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Some New Experiences for Reuben · The Man of the House

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  Chapter seventeen of The Man of the House by Pansy. The Slibbrivox recording is
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  in the public domain. Chapter seventeen Some New Experiences for Reuben. It was
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  Saturday night, just after the great clock in the church tower had struck six,
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  that mister Barrows gave Reuben the key to the little house with permission to
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  look in and see that everything was all right. He stood on the little
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  stone doorstep and looked about him a few minutes, key in hand. It
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  seemed so new and business like to be standing before a door which belonged to
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  a house that he had rented and into which he was to move his family
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  so soon. For now he felt sure that his mother would come. He
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  had dreamed often and often of the time when he would rent a house and
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  move his family, But even in his wildest waking dreams had put the time
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  a few years away head Yet here he stood, all ready to do it.
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  What a nice place this would be to keep a cow, he said
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  to himself, looking around on the bit of a yard with a neat shed
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  at the back, looking wise and manly, and trying not to notice that
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  his heart was beating like a sledge hammer. I wonder if we can't manage
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  one of these days to have a cow. I wonder what Beth would say
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  to that hole tumblers full of milk. I wonder what Beth will say to
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  everything? And he drew a little sigh. It began to seem a long
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  time to wait from now until Monday before telling Beth about things. The night
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  was cold, so he decided very soon that it was foolish to stand outside
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  when he might as well go in. How nicely the key fitted in the
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  lock, he threw the door open and stepped into the bit of a hall.
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  There was a neat oil on the floor. He stopped and looked at
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  it in surprise. He had not noticed it when he was there before.
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  Maybe it goes with the house, he said aloud. I hope it does.
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  How nice it looks. Mother couldn't afford any now. I don't see
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  where the money to move is coming from. That's what bothers me. This,
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  he said, just as he was opening the parlor door. For the
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  next few minutes, he said not a word. If you could have seen
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  his face, you would have wanted a picture of it to take home with
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  you and keep. He swung his lantern aloft to get from it all possible
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  light on the scene, and stood still. On the floor was a red
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  and brown carpet, small bright leaves growing on a woodsy ground, looking to
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  him somehow like the stories of the woods that he and Beth had read together.
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  Soft the carpet was lifted one foot carefully and set it down on a
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  bright autumn leaf, then drew it back. He could not have that leaf
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  stepped on. There were curtains at the windows, some warm, bright color,
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  making him think of sunshine. There was a little round stove over by
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  the mantel and a fire burning in it. The room was warm. There
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  was a round table drawn out in the center of the room, and some
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  chairs around it, as though people had just been sitting there and had gone
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  away for a few minutes. There was even a little old fashioned cushioned lounge.
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  Reuben did not know that it was old fashioned, but he knew it
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  was beautiful. Not a word did he say. He went on tiptoe through
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  the room into the pretty kitchen. How pretty it was. The floor had
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  been painted. He saw that at a glance. He saw everything at a
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  glance, A stove set up and glowing with blacking outside and coals. Inside
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  the little cupboard stood open, and there were dishes ranged in rows, as
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  if people had just eaten supper and washed and set away the dishes. How
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  quietly and yet how brightly the fire burned in the stove. Reuben thought of
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  the one at home that always smoked and sulked and glowered. Well, he
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  said, at last, Well, if this isn't the queerest way to clean,
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  then he tried to whistle. He had always whistled before when anything surprised
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  him. But something was the matter with his throat. He choked and coughed
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  and tried to make a clear sound. Come. Then he actually sat down
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  on one of the neat chairs, of which there were several in the room,
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  and cried. What was he crying about? He couldn't have told you
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  if you had been there and asked. In fact, I suppose if you
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  had been there, he wouldn't have cried. But his heart was so full
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  of astonishment and delight and some other queer feeling of which he did not know
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  the name, that the tears would not stay back. Reuben watson Stone,
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  You're just a simpleton, that's what you are, he told himself at last,
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  Very much amazed over the tears. Then, without more ado, he
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  went upstairs. What could it all mean? He began to feel afraid that
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  some dreadful mistake had been made, and some other family not belonging to him,
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  had moved in. Here was more carpet on the floor, and a
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  bedstead set up, and curtains at the windows, and a little rocking chair
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  and a pretty oval table. Look here, said the boy at last,
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  setting down his lantern on one chair and himself on another. Wake up,
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  can't you, I say, old fellow? You must be dreamy. This
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  isn't your house. Where did all these things come from? And who are
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  they for? You don't own any of them? What are you going to
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  do about it? This is just the queerest world anyhow that ever was heard
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  of. There is never any telling what will happen next. I only wish
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  Beth could see the flowers on this carpet. She would pick em as sure
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  as the world. Then, suddenly remembering the wonderful fact that Beth would see
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  them very soon, that queer lump began to come into his throat again,
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  and he started up suddenly and seized his lantern and hurried away. He didn't
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  know what to make of himself. But he meant not to cry again,
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  well, said mister Barrows, as he appeared at last in the kitchen where
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  Reuben was putting away his lantern. Been over to the new house. Have
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  you has the cleaning been done to your mind? Cleaning? Repeated Reuben.
