Janet's Love and Service Part 16

"But you'll no' leave it with my consent. Deacon Slowcome said the minister wasna needing to take anything he didna want, and the like o'

that we could make no use of."

"The deacon might have said that in a general kind of way, but I rather guess he didn't mean you to take him up so. I've been calculating to pay my minister's tax with that sugar, and I don't know as I've got anything else handy. I'll leave it, and if you don't conclude to keep it, you better speak to the deacon about it, and maybe he'll give you the money for it. I'll leave it anyhow."

"But you'll no leave it here," exclaimed Mrs Nasmyth, whose patience was not proof against his persistence, and seizing the bucket, she rushed out at the door, and depositing it in the sleigh, was in again before the astonished Mr Spears quite realised her intention.

"You'll no' find me failing in my duty to the minister, as I hae done before," exclaimed she, a little breathless with the exertion. "If the minister canna hae his stipend paid in good siller as he has been used wi', he shall at least hae nae trash like yon. So dinna bring here again what ither folk winna hae from you, for I'll hae none o' it."

"I should like to see the minister a minute," said Mr Spears, seating himself with dignity. "I don't consider that you are the one to settle this business."

"There's many a thing that you dinna consider that there's sense in, notwithstanding. It's just me that is to decide this business, and a'

business where the minister's welfare, as regards meat and drink, is concerned. So dinna fash yourself and me mair about it."

"I'd like to see him, anyhow," said he, taking a step towards the study-door.

"But you'll no' see him about any such matter," and Janet placed herself before him. "I'm no' to hae the minister vexed with the like o' that nonsense to-night, or any night. I wonder you dinna think shame, to hold up your face to me, forby the minister. What kens the minister about the like o' that? He has other things to think about. It's weel that there's aye me to stand between him and the like o' your 'glegs and corbies'."--And Janet, as her manner was when excited, degenerated into Scotch to such a degree, that her opponent forgot his indignation in astonishment, and listened in silence. Janet was successful. Mr Spears was utterly nonplussed, and took his way homeward, by no means sure that he hadn't been abused! "Considerable beat, anyhow."

Scarcely had he taken his departure, when Mr Elliott made his appearance, having had some idea that something unusual had been going on. Though loth to do so, Janet thought best to give a faithful account of what had taken place. He laughed heartily at her success and Mr Spears' discomfiture, but it was easy to see he was not quite at his ease about the matter.

"I am at a loss to know how all this will end," he said, gravely, after a minute.

"Indeed, sir, you need be at no loss about that. It will end in a 'toom pantry' for us, and that before very long."

This was the beginning of a conversation with regard to their affairs, that lasted till the children came home. Much earnest thought did the minister bestow on the subject for the next three days, and on the evening of the fourth, at the close of a full conference meeting, when most of the members of the church were present, the result of his meditations was given to the public. He did not use many words, but they were to the point.

He told them of the settlement for the past, and the prospect for the future. He told them that the value to his family of the articles brought in, was not equal to their value, as named in the subscription-lists, their real value he supposed. They could not live in comfort on these terms, and they should never try it. He had a proposal to make to them. The deacon had estimated that an annual amount equal to seven hundred dollars could be raised. Let each subscriber deduct a seventh part of what he had promised to pay, and let the remainder be paid in money to the treasurer, so that he might receive his salary in quarterly payments. This would be the means of avoiding much that was annoying to all parties, and was the only terms on which he would think it wise to remain in Merleville.

He alluded to a report that had lately reached him, as to his having money invested in Scotland. In the hand of a friend he had deposited sufficient to defray the expenses of his eldest son, until his education should be completed. He had no more. The comfort of his family must depend upon his salary; and what that was to be, and how it was to be paid, must be decided without loss of time.

He said just two or three words about his wish to stay, about the love he felt for many of them, and of his earnest desire to benefit them all.

He had no other desire than to cast in his lot with theirs, and to live and die among them. But no real union or confidence could be maintained between them, while the matter of support was liable at any moment to become a source of discomfort and misunderstanding to all concerned. He added, that as so many were present, perhaps no better time than to-night could be found for arranging the matter, and so he left them.

There was quite a gathering that night. Judge Merle was there, and the deacons, and the Pages, and Mr Spears, and a great many besides.

