The Second Chance

by Nellie L. McClung

  CHAPTER XVI

  SPIRITUAL ADVISORS

  Like tides on a crescent sea-beach When the moon is new and thin, Into our hearts high yearnings Come welling and surging in-- Come from the mystic ocean whose rim no foot has trod. Some of us call it longing And others call it God.

  _----W. H. Carruth._

  WHEN Bud and Martha reached home, Bud went straight to his father whowas sitting in his stockinged feet, yawning over a machinerycatalogue. "Dad," he said, "I'm going to be a better boy than I'vebeen."

  "How's that, Buddie?" Mr. Perkins asked suspiciously.

  Bud coloured uncomfortably. "I've made up my mind to be e aChristian, father," he answered, after a pause.

  "All right, Bud, that's all right," the old man answered, letting thecatalogue fall to the floor. "A little religion is a fine thing, andno one should be without it. I'm a religious man myself, Buddie, ifany one should ask you. I can always ask a blessing at the table whenthere's company--you know that yourself--and I've attended church foryears; I never miss goin' the Sunday the Foresters get preached to. Ifavour the Church of England, myself, though your ma's folks alwayspatronized the Methodists. I like the Church of England best becausethey can give you such a dandy funeral, no matter who you are, byGeorge! and no questions asked. They sure can give a fellow a greatsend-off. This little Burrell is a Methodist, isn't he?"

  "Yes, he's a Methodist," said Bud.

  "Well, now, Bud, I don't want to discourage you, but you have to becareful how you get mixed up with them Methodists; they go too farand are apt to overdo things. You mind when there was them bigrevival meetings at Millford a few years ago. Well, sir, Brown, thedruggist, got religion and burned up all his pipes and tobacco; theytell me they were as fine a stock of briar-roots and ambermouthpieces as any person would care to see; people who raked overthe as ashes tell me it was a' terrible sight altogether--and he wasa smart man up to that time, makin' good ney sellin' rain-water formedicine. Now, Buddie, go slow. I don't mind you goin' to church andchippin' in your nickel when the plate passes, and it's all right tobuy stuff at their sales. I mind when the Church of England ladiesraffled off that quilt, I bought two ten-cent throws, and neverkicked when I didn't get it. I says: 'Oh, well, it's gone for a goodcause.' But don't let them get too strong a hold on you."

  "But, father," Bud said earnestly, "I want to stand up for everythingthat's right. I want to be straight and honest, and help people, andI've just been thinkin' about it--it's not fair to plug wheat the waywe've been doing--it's not right to pretend that it's all first classwhen there's frozen grain in it."

  Thomas Perkins grew serious.

  "Buddie, dear," he said, "you're gettin' cluttered up with a lot ofbum ideas. A farmer has to hold his own against everybody else.They're all trying to fleece him, and he's got to fool them if hecan. I'm honest myself, Bud, you know that; but there's nothingpleases me quite so well as to be able to get eighty-seven cents abushel for wheat that I would only be gettin' fifty-three for if Ihadn't taken a little trouble when I was fillin' it up."

  "But it would make a fellow feel mean to get caught," Bud said,trying to get hold of an argument that would have weight.

  "A fellow needn't be caught, Bud, if he ain't too graspin'. You don'tneed to plug every time. They know blame well when a fellow has somefrozen wheat, and it don't do to draw in No. I hard or No. I Northernevery time. It's safest to plug it just one grade above what it is.Oh, it's a game, Bud, and it takes a good player. Now, son, you runalong and bring up the cows, and don't you be worryin' aboutreligion. That's what happened me brother Jimmy, your own poor uncle.He got all taken up with the Seventh Day Adventists, and his hiredhelp was gettin' two Sundays a week--he wouldn't let them workSaturday and they wouldn't work Sunday. Your poor uncle was afraid tolet them work on Saturday, for, accordin' to his religion, you'd bedamned if you let your hired help work just the same as if you workedyourself; but he used to say he'd be damned if he'd let them sit idleand him payin' them big wages, and it was a bad mix-up, I tell you.And then there was old man Redmond, he got religion and began to giveback things he said he'd stole--brought back bags to Steadman that he'said he stole at a threshin' at my place; but they had Steadman'sname on them. It made lots of trouble, Bud, and I never saw anythingbut trouble come out of this real rip-roarin' Methodist religion, andI don't want you to get mixed up in it."

