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In the Little House at Home · The Man of the House

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Chapter nineteen of the Man of the House by Pansy. The slibrivox recording is
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in the public domain. Chapter nineteen. In the Little House at Home,
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Hark said a voice inside. What was that the wind? I s'pose I
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didn't hear anything, I say, Jim, what a coward you are.
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If I'd known you was so scary, I'd never have undertaken this job with
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you. Well, hurry up, or the undertaking won't do you any good.
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I don't believe the key is here at all. That horse is a
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vixen anyhow. He won't let us touch him. I don't believe what ails
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them matches. Why don't they burn? I don't believe he will, said
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Reuben to himself, in answer to their remark about Samson. So you are
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after him, you scamps. I'm glad I hung the key where it doesn't
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belong. Now forgetting back. The fact was, the little noise one of
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them had heard was the turning of the key in the lock. It slipped
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into place as noiselessly as anybody could wish, turned with just the least bit
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of a click, which the wind might have made in a dozen ways,
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and Reuben drew it out again and tiptoed over the snow, climbed to the
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coal box, wound his spry young limbs around the gutter pipe, scuttled over
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the shed roof, and was back in his room again in a jiffy,
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moving very softly, still not waiting for clothes even yet, but wrapping himself
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in the grand overcoat that had kept him warm all day. He opened the
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hall door and felt his way down the hall to the front stairs, down
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those stairs and another hall, carefully feeling his way and knocking softly at last
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at what he guessed was mister Barrows's room. There was no answer, and
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he had to knock a little louder. Halloo came at last from inside.
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Who's there? What's the matter? It's me, said Reuben in a soft
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whisper. Won't you please to let me in? I want to speak to
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you a few words of talk inside, a little waiting, and then mister
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Barrows threw open the door. What's up, my boy? Are you sick?
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No, sir, said Reuben, stepping inside and quietly closing the door.
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But there's somebody in the house. Oh no, said mister Barrows.
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I guess not. You've been dreaming and got frightened, and Reuben knew by
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the sound of his voice that he was smiling. No, Sir, said
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Reuben. It's them that are scared, I guess, or will be pretty
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soon. I don't think they know yet. They're in the kitchen, sir,
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hunting for the barn key, and I've locked em up, only they
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don't know. Oh it in the kitchen. Who are you've locked them up?
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Are you talking in your sleep? And mister Barrows fumbled for his matches,
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touched the gas jet and took a look at the boy, done up
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in an overcoat and with bare feet and legs. No, sir, said
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Reuben again, and he giggled in spite of himself. He knew he looked
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funny. It's quite a long story, sir, I heard em. I
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know they are there, and I don't quite see how they can get out
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until you or I let em. There's the key. They waked me up
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talking over their plans, and I knew I had the kitchen key, so
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I slipped down the roof and locked the door. They thought I was the
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wind and kept on hunting for the barn key. A more astonished looking man
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than mister Barrows. It would be hard to find. There was much about
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the story that he did not understand, but it was plain to be seen
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that Reuben wo was wide awake and knew what he was talking about. So
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without more ado, mister Barrows hurriedly dressed himself, Reuben quietly stepping into the
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hall. Better go upstairs, my boy, mister Barrows said, as he
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passed him. You have done your share, and if the scamps are young
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fellows, as I suspect, it will be better for you not to appear.
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I'll wait here, said Reuben, taking a seat in the hall.
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Mister Barrows went on through the hall through the dining room, stopping there to
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turn on the gas, which, when the door was opened, would send
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a flood of light into the kitchen. Then he quietly opened the door and
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said well boys, good morning, and took a seat. Reuben, listening,
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thought he would give almost anything to see their faces. Just then he
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heard their smothered exclamations of dismay and terror, and their dash for the door,
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which of course was locked, to their utter confusion. Just what passed
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in that kitchen after that, Reuben does not know to this day. He
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heard the voices low and steady, but could catch no word. By and
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by he heard the key turn in the lock, heard mister Barrows say good
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bye, and then presently he came back to the hall. You have done
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a grand knight's work, my boy, he said, placing his hand on
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Reuben's head, one that you can be glad about forever. Those fellows meant
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to take Samson and have an all night frolic. They would have ruined him,
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without doubt, But they would have done worse than that. Samson is
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a good horse when people know how to manage him, and a bad one
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when they don't. They would have taken the whip to him, and then
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he would have been unmanageable at once, and the probability is they would have
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been killed. Now, come where it is warm and let me hear the
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whole story of how you found them out. And he led the way to
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the sitting room. I don't suppose they meant to steal, Reuben said,
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in an inquiring tone. I don't suppose they did, said mister Barrows.
