CHAPTER XXIII
PEARL'S PHILOSOPHY
For the love of God is broader Than the measure of man's mind, And the heart of the Eternal Is most wonderfully kind.
_----F. W. Faber._
IT WAS a dreamy day in late October, when not only the Tiger Hillswere veiled in mist, but every object on the prairie had a gentledraping of amber gray. "Prairie fires ragin' in the hills," said AuntKate, who always sought for an explanation of natural phenomena, butPearlie Watson knew better. She knew that it was a dream curtain thatGod puts around the world in the autumn, when the grass is faded andthe trees bare and leafless. She explained it to the other childrencoming home that night.
"You see, kids," said Pearl, "in the summer everything is so wellfixed up that there's no need to hide anything, and so the sun justshines and shines, and the days are long and bright to let every onehave a good look at things. There's the orange-lilies pepperin' thegrass, and there's cowslips and ladies' slippers, if it's yellows youlike, and there's wild roses and morning-glories, and pink ladies'slippers, if you know whereto look for them, and the hills are all sogreen and velvety, and there's the little ponds full of water withthe wind crinklin' the top of it, and strings of wild ducks sailin'kind o' sideways across them. Oh, it's a great sight, and it would bea pity to put a mist on it. But now the colour has faded and theponds have dried up, and the grass is dead and full of dust, and it'sfar nicer to have this gray veil drawn in close around. It helps youto make a pretty picture for yourself. Now, look over there, near TomSimpson's old house--that ain't a train track at all, but a deep bluesea, where boats sail day and night, and 'Spanish sailors withbearded lips' walk up and down clankin' their swords and whisperin'about hidden treasures."
Pearl's voice had fallen almost to a whisper.
"To-night when the moon rises the tallest one, the one with the deepscar on his cheek, will lead the way to the cave in the rock; thedoor flies open if you say the password 'Magooslem,' and there thegolden guineas lie strewn upon the stone floors. And look back thereat Lib Cavers's house--do you see how dreamy like and sleepin' it is,not takin' a bit of notice of anything? It don't look like a housewhere there's ever dirty dishes or anybody feelin' sad or lonely, andI don't believe that's Cavers's house at all," went on Pearl, makinga bold appeal to the imagination of her audience--"that's just adream house, where there is a big family of children, and they'regoin' to have pancakes for supper--pancakes and maple syrup!"
At this association of ideas Bugsey made a quick move for thedinner-pail, in which he had a distinct interest. Bugsey was what hisparents called a "quare lad" (his brothers often called him worsethan that), and one way he had of showing his "quareness" was that hedid not even eat like other people. On this particular day the Watsonchildren had for dinner, among other plainer things, a piece of wildcranberry pie, with the pits left in, for each child. Patsy's piecehad gone at the first recess; Danny's did not get past the fireguardaround the school; Tammy's disappeared before he had gone a hundredyards from the house (Tommy was carrying the dinner-pail); butBugsey, the "quare lad," did not eat his in school at all, but leftit to eat on the way home.
Now cranberry pie with the pits in is a perishable article, andshould not be left unguarded in this present evil world, where humannature has its frailties. When Bugsey looked into the pail, he raiseda wail of bereavement, and at the same moment Tommy set out for homeat high speed accelerated no doubt by the proddings of conscience.Bugsey followed, breathing out slaughter, and even made the murderousthreat of "takin' it out of his hide," which no doubt was onlyintended figuratively.
"Come back here, Bugsey Watson!" cried Pearl authoritatively. "Whatdo yez mane by it? S'posin' he did ate yer pie? It ain't as bad as ifhe knocked an eye out of yer. You shouldn't have left it in the pailto tempt him anyway. If you'd et it when you should ye'd had it and,anyway, don't be ye wasting yer temper fightin' for things like pie,that's here to-day and away to-morrow. It's a long way worse for himthat has the mean feelin' than it is for you, so it is." In herexcitement Pearl went back to her Irish brogue. Tommy by this timewas a long way down the road, still making his small legs fly,thinking that the avenging Bugsey was in pursuit.
So intent were the children on the pie dispute that they did not hearthe approach of a buggy behind them, until Sandy Braden with hispacing horse drove by. When he saw Pearl he reined in with a suddenimpulse.
"Will you come and ride with me? I'll drive you home," he said,addressing her. "Bring that little chap with you," he added, noticingthe shortness of Danny's fat legs.
