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Justice at Last · The Man of the House

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  Chapter twenty seven, the final chapter of The Man of the House by Pansy.
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  This slibrivox recording is in the public domain, Chapter twenty seven, Justice
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  at Last. The boys were full of it when he reached the shop.
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  Had Reuben heard Did he know about the great fire? Surely he must have
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  heard the fire bells. Yes, Reuben had heard the fire bells, but
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  his mother had objected to his going to the fire, so he had stayed
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  in humph, said one of the boys. I guess Andrew Porter wishes his
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  mother had objected and he had paid any attention to her. Rubin turned quickly.
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  Why what about him? Why he went to the fire? It was
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  the machine shop, you know, burned to the ground. Ever so much
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  money lost. Andrew climbed up somewhere He's always climbing, and the wall gave
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  way, or the stairs or something, and he fell hundreds of feet.
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  Some say, anyhow, they picked him up for dead, but he isn't
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  dead. The doctor just came from there, and I heard him tell mister
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  Stewart that the boy was breathing. But that was about all. As Reuben
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  stood silent for a full minute before turning to his work to think over this
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  wonderful and terrible news. There came to him a curious, pained feeling that
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  somehow he was to blame. Had he really wished Andrew to get awful sick?
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  Oh, but he had not wanted him to die. Suppose he should
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  die without ever speaking another word, and suppose he had done it all day.
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  Reuben's heart was heavier than ever, but he prayed a great many times
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  that day for the life of Andrew. The boy did not die. As
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  the days passed, it was found that his life was not in present day.
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  But with this news came some that seemed to the boys almost as sad
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  as death itself. There was a hush in the shop all the morning after
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  Clark Potter gave the news. He himself had heard the doctor that very morning
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  tell Andrew's uncle from Eastport that the fall had hurt his spine in some way.
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  Clark had not understood how. Only this he knew that the doctor had
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  said positively that the boy would never take another step. It was three days
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  afterwards that Reuben decided to go and see Andrew Porter. It was not because
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  he had any hope of hearing news from him concerning poor Samson. In fact,
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  he did not think of Samson when he decided to go. It was
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  because Clark said he heard that Andrew was awful lonesome and complained that the boys
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  did not come to see him. I really have not time to tell you
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  much about the next three weeks, only in a general way. Reuben carried
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  out his resolve and went that very evening to ask after Andrew and found him
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  sick and suffering. His mother, who had had orders to let every fellow
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  in who looked like a boy, took Reuben to his room without warning.
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  A very short call he made, but he felt so sorry for Andrew that
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  on the next day he went again and again, and at last it grew
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  to be a settled thing, that not a day would pass without his spending
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  all the time he could get with Andrew. The books suffered a little.
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  He learned a lesson every night, but it was shorter than it used to
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  be, and his mother wondered if he were going to learn to nurse sick
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  folks instead of being a scholar. And Beth asked many questions as to why
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  he had grown fond of that Porter boy. All of a sudden, Reuben
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  owned that he was not fond of him, but that few of the boys
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  came to see him. He seemed not to have many friends, and he
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  was so lonesome. He is getting used to me now and likes to have
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  me come. At first he did not seem to want me. This was
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  all the explanation Reuben had, and Beth tossed her head and thought it was
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  very queer as for mister Barrows. As the days passed and Reuben was faithful
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  to his work and respectful, yet came no nearer to that confession for which
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  the gentleman longed. He told himself that he did not know what to think.
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  How could he trust a boy and do for a boy as he had
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  meant to for him who had deceived him? How could the trouble have happened
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  in any other way than through him? Yet, on the other hand,
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  how could a boy who was so faithful in all other things have so dreaded
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  fully deceived him? Once? Mister Barrows was in almost as much trouble as
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  the rest of them. Meantime, what Andrew thought as he laid day after
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  day in his bed, much of the time alone, He kept to himself.