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At least they didn't call it that. And yet you see they were preparing
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to steal the use of my horse, and they stole the last hours of
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the Sabbath day for their own pleasure. In point of fact, they were
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thieves, the worst kind of thieves, stealing from God. People often fail
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to call things by their right names. Is your question decided yet, my
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boy, No, sir, said Reuben, looking down. And then mister
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Barrows caught sight of his bare feet and sent him to bed, with directions
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to sleep as late as he could in the morning. But when Reuben had
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tucked himself into bed again, it seemed to him that his eyes were wider
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open than they had ever been before. He went over every little circumstance connected
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with the night and wondered for the twentieth time who those fellows could be.
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He thought of all the little things that had happened beforehand to make it possible
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for him to prevent the mischief, exactly as though somebody who knew all about
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what was going to happen had planned all the other things and made them fit,
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he said. And then he gave a little start, and his eyes
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seemed to grow bigger as he remembered that God knew all about all things before
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they came to pass. Another thought made his cheeks grow red. Mister Barrows
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had called the fellow's thieves, and said they stole from God. Had not
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his teacher said that day that he belonged to God? Had he not stolen
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himself from God and used his time and his strength as he pleased? Was
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it possible that he, Ruben Watson Stone was a thief. I'll give myself
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back to him, he said, decidedly. I'll never steal another hour.
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I'll decide the question now this minute, and I'll tell him so and ask
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him to take me. A second time on that cold winter night did Reuben
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Stone hop out of his warm bed. This time it was to get on
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his knees. In the little house at home, things were not getting on
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any too well. During Reuben's absence. The mother was secretly very much astonished
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over the number of things that one small boy could do to make the days
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pass more easily. She had not known before just what a help and comfort
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her man of the house was. But missing him was not the only trouble.
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Work suddenly grew very scarce. Whether all the boys in the world were
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supplied with shirts, Missus Stone did not know. She only knew that when
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she carried the last bundle back, a thing she was not used to doing,
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it was two years since Reuben had allowed her to carry any bundles through
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the streets. The foreman told her the package to carry home would be lighter,
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that he had only a very small one. Work was scarce, and
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it had been as much as they could do to divide it among their faithful
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workers so as to give all some. This made missus Stone look very grave.
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It was as much as they could do to get along when she sewed
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every minute, and the very little that Reuben had been able to earn,
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so little that she had not supposed she could miss, it was really missed
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a great deal. She walked home very slowly, saving the five cents that
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it would have cost to ride part of the long way in the street car,
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and tried to contrive some way to save money, or to earn a
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little more to make matters worse. What did Beth do but meet her at
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the door with the news, Oh, mother, the agent has been here
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and given notice that the rent on this house will be raised a whole dollar
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the first of next month, a whole dollar, repeated Missus Stone. Then
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we must starve. And then she did what Beth had never seen her do
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before. She sat down in the little sewing chair behind the stove and cried.
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This was only two days after Reuben went away. From that time,
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mother and daughter scrimmed and pinched, both with coal and potatoes, and tried
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in every possible way to save a penny. Miss Hunter was just as good
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as she could be, and had invited them twice to dinner and once to
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tea. But the second time missus Stone would not go. We can't invite
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her back, she said grimly to Beth. And she does it out of
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charity anyhow, I ain't used to charity. You can go if you want
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to, child, but her nice white bread would choke me. But Beth
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wouldn't go without her mother, not even to save an evening's meal. So
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it was not much that Miss Hunter could do for them. In fact,
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she could not find out how much they needed doing for though she suspected,
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for Beth's eyes were often red. She knew too that work had failed,
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but that was no more than had happened to her, skilled workwoman that she
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was. She shed no tears over it for two reasons. In the first
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place, she had a snug little bit of money laid aside for future use,
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and in the next place, it gave her time to make over the
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blue Merino into a perfect fit for Beth. She got the exact measure by
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offering to cut out a calico for her that the mother was making out of
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hers. There's that ten dollars, mother reminded Beth as they sat together in
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the evening, talking drearily about the future. Yes, said missus Stone,
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but she spoke gloomily. She didn't often feel so dreary, but it seemed
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a dreadful thing to have work fail her and Rent raised the same week.
