CHAPTER VI.
FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES.
"I think I'll go into business," said Hal one evening, as he and Grannyand Florence sat together.
They missed Joe so much! He seldom came home until eight o'clock; andthere was no one to stir up the children, and keep the house in aracket.
"What?" asked Granny.
"I am trying to decide. I wonder how chickens would do?"
"It takes a good deal to feed 'em," said Granny.
"But they could run about, you know. And buckwheat is such a splendidthing for them. Then we can raise ever so much corn."
"But where would you get your buckwheat?" asked Florence.
"I was thinking. Mr. Peters never does any thing with his lot downhere, and the old apple-trees in it are not worth much. If he'd let mehave it ploughed up! And then we'd plant all of our ground in corn,except the little garden that we want."
"What a master hand you are to plan, Hal!"
Granny's face was one immense beam of admiration.
"I want to do something. It's too hard, Granny, that you should have togo out washing, and all that."
Hal's soft brown eyes were full of tender pity.
"Oh! I don't mind. I'm good for a many day's work yet, Hal."
"I hope some of us will get rich at last."
Florence sighed softly.
"I thought you were going to have a green-house," she said.
"I'm afraid I can't manage the green-house now, though I mean to trysome day. And I noticed old Speckly clucking this morning."
"But we haven't any eggs," said Granny.
"I could get some."
"How many chickens would you raise?" asked Florence.
"Well, if we should set the five hens,--out of say sixty-four eggs weought to raise fifty chickens; oughtn't we, Granny?"
"With good luck; but so many things happen to 'em."
"And if I could clear thirty dollars. Then there's quite a good deal ofwork to do in the summer."
"I shall soon be a fine lady, and ride in my carriage," Grannycommented with a cheerful chirrup of a laugh.
"Mrs. Kinsey's chickens are splendid," said Florence.
"Yes. Shall I get some eggs, and set Speckly?"
"It's rather airly to begin."
"But I'll make a nice coop. And eggs are not twenty-four cents a dozen."
Hal finished off with a quiet smile at the thought of Mrs. Van Wyck.
So he went to Mrs. Kinsey's the next morning, and asked her for a dozenof eggs, promising to come over the first Saturday there was any thingto do, and work it out.
"I'll give you the eggs," she said; "but we will be glad to have yousome Saturday, all the same."
So old Speckly was allowed to indulge her motherly inclinations toher great satisfaction. Hal watched her with the utmost solicitude.In the course of time a tiny bill pecked against white prison walls;and one morning Hal found the cunningest ball of soft, yellow down,trying to balance itself on two slender legs, but finding that thepoint of gravity as often centred in its head. But the little fellowwinked oddly, as much as to say, "I know what I'm about. I'll soon findwhether it is the fashion to stand on your head or your feet in thisqueer world."
One by one the rest came out. Hal had a nice coop prepared, and setMrs. Speckly up at housekeeping. Dot caught one little "birdie," as shecalled it, and, in running to show Granny, fell down. And although Dotwasn't very heavy, it was an avalanche on poor "birdie." He gave twoor three slow kicks with his yellow legs, and then was stiff for alltime.
"Hal's boofer birdie," said Dot. "See, Danny!"
"O Dot! what have you done?"
"Him 'oont 'alk;" and Dot stood him down on the doorstep, only to seehim tumble over.
"Oh, you've killed Hal's birdie! What will he say?"
"I 'ell down. Why 'oont him run, Danny?"
What could Granny do? Scolding Dot was out of the question. And justthen Hal came flying up the road.
Granny had seen the fall, and explained the matter.
"But she mustn't catch them! You're a naughty little Dot!"
Dot began to cry.
"Poor little girl!" said Hal, taking her in his arms. "It is wrong tocatch them. See, now, the little fellow is dead, and can never runabout any more. Isn't Dot sorry? She won't ever touch Hal's birdiesagain, will she?"
So Dot promised, and Hal kissed her. But she carried the dead birdieabout, petting it with softest touches, and insisting upon taking it tobed with her.
