UNCLE IKE AND OTHERS
At the breakfast table next morning, Maude sat with her head bent over
her plate. All were awaiting Olive's advent with the fruit.
“At your devotions, Maude?” asked Alice.
“Yes, I am thanking the Lord that my life was saved by a woman. _She_
can't ask me to marry her.”
A trio of “good mornings” greeted the Rev. Mr. Gay as he entered and
took his accustomed place at the head of the table. He bowed his head
and asked a blessing.
“Why do you ask a blessing, Mr. Gay?”
Mr. Gay looked up, but there was no levity in Maude's eyes.
“It is our duty to thank the Almighty for his goodness in providing for
our physical ends.”
“But,” said Maude, “with the exception of the fruit all our food is
prepared by man. We couldn't eat it just as it grows.”
“God has given us the necessary intelligence to properly utilize his
blessings.”
“But some people starve to death,” said Maude, forsaking the main
argument.
“Unfortunately, yes, owing to man's lack of brotherly feeling, or
rather, a hap-hazard method of distributing his blessings. It is not
God's will that any of his creatures should lack food or raiment.”
“Do you really believe, Mr. Gay, that God takes a personal interest in
us? That he sent Mrs. Howe yesterday to save my life?”
“I certainly do, Miss Sawyer.”
“I can't understand it,” said Maude. “I looked upon it simply as a lucky
coincidence. But supposing the horse had turned to the left, and stopped
of his own accord when he reached that steep hill. What would that
prove?”
Quincy and Alice who had listened to the discussion, looked at the
clergyman, who hesitated before answering. At last, a smile lighted up
his face and he replied: “It would prove that, in that particular case,
you did not need the intervention of Heavenly power.”
“I'm not convinced yet,” said Maude. “I am coming to hear you preach
to-morrow. Do make it plain to me, please.”
“With God's help, I will try to,” the clergyman answered.
Quincy passed the morning at the grocery, making arrangements for the
establishment of the branch stores, Mr. Strout's plans being approved
with some material modifications. Strout told his wife that Mr. Sawyer
had fixed it so he couldn't get control of the business, but that he
would put a flea in his ear some fine day.
“I can't see through it,” said Bessie Strout. “Why have your feelings
towards Mr. Sawyer changed so? I think he is a perfect gentleman.”
“So he is. So am I. But we grew on different bushes.” Feeling that he
did not wish to confess that jealousy of others' attainments was the
real foundation of his hostility, Mr. Strout took his departure. Two
hours later Mrs. Strout was delighted at receiving a call from Miss
Maude Sawyer and the Governor's wife.
Quincy wished to have a talk with 'Zekiel about Uncle Ike, so he walked
over to the old Putnam house. He had asked his wife to accompany him,
but she declined.
“That house gives me the shivers,” she had said. “I never can forget the
ordeal I went through the day that Aunt Heppy died. I gave the house to
'Zekiel because I never could have lived in it. Maude and I are going to
call on Mrs. Strout.”
Quincy found 'Zekiel in the barn, and broached the matter on his mind at
once.
“I'm glad you spoke of it,” said 'Zekiel. “I was over to Mandy's
yesterday and Uncle Ike wants to come and live with us. Not that he's
dissatisfied where he is, for he likes Mandy and the children, and they
do everything to make him comfortable--but it's the stairs. He wants to
eat with the others; he says he feels like a prisoner cooped up in one
room. We have a spare room on the ground floor that old Silas Putnam
used to sleep in. I'm only afraid of one thing--'twill be too much care
for Huldah. If I could get some one to help her with the work, she'd be
glad and willing to look after Uncle Ike.” “We must find some way out of
it,” said Quincy, as they parted.
His next visit was to the home of Arthur Scates. He found the young man
in bed and in a very weak condition.
“He's had two o' them bleedin' spells,” said his grandmother, “an' las'
night I thought sure he was a goner. But I giv him some speerits of
ammony and he perked up a little. Yer see, Mr. Sawyer, we're poor, an'
it's no use tryin' to cover it up, an' I can't give Arthur the kind
of vittles he ought to have. He wants nourishin' things an'”--The old
lady's feelings overcame her and she began to cry. “I'm ashamed of
myself, but I can't help it. He's my only son's boy, and he's an orphan,
an' wuss. I'm sixty years old, but I can do a day's work with any of the
young ones, but I can't leave him alone. I should have a conniption fit
if I did.”
Quincy thought it advisable to allow the old lady to have her say out
before replying.
“Mrs. Scates, I think there are brighter days coming for you.”
“The Lord knows I have prayed hard enough for 'em.” Quincy spoke to
Arthur. “I expected to see you in Boston, but I suppose you were in too
poor health to come.”
“Tell him the whole truth, Arthur,” said his grandmother--“his health
was too poor an' we hadn't any money.”
“Arthur,” said Quincy, “I am going to find a home for you in a
sanatorium where you will have the treatment you need and the proper
food to build you up. One of these days, if you can repay me, well and
good. If not, I can afford to give it. Your voice may make your fortune
some day. And, now, Mrs. Scates, I've got some work for you. Mrs.
'Zekiel Pettingill--”
“She that was Huldy Mason,” broke in Mrs. Scates, “she was just the
nicest girl in town.”
“Yes,” assented Quincy, “she's going to have an addition to her
family--”
“You don't say,” again interrupted Mrs. Scates. “Well, I've nussed a
good many--”
“You misunderstand me,” said Quincy quickly. “Her Uncle Ike is coming to
live with her, and she needs assistance in her work. You must go and see
her at once.”
While she was gone, Quincy explained to Arthur the nature of his coming
treatment; how he would have to virtually live out of doors daytimes and
sleep with windows and doors open at night. “I will see that you have
good warm clothes. I will pay for your board and treatment for a year,
and give you money for such things as you may need.”
