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How It Ended · The Man of the House

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  Chapter twenty four of The Man of the House by Pansy. The slibber Box
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  recording is in the public domain. Chapter twenty four. How it ended.
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  The next thing was that after sticky hands had been washed and little wads of
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  candy had been picked from chairs and carpet, and the company had all gone
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  into the sitting room for some games, the dining room door opened and Black
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  Nancy appeared with a large fruit basket of apples in one hand and balancing on
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  her head in a graceful way, the largest pitcher Reuben had ever seen.
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  Oh oh, shouted John Stewart, who was a nephew of their host.
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  Apples and cider. I forgot that we had any cider, boys, I
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  tell you it is prime, just the right taste to it. In a
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  twinkling, a row of sparkling goblets was arranged on the table and brimmed with
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  the beautiful amber colored cider. Doesn't it look too lovely for anything? Declared
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  little Addie Parker, clasping her hands in a flutter of satisfaction. I do
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  love cider dearly, and we never have any at our house because Aunt Fanny
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  doesn't like it so silly in her Why can't you have anything at your house
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  that your aunt Fanny doesn't like? This question was asked in a very wondering
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  tone by Arthur Holmes, and while the others laughed, Addie explained, Oh,
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  she doesn't approve of it, you know, doesn't like to have the
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  boys drink it. She is afraid they will be drunkards. And ADDIE's laugh
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  rang out in a silvery way, as though becoming drunkards was a very funny
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  thing. So out of politeness to her, Papa won't have it because she
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  is the housekeeper, you know. And he says she ought not to have
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  in the cellar what she doesn't like the idea, said Kate Wells, I
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  thought everybody drank cider. Now, Kate Wells was one of the best dressed
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  little girls in the room. In fact, she was always well dressed.
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  And she lived in an elegant house with lovely lawns about it, and a
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  carriage drive up to the door, and she rode on horseback a wonderful little
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  pony of her own, and her father was the richest man in town.
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  I wonder, after all I have told you, if you are astonished at
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  Beth's Stone for taking SIPs of cider with the rest little bits of SIPs they
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  were, and they did not taste good to her at all. In fact,
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  she told herself that she did not see what they wanted to make such
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  a fuss over cider, for she hated it, yet she sipped it.
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  Reuben was astonished. He stared over at Beth in a way that made her
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  glowing cheeks feel as though they would blaze, And she even spilled a little
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  of her cider on the blue Merino. Reuben began to feel as though he
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  really was not acquainted with Beth, when before, in all her life,
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  had she gone contrary to his views and plans. She had thought as he
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  thought, liked what he liked, and hated what he hated with all her
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  earnest little heart, until now, when something the name of which he did
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  not know, had come in between them. Even if somebody had told him
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  that the name of this enemy was pride, I am not sure that he
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  would have understood. He knew so little about such an enemy. No,
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  I thank you, he said, when his glass of cider was past,
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  And he said it in a louder and firmer tone than he would have used
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  had not Beth been sitting opposite to him, just then, sipping hers What
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  said black Nancy, ain't got a boy here that don't like cider. No,
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  said Reuben again, in that very clear, firm tone. I like
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  it first rate, but I won't drink it all the same. Why not
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  because I have signed a temperance pledge for one thing, ho said Harry Jones
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  crossly. Temperance pledges have nothing to do with cider. Everybody drinks it.
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  My pledge has something to do with cider. It speaks it right out,
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  and if it didn't, I would have it put in. I have been
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  thinking about it a good deal all this winter, and I've found lots of
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  temperance folks and a good many books that don't believe in cider at all.
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  But this is nothing but sweet cider. This, Stella Burns said, speaking
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  a little timidly. She belonged to a temperance society and had signed a pledge
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  that had cider in it, and she wanted to do right. But she
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  he had made her weak little conscience believe that the pledge couldn't possibly have meant
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  sweet cider. For everybody said that did no more harm than water. The
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  simple truth was that she had not heard everybody say any such thing. Only
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  three of her schoolmates had said. So. There isn't any such thing as
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  sweet cider, declared Ruben boldly, not of the kind that people drink.
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  It begins to have alcohol in it before it is a day old, and
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  people don't like the taste of it unless it does have Where is your cider
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  mill, asked Arthur Holmes, and the others laughed, But Harry Jones had
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  no idea of letting the argument go, and he began to question and cross
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  question in a way that showed his conscience was a little touched. And Ruben
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  answered in a way that showed he had studied the matter and was prepared to
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  argue. But some of the boys had no idea of getting themselves well worsted
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  in an argument. They had not forgiven Reuben for refusing to laugh with them
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  over the trick played on Teddy. They were in no mood to hear more
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  from him. Poh, said Arthur Holmes. Let him alone. What's the
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  use of talking. It's natural enough that he shouldn't want to drink cider.