One more of the brood met with a mishap, but the other ten throve andgrew rapidly. By the time the next hen wanted to set, Hal had a dozeneggs saved.
He asked Farmer Peters about the lot. It was just below their house,between that and the creek, a strip of an acre and a half perhaps.The old trees were not worth much, to be sure; and Mr. Peters nevertroubled himself to cultivate the plot, as it was accounted very poor.
"Yes, you may have it in welcome; but you won't git enough off of it topay for the ploughin'?"
"I'm going to raise chickens; and I thought it would be nice to sowbuckwheat, and let them run in it."
"Turnin' farmer, hey? 'Pears to me you're makin' an airly beginnin'."
Hal smiled pleasantly.
"You'll find chickens an awful sight o' bother."
"I thought I'd try them."
"Goin' to garden any?"
"A little."
"Hens and gardens are about like fox an' geese. One's death on theother. But you kin have the lot."
So Hal asked Abel Kinsey to come over and plough. In return he helpedplant potatoes and drop corn for two Saturdays. By this time there wasa third hen setting.
House-cleaning had come on, and Granny was pretty busy. But she andHal were up early in the morning garden-making. The plot belonging tothe cottage was about two acres. Hal removed his chicken-coops to thelot, and covered his young vegetables with brush to protect them fromincursions,--pease, beans, lettuce, beets, and sweet-corn; and therest was given over to the chickens.
"I am going to keep an account of all that is spent for them," he said;"and we will see if we can make it pay."
When Joe had saved three dollars, he teased Granny to let him order hisclothes.
"I don't like running in debt, Joe," she said with a grave shake of thehead.
"But this is very sure. Mr. Terry likes me, and I shall go on staying.There will be four dollars and a half to pay down by the time they aredone, and in five weeks I can earn the rest."
"How nice it seems!" said Hal. "You and Flo earn a deal of money."
Flo gave a small sniff. She wanted some new clothes also. And Kit andCharlie were going to shreds and patches. Charlie, indeed, was shootingup like Jack's bean-stalk, Joe declared, being nearly as tall as Hal.She was wild as a colt, climbed trees, jumped fences, and wouldn't bedared by any of the boys.
"I'm sure I don't know what you'll come to," Granny would say with asigh.
Joe carried his point, and ordered his clothes; for he insisted thathe could not think of going to Sunday school until he had them. It wasquite an era in his life to have real store clothes. He felt very grandone day when he went to Mr. Briggs the tailor, and selected the cloth.There were several different patterns and colors; but he had made uphis mind that it should be gray, just like Archie Palmer's.
He was so dreadfully afraid of being disappointed, that he dropped inon Friday to see if they were progressing. There was the jacket in thehighest state of perfection.
"But the pants?" he questioned.
"Never you mind. Them pants'll be done as sure as my name's PeterBriggs."
"All right," said Joe; and he ran on his way whistling.
"Kit," he announced that evening, "I've just found out a good businessfor you."
"What?" and Kit roused himself.
"You shall be a tailor. I was thinking to-day how you would look on theboard, with your scalp-lock nodding to every stitch."
"I won't," said Kit stoutly; and he gave a kick towards
Joe's leg.
"It's a good business. You will always have plenty of cabbage."
"You better stop!" declared Kit.
"It will be handy to have him in the house, Granny. He can do theironing by odd spells. And on the subject of mending old clothes hewill be lovely."
With that Kit made another dive.
Granny gave a sudden spring, and rescued the earthen jar that held thecakes she had just mixed and set upon the stove-hearth.
"O Kit! Those precious pancakes! We are not anxious to have themflavored with extract of old shoes."
"Nor to go wandering over the floor."
Kit looked sober and but half-awake.
"Never mind," said Granny cheerily. "You mustn't tease him so much,Joe."
"Why, I was only setting before him the peculiar advantages of thisromantic and delightful employment;" and with that, Joe executed asuperior double-shuffle quickstep, accompanied by slapping a tune onhis knee.
"You'd do for a minstrel," said Kit.
Joe cleared his voice with a flourish, and sang out,--
"I'd be a tailor, Jolly and free, With plenty of cabbage, And a goose on my knee. Monday would be blue, Tuesday would be shady, Wednesday I'd set out To find a pretty lady."