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  I never heard of stoves and carpets and things being cleaned into a house before,
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  mister Barrows. I don't know. I can't think. And there he
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  stopped, and that ridiculous lump began to swell and swell in his throat again.
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  How was he ever going to be able to talk with that coming up
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  to choke him? All right, said mister Barrows, smiling. You needn't
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  think anything about it. I'll guess all you were going to say. But
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  sir, said Reuben, I meant I didn't mean, you know, sir.
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  Here Reuben stopped again. Of course, said mister Barrows, I know
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  all about it. You didn't mean anybody should help you support your family.
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  You didn't expect any help, and you're quite right you'll be able to do
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  it nicely. I haven't a doubt. But see here, my boy,
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  never be afraid to take a little hearty lifting from your friends when they can
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  do it as well as not and like to, and it will make things
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  easier for your mother. Nothing very wonderful has been done. The carpet was
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  some that we had didn't want to use it, and it might as well
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  go down there and make things home. Like the stove in the kitchen is
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  second hand. We needed a larger one, and so we turned it out.
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  It wouldn't bring much of anything for old iron, and yet it is
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  a pretty good stove and will save your mother paying for the moving of hers.
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  As for the stove in the parlor, it is out of use this
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  winter and may as well stand there as anywhere. And the furniture is a
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  present to your sister Beth from my little girl, my boy, you have
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  done for me this week what all the stoves and carpets and furniture in all
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  the world can never pay. And I didn't help furnish your new house for
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  pay, but just because I wanted to. You can tell your mother you
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  earned every cent of it, and more too, for I put it there
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  because she had a good, brave, trustworthy boy. What was Reuben to
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  say? He had never felt so stupid in his life. At last he
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  made a bold dash. I don't know how to thank you, he said,
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  looking up with frank earnest eyes into mister Barrows's face. I never learned
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  how to thank folks. But I'm just as grateful as I can be,
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  and I'll do the best I can, all right, mister Barrows said.
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  It was a favorite sentence of his. When I have learned how to thank
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  you for taking care of my Gracie, perhaps you will have learned how to
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  thank me for a stove and a few things. You see, we are
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  hardly even, my boy. Reuben went away with red cheek. Of course,
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  he was glad he had used his wits and been able to rescue Gracy
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  Barrows. But he told himself, as he made ready for bed, that
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  anybody would have done that who knew enough. But there were lots and lots
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  of people who wouldn't have put all those nice things in the little house for
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  his mother. And I suppose that was true. The next day, Reuben
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  went to church in a new fashion. His church going had been very fitful.
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  He had sometimes climbed into the gallery of the Great Building where he went
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  to Sunday School, in order to hear the organ play and see the well
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  dressed people, but he always felt out of place and uncomfortable. Very few
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  people sat up there, and those few looked forlorn and friendless. Nobody spoke
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  to him or looked at him, and he gave very little attention to what
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  was going on. After the organ was still, the minister may have preached
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  very good sermons. Reuben did not know. He was busy deciding how he
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  would dress Mother and Beth when he became rich, and which pew in the
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  church he would hire, and whether he would drive to church in his carriage.