  Bud went down the ravine that led to the river with a troubled heart.There was something sweet and satisfying just within reach, but iteluded him as he tried to grasp it. Bud had never heard ofconviction of sin, repentance and justification, but he knew that amysterious something was struggling within him. He found the cows,and turned them homeward. Then he flung himself on the grassy slopeof the river-bank and gave himself to bitter reflections. "There isno use of me tryin' to be anybody," he thought sadly. "I don't knowanything, and I'd just make a fool of myself if I was to try to doanything."

  A flock of plovers circled over his head, rapidly whirring theirwings, then sailing easily higher and higher into the blue of theevening sky. He looked after them enviously.

  "Things don't bother those chaps," he said to himself.

  He started up suddenly. Some one was calling his name. Looking acrossthe ravine, he saw Pearl Watson standing outside the fence.

  "Hello, Bud!" she shouted. "What's wrong?"

  He ran down the bank and up the opposite side of the ravine.

  "I am all out of humour, Pearl," he said. "I wish I had never beenborn. I'm a big awkward lump."

  Pearl looked at him closely.

  "That's the devil, Bud," she said gravely. "He gets into people andtells them they're no good, an' never will be. It's just his way ofkeepin' people from doin' good things. You see, Bud, the devil ain'tso terrible particular about gettin' us to do bad things as just tokeep us from doin' good ones. If you do nothin' at all it will pleasehim all right, for all you've got to do to be lost is to do nothin'.It's just like a stick in the river. If it just keeps quiet it willgo down stream, and so it is with us--things is movin' that way. Now,Bud, them's wrong thoughts you're havin' about not bein' any good.You can see, hear and talk, and sense things--that's all anybody cando. You're big and strong, and most likely will live fifty years.Here, now, God has set you up with a whole outfit--what are you goin'to do with it?"

  "That's what I don't know, Pearl," he said. "What can I do? Where canI go where I'll be any real use?"

  "You don't need to leave home, Bud," Pearl said; "you don't need tobe et up by cannibals to be a Christian. Stay right at home and go onand work and do your work better than ever; just do it as if GodHimself was lookin' over your shoulder; and be that kind and gentlethat even the barn cats'll know who you're tryin' to be like. Earnall the money you can, too, Bud. Do you know what I'm goin' to dowith my first money I earn? I'll be seventeen before I can teach, andwith the first money I get I'll send some to support a little girl inIndia. She'll be called Pearl and I'll bring her up a Bible-woman."

  "I'm all discouraged," Bud said.

  Pearl leaned over the fence and said earnestly: "Bud, when I getdiscouraged I take it as a sign that I haven't been keepin' prayedup, and I go right at it and pray till I get feelin' fine. I'm goin'to pray now."

  She knelt down on her side of the fence. He did the same.

  "Oh, God!" she said, "here's Bud all balled up in his mind, wantin'to do right, but not knowin' how to go at it. I guess you've oftenseen people like that, and know better how to go about strengthenin'them up than I can tell You. Bud's all right of a boy, too, dearLord, when he gets a real grip on things. You should have seen himwallop the daylight out of young Tom Steadman when he hit Lib Cavers.I wasn't there; but they tell me is was something grand. Bless himnow, dear Lord, and never, never let go of Bud. Even if he lets go ofYou, keep your grip on him. For the dear Saviour's sake, Amen."

  They rose from their knees and shook hands silently through thebarbed wire.

  "I wish I could believe as easy as you, Pearl," B
ud said.

  "Look over there, Bud," she cried, pointing to the little housebeside the bluff. The setting sun had caught the western windows andlit them into flame. "It's just like that with any of us, Bud. Thatold windy is all cracked and patched, but look how it shines when thesun gets a full blaze on it. That's like us, Bud. We're no goodourselves, we're cracked and patched, but when God's love gets achance at us we can shine and glow."

  "You're a great kid, Pearl," he said.

  She laughed delightedly. "I'm like the windy," she said; "God putsgood thoughts in me because I keep turned broadside and catch allthat's comin' my way. Go home now, Bud, and don't ever say you'rediscouraged again."

  They shook hands again silently through the fence, and parted.

  Through the tall elms and balms that fringed the river Bud could seethe Souris slipping swiftly over its shining pebbles, a broad ribbonof gold coming out of the West, and it seemed as if some of the gloryof the sunset was coming to him on its sparkling waters. His eyefollowed its course until it disappeared around the bend. A newtenderness for it and a new sense of companionship filled his heart.

  "Good old Souris," he said, as he turned homeward.