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  His great grandfather and his grandfather were both drunkards, and his father when he
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  was a small boy, laughed at another boy for being afraid to say his
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  prayers, and then to drown his remorse, took to drinking cider, and
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  was never heard of afterwards. Arthur Holmes was nearly four years older than Reuben
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  and had the name of being very witty. This must account for the folly
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  and falsehood in his sentence. Some of the boys laughed, many of them
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  seemed to think they must when Arthur spoke, but two or three looked over
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  at Reuben as though they thought this was pretty high and they were sorry for
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  him. Reuben, however, was not at all troubled. He was one
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  of those fortunate boys who always grew unconcerned when people began to say false and
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  foolish things about him. Had there been even a shadow of truth in Arthur's
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  words, I do not know how he might have felt. But as it
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  was, he fixed a pair of good natured eyes on Arthur as he said,
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  you are not very good at it. After all, you ought to
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  hear some of the poor fellows who get their living by telling stories. They
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  could beat you all to pieces and scare you too. Sometimes there won't be
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  any more truth in what they say than there is in what you have been
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  saying. But then you see they don't know any better. This time the
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  laugh was against Arthur, most of the listeners having sense enough to see that
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  Reuben had given him a very sharp answer. Let him alone, said John
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  Stewart, good naturedly. If a fellow doesn't want to drink sweet cider,
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  I don't believe in making him do it. There will be all the more
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  left for us. But Kate Wells had no idea of giving it up in
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  that way. She brought her sparkling glass of cider and sat down beside Reuben.
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  But I want you to tell me, she began, in a clear
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  voice that could be heard all over the room, just why you don't believe
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  in drinking sweet cider. You are not really afraid of being a drunkard,
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  are you, Yes, said Reuben soberly. I am afraid of being a
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  drunkard. And Beth, hearing this, hearing the exclamations of surprise and dismay
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  and amusement that went around the room, felt as though she would like to
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  slip down through the floor somewhere out of sight. But that is being a
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  coward, said Kate Wells, who nearly a spoke her thoughts aloud without stopping
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  to think how they would sound. The boys laughed at this, and Arthur
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  Holmes said, that's plain English. Anyhow, what is being a coward?
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  Rubin asked, and Kate tried to answer, why it's being afraid? Of
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  course. Then all the boys and some of the girls tried to talk at
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  once and tell what they thought was the meaning of the word coward, And
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  they got into such confusion that John Stewart said, hold on, I'll ask
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  the old fellow in the bookcase what he thinks about it. His opinion is
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  worth three of ours any day. So he dragged down Webster, unabridged and
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  poring over it a few minutes, read aloud coward a person who lacks courage
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  to meet danger. Most of the listeners seemed surprised by this definition. It
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  did not quite seem to fit. Ruben for refuse using to drink cider,
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  but Arthur Holmes was for holding to it. Well, suppose there was danger
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  to some people in drinking cider. Mind you, I don't believe it,
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  But suppose there was. Then the people who are all the time so afraid
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  of the danger that they can't enjoy it, nor let anybody else enjoy it,
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  are cowards. I should think hold on, said Reuben. If there
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  is danger to anybody, then I must have a good reason for going into
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  it and setting other people an example to follow, mustn't I? That is
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  what we agreed to win class only last Sunday. Anyhow, Now, where's
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  my good reason for drinking cider? If there's a fear that anybody in the
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  world might be harmed by it? I didn't say there was any such fear,
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  said Arthur. But the talk was getting away from where Kate Wells wanted
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  to keep it. But what I want to know is, she said,
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  looking at why you come to be different from the rest of the boys about
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  this? What made you think of cider and decide that it was wrong to
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  drink it and give it up when you say you like it? Did anybody
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  tell you you must? Of course there did. His mother told him tonight,
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  just before he left home, that if he drank a drop of cider,
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  she would tie him to the bedpost and feed him on castor oil for
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  a week. Of course, this was Arthur Holmes, who was trying so
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  hard to be funny, But the boys were not ready to laugh. They
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  were listening to Reuben's answer. Yes, he said, speaking slowly and gravely.
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  Somebody told me I mustn't. I'm a soldier. I belong to the
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  Lord Jesus Christ. I've promised to fight for everything that is right and to
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  fight against everything that is wrong so long as I live. And I know
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  rum is wrong, and I know it leads people down to awful places.
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  I've seen more of it than any of you. I suppose you can't walk
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  through the streets of a big city as I did every day for years without
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  seeing enough of it to make you hate it. I've been in terrible danger
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  too, with a drunken man. It wasn't my father, and here Reuben's
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  eyes flashed. My father has been dead so many years that I don't remember
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  him at all, but I know he hated rum. It was a stranger
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  to me, but I thought that he and I would both be killed together
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  all because of rum, and I hate it. I talked with a friend
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  about cider, and she showed me plain enough that there was danger in it.
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  And since then I've read about it and heard two temperance lectures on it
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  by great men, and I know there is danger in it. So then
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  it is wrong, and I'm bound to fight against it because I am a
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  soldier. It was a long speech for Reuben to make. When he began,
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  he had not the least idea that he would say so much, but
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  the words seemed to come almost without his knowing it. Nobody laughed when he
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  stopped, and some of the little girls set back their glasses and concluded they
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  didn't want any more cider. Come, said John Stewart, at last,
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  we've had talk enough. Let's play some games. Soon afterwards, Beth and
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  Reuben took the stillest walk home that they had ever taken in their lives.