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  All these plans and many more had Reuben, and church was the place
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  in which they grew faster than anywhere else. But on this Sabbath he felt
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  like somebody else. In the first place, he had a new overcoat.
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  I wonder if Benny's coat would fit him, Missus Barrows had said at the
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  breakfast table, and her husband, with a startled look on his face,
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  had said that he shouldn't be surprised if it would. At least it might
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  be tried if she said so. After breakfast it was brought a gray coat,
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  long and heavy, with many pockets and many handsome buttons. It fitted
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  to a charm. It was my little boy's. Missus Barrow said, her
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  eyes looking tender and sad. We bought it for him only a few months
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  before he went away. I have never wanted anybody to wear it. But
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  if it hadn't been for you, perhaps we should have had no little girl
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  in the house this morning. My Benny was a good boy. I think
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  I'll give you his coat. All this made the lump come into Reuben's throat
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  again and swell larger than ever, But he resolved then and there he would
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  never soil Benny's overcoat by thinking a mean thought under it. It covered his
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  worn and patched jacket to a nicety, covered even the patch on his pantaloons,
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  and with his shoes blacked and his hair combed, he felt some way
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  as though the good times of his dreams had begun to come, and he
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  must attend to what was now going on instead of looking for any more.
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  New things were pouring in on him so fast they needed all his present attention.
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  So he sat up straight in the end of the barrel's pew beside the
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  gentleman, and though it was pretty warm, kept his overcoat on tightly buttoned
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  to his throat, and listened as well as he could to the sermon,
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  but it was in the afternoon Sabbath school that he did his best listening.
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  The class he was in was very unlike any that he had ever known about,
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  at least the teacher was in the first place. She was a young
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  and pretty lady. Reuben had a fondness for well dressed people. He did
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  not know it, at least did not realize it, but he liked to
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  look at them. He admired his teacher very much. The only other teacher
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  with whom he was acquainted had been a man who read questions at him from
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  a book, questions that he did not understand and did not care about.
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  This one did not seem to him to be talking about a Sabbath School lesson
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  at all. I wonder if any of you boys know how to manage a
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  boat, she began, and some of them did or thought they did,
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  and others of them had questions to ask, and before he knew it,
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  Reuben grew very much interested and forgot all about the lesson. What do you
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  think you would do in a storm? She asked the boy who knew how
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  to manage a boat, and that started talk afresh, and one told what
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  he would do, and another criticized it. And at last, when Reuben
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  was appealed to, he had to own that he knew just nothing at all
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  about boats well in any danger, said the teacher. Suppose you are in
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  some place where you know there is danger. You have done the very best
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  you know, and yet you feel sure you are in great danger and know
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  of no way to help yourselves. What would you do next? Why there
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  wouldn't be anything to do, declared one boy. Only to stand still and
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  let it come, or run away from it, said another. Suppose you
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  couldn't run away from it, said the teacher. Suppose it would run away
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  with you. I'd find a way out somehow, said another. But we
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  are supposing that you had tried all your ways out and were not out,
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  only felt yourselves getting deeper and deeper into trouble. What then, think,
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  all of you? Is there one in the class who has ever been in
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  great trouble out of which he could not help himself? Quick as thought did,
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  Reuben's mind go back to that wild ride with Spunk and his drunken master
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  over dark and dangerous roads, with the Flying Express training them. He had
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  kept pretty still until then an eager listener, with little to say, but
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  at the memory of his danger and his escape, he drew a long,
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  half shuddering sigh and said, almost before he knew it, I'll tell you
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  what it is. I've been there. The boys turned and looked at him,
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  and the teacher smiled on him and questioned, in danger, my boy,
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  yusum, And did you know what to do? Some things I knew
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  and did them, But there came a time that there wasn't anything left to
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  do, only hold on, and that I did with all my might,
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  but it didn't seem to be doing any good. And then what And then
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  said Reuben in a slow, grave tone, his face paling over the memory
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  of it all. I told God about it? And did he answer?
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  Yussum, said Reuben simply. The boys looked at him respectfully. His face
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  was flushed now, and he looked down to the floor. He wasn't used
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  to being talked with about such things. I am very glad, said the
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  teacher brightly. You are better able, perhaps than any of the rest of
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  us, to understand how Peter felt when he got out on that water,
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  tried to walk on it, and found that he couldn't found himself sinking.
