[Illustration: HE SAT SWINGING HIS BARE FEET OVER THE WATER]
WORTH HIS WHILE
BY
AMY E. BLANCHARD
Author of “Kittyboy’s Christmas,” “Taking a Stand,” “A
Dear Little Girl,” “Thy Friend Dorothy,” Etc.
Philadelphia
GEORGE W. JACOBS & CO.
103-105 So. Fifteenth St.
COPYRIGHT, 1901, BY
GEORGE W. JACOBS & CO.
CONTENTS
I. ON THE WAY TO BIG CREEK 7
II. BENNY FINDS A FRIEND 23
III. AMONG THE PICKERS 38
IV. A HIDDEN ENEMY 52
V. BENNY AND A RING 65
VI. BEN’S BEAUTIFUL SURPRISE 80
VII. HIS FATHER’S PLAN 94
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
“HE SAT SWINGING HIS BARE FEET
OVER THE WATER,” _Frontispiece_
“IT WAS NOT VERY PLEASANT WORK,” 39
“SUCH A GLAD MOTHER,” 102
CHAPTER I
ON THE WAY TO BIG CREEK
Oh, how hot it was! Down in the narrow streets, where straight rows of
little brick houses were crowded together there was not the faintest
breeze, and even on the wharf where Benny Jordan sat swinging his bare
feet over the water, it was scarcely cooler. Usually there were little
waves splashing up against the green logs of the pier, but to-day only
the faintest little ripples swished lazily against the piles and the
boats lying farther out did not flap a sail.
“It’s no good staying here,” said Benny to himself, as he got up and
stretched his arms over his head. “It’s just about as hot as it is at
home. I wonder what there is for supper. My, but I’d like some ice
cream! I haven’t had any for so long, and I reckon I never will have
any again.” And at this very sobering thought Benny began to patter
along over the sidewalk, almost forgetting that this was the hottest
day of the season, entirely too hot for May, and that the big excursion
steamer, which he had been waiting to see, would soon be in sight.
“’Tain’t any use to wait,” he said to himself, as if apologizing. “I’d
only see the crowd, and what’s a crowd, anyhow?”
So he marched on up the street, passing the fruit stands and
ill-smelling warehouses, until he turned into one of the small streets
leading out of the thoroughfare, and presently he arrived at a small
two-story brick house, one of a long row. So much alike were these
buildings that it is a wonder Benny knew how to tell his own home
without counting the doorways.
“Where’s mother?” was his question as he reached the door.
His sister Kitty, sitting on the doorstep, looked up, “She’s upstairs,
of course, sewing as hard as she can, and it’s so hot.”
Benny went pounding up the stairs to the room where his mother sat
sewing. “Say, mother, it’s too hot to sew,” he exclaimed.
“But it isn’t too hot to eat, is it?” she said, looking up with a
smile. “You know if I didn’t sew we wouldn’t have anything to eat.”
“That’s so,” replied Benny, slowly.
“Where have you been?” asked his mother, stopping to push back the damp
hair from her face.
“I’ve been down on the wharf; it’s generally cool there, but it’s hot
everywhere to-day. I like to go there, though; I like to see the people
come up from the country with big bundles of flowers, and I like to
watch the men unload the boats. They brought such a lot of strawberries
to-day.”
“This weather ripens them fast. It is very early to have such heat.”
“I wish we lived in the country,” said Benny. “Isn’t it cheaper to live
there?”
“Ye-es, if you have some one to work your garden and take care of your
stock. But how could I make a living for you and Kitty?”
“We could help,” Benny replied.
“Not much, I’m afraid. A little boy ten years old and a little girl
seven would scarcely be able to do much toward making a living.”
“But shouldn’t you like to live there?” persisted Benny.
“I should, indeed,” returned his mother, with a sigh. “I was brought up
on a farm, you know, and so was your father.”
Benny had heard of that farm many, many times. He knew all about the
spring and the orchard, the barn and the garden. “Grandfather sold it,
didn’t he?” was his remark, made regretfully.
“Yes, long ago. Come, we must have some supper. You and sister can set
the table.”
“What is there for supper?”
“Nothing but bread and molasses, I’m afraid.”
“I wish we could have some ice cream and strawberries.”
“Now you are making an extravagant wish. We can’t have that, but,
perhaps, we might have some bread and milk. You can go and get a quart
of milk and we’ll have a treat.”
Benny’s face brightened. Bread and cold milk on a hot day was a much
more appetizing prospect than bread and molasses, and the little boy
promptly ran down to tell his sister.
“Hurry up, Kit, and set the table; we’re going to have bread and milk.
Where’s a tin bucket?”
Pale little Kitty put down her paper dolls with alacrity, and before
long the little family were seated at the table. Slowly and reluctantly
the children disposed of the last drop of milk in their bowls.
“If we lived in the country, we could have this every night,” Benny
said.
“What has set you harping so on the country?” asked Mrs. Jordan.
“Why, I don’t know. I reckon it’s hearing the men talk down at the
wharf. One of ’em said this morning: ‘There’s no money for farmers
nowadays. A man can’t make anything in the country.’ ‘He can always
make a living,’ said the other, ‘and a pretty good one, too. How’d you
like your wife and babies to be in the city this weather? Why, sir,
there’s lots of folks would give anything to see their children tumble
’round on the grass under such trees as you’ve got and have all the
good milk they wanted to drink. I think we country people are pretty
well off, myself. We don’t make a fortune, but we’ve got a good living
right handy.’”
Benny unconsciously imitated the man, and his mother laughed.
“You surely took in that conversation, Benny. I’d like well enough to
live under the green trees again. It’s what your father always planned
to do some day when he had made enough to buy a little place.”