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  It was a lovely summer evening the windows of Andrews's room were both thrown
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  wide open, and the bed on which he lay was wheeled as near to
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  them as it could be got. And he lay looking out on the lovely
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  fields, green and quiet, thinking perhaps what a strange sad thing it was
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  that he should never scamper over them again, for his face was very sober.
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  Reuben, book in hand, waited to go on with the story which
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  he was reading to him, but he put out his hand and motioned the
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  book away. No, I want to talk. That is, I've got
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  to talk. I've made up my mind. It has taken me weeks to
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  do it, and I never thought I should. And I suppose I might
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  have waited to hear the last of the story, for you won't want to
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  read it to me when I'm done my talk. But I'm going to tell
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  it right here this minute, all right, said Reuben. Talk away,
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  but you won't say much more to me in that good natured way, old
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  fellow, when you've heard my talk. I've got something awful to tell you,
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  Reuben. It was I that took Sampson out that night and brought him
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  back again. I thought as much, said Reuben, his voice very quiet
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  and matter of course, he had not thought over this whole thing for weeks
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  without learning to keep his face quiet when there was need. You did in
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  spite of the poor back. There was a little start from the boy on
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  the bed that made a quiver of pain shoot all through him. Yes,
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  I did, do be careful, Andrew, don't make the least bit of
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  a move again. What will the doctor say if you get up a fever?
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  I think I better read? Now? What made you think it was?
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  I? Oh, I don't know. I just kind of felt maybe
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  it was. Somebody had to do it, you see, and I knew
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  I didn't. But how did I get in? That's more than I know
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  or can guess, And it is what made the whole thing seem foolish.
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  Only you see, somebody got in, and it might as well have been
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  you as anybody. Now, shall I read? No, I'm going to
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  tell you all about it. I didn't mean any harm to you, Reuben,
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  not a bit. I began to like you a little before this.
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  I guess I kind of liked you all the time. I didn't mean to
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  do any harm to anybody. I thought he was dreadful, afraid of his
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  old horse, and I knew I could ride horseback, and I thought he
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  considered himself so smart about that key that I just longed to try my hand
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  with it. I most knew it was like the lock's uncle James makes.
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  He's my uncle up in Eastport. He makes all kinds of locks, and
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  he had one real queer that I learned how to manage. I thought this
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  was like it, and it was, oh enough like it for me to
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  catch the trick. When I saw Rupert locking the barn one day, well,
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  I didn't mean to steal a key, you know, but he left
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  his right on the desk that afternoon. Who did mister Barrows himself? He
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  wears it on that chain, you know. And while I was waiting for
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  him to read the note I brought, he looked at his watch and the
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  chain got caught somehow, and he worked at it a minute. Then he
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  unscrewed the chain and slipped off the keys and laid them down on the desk.
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  Then that fellow tumbled through the elevator hole, you know, and yelled,
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  and mister Barrows thought he was hurt and ran, and I just picked
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  up the key and ran too. But how did you get it back on
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  the chain? Said Reuben in utter bewilderment. That was easy enough. I
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  didn't know how to do it. I thought I should have to lose the
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  key. I wish now I had done it, and then he would have
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  thought some fellow found it and broke in, and wouldn't have blamed you.
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  I never thought of his being such a moolie as to think you did it.
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  I didn't, honest, Reuben, never mind, what did you do?
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  Why? I went there after milk, and mister Barrows was dressing.
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  He had been up in Rupert's room taking care of him, and there lay
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  his watch on the table, and his cuff buttons and all his fixings.
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  I just slipped the key on the chain in a twinkling and went away happy.
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  I thought there wouldn't be any trouble to anybody. Then. You didn't
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  know Samson was hurt, not a bit of it. I knew he stumbled
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  and got his foot in that mean hole in the crosswalk and limped a little.
