Katie Robertson Part 21

"Working for a living is not degrading, Mrs. Robertson. The doctor himself did that."

"Of course. But he did it as a gentleman--not in a mill."

"My father and brother, too, earn their livings in a mill, and neither they nor we feel at all degraded by it," said Eunice, quietly. "Only, if your boy has talents which will fit him for a profession beneficial to the human race, like that of his father's, it seems almost a pity that they should not be cultivated. Depend upon it, self-support is always honorable, for man or woman, and we should consider our work high or low, not because it is considered 'genteel' or not, but because it does or does not do the most good. I wish that something could turn up to help both Alfred and Katie to better educations, for I believe they might thus do a great deal more good."

And Mrs. Robertson wished so too. But she was wise enough not to say anything to her children about it.

Better things were in store for the children, however, than their mother's heart had dared to hope for; and for once she felt thoroughly ashamed of her murmurings and want of faith. One evening toward spring, when the merry group came from school more noisily than usual, and, as usual, greatly in want of their delayed supper, they were all slightly astonished to see a light in the window of the seldom-used sitting-room.

They noticed, as they went in, a strange hat in the hall.

"What can your mother be doing in the best room?" said Tessa, as she and Katie reached their own room.

Tessa was always inquisitive, and the sight of a strange man's hat had greatly excited her curiosity.

"I am sure I don't"--but at that moment the girls were interrupted by Alfred, who rushed in without knocking, and shouted, though quite out of breath with excitement:--

"Katie! Katie! Mother wants you! Come quick! Who do you suppose is here?

It's Uncle Alfred--all the way from California! Isn't it splendid?"

"I didn't know we had an uncle in California, did you?" said Katie.

But there was no opportunity for her brother to answer, as by this time they had reached the parlor door, which stood open now, and both children were warmly embraced by a gentleman whom at first neither of them could see.

"What an old man I must be," said the gentleman, as he released them, "to have three such grown-up people for nephews and nieces! And it seems only the other day since Eric and I, and you too, Linda, were no bigger.

Yet they were all born after I went away. Such a little time!"

"But many sad things have happened since then, Alfred. It seems to me a very long time since your brother Eric went away never to come back, and left me to battle with the world with no one to help me feed and educate his children."

There was a slight tone of reproach in the widow's tone as she said this, but the returned brother did not seem to notice it, as he said reverently:--

"No one but G.o.d. You would have told me in the old days when I didn't believe it or care for it that you could not have a better or more efficient friend; and now that I do believe it, I am sure that you have found it true."

"Yes, I have," said the mother, looking with thankful pride upon her well-grown boys, and bright and healthy, if diminutive, little girl.

"G.o.d has been very good to us, and I have every reason to think well of his protecting care."

"And the children," said their uncle, "have they too learned to trust in their Saviour and do his will?"

"Eric and Katie have. Alfred is, I am afraid, a little too much like his uncle of old times."

"I am sorry to hear that. He loses so much of the joy of youth and the strength of growing up into true manliness. I hope he will never have cause to be as sorry as his uncle is that he did not give his Saviour 'the kindness of his youth.' But we will have plenty of time to talk about all these things by-and-by. Just now I am as anxious for my supper as these young folks must be. I remember of old, Linda, what a good supper you can give a hungry traveler, and I don't suppose I need an invitation."

"Why, no!" said his hostess, with a little flush of embarra.s.sment. "Only you must prepare yourself for a somewhat large tea-party, and not of a very aristocratic kind. For, you know, I keep a sort of factory boarding-house."

"One who has camped with California miners is not likely to be very fastidious," said Mr. Robertson. "But I suspect if your boarders are companions of this niece of mine, they will be good enough company for me."

CHAPTER XXV.

OUT INTO THE WORLD.

"So you wouldn't like to be my little girl and go to school and be educated for a lady," said Mr. Alfred Robertson to his niece, a few days after he had made his unexpected appearance among his relatives.

"I'd like to go to school and study, of course," said Katie. "Uncle, don't think me very rude or ungrateful, but I wish you would send Alfred."

"Why, rather than yourself?"

"Because Alfred is a boy, and he wants to be a doctor like father. He never told mother, because he thought it would make her feel badly. He knew she hadn't any money to send him to school or college, so he just worked on at the mill, though I know he hates it."

"But, little girl, it would cost a great deal of money to send a boy through college and support him while he was studying a profession. Have you thought of that?"

"I don't know, sir. I don't know much about money. You are not rich enough to do it then? I'm so sorry," and there was a tone of great disappointment in the young voice.

