The House

by Eugene Field

  XII

  I AM DECEIVED IN MR. WAX

  I went on to say that it seemed to me to be unwise to invest too muchpower in Alice's hands; that _I_ had certain rights which should beprotected, and that if I was not to be assured a life estate in Alice'sproperty I ought to have at least thirty-three feet to which I could,in an emergency, retire to spend the evening of my existence in peaceand security.

  "Possessed of that thirty-three feet," said I, "I make no question thatI shall soon be able to bring Alice to terms. Give me the power tostand on my own patch of ground and defy Alice every Monday morningwhen the weekly wash is ready to be hung out, and I will cheerfullyrisk the future."

  Mr. Denslow and Mr. Black are sensible and loyal men; they recognizedthe propriety of standing by me in this emergency, and it was agreedthat the extra piece of ground should be conveyed to me.

  That night I dreamed that Alice had been called to her heavenly rewardand that I had been turned out of doors by our heartless children. Iwas an aged and tottering man. The wind blew lustily and a storm wasraging. I drew my threadbare coat closer about me, for I was shiveringwith the cold.

  "Alas," I cried (in my dream), "whither shall I turn? Is there no spoton earth where I can die in peace?"

  Then, O joy! it occurred to me (in my dream) that I owned thethirty-three feet back of the dear old home. Two years' taxes were dueon it, but it was still mine--all mine!

  "The snow is deep and clean and hospitable there," I cried (still in mydream), "and it is all mine own! To that snowbank will I make my way,and there will I lie down to sleep my last sleep."

  But just then I awoke to discover that it was only a dream. Had I beenof a superstitious nature I might have read in this dream diverspremonitions and strange significances. As it was, it merely confirmedme in my belief that I had done wisely in securing thatthirty-three-foot strip.

  Mr. Black went back home next day, and nothing more was said for thenonce about a "will" or a "life estate," or any matter thereuntoappertaining, and disagreeable to Alice and to me alike. The coldweather having melted away into sunshine and warmth, I once more beganto be deeply interested in horticulture and floriculture, and this,too, in spite of the ineffaceable scars which the spade-wieldingvandals had left in the large front yard in the alleged interest of thesewer, water, and gas-pipes.

  This enthusiasm of mine in behalf of matters of which I knew absolutelynothing was retired by my respected neighbor, Fadda Pierce, who is solearned in all affairs involving flowers and shrubbery that I actuallybelieve that what he does n't know about them is n't worth knowing.Fadda's cottage is covered with every variety of dainty and luxuriousvine, and in his yard bloom all kinds of rare and beautiful flowers.He is so famed for his fondness for and luck with flowers that I feltgrateful to the dear old gentleman when he visited me with a view toadvising me as to the kind of flowers I ought to plant in my lawn andaround the house.

  It was then that I learned of the existence of shrubs, vines, andflowers of which I had never before heard. It is indeed amazing thatan ordinarily intelligent man can reach the age of forty-five yearswithout being able to profess truthfully a more or less intimateacquaintance with hydrangeas, fuchsias, taraxacums, syringas,sisymbriums, gilliflowers, kentaphyllons, maydenheer, chrysanthemums,orchids, geraniums, lichens, laburnums, jasmines, heliotropes,gentians, eucalyptuses, crocuses, carnations, dahlias, cactuses,billybuttons, anemones, anthropomorphons, amaranths, etc., etc. FaddaPierce did not chide me for my heathenish ignorance; he seemed to takeit for granted that I had been too busy acquiring knowledge in otherlines to have time to devote to research in botany. He was much moreconsiderate than neighbor Roth was when he pulled up his team in frontof my house one day and asked me how far it was to Glencoe. I answeredthat I did not know; whereupon he shrugged his shoulders and muttered:"I thought as much, by gosh! You can tell how fur 't is to the sun,the moon, an' the stars, but you can't tell how fur 't is to Glencoe!"

  Fadda Pierce advised me to set out about two dozen cobies (I think hecalled them) around our new colonial front porch, and then he kindlydesignated certain spots in the yard where beds ought to be constructedfor certain flowers, the names of which he wrote down on a slip ofpaper. Some of these beds were to be circular, some square, and someoblong. Fadda told me that I would require at least three loads ofblack dirt, and he gave me the address of a person who dealt in thisprecious commodity at one dollar and a half a load. I called upon thisperson at once and ordered the three loads of black dirt to bedelivered immediately. I then bethought myself that I required anoutfit of garden tools; so I made my way to the nearest hardware shopand purchased a spade, a hoe, a rake, a wheelbarrow, a watering can, atrowel, and a pruning-knife. I trundled the barrow home, with theother purchases in it.

