HOME AGAIN
The writing of the letter to Uncle John in which they had so urged that
Austin come home had been a great joy to Amy. After she had sent the
letter, she began a rather impatient wait for the reply. She believed
Austin would come if he was really at Uncle John’s, but how could she be
sure he was there? For several days her heart beat very fast when she saw
the mail-carrier coming, and drooped again when he had gone by without
leaving the letter.
They had moved from the place where they had lived when Austin went away
and were instead in a house near a thriving town not very far distant. I
say they were living here, but in reality the family was broken up, for
Henry Hill had fulfilled Austin’s greatest fear, and had allowed the
children to become scattered till there were none of them at home. Some of
them had places to work, while others were staying with friends for
accommodation’s sake. But the children while they were in the little
wayside house had enjoyed it much better than the lonely spot near the
oil-fields.
At this time Nell was with a farmer helping his wife in her work. She was
given the care of the small children. Harry was working for another farmer,
doing what he could to pay for his board.
Amy helped a lady in town part of the time. The little ones were cared for
by strangers. Will had come to his father, and the two men worked most of
the time, but spent what they earned as rapidly as they earned it. It was
hard now to get the drink they both loved, for their State had gone dry.
Altogether it was a torn and scattered family Austin was to find on his
return.
Amy had not made the best of a success as housekeeper. She hated work in
the house, cooking and dish-washing especially. If her father had been more
kind, she would have done better, but he was quick to criticize and slow to
approve, and she had been glad to see the family scattered that she might
be free from the drudgery. Though she was glad for the freedom from
responsibility, yet she did not like being drifted about, and longed for
Austin. She knew he would lift the load and make it easier for all of them.
One day a young fellow alighted from the passenger-coach with a suitcase in
each hand and a look of eagerness in his face. He set out at once to find
the little wayside house, and came to it only to find it a bachelor’s camp,
there being no children about. He inquired and learned where he could find
Amy and the little ones.
“Austin! Amy, Amy, look! Isn’t that Austin coming?” Lila’s excited little
voice rang with joy. Amy rushed to the door in time to see the little ones
well down the street where a tall man was receiving them with open arms.
She knew him at a glance and ran to meet him as fast as they had run. It
seemed that she could never take her arms from about his neck. Doyle and
Lila were clinging to him, and he was trying to greet them all at once.
None of them could get through pressing their rosy lips to his cheeks. If
he had had any misgivings as to his welcome, they were quick to dispel
them.
“Where are Nell and Harry?” asked Austin when he could get his breath.
“Nell is caring for Mrs. Blaine’s children, and Harry is riding Mr. Smith’s
lead horse,” promptly explained Doyle.
“Papa found places for all of us, and we like it better than staying at
home alone. It is so lonely without you, Austin. Now we can all come back
home again,” and Amy’s eyes were filled with tears as she looked into her
beloved brother’s face.
“Well, do not cry now, Sister, for I am at home and to stay. I will not
leave you any more. Let us all get on out home and begin housekeeping
again,” Austin said bruskly to cover his feelings. Tears were on his
cheeks, and a choke in his throat as he looked at the little motherless
children so joyful to see him. He looked up with a new feeling of
responsibility to God, whom he believed was pleased to have him again take
the children.
In the next two hours the children tried to tell him all that had happened
in his absence, while he listened half abstractedly, trying to plan the
course he should take. He could not set up housekeeping permanently without
his father’s consent and support, but he felt certain that his father meant
to do his part. Before the day was done, he had etablished himself in the
little house by the side of the road, and had the three children with him.
“I hear that Austin is home, Nellie,” said Mr. Blaine an evening or two
later, after he had returned from town.
“Mr. Blaine, is that true? I want to go home right away. I want to see him!
I must see him! Are you sure he is home?” and the little face looked up
into his tremulously.
“I see I have made a mistake. Mrs. Blaine will be after me for making her
nurse-girl dissatisfied,” laughed Mr. Blaine.
“I have to see him!” and the child began to cry.
“There, there, don’t cry, Nellie. I will be going over that way one of
these days and will take you over,” soothed the man.
“I can’t wait a day or two. I want to see him now. I’ll walk home in the
morning, I will. I have to see Austin.” Nellie had dried her tears
instantly at the thought of being put off a few days. Her black eyes were
snapping.
“Well, we shall see about it in the morning,” and the man passed into the
kitchen to wash in preparation for supper.
Nellie’s fears were high that Mrs. Blaine might object to letting her go
and demand that she remain longer, for she was really needed; but so
determined and defiant was she that she would have gladly undertaken the
walk across the prairies to her home rather than remain away from her
brother.
But Mrs. Blaine understood how Nellie felt, and let her go, and Nell rode
with Mr. Blaine, who passed by the Hill home on his way to town. His
children’s little nurse fairly flew up the path into the house and,
bouncing in, sprang into Austin’s arms. She sobbed out her joy on his
shoulder. Dear little Nell! Austin loved the others, but already he had
seen in Nell something of the same devotion to duty and to the younger
children that had filled his own heart. Home would mean little to him
without her.
Before the week was out Harry had heard and came home to be with Austin. He
had them all together again. Home had a new meaning to all of them now.
Austin wept with joy at their present happiness and with pity for their
past neglect This was his work, his place in life. He would stay at home
now through rough and smooth sailing. They should not be left alone again
as they had been. Many were the vows he made in those first few days after
his home-coming.
His father had received him kindly, with no reference to his hasty
departure nor the cause of it. He seemed satisfied that Austin should take
the reins of home government again, and did not openly oppose him in any
way, neither did he lend him assistance nor encouragement. Will came over
to see his brother, but they had so little in common that he did not remain
very long.
Austin found his days filled with active service. He had little time for
reverie; but at night when all was quiet, he lay and mused and planned. He
was now almost sixteen. He marveled at his undertaking the care of the
children as he did when he was but thirteen. The responsibility looked
greater to him now than then. He had thought only of their physical comfort
then, now he began to consider their spiritual training also. Would he be
able to lead them to Christ? What ought he to do first? He looked back over
the months since his mother’s death and saw that God had led him all the
way, and he reached out to his heavenly Father now for guidance and grace.
He remembered his promise to Brother Bennet, and even at their first meal
had bidden the children to stop while he asked God’s blessing on the food.
The children had looked at him curiously. It had been a little difficult to
bow and thank God at the first meal after his father was with them. Henry
Hill was not a reverent man, and while he had not openly opposed his son in
this pious act, he had gone ahead as if no blessing were being asked. And
always since he had ignored completely the fact that Austin said grace at
meals. The children waited without prompting for him to finish his prayer.
To establish the family altar had been even more difficult, yet he had
found time to read and pray with the children. They lent themselves to his
ways, for they were glad to have him with them again. But the new order of
things in the house proved in time to be very vexing to Henry Hill. Every
word and act of his godly son was a stab in his conscience, and as he had
no thought of turning to God, he hated accordingly the one who caused his
uneasiness. Wilbur laughed at Austin for his queer ways, as he called them,
and scoffed and mocked, yet down in his heart respected him. He would not
have had his brother different.