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The New Home · The Man of the House

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Chapter thirteen of the Man of the House by Pansy. The s LibriVox recording
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is in the public domain, Chapter thirteen the New Home. If you had
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been there to get a glimpse of the red face, and had been Reuben
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watson Stone, I presume you would have said, well, I never The
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words seemed almost to take Reuben's breath away. He sat quite still for a
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full minute. Another ride with a drunken man over a wild road with four
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horses and rows of men, women and children inside. I should like to
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know, said Reuben in his rapid thinking, why I'm having all this time
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with drunken folks. I don't need so many examples. I'm sure I don't
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believe there ever was a fellow less likely to grow up a drunkard than I
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am. But see here, what am I going to do? I'll tell
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you what he wanted to do. He believed in his heart that he could
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slip those reins from that stupid sleepy man's hands and manage those four horses as
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skillfully as he had managed spunk but a few nights before, only to think
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how splendid it would be to drive into the village with a grand flourish,
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having guided the four horses through all the snow drifts and brought home the people
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safely four horses. What would his old city acquaintance, Tony Phelps, who
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boasted of the time when he once drove, to think of that story?
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It made Reuben's heart beat fast to think of the possibility. Why shouldn't he
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do it? Why wouldn't it be a grand thing to do? He managed
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spunk in the night and darkness, with a railroad track to cross, here
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was nothing but snow and daylight to see it with. But and here Reuben's
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heart beat fast. Who helped him the other night? Who was he almost
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sure had heard the words he spoke in his terror, and quieted his heart,
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and given him courage, and brought him through in safety. Well,
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would not the same great helper give him aid? Now? What made the
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difference? Reuben felt, rather than reasoned out the difference. He knew very
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well that in the other case he was doing right, doing his best,
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doing the thing that mother and every one else who knew of it would commend
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him for. But suppose he should trust to his own small knowledge of horses
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and undertake to manage this whole thing without the help of any of those men
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inside. Would mother think he had done right? Suppose he got through safely?
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Would that make it a right thing to do? Could he look up
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with fearless eyes to God and ask his help for such a work? Something
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like these ran rapidly through Reuben's mind. He went over the whole ground,
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much faster than I have been able to tell you, and decided not only
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what was right to do, but just exactly what he meant to do.
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He turned himself around in his high seat, stooped down, lifted the leather
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flap that served as a sort of window to the front of the coach,
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and putting his mouth to the opening, spoke these words, see here,
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this fellow out here has gone to sleep. What fellow asked? Two or
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three startled voices inside? Why the driver? He has been drinking and the
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motion of the sleigh has put him to sleep. He doesn't know what he
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is about. I've got the reins, but the road is awful. Then
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there was a commotion inside. Two or three of the women screamed, and
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the little old woman grasped her umbrella tighter and looked as though she would like
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to use it on the driver. You go dick, said one frightened woman,
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laying her hand on the shoulder of a rough looking man who sat beside
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her. You can manage any horses that were ever made, and I'm sure
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I shall die of fright if you aren't driving. Thus coaxed, the rough
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looking man smiled, kindly, shook his brownie shoulders, and slowly clambered out,
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saying nothing except to Reuben. Tumble in there, boy in my seat,
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and get warm, ho giggled Andrew. The minute Reuben was comfortably seated.
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You got as scared, did you. I wish I had been outside.
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I'd have kept hold of the reins and said nothing, and you'd have
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seen us come into town with a dash. I can drive four horses as
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easy as I can one. I just wish I had taken the outside seat.
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Thank Heaven, you did not. This was what a pale faced young
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lady said, not carelessly as some speak their thanks, but with a grave,
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earnest face. And mister Barrows answered, I think as much. It
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is fortunate for us that we had a trustworthy boy on the front seat,
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humph said Andrew with a chuckle. A coward on the front seat, you
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better say, and not a single person in the coach knew how great a
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temptation Reuben watson Stone had met and conquered when he gave those reins into the
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hands of another. Never Mind, he did not like to be called a
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coward, it is true, who does. But in spite of that,
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there was a very happy feeling at his heart. He could not have explained
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the feeling. He hardly knew why it was there. But any boy who
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wants to understand just what it was like has only to persist in doing what
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he knows to be right when he doesn't want to do it, but would
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fifty times rather do what he believes to be just a little bit wrong.
