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Reuben Conquers Samson · The Man of the House

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Chapter sixteen of The Man of the House by Pansy. The slibrivox recording is
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in the public domain. Chapter sixteen, Reuben conquers Samson. Oh dear,
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what a boy was Reuben for getting himself into scrapes with horses. Here was
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he being whirled along too fast for thinking, one would suppose, while mister
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Barrows, without his hat and with his coat skirts flying in the air,
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followed on foot, shouting at the top of his lungs, Stop that horse,
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Stop that horse, as if one could stop the wind. Men came
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out from their store doors and stared and winked, and by that time Samson
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had passed them. Meantime, a white, frightened little heap was curled up
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in the closest corner of the back seat. That was Grace Barrows. Don't
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you be frightened, Gracy, I'm coming, This was what she heard,
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in the cheeriest of tones, coming from somewhere near the ground behind her.
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Sure enough, Reuben had not clung to the hind spring for nothing. He
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had climbed like a monkey to the back of the carriage and was hard at
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work with hands and teeth, trying to unfasten the curtain All the time he
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worked, he kept up a cheery conversation with Grace Barrows. Don't you be
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scared, Gracie. I'll be there in a jiff. Can't you catch hold
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of the reins? Then perhaps he will stop? I can't, said the
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white trembling lips. They have dropped away down at the side. That's so
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well, Never you mind, this old buckle is giving way now. In
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another second, I'll be there and I'll get the reins. Oh, Ruben,
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do you suppose you can stop him? Of course I can. You'll
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see how quick he will mind when he has to? What lovely music,
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Ruben Watson and Stone's voice was to poor frightened little Gracie. Another vigorous twitch
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to the strap, and Reuben had clambered over the seat and was reaching over
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the dashboard for the reins, all the time talking to Samson in a good
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natured tone. Old fellow, good, old fellow, don't be scared.
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Nothing is the matter. It is just a notion of yours. You needn't
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go so fast as that. Plenty of time you are scaring your little mistress,
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and that is mean of you. At last, he had the reins
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gathered firmly, in his two stout young hands, and had climbed back to
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a seat and pressed his two stout feet firmly against the dashboard. Then his
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tone suddenly changed, and Sampson was greeted with a loud, firm whoa.
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At the same time, the pull of the reins was steady and strong.
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Whew, said Samson to himself. That means busyness. A minute ago,
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I was my own master and was flying away from that awful white thing that
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came up to swallow me. And here I am being jerked at in the
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same old fashion. I wonder if I've got to stop. How he does
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jerk I don't know his voice. It isn't my master. I don't believe
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I'll stop. It is rather pleasant, this running away. I never tried
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it before. Whoa, said the firm voice again, and the pull of
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the reins was steady and strong. I do believe I've got to stop going
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like the wind, said Samson. To be sure. I did not hear
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him say all this, but don't you know that actions speak louder than words.
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By the time they had reached the corner of the long square around which
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the town was built, Samson's wild run had steadied into a most respectable trot,
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and the people who looked saw only a little boy and girl taking a
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ride. To be sure, the boy had no hat on and rather a
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light jacket for such a frosty morning. But that, of course concerned only
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himself. Has he truly stopped running away? Asked Gracie, coming out of
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her little huddle in the corner. Of course, he has no danger of
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his doing any more of it. Very soon he is beginning to be real
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ashamed of himself. Now he feels mean. He wasn't exactly running away,
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only making up his mind he would. Now he is sorry that he didn't
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behave better so he could be trusted. I see by his ears that he
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is sorry. He ought to be, said Gracie, drawing a long breath
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and speaking in a voice that trembled. He never did such a thing before.
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Papa has left me in the carriage lots of times and not tied him.
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And he all, oh, he stood just as still. Well,
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you see, he thought that bit of newspaper was a great white elephant come
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to swallow him. He isn't a literary horse, and so he didn't recognize
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the morning paper. And Reuben fumbled in his pocket as he added, I
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wonder if I've got that other paper safe. Yes, here it is.
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What a pity. It isn't anything but a paper. It deserves a new
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Year's dinner or something for blowing out of the door just in the nick of
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time. Whereupon he explained to Gracie how the little piece of paper with a
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few words written on it had suddenly started up and gone down to the carriage,
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and how he had been sent for it and had just taken hold of
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the carriage to pick it up when Samson made up his mind to leave,
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says I to myself, I'll hold on to the paper, and you too,
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old fellow. I'm fond of writing myself. And if you won't wait
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for me to get my hat, why I can go without it. See
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here, Gracie, if I turn at this corner, will I get to
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the factory sooner? I'm in a hurry to see your father, or at
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least I guess he is in a hurry to see you. Do you expect
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me to try to tell you how mister Barrows felt as he saw that wicked
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horse whisking around the corner with his only little daughter alone in the carriage.
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It seemed to him that he fairly flew through the street, but Samson flew
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faster. However, he remembered the cross street also, and with a wild
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hope that he might in some way head the horse off, he dashed across
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lots and reached the farther corner just as Reuben guided Samson skillfully around it.