Behind the door, in a corner seat, sat Mr Snow, and near him, Mr Greenleaf. He evidently felt he was not expected to remain, and made a movement to go, but Sampson laid his hand on his arm.

"Hold on, Squire," he whispered; "as like as not they'd spare us, but I'm bound to see this through."

There was a long pause. Then Deacon Fish got up and cleared his throat, and "felt as though he felt," and went over much ground, without accomplishing much. Deacon Slowcome did pretty much the same. Judge Merle came a little nearer the mark, and when he sat down, there was a movement behind the door, and Sampson Snow rose, and stepped out. He laid his hand on the door latch, and then turned round and opened his lips.

"I expect you'll all think it ain't my place to speak in meetin', and I ain't goin' to say a great deal. It's no more than two hours or so since I got home from Rixford, and Squire Stone, he told me that their minister had given notice that he was goin' to quit. Goin' to Boston, I guess. And the Squire, says he to me, 'We've a notion of talking a little to your Mr Elliott,' and says he, 'We wouldn't begrudge him a thousand dollars cash down, and no mistake.' So now don't worry any about the minister. _He's_ all right, and worth his pay any day.

That's all I've got to say," and Mr Snow opened the door and walked out.

Sampson's speech was short, but it was the speech of the evening, and told. That night, or within a few days, arrangements were made for the carrying out of the plan suggested by Mr Elliott, with this difference, that the seventh part was not to be deducted because of money payment.

And the good people of Merleville did not regret their prompt.i.tude, when the very next week there came a deputation from Rixford, to ascertain whether Mr Elliott was to remain in Merleville, and if not, whether he would accept an invitation to settle in the larger town.

Mr Elliott's answer was brief and decided. He had no wish to leave Merleville while the people wished him to remain. He hoped never to leave them while he lived. And he never did.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN.

Spring came and went. The lads distinguished themselves both for the quant.i.ty and quality of their sugar, and highly enjoyed the work besides. The free out-of-door life, the camping in the woods beside a blazing fire, and the company of the village lads who daily and nightly crowded around them, charmed them from all other pursuits. Mr Foster and his mathematics were sadly neglected in these days. In future they were to devote themselves to agriculture.

In vain Janet hinted that "new things aye pleased light heads," and warned them that they were deciding too soon. In vain Mr Snow said that it was not sugaring time all the year; and that they should summer and winter among the hills before they committed themselves to a farmer's life. Harry quoted Cincinnatus, and Norman proved to his own satisfaction, if not to Mr Snow's, that on scientific principles every farm in Merleville could be cultivated with half the expense, and double the profits. Even their father was carried away by their enthusiasm; and it is to be feared, that if he had had a fortune to invest, it would have been buried for ever among these beautiful hills of Merleville.

An opportunity to test the strength of the lads' determination, came in a manner which involved less risk than a purchase would have done.

Early in May a letter was received from Mr Ross, in which he offered to take the charge of Arthur's education on himself, and, as he was well able to do so, Mr Elliott saw no reason for refusing the offer. The money, therefore, that he had set apart for his son's use, returned to his hands, and he did a wiser thing than to invest it either in mountain or valley.

It came, about this time, to the worst, with Mrs Jones and her daughter Celestia. The mortgage on the farm could not be paid, even the interest had fallen far behind, and Squire Skinflint had foreclosed. Nothing remained for the widow, but to save what she could from the wreck of a property that had once been large, and go away to seek a new home for herself and her children. On the homestead she was about to leave, the heart and eyes of Mr Snow had long been fixed. As a relation of the widow, he had done what could be done, both by advice and a.s.sistance, to avert the evil day; but the widow was no farmer, and her boys were children, and the longer she kept the place, the more she must involve herself; and now that the land must pa.s.s from her hands, Sampson would fain have it pa.s.s into his. But the only condition of sale was for ready money, and this without great sacrifice he could not obtain.

Meanwhile, others were considering the matter of the purchase, and the time was short; for there had been some failure in Squire Skinflint's Western land speculation, and money must be had. If the widow could have held it still, Mr Snow would never have desired to have the land; but what with the many thoughts he had given to it, and the fear of getting bad neighbours, he had about come to the conclusion that it was not worth while to farm at all, unless he could have the two farms put into one.

