happy again. "But, Gretchen," he said
after a moment's reflection, "what can I do for my mistress to make
things come as you say?"
"You must obey at once when she speaks to you, and you must do your
work properly. You know very well how it should be done, if you only
keep your wits about you. And whenever bad thoughts come into your head
about running away and about chopping down trees, you must pray. Then
the dear God will help you when there is no other comfort. You know the
poem says:
"For if your faith be sure,
And your courage endure,
God will be your friend."
Renti listened attentively to all that Gretchen said. After thinking
the matter over, he said resolutely, "Yes, I will try; but will you
come here to the stone wall next Sunday afternoon, so that I can tell
you how I have succeeded?"
"Yes, I will come," Gretchen promised him; "but you must not come
unless you have permission, else you will spoil it all again. Now you
must go home; it struck four a long time ago."
Renti had heard it and knew that it was time to go, but he thought he
could stay until Gretchen gave warning. Wishing to show that he was
in earnest about his promise, he immediately held out his hand to her
and said, "Good-by." Then he ran down across the meadow as fast as he
could, and never paused until he found himself at Stony Acre.
When his mistress saw him she said: "It's well that you didn't try to
play any of your tricks to-day. Nero was ready to go after you."
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