Benny looked sober. He always felt as if he wanted to carry out his
father’s plans, and this looked like a very hard one.
“You make it worth while, and we’ll go,” said his mother, smiling. “Now
I must go back to my buttonholes and you children can clear away the
dishes.”
“Don’t you wish you could find a way to get to the country?” said
big-eyed little Kitty, as she carefully put away the last bowl.
Benny turned his round, good-natured, freckled little face toward her.
“I’m a goin’ to,” he said, determinedly. “Mother said she go if I’d
make it worth while, and I’m a goin’ to.”
“Oh, Benny, are you?” said Kitty. She had the utmost confidence in
this elder brother, who, although only three years older, seemed so
much larger and stronger than herself, and was a person always to be
depended upon to undertake any difficult task. “How are you going to?”
she continued.
“I’m a goin’ to,” reiterated Benny, with the same emphasis. And the
fact of his saying this and nothing more gave greater weight to his
words. So all that evening Kitty dreamed beautiful dreams of a little
home near green meadows and under leafy trees.
Benny’s determination had not left him the next day. It was a holiday
and Benny pattered off down to the wharf as early as possible. Somehow
then it seemed as if that land of delight known as the country were
more accessible by reason of the arrival of the crafts which plied
between the lower counties and the city. It appeared so easy to step
aboard a little steamer and be borne along over the bay to the green
shores melting away in the distance. Those shores from which were
brought, on the little sailing vessels, mountains of green peas, crates
of luscious strawberries, baskets of downy peaches. It represented to
Benny a veritable Canaan, that country from which the little vessels
came, and many a time he had sat on the pier looking off into the
distance and dreaming of the fullness and plenty which he imagined
existed there.
He was standing at the gangway of a small steamer which lay moored to
her dock, when his attention was arrested by two men who halted near
him.
“Hello, Jim!” said one. “What’s bringing you to town? Thought this was
a busy time with you.”
“So it is, or ought to be, but my pickers disappointed me. Here my
strawberries and peas are ready and waiting and not a soul to pick ’em.
It certainly is aggravating.”
“It certainly is,” returned his friend. “What you going to do about it?”
“I’ve come up to see if I can get a new gang. I shall have to take what
I can get. People make a very poor mouth, but I notice when anyone
wants farm hands of any kind it isn’t always so easy to get hold of
’em. Good pay and good food, with good, fresh air thrown in, and yet
they shy off. Well, I can’t tarry; good-by.”
“Well, good luck to you,” returned his friend. And then, turning around
he saw by his side an eager-faced little lad.
“Well, sonny?” said the man.
“If you please, sir, what did that man want?”
“Pickers, to pick his strawberries and peas for him. Do you know anyone
who wants a job in that line?”
“Could I do it?” and Benny’s blue eyes were very wistful.
“You? Why I don’t know. How old are you?”
“Ten.”
“I’m afraid you’d soon give out. It’s no fun to stay among the vines
all day in the hot sun, and I’ll venture to say you wouldn’t pick as
many for your box as you would for your mouth. How about that?”
Benny shook his head decidedly, “No, sir.”
“You wouldn’t? Well, I reckon Mr. Bentley will be back here for the
afternoon boat. You might ask him then,” and the man walked away.
Benny lost no time in speeding home. He burst in upon his mother with
the breathless question, “Mother, may I go down on the “Emma Jones”
and be a picker?”
Mrs. Jordan turned from her machine with a look of amazement. “Why,
Benny, what do you mean?”
“Why, there’s a man, a Mr. Bentley, who is hunting up people to pick
strawberries and peas for him, and maybe I could go. Maybe it would be
finding the way, you know, for father’s plan.”
His mother smiled sadly.
“Dear little lad, I’m afraid Mr. Bentley will not want little boys
like you, and besides how can I let my boy go away from me without my
knowing anything about where he is going or the people he is to be
thrown with.”
“I would be good; indeed I would, mother. I’d work awfully hard, and I
wouldn’t go with bad boys.”
“Well, my darling, I’m afraid it would not be best for me to say yes.”
“But if Mr. Bentley should want me,” pleaded Benny, “I would be right
in the country, mother, and I wouldn’t get into mischief.”
His mother smiled at this absolute faith in the safety of the place.
Then she was very thoughtful. “If I could see Mr. Bentley himself, and
find out more about it,” she said finally.
“Can’t I go and try it for a week? Only a week?” begged Benny.
“You may do this--you may ask Mr. Bentley if he will take you, and if
he consents, you must tell him that your mother will see Mr. Higgins,
who used to live in that neighborhood, and that she will probably
send you down to-morrow. I know where the “Emma Jones” lands, and Mr.
Higgins will know all about it. I will see him this evening.”
Benny went off highly pleased with this concession.
Long before two o’clock he was waiting eagerly by the gangway of the
“Emma Jones” for Mr. Bentley to appear.
Passengers began to straggle along; here a man with a huge basket,
there a woman, followed by two or three hot, tired children, next two
or three negroes, ragged and happy, shuffled lazily on board. Presently
the captain came up. “Who are you waiting for, sonny?”
“Mr. Bentley.”
“Jim Bentley? I reckon he’s on the upper deck. I saw Welch up there,
and they generally hunt up one another. You go up there and look for
him. You might get in the way here.” Benny found his way on deck and
began looking along the row of passengers for Mr. Bentley, but not
seeing him, he sat down and began to watch the big excursion steamer
which lay in the next dock. She was dressed with flags, and the music
of the band on her deck made her seem a very gay sort of an affair to
Benny.
He was so busy watching the crowds of people gathering aboard this big
steamer, that he did not notice the warning sound of a bell, nor the
slow movement of paddles, till presently he perceived the dock gliding
from sight and found that the “Emma Jones” was actually on her way to
Big Creek.