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A very busy day was that to our man of the house. In the
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first place, there was dinner to eat at mister Barrows's house, a large
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brick house with a beautiful yard in front, filled with trees and certain mounds
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covered with snow which Reuben knew must be flower beds, and a barn in
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the rear, which he privately thought was plenty nice enough for a house.
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The dinner, though not served in so elegant a style as at Spunk's home,
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was still much finer than anything that Reuben had ever seen away from there,
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and he did full justice to it, a little flurried, it is
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true by the fact that Miss Grace Barrows, who was only eight, had
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not yet learned that it was rude to stare, and gave him a good
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deal of curious attention. After dinner, mister Barrows said, now we will
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go to the shop, and Reuben, who was fond of all shops or
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places where machinery could be seen, found plenty to keep his eyes busy.
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What in the world are they all for? He asked at last, in
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great astonishment, after he had been taken through two or three rooms piled from
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floor to ceiling with pasteboard boxes of all sizes and collars. What can anybody
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possibly want of so many of them? A good many people want them,
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said mister Barrows, laughing. Gloves and mittens for all the world are packed
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in those boxes, and as there are a good many people who wear those,
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of course a good many boxes are needed. From the ware rooms where
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the finished boxes were kept, they went to the work rooms. Here were
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boxes in all stages of manufact Actor Ruben stood before the huge shears and saw
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its jaws like some great monster pounce down on sheet after sheet of pasteboard and
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bite them into two smooth pieces. He went over to one side and stood
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by a boy who was seizing two pieces and gluing them into one, so
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fast that you could hardly see the way in which it was done. He
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went to a little machine in one corner, and was astonished and delighted to
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see the rapid way in which it was biting out the corners of box covers.
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A boy about his own size was rapidly creasing these same covers, and
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still another was bending them into the right shape. Well, said mister Barrows,
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watching the eager eyes that were taking in so many new things. Which
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of all these things would you like best to work at? Me? Said
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Reuben, charmed at the idea of anything so new and strange. Why I
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think I should like to work at every one of them, and know everything
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that there is to know about them? All I shouldn't wonder, said mister
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Barrows, and he laughed. Then they went upstairs to the pasting room.
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At the door stood a barrel of paste. Reuben had seen his mother make
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a cup of paste to paper the shelves of her cupboard, but he stopped
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and gazed at this barrelful, almost in dismay. He had not realized that
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so much was made at once anywhere in the world. Two girls were at
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work in the pasting room, each at her own table, covering a great
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sheet of thin white paper four feet long and more than two feet wide with
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paste, then spreading it skillfully on a sheet of pasteboard of the same size,
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and smoothing it down. It will tear all to pieces, said Reuben
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excitedly. And he, the reckless girl, sees the wet paper by what
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seemed two careless hands, and flirted over. She will never get it turned
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in the world. But even while he spoke, the paper lay down gently
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and smoothly, and was padded skillfully into place. I don't see how she
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did it, he said, in astonishment, and mister Barrows laughed pleasantly.
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He liked the boy's keen interest in everything that he saw. In the trimming
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room. Just as wonderful things were going on, Lovely blue and red and
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green strips of paper, looking for all the world like ribbon, were being
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spread over a table, twenty strips at a time, each strip about half
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an inch wide and forty inches long, And when all laid in smooth rose.
