The Young Woodsman; Or, Life in the Forests of Canada

by J. Macdonald Oxley

  CHAPTER II.

  THE CHOICE OF AN OCCUPATION.

  The fact was that Mrs. Kingston felt a strong repugnance to her son'sfollowing in his father's footsteps, so far as his occupation wasconcerned. She dreaded the danger that was inseparable from it, andshrank from the idea of giving up the boy, whose company was now thechief delight of her life, for all the long winter months that would beso dreary without him.

  Frank had some inkling of his mother's feelings, but, boy like, thoughtof them as only the natural nervousness of womankind; and his heart beingset upon going to the woods, he was not very open to argument.

  "Why don't you want me to go lumbering, mother?" he inquired in a tonethat had a touch of petulance in it. "I've got to do something formyself, and I detest shopkeeping. It's not in my line at all. Fellowslike Tom Clemon and Jack Stoner may find it suits them, but I can't bearthe idea of being shut up in a shop or office all day. I want to be outof doors. That's the kind of life for me."

  Mrs. Kingston gave a sigh that was a presage of defeat as she regardedher son standing before her, his handsome face flushed with eagerness andhis eyes flashing with determination.

  "But, Frank dear," said she gently, "have you thought how dreadfullylonely it will be for me living all alone here during the longwinter--your father gone from me, and you away off in the woods, where Ican never get to you or you to me?"

  The flush on Frank's face deepened and extended until it covered foreheadand neck with its crimson glow. He had not taken this view of the caseinto consideration before, and his tender heart reproached him for soforgetting his mother while laying out his own plans. He sprang forward,and kneeling down beside the lounge, threw his arms about his mother'sneck and clasped her fondly, finding it hard to keep the tears back as hesaid,--

  "You dear, darling mother! I have been selfish. I should have thought howlonely it would be for you in the winter time."

  Mrs. Kingston returned the embrace with no less fervour, and as usuallyhappens where the other side seems to be giving way, began to weakensomewhat herself, and to feel a little doubtful as to whether, after all,it would be right to oppose her son's wishes when his inclinations towardthe occupation he had chosen were evidently so very decided.

  "Well, Frank dear," she said after a pause, while Frank looked at herexpectantly, "I don't want to be selfish either. If it were not for theway we lost your father, perhaps I should not have such a dread of thewoods for you; and no doubt even then it is foolish for me to give way toit. We won't decide the matter now. If you do go to the woods, it won'tbe until the autumn, and perhaps during the summer something will turn upthat will please us better. We will leave the matter in God's hands. Hewill bring it to pass in the way that will be best for us both, I amconfident."

  So with that understanding the matter rested, although of course it wascontinually being referred to as the weeks slipped by and the summerwaxed and waned. Although Frank felt quite convinced in his own mind thathe was not cut out for a position behind a desk or counter, he determinedto make the experiment, and accordingly applied to Squire Eagleson, whokept the principal shop and was the "big man" of the village, for a placein his establishment. Summer being the squire's busy season, and Frankbeing well known to him, he was glad enough to add to his small staff ofclerks so promising a recruit, especially as, taking advantage of theboy's ignorance of business affairs, he was able to engage him at wagesmuch below his actual worth to him. This the worthy squire regarded asquite a fine stroke of business, and told it to his wife with greatgusto, rubbing his fat hands complacently together as he chuckled overhis shrewdness.

  "Bright boy that Frank Kingston! Writes a good fist, and can run up a rowof figures like smoke. Mighty civil, too, and sharp. And all for sevenshillings a week! Ha, ha, ha! Wish I could make as good a bargain as thatevery day." And the squire looked the picture of virtuous content as heleaned back in his big chair to enjoy the situation.