Pearl assented to this, and she and Danny climbed into therubber-tired buggy.
They drove for a short distance in silence, and then, pulling hispacer to a walk, Mr. Braden said: "I have always wanted to tell you,Pearl, that I did not break my word that day. I left word with thebartender not to give Bill Cavers any liquor, but he did give it tohim, and I have been sorry ever since about it, and I wanted you toknow."
"I am glad you told me," Pearl answered quickly, "for I've often beensorry for you, thinkin' what sad thoughts you must be havin'."
"My thoughts are sad enough," he said gloomily, "for it was mywhiskey that killed him, even if I didn't hand it out to him myself."
Pearl did not contradict him.
"Isn't it queer how things happen?" she said at last thoughtfully."God does His level best for everybody! He tries to take them easy atfirst, to see if they'll take telling, and if they do, all right; butif they won't take telling, He has to jolt them good and plenty. ButHe always knows what He's doin'."
"I'm afraid I have not such unbounded faith in the Ruler of theUniverse as you have," he said at last "Bill Cavers didn't getexactly a fair deal."
"Oh, don't worry about Bill Cavers now," said Pearl quickly. "Bill'sstill in God's hands, and God has a better chance at him now than Heever had. God never intended Bill to be a drunkard,--or you to behanding liquor out to people; you can bank on that. And he neverintended Mrs. Cavers to be all sad and discouraged. God would do goodthings for people if they would only let Him, but He has to have afree hand on them. When you see people goin' wrong or cuttin' up dog,you may be sure that God didn't put it down that way in the writin's.Some one has jiggled His elbow, that's all. And it's great how Hemakes it up to people, too. Now, you'd be surprised to see howcheerful Mrs. Cavers is. When I went over after our threshin' to takeher the money--"
"What money?" he interrupted.
Pearl hesitated. "Well, you know we took their farm when they leftit, and there was some cleared on it, and the house is better thannone, and so we gave her a little to help her and Libby Anne to getready to go back to her folks down East."
"How much did you give her?" he asked.
"Two hundred dollars. She didn't want to take it, but really was gladof it, and Pa and Ma and all of us have been feeling better eversince. But I was goin' to tell you how cheerful she is, and LibbyAnne is happier than she used to be. Poor little Lib, she's so thinand pale, she's never had a good time like other children."
Sandy Braden winced at her words, for an illuminated conscienceshowed him what had cheated Libby Anne out of her childhood.
"Poor little kid!" he said.
"I knew," said Pearl, after a pause, "that day that Jimmy and I wentin with the onions that you didn't really know what a mean businessyou were in, or you wouldn't do it. You did not look to me like a manthat would hit a woman."
"That's the part of it I can't forget," he said bitterly. "I can'tforget the look of that thin little wisp of a woman, and Lord! howshe glared at me! She could have killed me that day. I don't go muchon religion, Pearl. I don't see much in religion, but I certainlywould not hit a woman if I knew it."
"Where did you learn that?" Pearl asked quickly. "You wouldn't knowthat if it wasn't for religion. Mr. Burrell was telling us lastSunday that there's no religion teaches that only ours. You say youdon't go much on religion, and still it's religion that has put anygood in you that there is, and don't you f
orget it."
"That's not saying much for it, either," he said gloomily.
"Well, now, I think it is,"--said Pearl. "In lots of countries you'dpass for an awful good man. It's on'y when you stood up besideChrist, who was so good and kind and straight, that you can seeyou're not what you ought to be. If it wasn't for the Bible andChrist we wouldn't know how good a man should be."
"I haven't read the Bible for a goad many years," he said slowly. "Idon't believe I ever read much of it."
Pearl looked straight into his face, and said without a minute'shesitation: "Well, I'll bet you a dollar some one read it for you andpassed it on to you."