  * * *

  On the Watson farm there were many improvements being made. The oldmachinery that littered the yard had been taken away to the poplargrove near by, where the boys spent many happy hours constructingthreshing-machines. On Arbour Day, under Pearl's inspection, eachchild went to the river flat and dug up a small maple tree, andplanted it in front of where the new house was going to be. Pearl hadthe exact location of the new house firmly fixed in her mind beforeshe had been many days on the farm, and soon had every person, evenAunt Kate, helping to beautify the grounds. A wide hedge of thelittle wild rosebushes which grew plentifully along the headlands,was set out behind where the house was to stand, to divide the lawnfrom the garden, Pearl said, and although to the ordinary eye theywere a weedy looking lot, to Pearl's optimistic vision they, werealready aglow with fragrant bloom. Aunt Kate sent down east to hersister Lib for roots of sweet Mary, ribbon-grass, and live-forever,all of which came, took root, and grew in the course of time.

  Pearl's dream of a fine chicken-house under the trees began to assumetangible form when Mrs. Slater came to call, and brought with her afine yellow hen and thirteen little woolly chicks. Mrs. Motherwellcame, too, and brought with her a similar offering, only hers werePlymouth Rocks. Mrs. John Green brought nine little fluffy ducklingsand their proud but perplexed mother, a fine white Orpington. Giftslike these often accompany first calls in the agricultural districtsof the West. They answer the purpose of, and indeed have someadvantage over, the engraved card with lower left-hand corner turneddown, in expressing friendly greetings to all members of the family.

  Temporary dwellings were hastily constructed of packing boxes for thehens and their respective flocks, but after seeding, a real henhouse,made of logs with a sod roof, was erected.

  One thing troubled Pearl's conscience. She was not sure that they hadbeen real square with the Caverses. It was quite legal for them totake possession of the farm, of course, for Bill Cavers had abandonedit; but should they not pay something for the improvements that hadbeen made? The house had sheltered them, and the stable, such as itwas, was better than no stable--it did not seem right to take it fornothing. She spoke to her father about it, and he readily agreed withher, and said they would "do something" when they saw how the cropturned out.

  Pearl worked hard at school, and made such rapid progress that oneday Mr. Donald told her, after reading one of her compositions, thathe believed he could "put her through for a teacher" in a couple ofyears, she was doing so well. Pearl stared at him speechless withjoy. Then she went to the window and looked out at the glorious Juneday, that all at once had grown more glorious still. The wholelandscape seemed to Pearl to be swimming in a golden mist. An orioleflew carolling gaily over the woodpile, singing the very song thatwas in her own heart. When she came back to the teacher's desk hereyes were shining with happy tears.

  "Just to think," she said in a tremulous voice, "that I can do meduty to the boys and git me stifficate at the same time! I just feellike I ought to apologize to God for ever doubtin' that I'd get it."Then she told the teacher of the fears she had when coming out on thefarm, that she would have no further chance of an education. "Andnow," she concluded, "here I am doin' me duty and gettin' me chanceat the same time. Ain't that happiness enough for any one?"

  The teacher looked at her wonderingly. "You're a cheerfulphilosopher, Pearl," he said gravely, "and you make me wish I wastwenty years younger."

  Pearl looked in her dictionary to find what "philosopher" meant, buteven then she could not imagine why Mr. Donald wanted to be twentyyears younger.

  After Pearl's visit to the Perkins home, when Martha showed her allher treasures, her active brain had been busy devising means ofimproving Martha, mentally and physically. After consulting withCamilla, Pearl went over to see Martha again, full enthusiasm andbeauty-producing devices. She put Martha through a series ofcalisthenics and breathing exercises she had learned at school, forMartha was inclined to stoop, and Camilla had said that "a gracefulcarriage was one of the most important things."

  Martha had never had any money of her own, having always sold herbutter to the store and received due bills in return. Thomas Perkinswas not mean about anything but money--he would gladly give to hischildren anything else that he possessed--but he considered it a veryunlucky thing to part with money. Pearl saw plainly that cold cashwas necessary for carrying out her plans for Martha, and so, actingon Camilla's suggestion, she got customers for Martha's butter whowould pay her cash every week.

  She got for Martha, too, a lotion for her hands which, put onregularly every night, was sure to soften and whiten them. She showedher how to treat her hair to make it lose its 'hard, stringy look.Camilla had written out full instructions and sent a piece of thesoap that would do the work.

  When Martha got her first butter money she sent for the magazine thatshe had wanted her father to give her the money for before, and whenthe first number came, she read it diligently and became what themagazine people would call a "good user." Pearl had inspired in her abelief in her own possibilities, and it was wonderful to see how soonshe began to make the best of herself.