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Meek Samson, obedient to every touch of the harness. Whoa, said Reuben
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again, and Samson stopped. Here we are, mister Barrows said, Ruby,
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it's pretty cold this morning for riding. Still, we had a nice
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time, my little darling. This was every word mister Barrows said, and
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he had his arms around Gracie. I'm not hurt a bit, Papa,
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not a bit, she assured him. Reuben tugged at the straps and got
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them loose and climbed in, and Samson minded him right away after a minute.
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Oh, Papa, aren't you glad you brought Reuben home with you?
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Shall I drive on? Sir, asked Reuben, who had slipped into the
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front of the carriage, and who seemed to think that the talk was getting
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too personal. Yes, said mister Barrows, his voice very gentle and tremulous.
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He did not speak again, only to ask Gracie if she was very
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much afraid, and if she was quite warm now, and over her fright.
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But after he had lifted her tenderly to the ground and watched her into
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the house, he turned to Reuben, who stood at Samson's bridle awaiting orders,
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and said, I shall never forget this morning, my boy. Perhaps
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you think it was not much to say, but it sent the blood dancing
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through Reuben's veins and rollicking all over his face. Will you take the horse
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around to the stable for me and unharness him? This was mister Barrows's next
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sentence, and almost before it was finished, Reuben had bounded back again into
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the carriage with a delighted yes, sir, What a lark this is,
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he told himself as he drove through the avenue. I shouldn't wonder if it
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would get me the chance of taking care of this great, big, splendid
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horse now and then Clark Potter said he wouldn't let one of the factory boys
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look at his old horse. But I've looked at him several times today.
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I'm thinking. It was not until dinner time that mister Barrows met Reuben again,
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just as he was leaving the box factory, and said, I suppose,
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my boy, the first piece of paper went off on the wind,
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did it? Then? Reuben, with a red face, fumbled in his
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pocket. I forgot to give it to you, sir Samson, and everything
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sent it right out of my mind. Then you really picked it up.
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The surprise in his voice gave Reuben a queer sense of delight that he could
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not have explained if he had tried. It is worth a thousand dollars,
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my boy. But you saved something for me this morning that is worth a
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thousand worlds if I had them, my said Reuben. It was his only
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way of expressing astonishment. Not over the thousand worlds he was prepared to believe
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that Grace Barrow's was worth a great deal more than that, but over the
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fact that that simple looking bit of paper could actually be worth it a thousand
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dollars. I don't see how you got in, continued mister Barrows, staring
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down at the piece of paper. Those buckles haven't been unfastened in six months,
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and I noticed yesterday that they were rusty. There was a mischievous twinkle
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in Reuben's eyes, and he felt exactly like saying that he didn't get into
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that piece of paper, and there were no buckles on it so far as
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he could see. But he controlled his tongue and answered respectfully, tugged at
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him, sir. You see, I knew they had got to come unbuckled
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so I could get in. I didn't think I could climb over the top
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and get down that way in time to save mischief. Besides, there was
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the danger of scaring the horse more by doing that, My boy, did
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you know that the lake was less than a quarter of a mile away,
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in a straight line, with the direction that the horse took. Mister Barrows's
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voice was husky and his eyes were dim, Yes, sir, said Reuben,
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looking down so that he might not seem to see the tears in the
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gentleman's eyes. That was the reason I had to hurry, So mister Barrows
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turned away abruptly. He could not trust himself to say any more. Just
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then, on his way back from dinner, Reuben discovered that the work of
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cleaning had been begun on the little house. The windows were out, two
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pails and a broom stood in the doorway, and a thick smoke was puffing
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out from the chimney. I wonder where she got a stove to make a
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fire in, said Reuben, as he stood, hands in his pockets,
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staring up at it. Some way, that smoke seemed like a little piece
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of home. He wanted to go in and look around. But the clock
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in the church tower just then gave a single solemn stroke, and he took
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his hands out of his pockets and ran. Several things not before mentioned had
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happened during the days that Reuben had been away from home. Among others,
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it had rained steadily and fast a day and a night, taking away every
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bit of the slaying. Then the ground had frozen, and the lake had
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skimmed over, as though it really meant if the weather did not change its
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mind too soon to give the boys a chance at skating, though as the
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water was deep, this did not happen except in severe winters. The boys
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discussed the chances as they worked. They were about equally divided in their opinion
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of Reuben. Part of them disposed to admire him, and the others to
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envy what they called his good luck. I'll tell you what it is,
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young Wesley, said, with an emphatic shake of his head while Reuben was
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gone to the office. It took something more than luck to climb into the
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back of that carriage and stop that. My father says, there isn't one
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boy in ten who would have thought of it at all, and half of
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them would have been so scared they couldn't have done it. I think he
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showed himself a plucky fellow, and I say, let's all give in and
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be friendly. I'm going to ask him to go skating with us tonight.
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Not a boy approved of this. Some of them were really out of sorts
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about Ruben's coming, and some of them liked to disagree with whatever was proposed,
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so they argued the question hotly, declaring that Reuben was a little dried
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up city dunce and they would have nothing to do with him. The more
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they talked, the more determined was Wesley to carry out his plan. And
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the moment Reuben came back, he said, it's freezing hard, the ice
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will be prime tonight. Want to go to the lake and have a skate.