"Much work you would do in that case," commented Florence.
"It's time to go to bed, children," said Granny.
"Yes," Joe went on gravely. "For a rising young man, who must taketime by the fore-lock, or scalp-lock, and who longs to distinguishhimself by some great and wonderful discovery, there's nothing like,--
'Early to bed, and early to rise, To make a man healthy, wealthy, and wise.'"
With that Joe was up stairs with a bound.
"Joe!" Charlie called in great earnest.
"Well?"
"You better take a mouthful of Granny's rising before you go."
"Good for you, Charlie; but smart children always die young. Granny,won't you put a stone on Charlie's head for fear?"
Hal said his good-night in a tenderer manner.
They were all wonderfully interested in Joe's clothes; and, though itwas always later on Saturday night when he reached home, they begged tosit up, but Kit took a nap by the chimney-corner with Tabby. Granny satnodding when they heard the gay whistle without.
"Hurrah! The country's safe!" exclaimed Joe. "Get out your spectacles,all hands."
"You act as if you never had any thing before, Joe," said Florence,with an air of extreme dignity.
"But these are real 'boughten' clothes," said Joe, "and gilt buttonsdown the jacket. I shall feel like a soldier-boy. Just look now."
The bundle came open with a flourish of the jack-knife. All the headscrowded round, though the one candle gave a rather dim light.
Such exclamations as sounded through the little room, from every voice,and in almost every key.
"But where are the trousers?" asked Hal.
"The trousers?--why"--
Granny held up the beautiful jacket. There was nothing else in thepaper.
"Why--he's made a mistake. He never put them in, I am sure."
"You couldn't have lost 'em?" asked Granny mildly.
"Lost them--and the bundle tied with this strong twine! Now, that'smean! I'll have to run right back."
Off went Joe like a flash. He hardly drew a breath until his hand wason Mr. Brigg's door-knob.
"Well, what now, Joe?" asked the astonished Mr. Briggs.
"You didn't put in the trousers!"
"Didn't? Dan done 'em up. Dan!"
Dan emerged from a pile of rags under the counter, where he was takinga snooze.
"You didn't put in Joe's trousers."
"Yes I did."
"No you didn't," said Joe, with more promptness than politeness.
Dan began to search. A sleepy-looking, red-headed boy, to whomSaturday night was an abomination, because his father was always in thedrag, and cross.
"I'm sure I put 'em in. Every thing's gone, and they ain't here."
"Look sharp, you young rascal!"
"He has lost 'em out."
"Lost your grandmother!" said Joe contemptuously; "or the liberty poleout on the square! Why, the bundle was not untied until after I was inthe house."
"Dan, if you don't find them trousers, I'll larrup you!"
Poor Dan. Fairly wide awake now, he went tumbling over every thingpiled on the counter, searched the shelves, and every available nook.
"Somebody's stole 'em."
Dan made this announcement with a very blank face.
"I know better!" said his father.
"You are sure you made them, Mr. Briggs," asked Joe.
"Sure!" in a tone that almost annihilated both boys.
"If you don't find 'em!" shaking his fist at Dan.
Dan began to blubber.
Joe couldn't help laughing. "Let me help you look," he said.
Down went a box of odd buttons, scattering far and wide.
"You Dan!" shouted his father, with some buttons in his mouth, thatrendered his voice rather thick. "Just wait till I get at you. I haveonly six buttons to sew on."
"They're not here, Mr. Briggs," exclaimed Joe.
"Well, I declare! If that ain't the strangest thing! Dan, you've takenthem trousers to the wrong place!"
A new and overwhelming light burst in upon Dan's benighted brain.
"That's it," said Joe. "Now, where have you taken them?"
"I swow!" ejaculated the youth, rubbing his eyes.
"None o' your swearin' in this place!" interrupted his father sternly."I'm a strictly moral man, and don't allow such talk in my family."
"Tain't swearin'," mumbled Dan.