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To Reuben's utter dismay, a brisk girl dubbed them with paste. They
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are ruined, he said breathlessly. But no sooner was this dire act finished
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than she seized upon one of them Ruben, expecting to see it drop into
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a dozen pieces, and whisked it round a box, covering the rough edges
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and making it look like a gay treasure box. So many wonderful things were
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going on here that after a few minutes Ruben ceased his exclamations and gave silent
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and eager attention, bobbing his head from right to left to take in all
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the sights. Much astonished, all the while at the reckless way in which
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boxes that were just pasted together with flimsy looking bits of cloth were tossed about
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and piled on top of each other, five ten fifteen feet high. He
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expected every minute to see them drop apart and tumble around the room, but
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none did. And he could not help thinking of what Beth would say to
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such quick fingers and one full work, so much prettier than taking little bits
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of stitches in long gray seams. Would you like to learn the trade,
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mister Barrows, asked him, as they went down the stairs, after he
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had watched in silence for half an hour the movements of a boy who was
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feeding a machine for trimming the edges of the paste boards. Yes, Sir,
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said Reuben, promptly, I would, whereupon mister Barrows said it was
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about time they went to look after the little house. This recalled Reuben to
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a sense of his responsibility as the man of the house, and he followed
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with eager steps across the street, behind a great snow drift, to a
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trim little house set in a yard, with a great tree before the door,
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whose huge branches were leafless now and snow covered, but which Reuben could
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seem to see, dressed in green, with a bird building her nest right
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in front of his mother's window. Oh, those cunning little rooms. I
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don't suppose you can imagine how delightful they seemed to the boy who had spent
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most of his life in the north chamber. This is the parlor, said
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mister Barrows, opening a door that led from the bit of a hall into
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a pleasant room, small square papered with a light colored, pretty figured pattern,
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a mantle at one end, and a south window into which the sun
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even then was shining. Reuben, as he gazed about him, chuckled inwardly
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at the idea of their having a parlor. What would Beth think of that?
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Besides the parlor, there was what mister Barrows called a dining room and
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kitchen, a nice pantry, well supplied with shelves, and upstairs three beautiful
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rooms, each with a close press. They are rather small, all of
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them, said mister Barrows. But then for a small family, I should
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think they would do very well. And then Reuben gazed on him in astonishment,
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almost an indignation. What did he mean by calling those lovely rooms small?
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One a south room made him think of Miss Hunter, and he sighed
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a little. It was the one bit that he did not like about this
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wonderful prospect of moving and living in a whole house instead of one room and
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a close press. This leaving Miss Hunter, the new friend who seemed so
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much like an old one. That south room, with a bit of a
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bedroom off that mister Barrows did not count as a room at all, would
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be just the thing for miss Hunter. What a wonderful thing it would be
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if she should take a fancy to move too, and make gloves instead of
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vests. Then they might almost hope to pay the rent of this grand house,
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especially as there was actually a garden and a place to keep hens,
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and an apple and pear tree in the backyard. There is a woman who
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lives on the south side of our hall, he said, speaking some of
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his thoughts aloud. She is one of the best women who ever lived.
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She sews on vests and things for the tailors. If she should move here
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too, could she find work to do? Do you think plenty of work
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at making gloves and mittens? There isn't much call for women tailors in this
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direction. But she can make better wages at gloves than she can at tailoring.
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This is a good time to come here and get started. Fact is,
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some of the hands, a large number of them right in the busiest
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season before last fall, struck for higher wages. They were getting pretty good
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wages too, but they thought they would like more so, and the manufacturers
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made up their minds that as soon as the new year opened they would hire
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new hands and get ready for the next hurrying season before it came. So
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they are all advertising for workers. That is what people get who aren't willing
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to let well enough alone what is the rent of this house? It was
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a quiet little question, but it took Reuben nearly ten minutes to get courage
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to ask it. He so fully expected to have his hopes dashed to the
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ground by the answer. Well, said mister Barrows meditatively, that would depend
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a little on who rented it. If your mother wants it, I think
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I could get it for her for a hundred dollars a year. That's only
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a little over eight dollars a month, said Reuben, and his cheeks were
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crimson, and his eyes very bright. It actually was but a trifle more
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than they had to pay every month for the north room and the clothes press.
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Now, if he could but manage to earn enough to make up the
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difference, and have a little left to go for coal, they might try
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the new home. What could I earn in a week? Do you suppose?
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And mister Barrows could hardly help smiling over the boy's eagerness. Well,
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now, my man, that would depend entirely on yourself. Some boys don't
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earn the salt that they eat with their potatoes. I wouldn't promise to furnish
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it for all they do. Then again, there are boys who earn good
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wages and help their mothers right straight through. I had a boy last year
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who earned his three dollars a week all through the year in the box business.
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In the box business. How old was he about your age? A
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trifle older perhaps, But what he did he could have done just as well
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if he had been a year younger. Was he a very smart boy?
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Smarter than I could be? Mister Barrows laughed, How can I tell no?
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If you mean was he a remarkable boy? He wasn't. He was
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just a good, faithful fellow doing his best. If I should do my
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best, could I earn as much as that? I shouldn't wonder at all?
