Читать книгу A Beautiful Possibility - Edith Ferguson Black - Страница 7

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"Don, Don, me's tumin'," and the baby of the farm, a little child with sunny curls and laughing eyes, ran past the great barns of Hollywood.

John Randolph was swinging along the green road with a bridle over his arm, whistling softly. He turned as the childish voice was borne to him on the breeze. "All right, Nansie, wait for me at the gate." Then he sprang over the fence and crossed the field to where a group of horses were feeding.

The child climbed up on the gate beside a saddle which John had placed there and waited patiently. He soon came back, leading a magnificent bay horse, and began to adjust the saddle.

"Now, Nan, I'll give you a ride to the house. Can't go any further to-day, for I have to cross the river."

The child shook her head confidently. "Me 'll go too, Don."

"I'm afraid not, Nan. The river is so deep, we'll have to swim for it.

That is why I chose Neptune, you see."

"Me's not 'fraid, wiv 'oo, Don."

"Better wait, Baby, till the river is low. Well, come along then," as the wily schemer drew down her pretty lips into the aggrieved curve which always conquered his big, soft heart. She clapped her hands with glee, as he lifted her in front of him and started Neptune into a brisk trot, and made a bridle for herself out of the horse's silky mane.

"Gee, gee, Nepshun. Nan loves you, dear."

When they reached the fording place John's face grew grave. The river had risen during the night and was rushing along with turbulent strength. There was no house within five miles. His business was imperative. He dared not leave the child until he came back. Crouching upon the saddle, he clasped one arm about her while he twisted his other hand firmly in and out of the horse's mane.

"Are you afraid, Nansie?"

She twined her arms more tightly about his neck until the sunny curls brushed his cheek.

"Me'll do anywhere, wiv 'oo, Don."

Just as the gallant horse reached the opposite bank Reginald galloped down to the ford on his way home for Sunday.

"Upon my word, John, you're a perfect slave to that youngster! What mad thing will you be doing next, I wonder?"

"The next thing will be to go back again," said John with a smile, while Nan clung fast to his neck and peeped shyly through her curls at her brother.

"Where are you off to?"

"Henderson's."

Reginald turned his horse's head. "I might as well go along. A man's a fool to ride alone when he can have company."

John gave him a swift, comprehensive glance.

"How are things going, Rege? You're not looking very fit."

Reginald yawned and drew his hand across his heavy eyes. "Oh, all right.

Oyster suppers and that sort of thing are apt to make a fellow drowsy."

"Don't go too fast, Rege."

"Why not?" said Reginald carelessly. "It suits the governor, and that book you're so fond of says children should obey their parents."

* * * * *

"I declare, John, you're a regular algebraic puzzle!" he exclaimed later in the day, as he stood beside John in the carpenter's shop, watching the curling strips of wood which his plane was tossing off with sweeping strokes. "You put all there is of you into everything you do. You take as much pains over a plough handle as you would over a buggy!"

"Why not? God takes as much pains with a humming-bird as an elephant.

Mere size doesn't count."

"Nan loves you, Reggie," and a tiny hand was slipped shyly into her brother's.

"All right, Magpie," he said carelessly. "You had better run home now to mother. Your chatter makes my head ache."

The laughing lips quivered and the child turned away from him to John and hid her face against his knee. He lifted her up on the bench beside him and gave her a handful of shavings to play with.

"I don't see how you accomplish anything with that child everlastingly under your feet!" Reginald continued, "yet you do two men's work and seem to love it into the bargain. I'm sure if I had to cooper up all the things on the farm as you do, I should loathe the very sight of tools."

"I do love it, Rege. Jesus Christ was a carpenter, you know. I get very near to him out here."

"Jesus Christ!" echoed Reginald with a puzzled stare. "What is coming to you, John?"

"It has come, Rege," John said with a great light in his face. "I have found my Master."

"Upon my word, John, you are the queerest fellow! What next, I wonder?"

"The next thing, Rege," and John laid his hand affectionately upon his friend's shoulder, "is for you to find him too."

"So, you're going to turn preacher, John? You'll find me a hard subject.

A short life and a merry one is what I am going in for. I've no turn for

Christianity."

"It pays, Rege."

"Don't believe it. How can life be worth living when you're drivelling psalm tunes all day long?"

John laughed, and there was a new note of gladness in his voice which Reginald was quick to notice. "I haven't begun to drivel yet, Rege; and life counts for a good deal more when a man has an object than when he is living just to please himself."

"And who should a man please but himself, I should like to know?"

"Jesus Christ."