Mr. Briggs jumped briskly down from the board, with a pair ofpantaloons in one hand, and a needle and thread in the other. Dandodged round behind Joe.
"You took 'em over to Squire Powell's, I'll be bound!"
Another light was thrown in upon Dan's mental vision.
"There! I'll bet I did."
"Of course you did, you numskull! Start this minute and see how quickyou can be gone."
"I will go with him," said Joe.
So the two boys started; and a run of ten minutes--a rather reluctantperformance on Dan's part, it must be confessed--brought them to SquirePowell's. There was no light in the kitchen; but Joe beat a doubletattoo on the door in the most scientific manner.
"Who's there?" asked a voice from the second story window.
"Dan Briggs!" shouted Joe.
"Guess not," said the squire. The sound was so unlike Dan's sleepy,mumbling tone.
"There was a mistake made in some clothes," began Joe, nothing daunted.
"Oh, that's it! I will be down in a minute."
Pretty soon the kitchen-door was unlocked, and the boys stepped inside.
"I didn't know but you sent these over for one of my girls," said thesquire laughingly. "They were a _leetle_ too small for me. So theybelong to you, Joe?"
"Yes, sir," said Joe emphatically, laying hold of his precious trousers.
"Look sharper next time, Dan," was the squire's good advice.
"I wish you'd go home with me, Joe," said Dan, after they had taken afew steps. "Father'll larrup me, sure!"
"Maybe that will brighten your wits," was Joe's consoling answer.
"But, Joe--I'm sure I didn't mean to--and"--
"I'm off like a shot," appended Joe, suiting the action to the word;and poor Dan was left alone in the middle of the road.
"Why, what _has_ happened, Joe?" said Granny as he bounced in thekitchen-door.
"Such a time as I've had to find 'them trousers,' as Mr. Briggs callsthem! Dan had packed them off to Squire Powell's!"
"That Dan Briggs is too stupid for any thing," commented Florence.
"There's time to try them on yet," Joe exclaimed. "Just you wait a bit."
Joe made a rush into the other room.
"Don't wake up Dot," said Hal.
"Oh! I'll go as softly
as a blind mouse."
"There, Granny, what do you think of that?"
"You want a collar and a necktie, and your hair brushed a little," saidFlorence with critical eyes.
"But aren't they stunners!"
Granny looked at him, turned him round and looked again, and herwrinkled face was all one bright smile. For he was so tall and manlyin this long jacket, with its narrow standing collar, and the trousersthat fitted to a charm.
"Oh," said Hal with a long breath, "it's splendid!"
"You bet! When I get 'em paid for, Hal, I'll help you out."
Florence sighed.
"O Flo! I can't help being slangy. It comes natural to boys. And thenhearing them all talk in the store."
"Wa-a!" said a small voice. "Wa-a-a Danny!"
"There!" exclaimed Hal; and he ran in to comfort Dot.
But Dot insisted upon being taken up, and brought out to candle-light.The buttons on Joe's jacket pleased her fancy at once, and soothed hersorrow.
"I must say, Dot, you are a young woman of some taste," laughed Joe.
"Granny," said Kit, after sitting in deep thought, and taking a goodchew out of his thumb, "when Joe wears 'em out, can you cut 'em overfor me?"
"O Kit! Prudent and economical youth! To you shall be willed the lastremaining shreds of my darling gray trousers, jacket, buttons and all."
They had a grand time admiring Joe. Charlie felt so sorry that shewasn't a boy; and Flo declared that "he looked as nice as anybody, ifonly he wouldn't"--
"No, I won't," said Joe solemnly.
Granny felt proud enough of him the next day when he went to church.Florence was quite satisfied to walk beside him.
"I wish there was something nice for you, Hal," said Granny in a toneof tender regret.
"My turn will come by and by," was the cheerful answer.
For Hal took the odds and ends of every thing, and was content.
"They're a nice lot of children, if I do say it myself," was Granny'scomment to Dot. "And I'm glad I never let any of them go to thepoor-house or be bound out, or any thing. We'll all get along somehow."
Dot shook her head sagely, as if that was her opinion also.
