While Bertie stood down in the cellar talking with his father and themen, he happened to remember his promise to mamma, to bring Winnie homein time for her morning nap.
"O, papa!" he exclaimed. "Will you please look at your watch, and tellme what time it is? I'm afraid it's too late for me to go home."
"It's a quarter past ten," answered papa.
"I'll go then, as quick as I can, and come back this afternoon; mammais going to read me a story when Winnie is asleep."
Papa carried the little girl and put her in the carriage. Bertie took upthe reins and drove off with a good-by bow, which the gentleman returnedwith a loving smile.
Just as he reached the gate he overtook Tom, who had a boy seated on hisempty drag.
"Is that your Jerry, that you told me about?" Bertie asked, stopping hisdonkey.
"Yes, it's my Jerry."
"Will he be over there this afternoon?" pointing to Woodlawn.
"I think it's likely."
"I'm going to be there then. Papa is going to show me what a trench is;and if your boy would like it, I'll give him a ride in my donkeycarriage."
Jerry's face fairly shone with delight. His father had told him aboutWhitefoot; and he hoped he should see the funny looking creature; but totake a ride in the little carriage, was more than he had ever dreamedof.
"Thank you, Master Bertie. I expect Jerry would be tickled enough; but'tisn't just the thing for you to be carrying the likes of him."
"You've carried me on your drag," Herbert answered, laughing. "Mammasays when anybody does us a kindness, we ought to try and return it.I'll be there right after dinner."
When they drove up to the farm, mamma was looking from the windowwatching for them. She told Bertie to come up to her with his sister,for Nancy was busy on the back porch washing out some clothes for herlittle charge.
Winnie's lunch of bread and milk was all ready for her; but she was sosleepy she could scarcely keep awake to eat it; and when mamma had laidher on her crib, she was asleep in a minute.
Bertie ran out to the barn to put his donkey up, and then listened tomamma's story for the rest of the forenoon.
CHAPTER XII.
THE CROSS WORKMAN.
It was Mr. Curtis' intention to have two avenues to his house. One ofthem wound around by the lake past the spot which he had marked out fora boat-house, and then through the chestnut grove, where it met theother avenue.
The other or main avenue, entered the grounds just between two immenseelm-trees which almost seemed to have been stationed there for guards,so exactly did they suit their position. Underneath the branches whichmet and embraced, the handsome granite posts with a heavy iron gate,were to mark the main entrance to Woodlawn. The wall which was toenclose the grounds was to be built of gray pudding-stone, tightlycemented, with a hewn granite curb-stone. The road, which was to benicely trenched and gravelled, wound through a variety of shade-trees tothe highest point of land, where the view of the house, lawn and lakeburst upon the eye of the visitor.
When Mr. Curtis was, in after years, complimented by his friends for thetaste and artistic skill with which he had laid out his grounds, healways pointed to his wife, saying,--
"There is the artist. I only followed her suggestions."
It was true that though the lady was opposed to building a house thatwould be grand and imposing, she was desirous of improving to theutmost the natural beauties which surrounded them. She drew a plan forthe boat-house, which was not only useful, but extremely picturesque.The hennery too, and the conservatory, were highly ornamental,distributed as they were about the grounds;--but it is too early tospeak of these, which were not finished till another year.
I must go back and tell you about Bertie's visit to Woodlawn, and how helearned to make trenches.
Directly after family prayers, which Mr. Curtis always attended with thefarmer's family, Bertie read a chapter in his small Bible with hismamma; and she explained the meaning to him in such simple words thateven little Winnie could learn something of God's will. Sometimes theysung a hymn; and then the little fellow started off with his donkey forthe new house.
If he were going to be there several hours, he used to take the harnessfrom Whitefoot and turn him into a field where he could find plenty ofsweet, tender grass. But when he expected to return in an hour or two,he left the creature standing under the shade of a tree.
When he drove through the field on this pleasant afternoon, he did notforget that he had promised Jerry a ride. He jumped out of the carriage,and looked about; but the boy was nowhere to be seen. He tied Whitefootto the tree and ran to the cellar. The stone-masons were at their work.One side of the wall was nearly completed, and at this moment they werehammering away to get a large stone ready to fit into its place.
"Do you know where my papa is?" he asked one of the masons.
"He's gone off to the lake with Tom Grant."
"Is Tom coming back with his oxen?"
"Yes, I heard him driving them by a few minutes ago. He'll be backpresently."
"Thank you, sir. May I go there and see you work till he comes?"
"Yes, I'm willing. The Squire is the owner here."
Bertie ran around by the bulkhead and soon was standing by thestonelayer in the cellar. He didn't speak until they had finishedlifting the heavy stone into its place. He stood and watched them,wondering whether he should ever be strong enough to lift so much.
"I don't think I should like to be a stone-mason," he said, in asympathizing tone.
"Well, you may have to come to it for all that," the man answered,speaking very cross.
"Don't snap up the boy so; he meant no harm," urged the other. "Here, mylittle fellow, will you take a quid of tobacco?" at the same timeputting a piece in his own mouth.
"Thank you, sir, but I never eat any tobacco. Mamma says it makes peoplecrave drink; and then they become drunkards."
The cross mason uttered a shocking oath, in connection with the name ofMrs. Curtis, and started forward with his trowel as if he were about tostrike the boy.
Bertie uttered a cry as though he had been shot. The awful words werethe most dreadful he had ever heard. He, tried to run away, but hestaggered, and looked so pale the man who had offered him the tobacco,thought he would fall.
"Don't mind him," Alick said to Bertie, "he's been to his bottle toooften, and didn't know what he was talking of."
About fifteen minutes later, Mr. Curtis found his son, sitting on astone near the cellar, crying and sobbing as if his heart would break.