  Mrs. Eagleson did not often venture to intermeddle in her husband'sbusiness affairs, although frequently she became aware of things whichshe could not reconcile with her conscience. But this time she was movedto speak by an impulse she could not control. She knew the Kingstons, andhad always thought well of them. Mrs. Kingston seemed to her in manyrespects a model woman, who deserved well of everybody; and that herhusband, who was so well-to-do, should take any advantage of these worthypeople who had so little, touched her to the quick. There was a brightspot on the centre of her pale cheeks and an unaccustomed ring in hervoice as she exclaimed, with a sharpness that made her husband give quitea start of surprise,--

  "Do you mean to tell me, Daniel, that you've been mean enough to takeadvantage of that boy who has to support his widowed mother, and to hirehim for half the wages he's worth, just because he didn't know anybetter? And then you come home here and boast of it! Have you noconscience?"

  The squire was so taken aback by this unexpected attack that at first hehardly knew how to meet it. Should he lecture his wife for herpresumption in meddling in his affairs, which were quite beyond hercomprehension as a woman, or should he make light of the matter and laughit off? After a moment's reflection he decided on the latter course.

  "Hoity, toity, Mrs. Eagleson! but what's set you so suddenly on fire?Business is business, you know, and if Frank Kingston did not know enoughto ask for more wades, it wasn't my concern to enlighten him."

  Mrs. Eagleson rose from her chair and came over and stood in front of herhusband, pointing her long, thin forefinger at him as, with a tremblingyet scornful voice, she addressed him thus,--

  "Daniel, how you can kneel down and ask the blessing of God upon suchdoings is beyond me, or how your head can lie easy on your pillow whenyou know that you are taking the bread out of that poor lone widow'smouth it is not for me to say. But this I will say, whether you like itor not: if you are not ashamed of yourself, I am for you." And before thenow much-disturbed squire had time to say another word in his defence thespeaker had swept indignantly out of his presence and hastened to her ownroom, there to throw herself down upon the bed and burst into a passionof tears, for she was at best but a weak-nerved woman.

  Left to himself, the squire shifted about uneasily in his chair, and thenrose and stumped angrily to the window.

  "What does she know about business?" he muttered. "If she were to haveher own way at the store, she'd ruin me in a twelvemonth."

  Yet Mrs. Eagleson's brave outburst was not in vain. Somehow or otherafter it the squire never felt comfortable in his mind until, much toFrank's surprise and delight, he one day called him to him, and, with anair of great generosity and patronage, said,--

  "See here, my lad. You seem to be doing your work real well, so I amgoing to give you half-a-crown a week more just to encourage you, andthen if a little extra work comes along"--for autumn was approaching--"yewon't mind tackling it with a goodwill; eh?"

  Frank thanked his employer very heartily, and this unexpected increase ofearnings and his mother's joy over it for a time almost reconciled him tothe work at the shop, which he liked less and less the longer he was atit.

  The fact of the matter was, a place behind the counter was uncongenial tohim in many ways. There was too much in-doors about it, to begin with.From early morning until late evening he had to be at his post, withbrief intervals for meals; and the colour was leaving his cheeks, and hismuscles were growing slack and soft, owing to the constant confinement.

  But this was the least of his troubles. A still more serious matterwas that his conscience did not suffer him to take kindly to the "tricksof the trade," in which his employer was a "passed master" and hisfellow-clerks very promising pupils. He could not find it in his heart todepreciate the quality of Widow Perkins's butter, or to cajole unwary SamStruthers, from the backlands, into taking a shop-worn remnant for thenew dress his wife had so carefully commissioned him to buy. His idea oftrade was that you should deal with others as fairly as you would havethem deal with you; and while, of course, according to the squire'
sphilosophy, you could never make a full purse that way, still you couldat least have a clear conscience, which surely was the more desirableafter all.

  The squire had noticed Frank's "pernickety nonsense," as he was pleasedto call it, and at first gave him several broad hints as to the bettermode of doing business; but finding that the lad was firm, and would nodoubt give up his place rather than learn these "business ways," he hadthe good sense to let him alone, finding in his quickness, fidelity, andattention to his work sufficient compensation for this deficiency inbargaining acumen.