The story of Joe's Saturday night adventure leaked out; and poor DanBriggs was tormented a good deal, the boys giving him the nickname ofTrousers, much to his discomfort.
Joe discovered, like a good many other people, that whereas getting indebt was very easy, getting out of debt was very hard. He went alongbravely for several weeks, and then he began to find so many wants.A new straw hat he _must_ have, for the weather was coming warm, andthey had such beauties at the store for a dollar; and then his bootsgrew too rusty, so a pair of shoes were substituted. He bought Dot apretty Shaker, which she insisted upon calling her "Sunny cool Shaker."She was growing very cunning indeed, though her tongue was exceedinglycrooked. Hal laughed over her droll baby words; and Kit's endeavor tomake her say tea-kettle was always crowned with shouts of laughter.
Joe succeeded pretty well at the store, but occasionally all thingsdid not work together for good. His margin of fun was so wide that itsometimes brought him into trouble. One day he inadvertently sold oldMrs. Cummings some ground pepper, instead of allspice. That afternoonthe old lady flew back in a rage.
"I'll never buy a cent's wuth of this good-for nothin', car'less boy!"she ejaculated. "He does nothin' but jig around the store, and singsongs. An' now he's gone and spiled my whole batch of pies."
"Spoiled your pies?" said Mr. Terry in astonishment.
"Yes, spiled 'em! Four as good pies as anybody in Madison makes. Greenapple too!"
"Why, I never saw your pies!" declared Joe.
"I'd like to make you eat 'em all,--to the last smitch!" and she shookher fist.
"But what did he do?" questioned Mr. Terry.
"That's what I'm tryin' to tell you. I run in this mornin' and boughttwo ounces of allspice; for I hadn't a speck in the house. Seth's sofond of it in apple-pies. Well, I was hurryin' round; an' I lost mysmell years ago, when I had the influenzy, so I put in the allspice;an' sez I at dinner, 'Seth, here's the fust green-apple pies. I don'tbelieve a soul in Madison has made 'em yet! They're nice an' hot.'With that he tasted. 'Hot!' sez he, 'hot! I guess they air, and the'vesomethin' more'n fire in 'em too!' 'What's in 'em?' sez I; and sez he,'Jest you taste!' an' so I did, an' it nigh about burnt my tongue off.'Why,' sez I, 'it's pepper;' an' Seth sez, 'Well, if you ain't smart!'That made me kinder huffy like; an' then I knew right away it was thiscar'less fellow that's always singin' an' dancin' and a standin' on hishead!"
Mrs. Cummings had to stop because she was out of breath. Joe duckedunder the counter, experiencing a strong tendency to fly to fragments.
"I am very sorry," returned Mr. Terry. "It must have been a mistake;"and he tried to steady the corners of his mouth to a becoming sense ofgravity.
"No mistake at all!" and she gave her head a violent jerk. "Some of hissmart tricks he thought he'd play on me. Didn't I see him a treatin'Dave Downs to loaf-sugar one day; an' bime by he gave him a great lumpof salt!"
Mr. Terry had heard the story of the salt, and rather enjoyed it; forDave was always hanging round in the way.
"And he jest did it a purpose, I know. As soon as ever I tasted thatpepper, I knew 'twas one of his tricks. And my whole batch of piesspil't!"
"No," said Joe, in his manly fashion: "I didn't do it purposely, Mrs.Cummings. I must have misunderstood you."
"Pepper an' allspice sound so much alike!" she said wrathfully.
"Well, we will give you a quarter of allspice," Mr. Terry returnedsoothingly.
"That won't make up for the apples, an' the flour, an' the lard, an'all my hard work!"
"We might throw in a few apples."
"If you're goin' to keep that boy, you'll ruin your trade, I can tellyou!"
Still she took the allspice and the apples, though they had plenty athome.
"You must be careful, Joe," said Mr. Terry afterward. "It will not doto have the ill-will of all the old ladies."
Joe told the story at home with embellishments; and Hal enjoyed itwonderfully, in his quiet way.
The Old Woman Who Lived in a Shoe; Or, There's No Place Like Home Page 8