Just at this juncture, the minister surprised him greatly by asking his advice about the investment of the money which his brother-in-law's generosity had placed at his disposal. A very few words settled the matter. The minister lent the money to Mr Snow, and for the annual interest of the same, he was to have the use of the farm-house and the ten acres of meadow and pasture land, that lay between it and the pond.

The arrangement was in all respects advantageous to both parties, and before May was out, the little brown house behind the elms was left in silence, to await the coming of the next chance tenants; and the pleasurable excitement of settling down in their new home, filled the minds of Janet and the bairns.

And a very pleasant home it promised to be. Even in that beautiful land of mountain and valley they would have sought in vain for a lovelier spot. Sheltered by high hills from the bleak winds of the north and east, it was still sufficiently elevated to permit a wide view of the farms and forests around it. Close below, with only a short, steep bank, and a wide strip of meadow land between, lay Merle pond, the very loveliest of the many lovely lakelets, hidden away among these mountains. Over on the rising ground beyond the pond stood the meeting-house, and scattered to the right and left of it were the white houses of the village, half-hidden by the tall elms and maples that fringed the village street. Close by the farm-house, between it and the thick pine grove on the hill, ran Carson's brook, a stream which did not disappear in summer-time, as a good many of these hill streams are apt to do, and which, for several months in the year was almost as worthy of the name of river as the Merle itself. Before the house was a large gra.s.sy yard, having many rose-bushes and lilac trees scattered along the fences and the path that led to the door. There were shade trees, too.

Once they had stood in regular lines along the road, and round the large garden. Some of these had been injured because of the insufficient fences of late years; but those that remained were trees worthy of the name of trees. There were elms whose branches nearly touched each other, from opposite sides of the wide yard; and great maples that grew as symmetrically in the open s.p.a.ce, as though each spring they had been clipped and cared for by experienced hands. There had been locusts once, but the old trees had mostly died, and there were only a few young ones springing up here and there, but they were trees before the children went away from the place which they were now beginning to look upon as home.

Formerly, there had been a large and handsome garden laid out at the end of the house, but since trouble had come on the family, its cultivation had been considered too much expense, and the gra.s.s was growing green on its squares and borders now. There were a few perennials easy to cultivate; and annuals such as sow themselves, marigolds and pansies.

There was balm in abundance, and two or three gigantic peonies, in their season the admiration of all pa.s.sers by; and beds of useful herbs, wormwood and sage, and summer savory. But, though it looked like a wilderness of weeds the first day they came to see it, Janet's quick eye foresaw a great deal of pleasure and profit which might be got for the bairns out of the garden, and, as usual, Janet saw clearly.

There was a chance to find fault with the house, if anyone had at this time been inclined to find fault with anything. It was large and pleasant, but it was sadly out of repair. Much of it had been little used of late, and looked dreary enough in its dismantled state. But all this was changed after a while, and they settled down very happily in it, without thinking about any defect it might have, and these disappeared in time.

For, by and by, all necessary repairs were made by their provident landlord's own hands. He had no mind to pay out money for what he could do himself; and many a wet afternoon did he and his hired man devote to the replacing of shingles, the nailing on of clapboards, to puttying, painting, and other matters of the same kind. A good landlord he was, and a kind neighbour too; and when the many advantages of their new home were being told over by the children, the living so near to Mr Snow and little Emily was never left till the last.

A very pleasant summer thus began to them all. It would be difficult to say which of them all enjoyed their new life the most. But Janet's prophecy came true. The _newness_ of farming proved to be its chief charm to the lads; and if it had been left entirely to them to plant and sow, and care for, and gather in the harvest, it is to be feared there would not have been much to show for the summer's work. But their father, who was by no means inexperienced in agricultural matters, had the success of their farming experiment much at heart, and with his advice and the frequent expostulations and a.s.sistance of Mr Snow, affairs were conducted on their little farm on the whole prosperously.

Not that the lads grew tired of exerting themselves. There was not a lazy bone in their bodies, Mr Snow declared, and no one had a better opportunity of knowing than he. But their strength and energy were not exerted always in a direction that would _pay_, according to Mr Snow's idea of remuneration. Much time and labour were expended on the building of a bridge over Carson's brook, between the house and Pine Grove Hill, and much more to the making of a waterfall above it. Even Mr Snow, who was a long time in coming to comprehend why they should take so much trouble with what was no good but to look at, was carried away by the spirit of the affair at last, and lent his oxen, and used his crowbar in their cause, conveying great stones to the spot. When the bridge and the waterfall were completed, a path was to be made round the hill, to the pine grove at the top. Then, among the pines, there was a wonderful structure of rocks and stones, covered with mosses and creeping plants. The Grotto, the children called it, Mr Snow called it the Cave. A wonderful place it was, and much did they enjoy it. To be sure, it would not hold them all at once, but the grove would, and the grotto looked best on the outside, and much pleasure did they get out of their labours.