  "You'll be content to stay at the shop now, won't you, Frank?" said hismother as they talked over the welcome and much-needed rise of salary.

  "It does seem to make it easier to stay, mother," answered Frank."But--" And he gave a big sigh, and stopped.

  "But what, dear?" asked Mrs. Kingston, tenderly.

  Frank was slow in answering. He evidently felt reluctant to bring up thematter again, and yet his mind was full of it.

  "But what, Frank?" repeated his mother, taking his hands in hers andlooking earnestly into his face.

  "Well, mother, it's no use pretending. I'm not cut out for keeping shop,and I'll never be much good at it. I don't like being in-doors all day.And then, if you want to get on, you've got to do all sorts of thingsthat are nothing else but downright mean; and I don't like that either."And then Frank went on to tell of some of the tricks and stratagems thesquire or the other clerks would resort to in order to make a goodbargain.

  Mrs. Kingston listened with profound attention. More than once of late,as she noticed her son's growing pallor and loss of spirits, she hadasked herself whether she were not doing wrong in seeking to turn himaside from the life for which he longed; and now that he was findingfresh and fatal objections to the occupation he had chosen in deferenceto her wishes, she began to relent of her insistence, and to feel moredisposed to discuss the question again. But before doing so she wished toask the advice of a friend in whom she placed much confidence, and so forthe present she contented herself with applauding Frank for hisconscientiousness, and assuring him that she would a thousand timesrather have him always poor than grow rich after the same fashion asSquire Eagleson.

  The friend whose advice Mrs. Kingston wished to take was her husband'ssuccessor as foreman at the depot for the lumber camps--a sensible,steady, reliable young man, who had risen to his present positionby process of promotion from the bottom, and who was therefore wellqualified to give her just the counsel she desired. At the firstopportunity, therefore, she went over to Mr. Stewart's cottage, and,finding him at home, opened her heart fully to him. Mr. Stewart, or AlecStewart, as he was generally called, listened with ready sympathy to whatMrs. Kingston had to say, and showed much interest in the matter, for hehad held a high opinion of his former chief, and knew Frank well enoughto admire his spirit and character.

  "Well, you see, Mrs. Kingston, it's just this way," said he, when hisvisitor had stated the case upon which she wanted his opinion: "ifFrank's got his heart so set upon going into the woods, I don't know asthere's any use trying to cross him. He won't take kindly to anythingelse while he's thinking of that; and he'd a big sight better be a goodlumberman than a poor clerk, don't you think?"

  Mrs. Kingston felt the force of this reasoning, yet could hardly make upher mind to yield to it at once.

  "But, Mr. Stewart," she urged, "it may only be a boyish notion ofFrank's. He thinks, perhaps, he'd like it because that's what his fatherwas before him, and then he may find his mistake."

  "Well, Mrs. Kingston," replied Mr. Stewart, "if you think there's anychance of that being the case, we can settle the question right enough inthis way:--Let Frank come to the woods with me this winter. I will givehim a berth as chore-boy in one of the camps; and if that doesn't sickenhim of the business, then all I can say is you'd better let the lad havehis will."

  Mrs. Kingston sighed.

  "I suppose you're right. I don't quite like the idea of his beingchore-boy; but if he's really in earnest, there's no better way ofproving him."

  Now Frank knew well enough how humble was the position of "chore-boy" ina lumber camp. It meant that he would be the boy-of-all-work; that hewould have to be up long before dawn, and be one of the last in the campto get into his bunk; that he would have to help the cook, take messagesfor the foreman, be obliging to the men, and altogether do his best to begenerally useful. Yet he did not shrink from the prospect. The idea ofrelease from the uncongenial routine of shopkeeping filled him withhappiness, and his mother was almost reconciled to letting him go fromher, so marked was the change in his spirits.