Читать книгу How Hartman Won. A Story of Old Ontario - John Price-Brown - Страница 9
ОглавлениеFOR LOVE'S SAKE.
In the meantime Cleveland's arm was progressing favourably, for, rough and ready though the lad was, he willingly obeyed the doctor's orders. Still, it would be a weary wait before the limb could be strong again; and, unfortunately, Cleveland Rounce, although only seventeen years of age, was largely the support of his widowed mother. Her husband had been drowned while rafting logs several years before, and the eldest son—the rattle-brained Cleveland—had to be depended on as the principal mainstay of the widow and her children. True, she earned something as a nurse when occasion offered; but the chief income was from her son's wages as a teamster.
When, however, it became known that the boy's arm was broken, and that his occupation was gone for a couple of months at least, the sympathy of the people was aroused; and some of the widow's friends determined, whether Cleveland was to blame or not, that his mother should not suffer as a consequence.
The next day after the accident, at one of the quilting bees so frequently held in the village, the whole matter was discussed.
"I tell you what it is," said Mrs. Jones, who was noted for her sympathetic nature; "that poor woman has had more'n her share of ill-luck. To lose her husband one year, to have one of her girls die of typhoid the next, an' have rheumatis herself the third; and now, when Cleve's just old enough to earn good money, to have him go an' break his arm, makes pretty hard lines."
"She'll bear it like a saint, too," said Mrs. Jemima Smith. "She never yet asked help from nobody. Even when little Jennie was lying dead, she had enough money to buy her coffin with."
"My! what a pile o' nursin' she did too that year after the burial—all to gather up the money to pay the doctor," said another woman, who was stretching one side of the quilt and putting in the pegs.
"What astonished me was that old Dr. Hincks took it all," said Mrs. Jenkins. "He only throwed off five dollars—just what he'd charged extra for medicines. The bill was a mighty steep one for a poor woman to pay."
"He's not a bit like Dr. Hartman, that's sure," said Mrs. Jemima Smith. "You all know of Mrs. Tuttle, whose baby was born two days after her man was killed at Marstin's raisin'. Well! Dr. Hartman attended her, and through a long spell of sickness afterwards, and he never charged a cent."
"Dr. Hartman knew what he was about. He had his own kettle of fish to fry," exclaimed Mrs. Juniper, a thin-lipped woman, who had her hair carefully done up in a high bob at the back of her head. "It was just his way of canvassing for patients."
A murmur of dissent went round the room.
"That couldn't be it," said Mrs. Jemima Smith. "He was too busy at that time to need to canvass. But about Mrs. Rounce," she continued, for she had an object in view. "It was going out o' nights nursing that gave her rheumatism. She hasn't been the same woman since, and I don't see how she is going to manage now."
"Five dollars a week knocked clean off, with nothing to put in its place, and that in the middle of winter, will be a tough thing for both her and the children," exclaimed another woman, sententiously.
"I don't see no use for so much pity," said Mrs. Juniper again. "We all has our trials; and the Rounces has to have theirs. Up to now they've had a good livin' too, one way or 'nother; and if necessary I don't see why Jimmy and Johnny can't hire out. One's nine and the other's eleven. I know my man had to work for his livin' when he was their age, an' I had when I was thirteen."
"It's easy talking," cried out a little woman, who was stitching vigorously near one end of the quilt, and her eyes flashed as she looked up from her work; "but words are not deeds. Mrs. Rounce has been the very best neighbour that some of us ever had, both in health and in sickness. I go in for helping her now she's down, for love's sake and not for charity."
"Good for you, Miss Trowther," chimed in Mrs. Jones, "and I move that we all send her somethin' that'll come useful like, and do it this week, too."
"They say she's mighty pernickity," put in the irrepressible Mrs. Juniper. "Like as not she'll refuse to take what's given."
"That can easily be managed," said Miss Trowther gently but earnestly. "Let every one put on a slip of paper, 'For love's sake,' and fasten it to what they give, and I'll warrant Mrs. Rounce won't refuse it."
"Well, if that ain't original, I'd like to know what is?" cackled Mrs. Middlesize, who was herself a widow, though in comfortable circumstances. "There's Tim Towler and Joe Knox, they might send her a cord of wood and half a pig, for love's sake; just to remind her that they had gone through the same mill."
A ripple of laughter ran round the two sides of the quilt which was now nearly done, and more than one woman gave her neighbour a poke; but Miss Trowther was not to be sat upon.
"You may laugh," she said, colouring up a little, "but we were talking of women, not men. If we want to help her, and we know she needs it, let us do it in a way that will hurt her the least."
"Right you are, Miss Trowther," exclaimed Mrs. Jemima Smith—who insisted on the full name to distinguish her from Mrs. Hepzibah Smith, her next-door neighbour, with whom she had little in common—"and I suggest that Miss Trowther write off a whole list of slips, having those three words on, and nothing more. Then we each take one home with us, and send it in with anything we give. I'll undertake that my son Harry shall drive round with his sleigh on Saturday, and take all the things over at once. No one will know what any one else gives, and neither will Mrs. Rounce herself."
There was only one dissenting voice, and the feeling of altruism was too general to allow so slight an opposition to interfere with the plan.
In the little village, where everybody knew every other body's business, it was wonderful how quietly the little scheme of philanthropy was carried through, without the slightest inkling of its existence reaching Dame Rounce's ears. Saturday night soon came round. The temperature of the air had abated; so there was little danger of the perishable things being frozen. Just as it was getting dark, and at a time when the widow herself had gone on an errand to the store, the Smith sleigh stopped at her house. Speedily, goods enough to more than stock an ordinary-sized larder were carried in. Two or three hams, more than one bag of potatoes, another of flour, another of Indian meal, besides lard, apples, sugar, tea, and other things were quickly transferred to the little kitchen. Cleveland and the younger children were filled with amazement and asked a host of questions; but young Smith only favoured them with laconic answers, and jumping into his sleigh drove off.
The unlooked-for generosity touched a soft place in Cleveland's heart, and more than one tear was brushed away before his mother came in. As she entered and saw her kitchen piled up with household goods enough to last her for weeks, a look of consternation came over her face.
"What does it all mean?" she exclaimed, her brow contracting and her lips drawing in. "Where did these things come from?"
"Harry Smith brought them over in his long sleigh; but he wouldn't say where he got them," replied Cleveland.
She staggered slightly and took hold of the table for support, as the thought dawned upon her.
"We are not paupers, Cleve," she exclaimed with bated breath. "Surely we can live without charity."
"I know we can mother; but look at the labels." And the boy watched his mother with anxious countenance.
"For love's sake" was on the first parcel; but it was on the second and the third, and by-and-by the poor woman broke down. She threw herself in a chair, and while smiling through her tears, sobbed like a child.
"Oh my children," she cried out, as the two younger ones came close to her, "God is very good to us."
The next moment the cheery voice of the doctor was heard at the door. His quick eye took in the situation at once, and he burst out with a merry laugh.
"My conscience, what a bonanza! I don't know but what I'll go and break my own arm next! The worst of it is I'd get sick eating all the good things by myself. And that's where Cleve has the advantage."
