SOMETHING ABOUT THE AFFAIRS OF THE MILLWEED FAMILY.
Long before breakfast-time the new boys were roaming about the estate,
with Dory as their guide. He showed them the place, and treated them
as handsomely as he knew how. They were not in a boat, with a fresh
wind blowing; and he had no occasion to use a single sharp word, and
he had not on board of the Goldwing, except to Oscar Chester. By this
time he had become quite popular with the students.
“Dory,” called Captain Gildrock, as the skipper and his party came to
the shop: “what was the name of the man that stole the money at the
store?”
“Tim Lingerwell: he was the head man of Mr. Longbrook,” replied Dory.
“He came from this place.”
“I know all about him,” said a stranger who had been talking with the
captain. “He never was any too good to do such a thing; and my son
was lucky to get out of the scrape as well as he did.”
This man was the father of Bolingbroke Millweed. For the first time he
had heard about the Beech-Hill Industrial School that morning. His
wife had told him about the captain’s offer to take Bolingbroke into
the school. He had been telling the shipmaster his troubles, and he
wanted his son to accept the offer.
“I am a peaceable man, Captain Gildrock, and my wife has always had
her own way,” continued Farmer Millweed. “I don’t like to have any
trouble in the family, but I have gone just about as far as I can go.”
The early visitor looked very sad, and choked a little, as though a
few tears would relieve him. He stood looking upon the ground, trying
to check his emotions.
“Things have gone hard with you, have they?” said Captain Gildrock in
a sympathizing tone.
“Very hard, captain; and I don’t know what is going to become of me
and my family. I expect we shall fetch up in the poorhouse; as we
certainly shall if things keep on as they have been,” replied the
farmer with a suppressed groan.
“I am sorry for you,” added the captain. “I will take your son, and he
shall be of no expense to you for a year; and at the end of that time,
I will guarantee that he will be able to do something for you, and
take care of himself besides.”
“Just as soon as I heard of your offer, I came right over here; for I
want to have Bolly learn a trade,” said the farmer. “He will be
provided for, whatever becomes of the rest of us. When my oldest girl
was a dozen years old, I owned my farm free and clear; and I didn’t
owe any man on earth a single cent. Now there is a mortgage of two
thousand dollars on my place, and I owe over a thousand dollars
besides.”
“You have been making bad speculations then,” suggested Captain
Gildrock.
“I never went into a speculation of any kind, captain; and I never
lost any money in any way. Ten years ago I used to get a good living
off my farm. We had plenty to eat, drink, and to wear. Now we don’t
have any thing.” And, in spite of his struggles to restrain them, a
flood of tears poured down his wan cheek.
“If you have had no misfortunes, I don’t understand why things have
gone so badly with you. But it is best to look into the matter, and
find out what the trouble is, so that you can correct the errors of
the past. You are not a very old man, and you may get out of the
trouble yet.”
“I know what the difficulty is well enough; and I have known it for
two or three years, if not for ten. I have to take care of my family,
consisting of my wife, two sons, and two daughters. The oldest is
twenty-two, and the youngest is sixteen. My wife has high notions for
a farmer’s wife, and I have given in to her. She would not let the
boys work on the farm; and, when I wanted any help, I had to hire. I
suppose the girls helped their mother, but all of them had to dress
like ladies. And that is where all the money I could get went to,”
said Millweed bitterly.
“The first thing is to stop the leak,” suggested the captain in
nautical terms. “If you don’t stop it, the ship will go to the
bottom.”
“I know that very well, but I don’t see how I’m going to stop the
leak. All the children had to go to the high-school, and dress as
smartly as the sons and daughters of rich men; though it was more than
I could do to get the money to pay for it.”
“But couldn’t your wife see how things were going?” asked the captain.
“I talked with her, and told her seven years ago that I was running
behindhand. I have talked with her twenty times since, and told her we
should all fetch up in the poorhouse if we kept on. She said the boys
would soon find places in stores, and help me. The girls could have
had plenty of work at good wages, but their notions were as high as
their mother’s.”
“I see how it is,” said Captain Gildrock, nodding his head, as much as
to declare that it was the old story.
“The girls are too proud to marry a farmer or a mechanic, and rich
men’s sons don’t seem to want them. They are good girls enough, but
they have got high notions. The boys never did do any thing, and I
don’t know whether they can or not. I want Bolly to try. Pemberton is
eighteen, and I suppose he is too old for your new school.”
“Not at all: I will take them both, but they will have to work.”
“That’s what they need. If I could get the boys into your school, I
should like it first-rate, and I should have some hopes that I might
get along; though I have got to lose my farm, and it won’t fetch any
thing over the mortgage,” added the farmer very gloomily.
