JOHN OAKLEY'S NEW HOME.
Although John would prefer to have remained at home, in order that his
studies might be uninterrupted, he nevertheless could not help deriving
enjoyment from the ride on the stage-coach. It was a beautiful morning.
The sun was gilding with its beams the fields and brooks, and a
beautiful breeze rustled in and out among the leaves of the trees that
for some distance lined the road. John, from his elevated perch, had an
excellent view of the scenes through which they passed. As they rode by
the house of Squire Selwyn, lie hoped to catch sight of his friend Sam;
but Sam was nowhere to be seen.
"Sam is lazy this morning," thought John, disappointed.
But there he did Sam injustice. He had risen early, and with hook and
line had gone to the pond to fish. From a distance he caught a glimpse
of the stage rumbling along the village street, but it was too far
off for him to distinguish the outside passengers. He would have been
surprised had he known that among them was his friend John.
Ere long they were beyond the limits of the township. Occasionally the
stage stopped to take in a fresh passenger, or to discharge a portion
of its living freight. At intervals of a few miles they came to some
village tavern, with a broad swinging sign, where the driver would
pause to water his horses, or, at longer intervals, to exchange them
for a fresh supply. Once or twice John descended to stretch his legs,
stiff with long sitting. More than once he observed Mr. Huxter enter
the tavern, and come out with his nose a little redder than usual.
"I went in to get a glass of bitters," he explained to John, whom he
encountered at the door on one of these occasions. "I'll get you some
if you want it."
"Thank you," said John. "I don't care for any."
"Well, you're young and strong, and don't need them. When you get to my
age, you'll need a little something to stimulate you."
John, who rightly conjectured that the glass of "bitters" was only
another name for New England rum, could not help thinking that Mr.
Huxter would have been quite as well off without it; but this thought
he of course kept to himself.
"The old gentleman is rather fond of 'wetting his whistle,' isn't he?"
said the driver, familiarly.
"So it seems," said John, briefly.
He did not care to discuss the conduct of his stepmother's brother
with any one, and therefore confined himself to this remark. At twelve
o'clock they had travelled forty miles.
"The stage will stop half an hour for dinner," said the driver, as he
drew up in front of an old-fashioned country tavern.
"This is as far as I go," said the driver to John. "Do you stop here?"
"No, we go further on."
"I suppose you'll be comin' back this way in a few days?"
"I expect so. By the way, if you see Sam Selwyn to-night, just tell him
that I was one of your passengers this morning."
"All right."
"John Oakley!" said Mr. Huxter, from below.
"Here, sir," said John.
"Just get down, and bring that basket with you. We'll go under the
trees and have a bite."
John followed directions, and the two sat down together, with the
basket between them.
"Travelling is hungry work," said Mr. Huxter. "Let's see what my sister
has put up for us."
The basket, being uncovered, proved to be full of sandwiches, with a
few doughnuts on top. They were all excellent of their kind; for Mrs.
Oakley, whatever might be said of her in other respects, was a good
house-keeper, and took care that whatever food was prepared in the
house should be good.
"Now, Oakley," said Mr. Huxter, "we needn't have any ceremony here.
Just make yourself at home and pitch in."
It may be observed that Mr. Huxter was gradually beginning to treat
John with greater familiarity. When first introduced, he had addressed
him as "Mr. Oakley." Next it was "John Oakley." Now it was "Oakley,"
without any prefix. John, who had no inordinate sense of his own
dignity, was not much disturbed by this, but continued to treat Mr.
Huxter with the same outward respect as at first.
Mr. Huxter followed his own recommendations strictly. He did "pitch
in," and with such vigor that he consumed two-thirds of the contents of
the basket, while John, whose appetite had also been stimulated by the
long ride, was eating the remaining third.
"Well, there aint much left, that's a fact," he said, surveying the
empty basket. "The ride's given you a pretty good appetite, Oakley."
"Pretty good," said John, smiling at the unexpected inference drawn
from the empty basket.
"That's lucky, for we shan't get anything more till we get home," said
Mr. Huxter.
"When will that be?" inquired John.
"Somewhere about seven. It's a long pull; but I guess we can stand it,"
said Mr. Huxter.
"I think I can," said John.
"The old lady won't be expecting us," said Mr. Huxter. "I told her I
might, maybe, be gone a fortnight."
"She'll be glad to see you so soon," said John, who did not think of
anything else to say.
"Umph!" said Mr. Huxter, in a tone which might be interpreted as
conveying a little doubt on this point. "I feel a little dry," he said,
rising and stretching himself. "I think I'll go into the house, and see
if I can find a little water."
When Mr. Huxter reappeared, John inferred from his appearance that,
if he had been drinking water, it had been largely mingled with a
different beverage. He satisfied his own thirst at the pump, where he
drank a deep and refreshing draught of clear cold water, purer and
better than any liquid which the art of man has devised.
So the afternoon passed. Twice more Mr. Huxter got out of the stage,
and entered a wayside tavern, on the same mysterious errand. Each time
he reappeared with his nose redder, and his eyes more inflamed. The
liquor which he had drunk made him quarrelsome, and so disagreeable to
his fellow-passengers. Finally one of them called to the driver in an
authoritative voice to stop, and insisted that Mr. Huxter should travel
outside for the remainder of the way. With some difficulty he was
induced to make the change, and from that time John had the pleasure of
his society.