  The day was exceedingly warm, and my appearance in this new roleexcited the derision of my neighbors; but I felt rather flattered to becalled Farmer Baker, and I was glad to give the Baylors, the Edwardses,the Dollers, the Tiltmans, the Rushes, the Sissons, and the rest tounderstand that I by no means disdained to condescend to the humbleplane of an agriculturist. Now that I come to think of it, I rememberto have read somewhere that Galileo took his recreation at hoeing andgrubbing in the vineyard adjoining his observatory.

  As I trundled the barrow up the winding road of the Schmittheimer placeI became aware that a man was following me. So I stopped and waitedfor him to overtake me. His appearance indicated poverty and all itsattendant miseries.

  "Good sir," said the stranger, "pardon me for this intrusion, butmisfortunes of a most grievous character compel me to thrust myselfupon your mercy. You behold in me, sir, one of the most hapless ofcreatures, one whom adversity has buffeted with cruel pertinacity, andfinally driven out to become a homeless and friendless wanderer uponthe face of the earth. My name, sir, is Percival Wax, born and rearedunder the auspices of riches, but now forced by the reverses ofremorseless fate to importune you for the wherewithal to procure foodand lodging."

  "Mr. Wax," said I, "your appearance by no means belies your words.Your raiment is torn and soiled; your shoes are not mates, and your hatwas evidently made for a larger head than yours. I also read in yourdim eyes, your unkempt beard, and your dishevelled hair corroborationof your claims to intimacy with adversity. While I sympathize with youin your misfortune, I cannot break one of the imperative rules whichgovern the conduct of my life; if you are willing to work I will gladlyprovide you with the means of relief from your embarrassment."

  "Work? Ah, kind sir," said Mr. Wax, eagerly, "it is that which I havevainly sought for weeks. I have been out of employment ever since thecombined efforts of our National Administration and of our incompetentCongress succeeded in sowing the seeds of distrust in every mind,thereby stagnating business and precipitating a financial crisis, fromthe debris of which I can never hope to arise."

  "Can you make flower-beds, Mr. Wax?" I asked.

  "Kind gentleman," he answered, "my profession before financial ruinoverwhelmed me was that of a landscape gardener."

  This was, indeed, a marvellously pleasing coincidence. Here was thevery man I needed.

  "Take up the barrow, Mr. Wax, and follow me," said I.

  I showed him where I wanted the flowerbeds made--the circular, thesquare, and the oblong. He was first to remove the turf and then fillin and square up the beds with black dirt. I found him quick tounderstand, and he seemed to be anxious to get to work.

  "You can begin as soon as you please," said I. "Meanwhile I shall goto luncheon, and on my return I shall bring you three or four mustardsandwiches and some hard-boiled eggs to stay you until you havefinished your task."

  "Thank you, kind sir," said Mr. Wax with tears of gratitude in hisvoice.

  I was gone an hour or more. At luncheon I told Alice of what I haddone, but she did not seem to share my enthusiasm at having providedMr. Wax with an opportunity to turn an honest penny or two. She veryclearly indicated to me her distrust of all tramps, to which
class shewas sure Mr. Wax belonged. Thereupon I warned Alice against theinhumanity and wickedness of insensibility to the sufferings of others,and I was glad that the children were at the table with us to hear myremarks in praise of that charity which has compassion for allconditions of misery.

  Upon my return to the Schmittheimer place I was disappointed to findthat no progress had been made with the flower-beds.

  "I wonder where Mr. Wax is?" said I to Uncle Si.

  "Do you mean that ---- tramp that was here about noon?" asked Uncle Si.

  "He may have been a tramp," said I, purposely ignoring Uncle Si'sprofane epithet (for I do not approve of profanity).

  "He went away shortly after you went," said Uncle Si. "I asked himwhere he was going with the wheelbarrow and the garden tools, and hesaid you had hired him to take them over to your house in HeavenwardAvenue for you."

  "Mr. Wax lied to you," said I. "He has stolen that barrow and thosetools."

  Uncle Si consoled me by telling me that in all human probability Mr.Wax had sold his stealings by this time and was already squandering hisill-gotten gains in a barroom. I lamented not only the ingratitude anddishonesty of this man whom I had sought to befriend, but also the lossof my barrow and my garden tools. There was, however, some consolationin the thought that my experience would serve me to good purpose in thefuture.

  The three mustard sandwiches and the two hard-boiled eggs which I hadbrought from home for Mr. Wax's luncheon I now took down into thecellar and fed to Alice, the mother cat. Had I been a superstitiousperson I should not have performed this kind deed by one whom manymight have regarded as the prognostic (if not actually the cause) ofthe many evils which had befallen me of late. As it was, I took a kindof spiteful satisfaction in observing that the gaunt beast did notexhibit that exuberant fondness for mustard sandwiches and hard-boiledeggs which might be confidently looked for in the mother of six healthyand always hungry kittens.