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  Ruben was dumb with disappointment over the evening, not for what the boys had
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  said. He had been used to boys all his life, rougher boys than
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  these ever thought of being, but because Beth had not said and done as
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  he thought she would. The winter, which was now almost gone, had
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  been a disappointment to him in this regard. In his honest, earnest heart,
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  Reuben had fully expected Beth to join him as soon as ever she heard
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  of the great news that he was a soldier. Indeed, he had had
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  no thought of going without Beth. But to his great dismay. She was
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  not interested in his new hopes and plans. Her head was full of her
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  pretty new dresses and ruffles, and new ways of braiding her hair, and
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  in looking and acting as much as possible like other little girls of her age.
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  She worked hard on her bright brass machine, driving the needle between the
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  shining teeth in a way that astonished even herself, and earning more money each
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  day than her mother had been able to earn in the city, working twelve
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  hours a day. But her ambition was to earn money enough to go to
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  school and study French, and perhaps after a while take music lessons. Who
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  knows, said Beth to herself, a great man, Many wonderful things have
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  happened this year. Some more things may happen before the year is out.
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  So though she was bright and eager and industrious, as ready as ever to
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  enter into all Ruben's plans for work or study on this one subject that was
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  every day growing to be more to Reuben than anything else, she was unconcerned.
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  So they were both still on this moonlight evening as they walked home together
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  from their first party, neither was as blissfully happy as both had expected to
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  be oh, Beth, Ruben said at last, I didn't think you would
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  drink the cider. Why not? I wonder. I haven't signed your old
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  pledge, and I don't mean to. I think it is silly anyway,
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  and awfully proud in you, Reuben Stone, to set yourself up to know
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  more than all those boys and girls who have been to school all their lives.
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  I only dipped the cider, and it was nice and sweet, and
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  if you had kept still, I might have had a nice time. And
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  I didn't a bit, and I never want to go anywhere again. So
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  there. Reuben had never in his life heard his sister talk in that fashion
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  before. He did not know what to say. At last, he tried
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  to explain, but Beth, I couldn't you know I had signed the pledge
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  and I couldn't anyway because I am a soldier, and oh, Beth,
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  I thought you were going to be one. Well I'm not, declared Beth
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  in her sharpest tone, I don't want to be a soldier, nor anything
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  that makes you different from other people. I've been different all my life,
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  never had things, nor gone to places, nor done like other little girls.
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  And now just when I've got a chance, to be like them and
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  have a good time. You go and spoil it with all your notions about
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  its being wrong to drink cider and wrong to laugh at a funny story,
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  and wrong to do anything. And you go and tell them about your never
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  having had any chances, and about newsboys and bootblacks and everything you never used
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  to be. So before you went and got these notions, you would do
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  anything for me. And now you spoil all the good times I might have.
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  And I never want to be a soldier at all, and I wish
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  you wasn't one. So there, and poor angry little Beth burst into a
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  perfect passion of tears and dashed into the house like a comment. And that
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  was the way that first evening out to which they had looked forward ended,
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  No, not quite that way. Beth went directly upstairs, but Reuben stopped
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  in the little parlor a moment. No one was there but miss Hunter.
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  She greeted him with a cheery smile and a question, well, my boy,
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  did you see anything of Satan to night? Oh? Miss Hunter?
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  He was there all the time, and busier than I ever saw him before.
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  I'll warrant you get a party of boys and girls together and he's on
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  hand, and Miss Hunter, he is after Beth. Of course he is.
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  Do you think he is going to let such a pretty bright little girl
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  as Beth alone and let her slip away from him without a hard fight.
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  He is much too sharp a captain for that. Don't you let him get
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  her? My boy, I don't know, said Reuben doubtfully. I don't
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  believe I can help it. Down there in the city where there were fifty
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  chances for going wrong, where there is one here, she was just the
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  best girl. I thought, maybe after I found out about it, that
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  she had been a soldier all the time and didn't know it. But up
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  here, where everything is nice and pleasant and it is as easy again to
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  do right, she seems just as different. You can't think, Yes,
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  I can think, said miss Hunter, nodding her gray head. Satan has
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  different ways for different people, and he knows just how to catch a pretty
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  girl like our Beth. It is twice as hard a place for her to
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  do right in as it was in that dingy north room of yours. Shut
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  up with your mother. But look here, my boy, you can't do
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  much to be sure alone. But isn't that captain of yours strong enough to
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  manage Satan in the country as well as in the city. Do you suppose
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  he has got any plans that your captain don't understand. Well, then just
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  you go to him about Beth, tell him the whole story, and ask
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  him to show you just how to get her to wear your collars. If
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  I were you, I would tell him all about it this very night Reuben
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  did. End of chapter twenty four.