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Ruben's eyes glistened his thanks for the invitation, but his answer was prompt.
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There's two reasons why I can't go. One is I ain't got any
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skates. And the other is I never skated a rod in my life.
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If you could have heard the shout of laughter that greeted this answer, you
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would have thought that the strangest and most ridiculous thing in life was a boy
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who could not skate. Poor little fellow mimicked one in a tone that he
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might have used to a boy of six. Didn't his mother ever let him
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go on the ice? It's a shame, so it is, poor little
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boy. We'll stop on the way down and buy him a stick of red
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and white candy. So we will. These were some of the sentences those
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rude and silly boys giggled out at Reuben. His cheeks were pretty red.
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No boy likes to be laughed at. Still, he answered, good naturedly.
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You can't pity me more than I've pitied myself. I suppose you haven't
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much notion of how I've wanted a pair of skates. But the honest truth
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is, boys, it was a choice between skates or bread, and when
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it comes to that, it doesn't take a fellow long to choose. Fact
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is, I'm poor, always have been ever since father died, and I
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haven't got around to skates yet maybe I shall some day. There was something
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in this manly little explanation that seemed to please Wesley, though he had been
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laughing as hard as any of them, quit bothering him. He said,
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he's a plucky fellow and a friend of mine. I won't have him abused.
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Nevertheless, the fun about the skating went on. Not to know how
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to skate with something so strange to these country bred boys that it seemed as
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though they could not get over laughing about it. Presently came Andrew Porter to
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call on the boys, and he brought news which turned their thoughts into another
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channel. You here, yet, was his greeting to Reuben, in a
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tone of mock surprise. I thought you would be home to your mother by
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this time, had any more scares. Then he told his version of the
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stagecoach story. He came up in the four horse with me and rode outside
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till he got so awful scared at the horses that he had to creep inside
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and let a fellow take his place. I think the boys would have been
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more ready to believe this story if they had not known about Samson's performance that
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morning and Ruben's share in the matter as it was knowing Andrew as well as
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they did. Not a boy believed that he had told the truth. Yet
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they laughed. Then Andrew produced his news. Say, boys, are any
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of you going to the rigmajig at the hall tonight? I peeked in there
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this afternoon and saw some of the pictures while they was fixing the canvas.
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Just splendid. They are great, big things, cover all one end of
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the hall, and just as natural as life. A hundred pictures, don't
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you know about them? Why, it's the nicest thing that ever came along
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here, everybody says, so of course I'm going. The tickets are only
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fifty cents. Andrew talked exactly as though fifty cent pieces grew on the bare
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branches of the winter trees. If the boys had only known how many twists
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and turns he had had to make, turns that were not even quite honest,
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in order to get that fifty cents, they might not have envied him
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so much. As it was, they pasted away and looked disgusted, some
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of them. Not a boy there who could, by any means afford to
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pay fifty cents to see pictures. Yet they were very fond of pictures.
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All boys are. Andrew went on with his extravagant account of the wonderful peeps
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he had taken that afternoon, and of this and that, and the other
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favored boy who was going All rich men's sons skating might be all well enough,
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but it was fast losing its charm. For that evening every boy wanted
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to go to the panorama. In the midst of Andrew's description, Reuben was
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summoned to the office again. Andrew paused long enough to say, now,
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old fellow, you're going to get your walking paper. I heard Barrows as
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I was coming along, telling what an awful nuisance you were. Then he
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went on with his description. Rubin went away smiling. He was too sadly
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used to all sorts of bad boys in the city to be shocked with Andrew,
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and he could afford to smile on his own account. He knew very
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well how far mister Barrows was from considering a nuisance. He came back with
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his eyes shining, and worked with double speed the rest of the afternoon.
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If you had been in the office with him, this was what you would
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have heard mister Barrows say, my boy, here are a couple tickets to
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the exhibition this evening at the Dwayne Street Hall. I think you will like
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to go. Perhaps there is some boy in the shop or out of it
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that you would like to take with you. Since Beth isn't here, and
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Reuben one thing more, I would rather you wouldn't go into the little house
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until after the cleaning is done. Just wait until I give you permission,
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will you? The person working there doesn't like to be disturbed over this last?
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Reubin pondered. As he worked, he felt a great longing to see
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the little house with clean floors and windows. She must be a touchy body,
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he said, thinking of the person who was hired to clean the house,
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just as if I would disturb her. But I suppose she thinks if
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I come the other boys will I can wait? And he whistled over the
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thought of all his joys. Look here, he said to Wesley, as
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the two went down the hall together with a pack of pasteboard on their shoulders.
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I'm real obliged to you for asking me to go skating tonight. I'd
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like no better fun. But seeing I can't suppose you go with me?
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Go where to that picture exhibition at the hall. Just so I'm agreed.
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Where shall we steal the tickets? Have you made your plans? With a
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mischievous twinkle in his black eyes, yes, sir, said Reuben got em
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all made. Look here, and he showed two green tickets. Then Wesley
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whistled. End of Chapter sixteen.