“I will take the two boys into my school; and, if the girls will go to
work, I will find places for them in a store or factory.”
“You are very kind, Captain Gildrock; but I am afraid my wife won’t
allow the boys to go to your school, or the girls to do any thing to
help support themselves,” added Farmer Millweed.
“I shall not meddle with the affairs of your family; but, if it was my
case, I should set the boys and girls to work,” added Captain
Gildrock. “You must take the helm in your own hands.”
“It will make trouble,” said Farmer Millweed, shaking his head.
“You are very sure to have trouble if you don’t do it.”
“That’s so!” exclaimed the unhappy man. “I have always had to work
hard, and I never drank a drop of liquor in my life. I’m not as smart
as some, but I’ve done my best to get along. Next month the mortgage
and interest are due, and I have not a dollar to pay either. I am
behindhand on my interest now. Of course Stubbs will take possession,
and my family will be turned out of the house. I have no place to go,
and the best I can do will be to go to work on wages; for all I have
got will not pay my debts. I shall have to take the helm, as you call
it, captain.”
“If I can do any thing for you, I shall be glad to do it,” added the
captain.
“I haven’t any claims on you, Captain Gildrock, and it is very kind of
you to offer to take my boys. I will go home, and see what can be
done,” replied Farmer Millweed, as he left the captain.
There was an expression of resolution on his face as he passed out of
the yard, and it was evident to the captain that he meant to do
something in the emergency. The captain wondered if his pluck would
hold out long enough to enable him to do it.
“If the boys are going to join the school, I want them here by nine
this forenoon; for we are about to organize a ship’s company for the
steam-yacht,” he called to the discouraged farmer, as he was passing
through the gate.
“I intend to have them both here,” answered Mr. Millweed.
“If they come, I shall do them more good than the high-school ever
did,” said the captain to himself, as he went into the house.
The captain insisted, at the breakfast-table, that the high-school had
spoiled the Millweed boys and girls. Mr. Brookbine dissented, and was
sure it was the mother who had made the mischief.
“It was she who sent them to the high-school; and the matter is about
as broad as it is long,” added the captain.
“But the mother could have spoiled them just as fully if they had not
gone to the high-school,” persisted the master-carpenter, who had
opinions of his own. “I believe the high-school is a good thing; and,
if these boys and girls had gone to work when they got through, it
would have been all right with the family. It was the high notions,
and not the high-school, that did the mischief; and the children got
them from the mother. The father is a man of no great force.”
“But he had force enough to take care of his family, and lay up
something, until he was broken down by the demands of his family upon
him. There was a screw loose somewhere, and the children ought never
to have gone to the high-school.”
“Perhaps not: I think myself that the high-school business is
sometimes overdone,” replied the mechanic. “I never went to a
high-school or an academy, but I don’t think I should have been any
the worse off for a great deal more learning than I ever got.”
“I am willing to admit that the high-school is a necessity in an
American community, but I think it ought to be combined with something
of an industrial character. The occupation of the mechanic should be
redeemed from the odium which has attached to it.”
“I agree with you there,” added Mr. Brookbine heartily. “The Millweed
boys must have been good scholars to get through when they were only
sixteen. Most of the scholars that graduate are eighteen and
nineteen.”
“And those who are not going into the learned professions have wasted
three years which ought to have been spent in the shop, or in learning
the business of life. The graduates come out, a year or two before
they are of age, with too high notions to do any thing but measure
tape; and that they call being merchants.”
Captain Gildrock was very radical in his notions, and he continued the
conversation until the meal was over. The boys were directed to take
their overcoats, and go on board of the Sylph.
“The prisoner in the brig wants to see you, Captain Gildrock,” said
Mr. Brookbine, just as the captain was going on board of the steamer.
“He must be attended to at once, for he needs more care than all the
others,” replied the captain, as he went back to the dormitory with
the carpenter.
The mechanic unlocked the doors, and the captain presented himself
before the rebel. Oscar looked very pale, and his chest heaved with
emotion. It was evident, from the appearance of his eyes, that he had
not slept well in his new quarters. A small portion of the bread on
the table had been eaten, but not enough to indicate that he had been
very hungry.
“I am told that you wish to see me,” said the captain.
“I don’t care to stay any longer in this place; and I should like to
have you send me back to my uncle,” replied Oscar.
“If that is all you want, nothing more need be said. You will not be
sent back to your uncle under any circumstances.”
“Then I will do the best I can if you will let me out,” added the
rebel.
Oscar was promptly released without a question.