The lads did not deserve all the credit of these great works. The girls helped, not only with approving eyes and lips, but with expert hands as well. Even Graeme grew rosy and sunburnt by being out of doors so much on bright mornings and evenings, and if it had been always summer-time, there might have been some danger that even Graeme would not very soon have come back to the quiet indoor enjoyment of work and study again.

As for Janet, her home-sickness must have been left in the little brown house behind the elms, for it never troubled her after she came up the brae. With the undisputed possession of poultry, pigs and cows, came back her energy and peace of mind. The first basket of eggs collected by the children, the first churning of golden b.u.t.ter which she was able to display to their admiring gaze, were worth their weight in gold as helps to her returning cheerfulness. Not that she valued her dumb friends for their usefulness alone, or even for the comforts they brought to the household. She had a natural love for all dependent creatures, and petted and provided for her favourites, till they learned to know and love her in return. All helpless creatures seemed to come to her naturally. A dog, which had been cruelly beaten by his master, took refuge with her; and being fed and caressed by her hand, could never be induced to leave her guardianship again. The very bees, at swarming time, did not sting Janet, though they lighted in clouds on her snowy cap and neckerchief; and the little brown sparrows came to share with the chickens the crumbs she scattered at the door. And so, hens and chickens, and little brown sparrows did much to win her from a regretful remembrance of the past, and to reconcile her to what was strange--"unco like" in her new home.

Her cows were, perhaps, her prime favourites. Not that she would acknowledge them at all equal to "Fleckie" or "Blackie," now, probably, the favourites of another mistress on the other side of the sea. But "Brindle and Spottie were wise-like beasts, with mair sense and discretion than some folk that she could name," and many a child in Merleville got less care than she bestowed on them. Morning and night, and, to the surprise of all the farmers' wives in Merleville, at noon too, when the days were long she milked them with her own hands, and made more and better b.u.t.ter from the two, than even old Mrs Snow, who prided herself on her abilities in these matters, made from any three on her pasture. And when in the fall Mr Snow went to Boston with the produce of his mother's dairy, and his own farm, a large tub of Janet's b.u.t.ter went too, for which was to be brought back "tea worth the drinking, and at a reasonable price," and other things besides, which at Merleville and at Merleville prices, could not be easily obtained.

The Indian-summer had come again. Its mysterious haze and hush were on all things under the open sky, and within the house all was quiet, too.

The minister was in the study, and the bairns were in the pine grove, or by the water side, or even farther away; for no sound of song or laughter came from these familiar places. Janet sat at the open door, feeling a little dreary, as she was rather apt to do, when left for hours together alone by the bairns. Besides, there was something in the mild air and in the quiet of the afternoon, that "'minded" her of the time a year ago, when the bairns, having all gone to the kirk on that first Sabbath-day, she had "near grat herself blind" from utter despairing home-sickness. She could now, in her restored peace and firmness, afford to to feel a little contemptuous of her former self, yet a sense of sadness crept over her, at the memory of the time, a slight pang of the old malady stirred at her heart. Even now, she was not quite sure that it would be prudent to indulge herself in thoughts of the old times, lest the wintry days, so fast hastening, might bring back the old gloom. So she was not sorry when the sound of footsteps broke the stillness, and she was pleased, for quite other reasons, when Mr Snow appeared at the open door. He did not accept her invitation to enter, but seated himself on the doorstep.

"Your folks are all gone, are they?" asked he.

"The minister is in his study, and Miss Graeme and the bairns are out by, some way or other. Your Emily's with them."

"Yes, I reckoned so. I've just got home from Rixford. It wouldn't amount to much, all I could do to-night, so I thought I'd come along up a spell."

Janet repeated her kindly welcome.

"The minister's busy, I presume," said he.

"Yes,--as it's Sat.u.r.day,--but he winna be busy very long now. If you'll bide a moment, he'll be out, I daresay."