Sandy Braden looked straight ahead of him, down the deeply tintedprairie road, at the hazy outlines of the sand-hills, with theirscattered spruce trees, blurred now into indistinctness--that is, hiseyes were turned toward them, but what he really saw in one of thosesudden flashes of memory which makes us think that nothing is everentirely forgotten, was a cheerful old-fashioned room, with arag-carpet on the floor and pictures in round frames on the wall. Thesun came in through the eastern windows, and the whole place feltlike Sunday. He saw his mother sitting in a rocking-chair, with a bigBible on her knee, and by her side was a little boy whom he knew tobe himself. He saw again on her finger the thin silver ring, wornalmost to a thread, and felt the clasp of her hand on his as sheguided his finger over the words she was teaching him; and backthrough the long years they came to him: "Love one another as I haveloved you." He remembered, too, and smelled again the sweet-maryleaves that were always kept in his mother's Bible, and saw againthe cards with big coloured birds on them that he had got atSunday-school for regular attendance, and which were always keptbetween its pages; and while he mused on these things with suddentenderness, there came back again the same numb feeling of sorrowthat he had had when he came home, a heartbroken boy, from hismother's funeral that day so many years ago, and buried his face inthe sweet-mary leaves in the old Bible, and blotted its pages withhis tears; for it seemed more like her than anything else in thehouse. He remembered that the undertaker's black mat with its ghastlywhite border was still in the front window, where the coffin hadrested, and that the room smelled of camphor.
Pearl saw that memory was busy with him, and said not a word.
At last he spoke. "You're right, Pearl," he said. "Some one did readit and pass it on to me, and it would have been better for me if I'dstayed closer to what she taught me."
"Ain't it queer how things turn out?" Pearl exclaimed, after a longpause. "Now, I've often wondered why Christ had to die--it seemed aterrible thing to happen to Him, and Him that lovin' and kind--do youmind how gentle and forgivin' He was?"
Sandy Braden nodded.
"Well, Mr. Donald and I have been talkin' about it quite a bit, andat first we thought it shouldn't have happened, but now it looks asif God had to strike hard to make people listen, and to show themwhat a terrible thing sin is. Death ain't nothin' to be afraid of,nor sufferin' either. Sin is the only thing to be real scared of. Itwasn't the rusty nails through His hands that made the dear Lord cryout in agony--it was the hard hearts of them that done it. BillCavers's death has done good already, for it has closed your bar, andno one knows how many men and boys that may save; and you're adifferent man now, thinking different thoughts, ain't you?"
"I'm a mighty unhappy man," he said sadly. "I'm different that way,that's a sure thing."
Pearl looked at him closely, as if she would see the inner working ofhis mind.
"Mr. Braden, I know just what you're like," she said. "Did you eversee a man 'trying to stand still on a bicycle? That's no harder thanwhat you're tryin' to do. You've stopped doin' wrong, but you haven'tgone on, and you're in great shape to take a bad fall. If you'djust get busy helpin' people you'd soon get over bein' sad anddown-hearted. You're feelin' bad over Bill Cavers's death. Why don'tyou make Bill's death count for something good? You're a smart man,and everybody likes you. If you was to teach a Bible class every onewould come to hear you."
"I'll bet they would," he said, shrugging his shoulders and laughingalmost bitterly.
"Well, then," said Pearl, "don't let the chances all go by you. Doyou know, I often look at trees and feel sorry for them?"
"Why?" he asked curiously.
"Because they can't do a thing to help each other; and I often wonderif they're the people who wouldn't lift a finger to help any one whenthey were livin', and so they were turned into trees when they died,and now they see grubs and worms crawlin' over their own folks,maybe, and they can't lift a leaf to help them. Mr. Donald read us astory in school about a man who was awful mean while he lived andwouldn't help anybody, and when he died he had to wander up and downthe world and see people starvin' and all sorts of sad sights, but hecouldn't do a single thing for them, though he wanted to bad enough,because he had forged a chain that bound him hand and foot while hewas livin', all unbeknownst to himself. Did you ever read that littlebook, Mr. Braden?"
"I did," he said. "I read that story, but I had almost forgotten it.I haven't thought of it for years."
"It's a good story," said Pearl meaningly.
"I guess it is," he answered, smiling.
When they reached the Watson home, Mrs. Watson and Aunt Kate came outand thanked Mr. Braden profusely for his kindness in "givin' thechilder a lift." Danny, who had been bored by the serious nature ofthe conversation, had gone to sleep, and was carried snoring into thehouse.
Mr. Braden admired the display of poppies and asters, which stillmade a brave show of colour against the almost leafless trees of thebluff, and when Pearl ran over to pick him a bouquet of asters, wasit by accident--or does anything ever happen by accident--that sheput in some leaves of sweet-mary?
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