"NEXT thing we want to do is to earn some money."
This, Jerry said, as he sat on the side step with Nettie, after sunset.
They had been having a long talk, planning the campaign against the
enemy, which they had made up their minds should be carried on with
vigor. At least, they had been trying to plan; but that obstacle which
seems to delight to step into the midst of so many plans and overturn
them, viz. money, met them at every point. So when Jerry made that
emphatic announcement, Nettie was prepared to agree with him fully; but
none the less did she turn anxious eyes on him as she said:
"How can we?"
"I don't know yet," Jerry said, whistling a few bars of
Oh, do not be discouraged,
and stopping in the middle of the line to answer, "But of course there
is a way. There was an old man who worked for my father, who used to
say so often: 'Where there's a will there's a way,' that after awhile
we boys got to calling him 'Will and Way' for short, you know; his name
was John," and here Jerry stopped to laugh a little over that method
of shortening a name; "but it was wonderful to see how true it proved;
he would make out to do the most surprising things that even my father
thought sometimes could not be done. We must _make_ a way to earn some
money."
Nettie laughed a little. "Well, I am sure," she said, "there is a will
in this case; in fact, there are two wills; for you seem to have a
large one, and I know if ever I was determined to do a thing I am now;
but for all that I can't think of a possible way to earn a cent."
Now Sarah Ann Smith was at this moment standing by the kitchen window,
looking out on the two schemers. Her sleeves were rolled above her
elbow, for she was about to set the sponge for bread; she had her
large neat work apron tied over her neat dress-up calico; and on her
head was perched the frame out of which, with Nettie's skilful help,
and some pieces of lace from her mother's old treasure bag, she meant
to make herself a bonnet every bit as pretty as the one worn by Miss
Sherrill the Sabbath before.
"Talk of keeping things seven years and they'll come good," said
Mrs. Smith, watching with satisfaction while Nettie tumbled over the
contents of the bag in eager haste and exclaimed over this and that
piece which would be "just lovely." "I've kept the rubbish in that bag
going on to twenty years, just because the pretty girls where I used
to do clear-starching, gave them to me. I had no kind of notion what
I should ever do with them; but they looked bright and pretty, and I
always was a master hand for bright colors, and so whenever they would
hand out a bit of ribbon or lace, and say, 'Cerinthy, do you want
that?' I was sure to say I did; and chuck it into this bag; and now to
think after keeping of them for more than twenty years, my girl should
be planning to make a bonnet out of them! Things is queer! I don't ever
mean to throw away _anything_. I never was much at throwing away; now
that's a fact."
Now the truth was that Sarah Ann, left to herself, would as soon
have thought of making a _house_ out of the contents of that bag, as
a bonnet; but Nettie Decker's deft fingers had a natural tact for
all cunning contrivances in lace and silk, and her skill in copying
what she saw, was something before which Sarah Ann stood in silent
admiration; when, therefore, she offered to construct for Sarah Ann,
out of the treasures of that bag, a bonnet which should be both
becoming and economical, Sarah Ann's gratitude knew no bounds. She went
that very afternoon to the milliner's to select her frame, and had it
perched at that moment as I said, on her head, while she listened to
the clear young voices under the window. She had a great desire to be
helpful; but money was far from plenty at Job Smith's.
What was it which made her at that moment think of a bit of news which
she had heard while at the milliner's? Why, nothing more remarkable
than that the color of Nettie Decker's hair in the fading light was
just the same as Mantie Horton's. But what made her suddenly speak her
bit of news, interrupting the young planners? Ah, that Sarah Ann does
not know; she only knows she felt just like saying it, so she said it.
"Mantie Horton's folks are all going to move to the city; they are
selling off lots of things; I saw her this afternoon when I was at the
milliner's, and she says about the only thing now that they don't know
what to do with is her old hen and chickens; a nice lot of chicks as
ever she saw, but of course they can't take them to the city. My! I
should think they would feel dreadful lonesome without chickens, nor
pigs, nor nothing! _We_ might have some chickens as well as not, if
we only had a place to keep 'em; enough scrapings come from the table
every day, to feed 'em, most."
Before this sentence was concluded, Jerry had turned and given Nettie
a sudden look as if to ask if she saw what he did; then he whistled a
low strain which had in it a note of triumph; and the moment Sarah Ann
paused for breath he asked: "Where do the Hortons live?"
"Why, out on the pike about a mile; that nice white house set back from
the road a piece; don't you know? It is just a pleasant walk out there."
Then Sarah Ann turned away to attend to her bread, and as she did so
her somewhat homely face was lighted by a smile; for an idea had just
dawned upon her, and she chuckled over it: "I shouldn't wonder if those
young things would go into business; he's got contrivance enough to
make a coop, any day, and mother would let them have the scrapings, and
welcome."
Sarah Ann was right; though Nettie, unused to country ways and plans,
did not think of such a thing, Jerry did. The next morning he was up,
even before the sun; in fact that luminary peeped at him just as he was
turning into the long carriage drive which led finally to the Horton
barnyard. There a beautiful sight met his eyes; a white and yellow
topknot mother, and eight or ten fluffy chickens scampering about her.
"They are nice and plump," said Jerry to himself; "I'm afraid I haven't
money enough to buy them; but then, there is a great deal of risk in
raising a brood of chickens like these; perhaps he will sell them
cheap."
Farmer Horton was an early riser, and was busy about his stables when
Jerry reached there. He was anxious to get rid of all his live stock,
and be away as soon as possible, and here was a customer anxious to
buy; so in much less time than Jerry had supposed it would take, the
hen and chickens changed owners and much whistling was done by the new
owner as he walked rapidly back to town to build a house for his family.
Mrs. Smith had been taken into confidence; so indeed had Job, before
the purchase was made; but the whole thing was to be a profound
surprise to Nettie. Therefore, she saw little of him that day, and I
will not deny was a trifle hurt because he kept himself so busy about
something which he did not share with her. But I want you to imagine,
if you can, her surprise the next morning when just as she was ready to
set the potatoes to frying, she heard Jerry's eager voice calling her
to come and see his house.
"See what?" asked Nettie, appearing in the doorway, coffee pot in hand.
"A new house. I built it yesterday, and rented it; the family moved in
last night. That is the reason I was so busy. I had to go out and help
move them; and I must say they were as ill-behaved a set as I ever had
anything to do with. The mother is the crossest party I ever saw; and
she has no government whatever; her children scurry around just where
they please."
"What are you talking about?" said astonished Nettie, her face growing
more and more bewildered as he continued his merry description.
"Come out and see. It is a new house, I tell you; I built it yesterday;
that is the reason I did not come to help you about the bonnet. Didn't
you miss me? Sarah Ann thinks it is actually nicer than the one Miss
Sherrill wore." And he broke into a merry laugh, checking himself to
urge Nettie once more to come out and see his treasures.
"Well," said Nettie, "wait until I cover the potatoes, and set the
teakettle off." This done she went in haste and eagerness to discover
what was taking place behind Job Smith's barn. A hen and chickens!
Beautiful little yellow darlings, racing about as though they were
crazy; and a speckled mother clucking after them in a dignified way,
pretending to have authority over them, when one could see at a glance
that they did exactly as they pleased.