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  But that was when we were just home, and I hustled him into
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  the barn and thought he would be all right in the morning. But it
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  turned out just awful, Oh, said Reuben. I'm so glad glad of
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  what? Why that you didn't know how poor Sampson was hurt. It did
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  seem too awful in anybody to leave him to suffer. Well. I didn't
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  think about his being hurt much of any I was cut up awfully when I
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  heard the news next day. Then next thing I heard, he thought it
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  was you. He might have known better than that. Seems to me I'd
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  have known it with my eyes shut as many times as he has held you
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  up to me for a pattern too. Andrew's voice was full of contempt.
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  I'll tell you what I did, he went on. After a moment,
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  I watched to see if he would discharge you. Then I meant to own
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  up whatever it cost. But when things went on just as usual, I
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  felt a little better, Oh said Reuben. It was every word he said.
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  It all flashed over him, the folly of trying to make a boy
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  like Andrew Porter understand what he had suffered and what his mother and Beth had
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  suffered in bearing false blame. There was more talk, a great deal of
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  it, for now that Andrew's lips were open, he seemed to find comfort
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  in telling all the particulars of those weeks. He told how beat he was
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  to think that Reuben should have been the first boy to call on him,
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  and the only one to come to him day after day, and how he
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  had learned to watch for his coming, and how at last, when he
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  made up his mind that he must tell the whole story or he should die,
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  the worst was to think of not seeing him there any more. I
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  shall come all the same, said Reuben quietly. But now I want to
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  ask you one question more. When do you intend to tell mister Barrows?
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  I said Andrew, and the dark red blood rolled into his face. Why
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  you can tell him all about it. I'll take the consequences. They can't
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  be very dreadful. Here on my back. Father would pay for the horse
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  fast enough if he had anything to pay with. But he hasn't, and
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  mister Barrows knows it. No, said Reuben firmly, You're the one to
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  tell. And to that he held, spite of Andrew's half tearful arguments,
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  it would be better, a great deal better, both for himself and for
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  Andrew, that the confession should come from him. And until you tell it,
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  he said, I will keep still. I have done it so long
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  and I can keep on. At last, Andrew owned that it would be
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  the best, but that he was sure he never could, but that if
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  Reuben would wait some day, he would try. He could not tell when.
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  And truly it seemed to Ruben as the days passed, that Andrew was
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  very long in keeping his promise. He did not desert him. The readings
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  went on, and the tender care and kindness, and because of the fever
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  and delirium that followed this first talk, he did not hurry him or indeed
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  say a word more than his wistful eyes said every day. But all the
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  time he could not help wishing and wishing that Andrew would get courage to do
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  right. He could not bring himself to be willing to tell the story,
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  for he feared mister Barrows and others might think that his only object in going
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  to see Andrew in his trouble was to threaten the facts out of him.
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  One night, he knew, as soon as he turned the corner that led
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  to the little house and saw Beth standing at the gate, that something had
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  happened. Sure enough, she rushed toward him. Oh, Ruben, such
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  news, you can't think. Don't you believe that Andrew Porter did it all?
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  And he has had mister Barrows there and told all about it and how
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  good you were and all, and mister Barrows has been here, and he
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  cried and said he should never forgive himself for thinking hard of you. And
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  I'm sure I don't believe I can ever forgive him. But he was so
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  nice, Reuben, you can't think. And he wants you to go to
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  school all the time, and he is willing to send you to college.
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  And oh, dear, it is such a splendid long story, Reuben,
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  aren't you awfully astonished? No, said Reuben, his eyes shining, not
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  much, you see, I knew the most of it before Then. It
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  was Beth's turn to open her eyes, and she stormed him with questions and
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  overwhelmed him with exclamations for the next half hour. How could he possibly have
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  kept still all those weeks thinking that Andrew Porter was the boy? Why didn't
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  he run straight home and tell her the minute Andrew confessed it? What was
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  the use in being thought so meanly? Of a minute longer than was necessary?