"Who are you?" asked Mr. Huxter, fixing his eyes upon John with a
vacant stare.
"I am John Oakley," said our hero.
"Oh, yes, I know. You're the son of old Oakley that my sister Jane
married."
It was painful to John to hear his father spoken of as old Oakley, but
he understood Mr. Huxter's situation, and felt that it would be idle to
resent anything said under such circumstances.
"Old Oakley left all his property to Jane," continued Mr. Huxter, with
a drunken laugh. "Oh, she's a deep one, is Jane! She knows how her
bread is buttered."
John turned away in disgust, and tried not to heed what was said.
"But she's hard on her poor brother," whined Mr. Huxter. "She ought to
have come down with something handsome."
His mutterings became incoherent, and John ceased to notice them. At
length, about seven o'clock, the stage drove into a small village, of
not particularly attractive appearance.
"Well," said the driver, turning to John, "you're most home."
"Am I?" asked John.
"Of course you are. Aint you travelling with _him_?" indicating Mr.
Huxter by a gesture.
"Yes; I've come with him on a little business."
"Then you're not going to stay?"
"Oh, no!"
"Lucky for you!"
John didn't inquire why the driver thought it lucky for him. He thought
he understood without any explanation.
"Do you go any further?" he asked of the driver.
"To the next town."
"What is the name of this place?"
"Some folks call it Hardscrabble; but the real name is Jackson."
"Where does Mr. Huxter live?"
"Up the road apiece. I go right by the gate. I'll stop and leave you
there."
A little less than a mile further the driver reined up his horses.
"Here you are," he said. "Now look sharp, for I'm behind time."
With some difficulty Mr. Huxter, who had now become quite drowsy,
was made to understand that he had reached home. With still greater
difficulty, he was assisted in safety to the ground, and the stage
drove on.
John now for the first time looked about him to see what sort of a
place he had reached. He distinguished a two-story house, old-fashioned
in appearance, standing a few rods back from the road. It was sadly in
need of a fresh coat of paint, as was also the fence which surrounded
it. A little distance from the house, at one side, was a small building
of one story, liberally supplied with windows, which John afterwards
learned to be a shoe-shop. It was Mr. Huxter's place of business,
when he saw fit to work, which was by no means regularly. An old
cart, a wood-pile, and some barrels littered up the front yard. A
field alongside was overgrown with weeds, and everything indicated
shiftlessness and neglect.
John had no difficulty in opening the front gate, for it hung upon one
hinge, and was never shut. He supported Mr. Huxter to the door and
knocked, for there was no bell. The summons was answered by a girl of
ten, in a dirty calico dress and dishevelled hair.
"Mother," she screamed, shrilly, as she saw who it was, "here's father
come home, and there's somebody with him!"
At this intimation, a woman came from a back room to the door. She
looked thin and careworn, as if the life which she led was not a very
happy one.
"Mrs. Huxter, I suppose?" asked John.
"Yes," said she.
"Your husband does not feel quite well," said John, expressing in as
delicate a manner as possible the fact that something was out of order
with Mr. Huxter.
"Who said I wasn't well?" exclaimed Mr. Huxter, in a rough voice.
"Never was better in my life. I say, Polly, can't you get us something
to eat? I'm most starved."
Mrs. Huxter looked inquiringly at John, whose presence with her husband
she did not understand.
"I believe I am to stop here for a day or two," said John, responding
to her look. "My name is John Oakley. I am the stepson of Mr. Huxter's
sister."
"Oh, yes, I know," said Mrs. Huxter. "I am afraid we can't accommodate
you very well, Mr. Oakley, but we'll do our best."
"What's good enough for us is good enough for him," said Mr. Huxter,
fiercely. "He's as poor as we are. Sister Jane's got all the money.
She's a deep one, is sister Jane."
"I hope you won't be offended at what he says, Mr. Oakley," said Mrs.
Huxter, in an apologetic tone. "He don't mean what he says."
"Shut up, Mrs. Huxter!" said her husband, who was disposed to be
quarrelsome. "Don't make a fool of yourself, but get supper as soon as
you can."
"We haven't got any meat in the house," said Mrs. Huxter, timidly. "You
know you only left me a little money."
"Here's some money," said Mr. Huxter, fumbling in his pocket, and
producing a five-dollar bill.
Mrs. Huxter took the bill, surprised at its large amount, for she
seldom got more than one dollar at a time. Forthwith the girl of ten
was sent for some steak at the butcher's, and in a reasonable time
supper was declared to be ready. Meanwhile Mr. Huxter had been to the
pump, and by the free use of cold water, applied externally, succeeded
in getting the better of his intoxication, and was prepared to do full
justice to the meal provided.
By the time supper was over, it was half-past eight. John felt fatigued
with his long journey, and asked permission to retire. He was shown to
an attic chamber, furnished only with a cot bed and a broken chair.
But, rude as were the accommodations, John slept soundly, little
dreaming the unwelcome news that awaited him on the morrow.