A NEW HOME
GERALD jumped from the wagon and entered the cabin. Thomas Nixon sat in
his old, listless attitude, but his eyes brightened when Gerald entered
the room.
"Well, Mr. Nixon," said Gerald, "are you ready to move?"
"I don't understand. Where am I to move to?"
"I have hired a house for you—the one till recently occupied by a man
whom they call Jim Morris. I have hired it completely furnished, and all
you will have to do is to walk in."
The old man seemed almost bewildered by the suddenness of the
proposition.
"But I can't walk so far," he said.
"You won't have to. I have a wagon at the door; we will help you into
it, and in fifteen minutes you will find yourself in a more comfortable
home."
"If you think it best," said the old man, hesitatingly.
"I do; and so will you when you have made the change."
"Then I will go."
"What do you want carried with you?"
"I am used to this chair."
"Very well, we will take it. Is there anything else?"
Thomas Nixon pointed to the tin box.
"Oh, yes; we mustn't forget that. Is there anything else?"
"No."
"Then, Mr. Carlyle, will you help get Mr. Nixon into the wagon?"
Dennis Carlyle, who was a stout, muscular young man, lent a hand, and
the old man soon found himself in the wagon, sitting in his favorite
chair.
"Sha'n't we need to carry some dishes? There's a few in yonder closet."
"Not to-day, Mr. Nixon. We shall have all the dishes and kitchen
utensils left by Mr. Morris."
It was not long before they found themselves at the door of the new
home. Gerald helped Mr. Nixon out of the wagon, and led the way into the
house. All was neat and comfortable, and furnished a very favorable
contrast to the dilapidated cabin where Nixon had lived so many years.
There was a woolen carpet on the floor of the sitting-room, an eight-day
clock on the mantel, three or four pictures on the walls, and a
comfortable couch on one side of the room. The old man heaved a sigh of
satisfaction.
"This is the way I used to live," he said.
"It is the way you shall live hereafter," said Gerald.
"It makes me feel younger already. What a wonderful boy you are!"
Gerald smiled.
"Oh, no, I am only an ordinary boy," he replied.
"I understand now why John Nugent sent you to me. Are you sure you are
only sixteen."
"Quite sure."
"And I am sixty-six! What a difference!"
In truth, Thomas Nixon looked ten years older than he really was. It was
partly sickness, and partly want of nourishing food and cheerful
companionship.
"We will have you looking younger soon," said Gerald, cheerfully. "And,
now, don't you think it is almost time for dinner?"
"I—I think I could eat something," said the old man, slowly. "It is long
since I have had an appetite, but now I almost feel hungry. You—you may
get a loaf of bread and some butter at Mr. Loche's store."
"Leave that matter in my hands, Mr. Nixon. I suppose you won't mind my
spending a little money?"
"No, no. Take a gold piece from the box, and buy what you like."
Gerald found a small hotel at which many of the miners boarded, and
engaged two dinners to be sent over to their new home. When the food
arrived he set out the table and properly arranged it.
"Now, Mr. Nixon," he said, cheerfully, "let me move up your chair and we
will have dinner."
It was long since the old man had sat down to a regular meal, and it was
as much the lack of nourishing food as any other cause that had weakened
him.
His faded eyes lighted up, and for the first time in many weeks he felt
a craving for food. Gerald took the head of the table.
"Now, Mr. Nixon," he said, "let me help you to some roast beef. Now,
here is a boiled potato, and some turnips; and there is bread and
butter."
"It is a feast," said the old man, gleefully. "It is long since I tasted
roast beef."
"Then you made a mistake in stinting yourself when there was no need of
it. Hereafter you must live well."
"So I will—so I will; that is, if you stay with me. But I thought I was
going to die soon, and it didn't make any difference."
"You don't want to die till your time comes. Why, you are not so very
old."
"I am sixty-six."
"And you may live twenty years yet."
"I didn't care to live; but now, since you have come, things look
different."
Both ate heartily, and when the dinner was over, the old man moved back
his chair and breathed a sigh of content.
"It is the best meal I have tasted for years," he said.
"Your nephew ought to have stayed to dinner," said Gerald, smiling.
"I hope I shall never see him again; he is a very bad man."
"He won't dare to come back to this settlement. He had to run the
gauntlet, and he was lucky to escape with his life. Now, let me show you
the other rooms."
There were two other rooms, each provided with a comfortable bed. In the
smaller one Gerald put his gripsack, and, unpacking his clothes, laid
them away in the drawers of a small bureau.
"Where are your clothes, Mr. Nixon?" he asked.
The old man looked embarrassed.
"I have very few," he said, "and those are about worn out."
"May I buy you some?"
"I wish you would; and you may as well throw away the old ones. Take
whatever money you need and go to the store."
"I see you have confidence in me, Mr. Nixon."
"Yes; I feel that you are a good boy and I can trust you. You have made
a new man of me already. This morning I thought I was very near to
death. Now I feel ten years younger."
During the rest of the day Gerald exerted himself to supply any
deficiencies in the household, and provided whatever was needed in the
way of comfort. When evening came on the lamps were lighted, and the new
residence seemed homelike. With Mr. Nixon's consent, arrangements were
made to have all their meals sent over from the hotel.
The box of gold coins had been placed in the sitting-room.
"I wish your gold was in some safe place, Mr. Nixon," said Gerald, as
his glance fell on the tin box.
"You can take it to the bank in Fairfield to-morrow," said the old man;
"that is, most of it. We shall need some to spend from day to day."
"Very well. I will engage a team from Mr. Loche, and ride over in the
morning. Have you an account there already?"
"Yes. I have five thousand dollars in the bank."
"You must give me something to do, Mr. Nixon. I will attend to any
business that requires attention—that is, provided you think I am
competent."
"I shall be glad to accept your offer; but if you are entering my
service you must be paid."
"Mr. Nugent will see that I am paid."
"No, no; I cannot allow it. I am a rich man. It is right that I should
pay you. I will give you—" he paused for a moment—"sixty dollars a month
and your board. Will that be sufficient?"
"It is high pay for a boy."
"You will be doing a man's work."
"I am afraid my services will not be worth that money."
"Have no fear on that score. I am a rich man, as I wrote to Mr. Nugent.
I may be worth nearly one hundred thousand dollars."
"Is your wealth known in the settlement?"
"No. I don't think any one considers me worth over five thousand
dollars. It is fortunate for me, or there might have been attempts to
rob me before."
"How is your property invested, if you don't mind telling me?"
"I have some mines over in the next county. I have been too ill to look
after them. I will send you soon in my place."
"I will do as well as I can, Mr. Nixon; but I wish I were older."
"You are a smart boy. I am sure you will be able to do all that is
required."
The next morning Gerald went over to Joe Loche's store. He had already
learned that Joe was the principal business man in the place. Besides
his store team he had an extra horse and wagon, which he let out to any
one who needed to hire. He readily agreed to let Gerald have it.
"Where are you going?" he asked.
"To Fairfield," answered Gerald. "Is the way easy to find?"
"Yes; it is a straight road."
"I want to visit the bank. I shall take over a thousand dollars in gold
belonging to Mr. Nixon."
"Aye, it will be better in the bank than in his house. Are you related
to the old man?"
"No; but I am going to help him about his business. He is too feeble to
look after it himself."
"Take care you don't get robbed," said Joe, with a smile. "It is a
lonely road."
"Yes, I will be careful."
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