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  After much careful explaining, Reuben succeeded in making his eager sister understand something
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  about the feelings that had kept him patient and quiet all these weeks, you
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  see, he said, as a finish to the story. I could afford
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  to wait because I knew it would all come out right. I didn't see
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  how, but then I was sure of it because I'm a soldier and my
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  captain is bound to take care of me and see me safe through everything,
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  because he has promised, and it is likely I shouldn't trust him when I've
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  enlisted to fight under his flag forever. Oh, Beth, if you only
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  were a soldier too, this silenced Beth. I did mean to stop right
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  here and not try to tell you anything more about Reuben Watson Stone, though
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  as you may imagine, there is plenty to tell. But I do feel
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  as though I must tell you about one thing because it seems to fit in
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  so far back in the story. Not a week after all these strange things
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  had happened to Ruben, just as he was starting for the shop, one
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  morning, a little red and white cow came trotting up the street, a
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  boy guiding her, and a smiling faced old lady on the sidewalk moved towards
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  Reuben. How do you do she said heartily as she caught a glimpse of
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  him. I was in hopes i'd find you in You remember me, don't
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  you? You found my ticket on the cars, you know, and help
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  me to the stage afterwards. Oh, I never forgot it, nor your
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  nice, honest face. I've kept an eye on you ever since, though,
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  what with sickness in my son's family and then being sick myself, I
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  haven't got around before. I heard of your trouble, and I heard of
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  your getting out of it. I knew you would, my boy. The
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  Lord takes care of his own, and I knew you was one of his
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  own. I know a good many things about you. Look here, and
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  she stepped closer to him and sank her voice to a whisper. You didn't
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  know Spunk's master had anything to do with me, now, did you.
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  It is queer, But I'm his grandmother, and I've heard about midnight rides
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  and saloons and all that. You did better work that time than you knew
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  of. My grandson hasn't forgot it, can't forget it. He is the
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  man of the house himself. You see all the son his mother has,
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  And he didn't like the thought of the contrast. There would be between you
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  one of these days if he kept on and you kept on, and he
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  has turned square around. Well, I oughtn't to keep you away from your
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  work, my man. So if you will just look after Dorcas here and
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  tell the boy where you would like to have her put, I'll trod on
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  why. Yes, of course she is yours. A man with a family
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  to support needs a cow, and she is the nicest critter ever was and
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  gives cream most instead of milk. Now, I am sure there is no
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  use in trying to describe to you Reuben's astonishment. Isn't it a good place
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  to stop? And yet there came to him before that day closed what he
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  called the best news he had ever had in his life. It was Beth,
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  curling in a little heap on the sofa beside him. Who brought it?
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  What do you think it was? Why that at last she had really
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  decided to wear the colors of his captain and fight under his flag. Among
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  the pleasant words that she spoke to him that night were the ones that told
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  him she had been led to think carefully about it all from seeing how well
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  he bore the trouble that had come to him before that she was getting to
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  have a feeling that it was easy enough for Reuben to be good. Everybody
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  praised him and trusted him, and he did almost exactly as he liked,
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  and there wasn't anything for him to be cross about. But afterwards, when
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  she found herself so cross with mister Barrows, and so angry at that wicked
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  somebody who brought all this trouble on him, and found Reuben so patient and
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  so unwilling to have mister Barrows blamed, and so cheerful all the time,
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  she began to see that something had made him very different. It was quite
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  dusk when they had their happy talk. Reuben had been to pay a visit
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  to the new Samson who lived in the barn, and who already knew him
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  and liked him well. He had fed Dorcas her evening meal, and drank
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  a glassful of her rich, creamy milk, and had tucked her away for
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  the night. All the day's duties were done. Just then the parlor door
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  opened, and mother came, bringing a lamp behind her. Miss Hunter,
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  looking twice glad for Beth had given her the good news. Come, Reuben
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  said his mother. Let us have prayers now. It is after eight o'clock.
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  The evenings are growing very short, so they all knelt down, and
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  the Man of the House, with a full heart, thanked God for all
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  his benefits. End of Chapter twenty seven. End of The Man of the
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  House by Pansy. Thanks for listening.