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For how many months in the year, mister Barrows laughed. You will
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make a good business man, I think, he said pleasantly. You remember
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to look closely into things. Well. The season, that is, the
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busy season, lasts for about nine months in the year. If I were
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you, I would plan to work hard for those nine months and go to
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school the other three and do odd jobs out of school hours to earn your
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board. For nine months. I think you could earn from two to three
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dollars a week at the box business without any trouble, and I would give
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you your board for what you could do after school during the other three months.
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I think mother will come, said Reuben with shining eyes, and I
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shall tell miss Hunter what you said about the glove business. All right,
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said mister Barrows. I advertised for hands for my brother in law. He
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is a manufacturer and he runs those little machines I was telling you about.
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If you say so, we will go now and see them. So they
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passed out, Reuben locking the door of the neat little house, wondering much
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whether it could possibly be for him to lock it many times in the future.
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He felt in such a hurry to go and tell his mother all about
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it that he was almost sorry that the last plan had been for him to
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spend the night at mister Barrows's and go home by the morning train. Still,
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if they were really going to to move, there were ever so many
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things that he was man enough to know needed looking after. The little machines,
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one of which mister Barrels seemed to think Beth might manage, seemed to
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be the next things in order, the queerest looking creatures he ever saw in
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his life. This is the way Reuben would have described them had he been
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talking to his mother or Beth, they seemed too small to be called machines.
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A round board about the size of a barrel head, a shaft of
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wood about three feet long, standing upright from the center of the barrel head,
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finished at the top by a brass mouth about four inches long. This
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mouth had rows of tiny teeth on either side, matching exactly. It opened
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its jaws whenever the spring at the bottom was touched, and seized and held
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firmly whatever was placed inside. Reuben watched while a pretty girl of fourteen took
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a kid glove of about the right size for his mother, folded it carefully
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across the back, made the little creature open its brass mouth and take it
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in. Then, with a fine needle and a silk thread, she went
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rapidly down the length of the brass mouth, putting the needle between each tooth,
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making a little clicking noise with her thimble against the brass, and doing
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it all so rapidly that Reuben was lost in astonishment. When the jaws opened
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and the glove was drawn out, he leaned forward eagerly to discover a long,
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smooth row of the daintiest stitches somewhat like those that his mother took in
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shirt bosoms. It is beautiful, he said admiringly, and how fast she
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did it. How would the sister at home like that sort of work,
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said mister Barrows, and Ruben, who had not fancied the idea of setting
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Beth at work for the first time, began to think that perhaps such work
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as this might do for even Beth. When he heard that very industrious little
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girls actually earned sometimes a dollar a day, and that his mother would have
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no trouble in earning that psum, he said emphatically, I know mother will
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move. At last, the exciting day was done. Reuben had accomplished a
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great deal of business. He had been to the freight depot and learned the
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price of freight and the exact way of marking it. He had learned the
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price of butter and meat, and flour and milk and wood. In short,
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he had done everything that he could think of, which it seemed likely
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to him that a man with a family to provide for would have done.
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Mister Barrows looked on, sometimes amused, and sometimes touched almost to tears by
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the small boy's thoughtful planning for mother and sister. Where he needed help,
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he got it, but for the most of the work mister Barrows left him
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to himself, curious to see how he would carry out his plans. The
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boy has the wisest head set in his young shoulders that I ever saw in
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my life. He said to his wife that evening, after Reuben had gone
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to bed. He hasn't done anything wonderful either. I don't know that he
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is any smarter than most boys of his age. He simply has used the
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brains that fellows like Andrew Porter spend in mischief to help him in supporting his
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family. The notion he has that he is the man of the house and
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must look after the comfort of his folks like any other man, is worth
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a fortune to him. I believe the boy will be a rich man while
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he is a young one. You have taken one of your tremendous likings to
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him, Missus Barrows said, laughing. I don't wonder I fancy him myself.
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And as for Grace, she wants to teach him music and drawing right
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away. I hope the rest of the family are half as nice. Do
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you believe they will come? I do if Reuben can bring it to pass,
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and I think he can I put the rent of the little house at
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a hundred dollars. I'd have made it lower if the boy's bright eyes hadn't
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been fixed right on me. I knew he would suspect something he isn't After
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charity, I hope I shall not be disappointed in him. If he doesn't
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grow up a smart business man as well as a good man, I shall
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wonder at it. End of Chapter thirteen