“I'll try hard to get well so I can repay you,” said Arthur.
“She says she'll take me,” cried Mrs. Scates, as she entered the
room--“just as soon as I can come, and here's a big basket of apples and
peaches, she sent you, and--” the poor woman was quite out of breath.
“I met that minister, Mr. Gay, and he said he was coming up to see you,
Arthur.”
“Did you ever go to Mr. Gay's church?” Quincy asked Mrs. Scates.
“Jus' onct, and that was enough. He'll have to leave here sooner or
later.”
“What for?”
“Why, he don't believe in no divil--an' ye can't make folks good unless
they knows there's a divil.”
Quincy recalled the story of the Scotch woman, a stern Presbyterian, who
thought if ten thousand were saved at the final judgment that it would
be “muckle many,” and who, when asked if she expected to be one of the
elect, replied “Sartainly.” He felt that a theological discussion with
Grandma Scates would end in his discomfiture and he wisely refrained.
Quincy reached Mandy Maxwell's just in time for dinner, and, at his
request, it was served in Uncle Ike's room.
“This is more cheerful,” said he to Quincy. “I once thought that being
alone was the height of enjoyment--and I did enjoy myself very selfishly
for a good many years. Has Alice told you of our conversation?”
Quincy nodded.
“I've been thinking about it since and I decided my first move would be
to live, if I could, with my own flesh and blood. But while they've got
a down-stairs room, it will be too much work for Huldah.”
“That's provided for,” said Quincy. “Mrs. Scates is going to help
Huldah.”
“What's to become of her grandson--he's consumptive they tell me.”
“He's going to a sanatorium to get cured.”
“And you are going to pay the bills?”
Quincy nodded again.
“I get a lesson very often. You are using your money to help others,
while I've hoarded mine.”
Quincy looked at the speaker inquiringly. Alice had given him to
understand that her uncle had used his income for himself.
“I know what you're thinking, Mr. Sawyer. I did tell Alice I had
an annuity, but I haven't spent one-tenth of what's coming to me. I
arranged to have it put in a savings bank, and I've drawn just as little
as I could and get along. I bought a fifty thousand dollar annuity
at sixty. I got nine per cent, on my money, besides the savings bank
interest. As near as I can figure it out I'm worth about two hundred
thousand dollars. I've beat the insurance company bad, and I ain't dead
yet. I have all this money, but what good has it done anybody?”
“It can do good in the future, Uncle.”
“I want to leave something to Mandy's boys--not too much--for I'm afraid
they'd squander it, and become do-nothings. What shall I do with it?”
“Do you wish me to suggest a public use for your fortune?”
“That's what I've been telling you about it for. You've a good knack of
disposing of your own and other folks' money, and I thought you could
help me out.”
Quincy did not speak for some time. Finally he said, “Uncle Ike, the
Town Hall in Fernborough is but one mile from the centre of the city of
Cottonton. That city is peopled, principally, with low-paid cotton mill
operatives. Their employers, as a rule, are more intent on dividends
than the moral or physical condition of their help. Accidents are common
in the mills, many are broken down in health by overwork, and those
who become mothers are forced by necessity to resume work in the mills
before their strength is restored.”
Uncle Ike shut his teeth with a snap. “That's worse than hoarding money
as I've done. Mine may, as you say, do good in the future, but theirs is
degrading human beings at the present. I wish I could do something for
them, especially the mothers. It's a shame _they_ have to suffer.”
“You can do something, Uncle Ike. My suggestion is, that you leave the
bulk of your fortune to build a hospital in Fernborough, but provide
in your will that the mill operatives of Cottonton, or all its poorer
inhabitants, if you so wish it, shall be entitled to free treatment
therein.”
“I'll do it,” cried Uncle Ike. “As soon as I get settled at 'Zeke's,
I'll send for Squire Rundlett to come and make out my will. You've taken
a big load off my mind, Mr. Sawyer.”
As Quincy was mounting Obed's Hill slowly, for it was very steep, he
thought to himself--“Getting Uncle Ike to do something practical towards
helping others was much better than talking theoretical religion to
him.”
When he reached the Hawkins House, Andrew was getting ready to drive to
Cottonton to meet the three o'clock express from Boston.
“There's a friend of ours coming down on that train, Andrew--a young man
named Merry.” He took out his note book, wrote a few lines, and passed
the slip with some money to Andrew.
“You get that--have it covered up so no one can see what it is, and
leave it in the barn when you get back.”
Quincy told his wife about Arthur Scates and Uncle Ike.
“I'm going to take Uncle Ike to Mr. Gay's church to-morrow,” he added,
“but I didn't say anything about it to-day. I'm not going to give him
time to invent excuses.”
Maude did not conceal her pleasure at meeting Harry again. She was a
companionable girl, and Mr. Merry was too sensible to think, because a
young lady was sociable, that it was any indication that she was falling
in love with him.
“Are you going riding this evening, Alice?” Quincy walked to the window.
“The sunset is just glorious. There's a purple cloud in the west, the
edges of which is bordered with gold. There are rifts in it, through
which the sun shows--and now, come quickly, Alice, the sun, a ball of
fire, has just sunk below the cloud which seems resting upon it.”
When they turned away from the window, Alice said:
“I don't think I will ride any more. Maude must take the horse I had--he
is so gentle. What a pity Mr. Merry cannot go with her for a ride.”
“He can. I sent Andrew for a saddle for him to use.”
“Quincy, you are the most thoughtful man in the world.”
In less than half an hour Maude, with Harry riding the mare, were on
their way towards the Centre Road. When they returned, an hour later,
there had been no runaway, unless Harry's heart had undergone one.
Maude's countenance did not, however, indicate that she had participated
in any rescue.