AUSTIN AND HIS FATHER
Though Austin was but a child, he knew that his father was acting very
selfishly in going away at this time, and that his real desire for going
was to avoid responsibility rather than to cure loneliness. Many thoughts
pressed in upon the boy as he contemplated his father’s long absence, but
the thought that gave him an answer was that if he refused, the home might
be broken up. He seemed to see his mother’s face, and it encouraged him to
be brave. It was only a moment that he hesitated in answering, “Yes, Papa,
I think I could manage all right; I might have to miss school part of the
time.”
“Well, I shall go with some of the boys down into the hills for a while to
see if I can not get straightened out so that I shall be more fit for work.
Your uncle John will look after you and see that nothing happens to you.”
So the matter was settled. In a few days Henry Hill was off for a month of
pleasure, leaving the children in Austin’s care. He was right in thinking
that his brother-in-law, John Moore, would look after the children. Mr.
Moore was a brother to the children’s mother and had the same noble
principles as she had. He would gladly have taken the entire care of the
children, but he thought it was their father’s place to have their
oversight, so stood back and said little. But when he knew they were left
alone in the farmhouse, he was careful to know each morning and evening
that all was well with them.
“Austin is as steady and reliable as a little old man,” said his uncle
after one of his visits. “He manages things over there as well as many an
older person could.”
“How a father could put so much on a mere child is a mystery,” said some of
the neighbor women.
“I would hate to be tied to a kitchen and a row of babies like he is,” was
his cousin Frank’s opinion.
But of all these comments Austin was ignorant, nor did he think he was
doing anything brave. He was doing the one thing that would keep the
children together, and was encouraged with the thought that his mother was
pleased with him, for it seemed to him that she knew.
Though Henry Hill was a selfish man, he often thought of his children while
away, but stifled every remorseful thought with the assurance that Austin
was taking good care of them. He assured himself that they were getting
along as well as if an older person were with them; and this was true, for
in the month that he was away, nothing of enough importance for comment
occurred. The days went by as evenly as if the father had been there. But
if Henry Hill thought that his mind would be more settled by his absence,
he was disappointed; for as soon as he was again in sight of the house, the
old loathing of the place attacked him. He longed to be away from it all
forever. And when a man has all his life given way to his own personal
impulses rather than stand by his duty, you need not expect him to brace up
at a time like this and do his part.
From the point of reasoning which Mr. Hill took he was justifiable in
feeling as he did. Everything about the little farmhouse reminded him of
the woman he had loved. He never came to the house without a pang of
painful loneliness at her absence. He felt himself incapable of caring for
the children. She had always done that, and he did not know what they
needed nor why. It would be better both for him and the children to be away
from this dreary, grief-laden spot. But he could not take the children with
him, and what would he do with them if he did? But there was Austin. Why
should he feel tied to the children when Austin was willing to look after
them? The thing to do was to get out and find a more suitable place,
leaving Austin to look after home and the little ones.
But it would be pretty hard to leave so many children on one boy. The
neighbors would have a great deal to say. Maybe he had better get a place
for some of them. But where could he find a place? Why, to be sure--why had
he not thought of that before?--he would take Lila and Doyle to his
mother’s, and Austin could manage the rest. That was just the thing, and no
one could find fault with the arrangement, at least no one who knew Austin.
And reasoning thus, he had his plans all made before he mentioned them. The
sunny, pleasant days of spring had come, and the air was balmy and sweet
with the perfume of blossoms, making the vagrant soul of Henry Hill sick
with wanderlust, and he could hardly wait to put his plans into action.
“Austin, I believe I shall take Lola and Doyle out to your grandmother’s,
and try to get work there,” he said one morning at the breakfast-table.
“You can stay on here with the other children, and can get along very well
if I am gone all summer. It will make it easier for you if I have the
little ones.”
Austin’s chin dropped, and he looked at his father in blank amazement.
Surely he had heard wrong. He started to protest, but another suggestion
stopped him. “If I refuse, he will take all the children away, and we shall
have no home; that would grieve Mother,” mused the boy. Because Austin
hesitated in answering, his father continued to explain his plan. “If I
find a good job I shall get a house and send for the rest of you children
and we shall live near your grandmother and uncles. I believe we can do
better there than here.” And having said this, he waited for Austin to
speak.
“Yes, I suppose we could manage to get along a while,” the boy said,
choking a little. How lonely and bare his path looked before him he could
not explain, and intuition told him it would be useless for him to try to
do so. His father seemed to forget that he was lonely too, and missed the
gentle mother.
Little more was said on the subject, but Mr. Hill arranged his affairs and,
taking the two younger children with him, went to a distant State, leaving
Austin and his two sisters and younger brother to look out for themselves
for an indefinite period.
John Moore and his wife were shocked beyond measure when they learned Mr.
Hill’s plans, but knowing that it would be useless for them to remonstrate,
they said nothing. However, they vowed in their hearts to look after the
orphans in their father’s absence. But there was one feature of his
father’s absence that Austin had not told any one. Had his uncle John known
this, he would have been more than angry with his brother-in-law. Henry
Hill had not left sufficient means with Austin for the care of the
children. He had needed a neat sum for his fare and had taken almost all
from the family purse, promising to send something back to Austin soon. One
week had passed, and a second, and although a letter had come announcing
their safe arrival, nothing had been said about money. The little home was
becoming bare of food, and Austin did not wish to tell his circumstances to
any one. He would have to find a way to make money for himself.
The neighborhood in which he lived abounded in market-gardens, and Austin
decided to get work in the garden of a neighbor, with permission to bring
the children with him and allow them to work what they could also. All of
them together would be able to support themselves till their father found
work and should help them again. With Austin to decide was to act, and the
very next morning he went to the house of Mr. Long and asked for work. Mr.
Long had been observing the boy and liked his pluck, and gave him work as
he wished.
Now began a new epoch with Austin. There was a feeling of independence in
making and using his own money that was very pleasant. He did not wonder
that the older boys had gotten out to do for themselves. Though he had to
rise early and work late to keep up his house-work and home chores, and his
field-work, he did not count it a hardship. He felt manly and strong in
doing it.
Mr. Hill smiled with pleasure when he read in Austin’s letters of the
arrangements he had made and how well they were getting along. That was
just the thing. With the wages of the children they would not need much
from him, and he would have more for himself. There was no need of Austin’s
having more than was actually necessary, and that would not be much. It was
certainly fortunate that Austin had such a head for business.
But the best-laid plans sometimes prove to have a flaw, and this was
unpleasantly true in this case. Though Mr. Hill explained at length to his
parents how nicely Austin was getting along, he could not make them think
all was _well_. They seemed to think, and others were of the same mind,
that he was neglecting his duty.
“Who has the care of the children?” his mother asked him one day.
“Austin is looking after them,” was the easy reply.
“You do not mean to say you left that boy with the care of the children,”
she exclaimed in amazement.
“Why, Mother, he manages them fine. I was gone a month a while back and
everything was running along all right when I came home, and he had Lila
and Doyle then, also.”
“It is asking too much of the child, and I do not see how you can do it,”
was the sharp reply. “I will send for them as soon as I get enough ahead to
set up housekeeping,” promised Mr. Hill.
“Henry, when are you going to bring those children here?” she asked of him
a few weeks later.
“Austin is working there and the others are helping him, and they are
getting on so well I hate to bother them,” he answered.