"I am rich enough perhaps, but"--

"Oh, sir! Alfred would be sure to pay it back as soon as he became a doctor. I could begin to pay you now. I make six dollars a week in the mill as it is, and I could make more if mother would let me work over hours. Alfred wouldn't like to take charity, and I wouldn't like to have him."

Her uncle laughed. "So it is because she is an independent little piece that she does not want to go to school and learn to be a lady," said he.

"I'd like very much to learn to be a _teacher_," said she. "Miss Eunice thinks that teachers can do a great deal of good, and I could make money to help mother with, just as well or better than I can in the mill."

"Well, you shall go to school on your own terms. You shall have the education anyway, and do what you like afterward. And since you are so very independent, I will lend you the money and you may pay it all back to me when you begin to make your fortune by school-teaching. Is it a bargain?"

The little girl blushed with delight, threw her arms around her kind uncle, giving him a kiss by way of thanks, and rushed off to tell her wonderful news to her mother. But she found it was not quite such news as she expected it to be. Mr. Robertson and his sister-in-law had talked it all over after the little folks were in bed, and he had definitely offered to give the two children the education which their mother had so greatly desired. He had ama.s.sed considerable property during his seventeen years' sojourn in California, and having no children of his own, was anxious to make up to those of his brother for his long neglect.

"I never thought anything about my duty toward them," he said, "until G.o.d brought me to myself, and showed me what a sinner I was, and then brought me to himself, and showed me what a Saviour he is. Then I began to remember all my neglected duties, and I determined to come home and atone for the past as soon as I could."

The proposal of sending Eric, also, to school had been made to him. But he gratefully declined. He was almost a man now, and was used to his work and liked it. He stood well with his employers, and hoped before many years to rise to the position of superintendent of one of the departments. His one great ambition was to become such a manufacturer as Mr. James. And in the meanwhile he would be at home to watch over his mother and contribute to her support. His uncle admired his pluck and independence, and did not press his offers farther upon him. Alfred was delighted. It was as Katie had said: he had endured the bindery because he must, and he was a boy of too good principles to worry over the inevitable, or to make people unhappy because of his likes or dislikes.

But, all the same, he had disliked his work, and longed to do something more in accordance with his tastes. Only to Eric and Katie had he confided his indefinite longings, and his mother had never guessed how much he had desired a change. Now he was full of plans for the future; looking forward especially to the days when he should restore his father's sign to its old position, fit up the house and office as it used to be, and support his mother in ease and comfort once more.

But that was a long way off. A great deal of hard studying had to be done first, and Alfred was far behind other boys of his age--in book knowledge, at least. Perhaps he had, during his three years' experience in the factory, learned a good deal which would eventually prove very useful in a profession which dealt with practical details of practical things. About one thing he was quite decided. Delicate little Katie should never again work for her living. When she left school she should be a lady, like Miss Eunice and Miss Etta at the great house, and idle all day long if she chose to do so.

"But I don't choose," laughed Katie. "Do you think an independent young lady, who has made her own living for more than a year, will ever consent to be dependent upon any one, even if he is her brother?

Besides, who wants to be idle? I am sure Miss Eunice isn't idle; nor Miss Etta, now. They are both as busy as they can be all the time; and Mr. James, too. Think how much good he does, and all of them!"

"Oh, if you mean _that_ kind of work! Miss Eunice and Miss Etta don't get paid for what they do. They don't work for a living."

"I think they do," said Mr. Robertson, who had listened quietly to the talk of the children. "I think that every n.o.ble, honorable man and woman works, and is glad to work, for a living. The old saying that 'the world owes us a living' is a very fallacious one. The world doesn't owe us anything, and G.o.d does not either. Indeed, he has said: 'If any man will not work, neither shall he eat.'"

"Everybody does not work--for money, I mean," said Alfred. "Some people are gentlemen and ladies."

"If you call idlers gentlemen and ladies, we do not agree as to terms; but if you mean, as I suppose you do, that some people, especially a large proportion of women and girls, do not formally receive a definite amount of money for a definite amount of work, that is true. Don't you think, though, that mothers and sisters and wives, who keep house, take care of little children, do all the family sewing, care for the sick, and attend to the many details of a woman's life, work?--yes, do a great deal of work for a very small amount of living? Think of your mother for a moment."

"Yes, sir; I see."

"And," continued his uncle, "when ladies devote themselves faithfully to good works, Sunday-school work, work among the poor, teaching, etc., they are as really working for their living as if they were in a factory."