* * * * *

"Upon my word!" said Reginald some weeks later, as he came upon John sitting astride a cobbler's bench busily mending a pair of shoes, while Nan looked on admiringly. "Do you learn a new trade every month?"

John laughed quietly. "I took up this one because there are so many repairs always needed on the harness, and your father thinks all talent should be utilized."

There was a quizzical look about his mouth as he spoke. Reginald caught the look and answered hotly.

"The governor ought to be ashamed of himself! Why don't you strike,

John?"

"Why should I? Knowledge is power, Rege."

"Knowledge of shoemaking!" said Reginald contemptuously. "It won't add to your strength much, John."

"Never can tell," said John sententiously. "You remember that lame fellow saved a battle for us by knowing how to shoe the general's horse."

"Next thing you'll be going in for a blacksmith's diploma!"

"I'm thinking of it," said John coolly. "That fellow at the Forks has no more sense than a hen. He pared so much off Neptune's hoof last week that he has been limping ever since. I had to take him this morning and have the shoes removed."

"I wish you'd do some shirking, John, like the rest of us."

"Jesus Christ never shirked, Rege."

"Pshaw! You're so ridiculous!" and Reginald walked discontentedly away.

"Here, John, John, I say," he called, when the time came for him to return to College, "go catch and saddle Sultan for me. You're so fond of work, you might as well have two masters. Be quick now, for I'm in the mischief of a hurry."

John's face flushed. This boy was younger than himself, and his father had been Mr. Hawthorne's friend.

"Do you hear what I say, John?" demanded Reginald. "You're only here as a servant any way, and I'll be master some day, so you might as well learn to obey me now."

John's brow cleared, while the words echoed in his heart with a glad refrain—

"A servant of Jesus Christ," and "The Lord's servant must not strive, but be gentle towards all … forbearing." After all, life was a matter between himself and the Lord Jesus. What could Reginald's taunts affect him now?

"All right," he said quietly, and started for the field.

"I declare!" muttered Reginald, as he watched the tall, lithe form cross the field with springing step, "you might as well try to make the fellow mad now, as to storm Gibraltar! What has come to him?"

"Here you are, Sir Reginald," said John good-humoredly, as he led the freshly groomed horse to the riding-block.

Reginald's voice choked. "Shake hands, John," he said huskily. "I am a brute! There must be something in this new fad of yours after all. If you had spoken to me as I did to you just now, I should have knocked you down."

He rode on for a mile or two in moody silence, then he gave his shoulders an impatient shrug.

"I'd like to know what it is about John Randolph that makes me feel so small! I have good times and he is always on the grind. I have all the money I can spend and he has nothing but the pittance the governor gives him, and yet he is three times the better fellow of the two. I envy him his spunk and go. He comes to everything as fresh as a two-year old, and he works everything for all there is in it. To see him climbing that hill yesterday, with the youngster on his shoulder, actually made me feel as if climbing hills was the jolliest thing in life. And it's so with everything he does. Confound it! I don't see why I can't get the same comfort out of things. I don't see where the fellow gets his vim. If I worked as hard as he does, I'd be ready to tumble into bed instead of pegging away at Latin and Mathematics. I'll have to put on a spurt in self-defence or he'll be tripping me up with his questions. He's got the longest head of anyone I know. The idea of the governor daring to set such a fellow as that to cobble shoes!"

"It's queer about the governor," he continued after a pause. "He's always ready to shell out when I ask him for money, but he keeps poor John with his nose to the grindstone all the year round. I suppose he expects me to pay him in glory. He's set his heart on my being a judge—Judge Hawthorne of Hollywood. Sounds euphonious, and I verily believe the old gentleman has begun to roll it like a sweet morsel under his tongue. Can't say I have a special aptitude for the profession, and certainly the brains are not in evidence, but I suppose the governor thinks money will take their place. He has found it takes the place of most things.

"Sultan, old boy, we seem down on our luck this morning. We had better take a speeder to raise our spirits. It is hardly the thing for Judge Hawthorne of Hollywood to envy John Randolph his humdrum life of mending rakes and shoes," and he urged his horse into a mad gallop.

* * * * *

"I believe I'd like to be poor and work, John," he exclaimed one day. "It gets tiresome having everything laid ready to your hand, with nothing to do but take it. Life must be full of snap when you have to dash your will up against old Dame Fortune and wrest what you want out of her miserly clutches."

"Yes," said John simply, "Jesus Christ was poor."

"Look here, John. If you don't stop that nonsense, people will be dubbing you a crank."

"I am ready!" he cried, and there was a strange, exulting ring in his voice. "They called him mad, you know."