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  It wasn't until then that he called out to the Lord. I wonder,
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  Reuben, if you waited until you had done for yourself everything that you could
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  think of before you called to him, Yusum, said Reuben, going swiftly
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  back over his experience. I did just that. People are apt too,
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  she said. Peter did so too. By this time every boy in the
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  class wanted to know about Peter. Reuben had been placed in one of those
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  trying classes where not a boy studied his lesson, And of course he hadn't.
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  He never dreamed of such a thing. So they were all ignorant together,
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  but all eager to hear. Then began the story of the night ride
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  on the lake with hard rowing and contrary wind, and one walking on the
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  water, of whom the sailors were afraid at first, and to whom Peter
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  tried to go and almost failed. It was a new story to Ruben.
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  In fact, almost all Bible stories were new to him. He was very
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  much interested, forgot that he was a stranger, and asked questions with such
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  eagerness that the teacher found it a pleasure to teach. But out of all
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  this came something strange when the last hymn was sung, and the prayer was
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  offered, and the scholars were crowding out. This new teacher laid a small
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  gloved hand on Reuben's shoulder and said in a voice that he never forgot.
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  I am glad to see that you are a Christian, my boy. Then
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  was Reuben startled. Indeed, the blood rushed over his face away to his
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  forehead, and he turned and gazed on her with astonished eyes. Ma'am,
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  he said, at last, not knowing what he ought to say, I
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  am glad that you love the Lord Jesus and look to him for help,
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  and have found him able and ready to help you. Oh, but he
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  said, in great confusion, that is a mistake. I don't know much
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  about him, and I don't belong to him at all. Is it so?
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  And Reuben felt his cheeks grow hotter over the sound of disappointed surprise in
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  her voice. I am so sorry, I thought, since you where to
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  go in trouble, you surely must be one who followed him. Don't you
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  think you ought to be a Christian? My boy? I don't know what
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  a Christian is. He looked full in her face and spoke the words gravely
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  enough He knew almost nothing about these things, and had wondered over them a
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  good deal, especially since he had known miss Hunter. A Christian is one
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  who loves the Lord Jesus Christ and tries to do as he says. I
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  don't know much about what he says. And as to loving him, why
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  I never thought of it before. Reuben was always honest, so now he
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  spoke his exact thoughts. One thing he says is that everybody ought to make
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  up their minds to obey his directions all the time. That mightn't be easy
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  to do, No, sometimes it isn't. In fact, it can't be
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  done at all without his help, But he is always ready with that,
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  and the beauty of it is the only safe way, and the only happy
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  way is the one that he points out. Then I shouldn't think it would
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  be hard to mind him, not after we once decide the thing. Will
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  you decide it now, Reuben? Reuben was startled what a plain question this
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  was, and the lady looked right at him with bright, earnest eyes and
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  waited for his answer. I don't know, he said at last, looking
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  down. Are you not a boy who always tries hard to do just as
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  he says he will. Yes. Um. He didn't hesitate a minute over
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  this answer. He felt so sure of his promises. In fact, he
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  prided himself on doing just that. I thought, so, I wish you
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  would promise to do this thing, but I can't. You see, maybe
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  it is a promise that I wouldn't keep, and I don't want to make
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  any such no, but you can certainly keep this if you choose. Won't
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  you be willing to take my word for that? No, Reuben wouldn't.
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  He did not say so, but he looked down and looked troubled, and
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  seemed not at all ready to answer, and the lady waited. Well,
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  she said, at last, will you promise this that you will think about
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  it all the rest of this day, that as much as you can,
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  you will keep from all other thoughts and just give your mind to this,
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  to what to deciding whether you will take Jesus Christ for your master and obey
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  him in every little and great thing all the rest of your life. Yusum,
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  he said, after another minute of hesitation, I will promise to think
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  about it. Then she reached forth her hand and took his little brown one
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  in it for a moment and smiled and said thank you. I can't help
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  thinking you are a true boy with good common sense, and I'm not afraid
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  of the way you will decide if you will only think. End of chapter seventeen.