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It was Sunday evening, and they had passed a dreary day. A good
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deal of it had been spent in bed to be sure. Beth went to
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Sunday school with Miss Hunter, and in her new calico and lovely fur cape
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and hood looked as neat as wax. Miss Hunter would have liked her to
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wear the blue Merino, but she had not found a good excuse for giving
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it to her yet. She was waiting for Reuben to come back to make
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a smooth road for so nice a present. If I'd known about her birthday
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and had it ready, I might have given it to her, then,
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she said meditatively. But then, dear me, I wasn't so acquainted with
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them then. Besides, if I had been, I wouldn't have found out
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it was her birthday. It is so queer in the little chick to talk
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about Reuben's birthday when she was born herself the same day and hour. It
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shows what an unselfish little thing she is. After Sunday school, which Beth
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had not liked as well as Reuben did his, she had sat beside two
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little girls who whispered and giggled over the queerness of wearing fur hoods and capes
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and calico dresses. She found the fire out and her mother in bed.
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It went out, the mother said, raising herself to speak to the little
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girl. And I thought I would let it go until it was time to
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get something to eat. It would save coal, and the coal is getting
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very low. Come and lie down and take a nap. But Beth had
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slept well all night, and her eyes were wide open. The last thing
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she wanted to do was to take a nap. She thought of the glimpse
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she had had into Miss Hunter's cheery room, and a great longing came to
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her to sit down inside and read her Sabbath school book. Mother, she
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said, couldn't I go into miss Hunter's room. She asked me to come,
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and it is so nice and warm in there. But the mother answered
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her sharply, no, child, No, don't beg fire until you have
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to come and lie down. So Beth, with a sigh, had laid
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away her hood and cape and slipped under the quilts beside her mother and lay
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very still so that her mother could sleep, But did no sleeping herself,
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and wished the dreary day was done and that Reuben was at home again.
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It seemed at least a month since he went away. So this evening they
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sat drearily over the dying coals, and Beth reminded her mother of Reuben's ten
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dollars. Yes, the mother had said, I wanted to keep that to
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buy you and Reuben some spring clothes. I don't know how you are to
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get along without some. He is just in rags, and he outgrew every
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single thing he had last summer. But it will have to go, of
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course, for coal and rent, and then how long will it last?
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Ten dollars isn't a fortune. I tell you. If I don't get more
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work this week, I shall have to spend some of it right away,
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for these shirts won't buy potatoes and salt enough to last us through the week,
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mother said Beth, after another gloomy silence. Don't you truly think anything
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at all will come of Reubens going out there to stay a week? Her
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mother gave a provoked little humph as a beginning to her answer, of course,
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not what could come of it. He is nothing but a child small
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for his age too. I don't see what possessed me to let him go
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off like that. I've had to pay for it. I haven't slept two
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good hours a night since he has been away. If he only comes home
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safe without learning any dreadful habits, I shall be satisfied. It was a
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wild idea to think of our moving away out there. Where would we get
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the money to move? And just as though anybody could let us have a
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house without paying for it beforehand? But the man said we could earn it,
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persisted Beth. Oh, yes, the man said a great many things.
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He took a fananci to Reuben and felt good natured just then, and
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thought he would be doing him a kindness to let him take a little journey.
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And he knew well enough. I suppose that Reuben would find out he
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couldn't do the work and would come home satisfied. I hope he will.
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I never want him to go out of my sight again. Poor Beth sighed
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and proceeded to covering the coals and making ready for bed as her mother directed.
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But for all that talk, she couldn't quite get over her faith in
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Reuben's journey and her belief that something would come of it. It was high
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time for something to come for On Monday morning, the shirts were carried home,
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and behold, there was not one to carry back again. Dreadful slack
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times, the foreman said, and he spoke as though he was really very
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sorry. We've never seen tighter times since we've been in the business. Had
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to turn away a good many of our hands three weeks ago. We've hung
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on to our best ones as long as we could. And you shall have
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work again as soon as we have it, maybe in three or four weeks,
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maybe not so soon. The pinch won't last long. It never does
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keep up a stout heart. Yes, but on what three or four weeks
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was time enough to starve and to freeze? Missus Stone did not really expect
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to do either. She believed she could beg enough to save her from death.
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She believed that cheery miss Hunter, who had already been so very good
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to them, would find some way to keep them from starving. Why for
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the matter of that, there was the ten dollar gold piece, and the
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rent not due yet for a week. A good many things might happen in
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a week, But missus Stone was not in the mood to cheer herself without
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any hope of the future. It all looked as dark as to her.
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She did not cry again, but she went around her room with so sad
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a face that Beth cried whenever she looked at it. Once the child ventured
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a suggestion mother, Reuben said he would come on the first train. He
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will be here by dinner time. Won't he be real hungry? I suppose
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so, But we must give him some of the baked potatoes and bread.
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I don't dare to spend a cent for butter now or meat. We must
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save for the rent, child, or will be turned out into the street.
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This is a strange time to raise poor folks's rent. It was just
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at that moment that the train which was bringing Reuben home, steamed in at
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the depot three miles away end of Chapter nineteen