It was a very unusual thing for Bertie to cry; and of course his papawas greatly pained to see him in such distress. He tried to soothe thechild and find out what had troubled him. But Bertie could scarcelyspeak at all for his sobs. He could only point to the cellar, and say,in broken words--"Wicked--man--I'm--afraid--God--wont--let--him--live."
Mr. Curtis left him and walked toward the cellar, where he saw a sightwhich explained his son's grief.
One of the masons was just in the act of stooping down for a blackbottle which he held to his mouth, when his companion saw him.
"Hold there," he said, throwing down his hammer. "You've been at it toooften already."
The drunkard threw the empty bottle right in the other mason's face,uttering the most terrible oaths.
"You'd better be careful; or you'll lose the best job you ever had,"urged the sober man. "You frightened the Squire's little boy till Ithought he would faint. If he tells his father how you cursed hismother, you'll be done for. So you'd better quit drinking till this jobis over."
CHAPTER XIII.
THE NEW AVENUE.
The sound of Tom's loud talk to his oxen, started Bertie; and he triedto stop crying and see whether Jerry was walking by the side of thedrag.
Mr. Curtis motioned to the man to stop, and Tom wondered not a little tosee how stern the Squire's face had grown. Bertie's eyes, too, were redand swollen with crying. What could it mean?
"Mr. Grant," began Mr. Curtis, "can you tell me whether
the head masondown there is a habitual drunkard?"
"He has the name of it, Squire, I'm sorry to say," answered Tom, greatlyconfused.
"Wait a moment, I may need you;" and Mr. Curtis walked quickly down thebulkhead into the cellar.
The mason who had been drinking was sitting on a stone, holding hishand to his head. The other one kept on with his work though he coulddo nothing to advantage alone.
Mr. Curtis picked up the bottle, and, holding it in his fingers, said tothe sober man,--
"Do you use this vile stuff?"
"No, sir; not a drop. I see too much of it to want to put myself in thepower of any kind of liquor."
"Do you live with Jerrold?"
"Yes, sir, he's a second cousin to my father. He could be a rich man,sir, if he'd let drink alone."
"He has done his last day's work for me. I _will not_ employ a man whoswears or makes a beast of himself with liquor. If you have a mind towork and can comply with my conditions, you may get an assistant andtake Jerrold's place. I shall know in a few days whether you are capableof carrying on the whole job."
"I thank you, sir, all the same; but it'll be a terrible disappointmentto Jerrold. His wife is a good woman; and she'll take it to heartterribly. He was overcome with liquor, and didn't know what he said tothe boy."
"My son has told me nothing," explained Mr. Curtis. "I saw him throw thebottle in your face; and I heard what you said to him. I should wishyour answer at once, whether you would choose to go on with the work."
"Yes, sir, I'll take it and do the best I can, and much obleeged for thechance."
Tom, all this time, had stood on the top of the bank where he couldhear every word. His face looked very sober as he turned back to hisoxen, and he said to himself,--
"There's a lesson for you, Tom Grant. You may thank your old mother thatyou haven't tasted a drop of spirits for a year."
"Now, Bertie; jump on the drag," said Mr. Curtis, in a cheerful tone."Jerry is waiting by the lake for you; and I'll show you what a trenchis."
Bertie obeyed; but his father saw it was hard for him to keep back histears. The gentleman walked along with Tom, talking about the work asif nothing unpleasant had occurred; but it was evident that the man wasthinking of something else.
At last, just as they had reached the lake, he turned to his master andsaid, earnestly,--
"Squire, one year ago I was as great a drunkard as Jerrold. I was goingright straight to ruin, when my old mother came to live with me. Shebegged and begged me to take a pledge never to taste spirits again; andat last I yielded to her, and since that I've airned enough to supportmy family and buy these oxen.
"Now, Squire, I didn't think of religion till I see how it worked withyou. If I didn't think your religion was the out-and-out Bible kind, I'dnever ask you the question I'm going to now.
"If mother can persuade Jerrold to take the pledge as I did, and knockoff drinkin' and swearin', will you take him back?"
"With all my heart, Tom; and any help I or my wife can give your motherin such a good work, we'll do it with the greatest pleasure."
"Come up, Bright, gee;" began Tom, wiping his eye with his shirt sleeve,when he suddenly turned round again, and said, fervently,--
"There's a good many Oxford people, Squire Curtis, are praying that yourwife's life and yours may be spared to us, to be a blessing to the wholetown."
Tom drew his load of small stones and rubbish close to the edge of aditch about twenty-two feet wide and two feet deep, when he stopped theoxen and threw the stones in.
The Irishmen who had dug the cellar, were working away; and the two menwith the oxen had as much as they could do to fill the trench as fast asit was dug.
Jerry came forward looking so clean and neat Bertie scarcely knew him.
"I've brought my donkey," he said; "but if you don't mind I should liketo ask papa about the trench before we go to ride."
Jerry looked quite satisfied but did not dare to speak. So his fatheranswered for him,--
"He's in no hurry, I'm sure, Master Bertie. But he's too shamefaced totalk much before strangers. If he takes you to see his tame squirrels,or the mice he's taught to eat out of his hand, his tongue will movefast enough, I reckon."
"I don't see, papa," said Bertie, "what is the use of digging out theearth and filling it right up again."
"I am filling it with stones, my dear, so that the water, when itrains, will drain through and keep the walk dry."
"But, papa, horses can't walk on those rough stones."
"Of course not. I intend to cover them with coarse gravel, and then onthe top put a dressing of broken oyster shells mixed with small stonesfrom the beach. These will gradually work down till the avenue is ashard as a brick."
"I understand now, papa, what a trench is."
"And how to make a cellar?" added papa, laughing.
"Yes, sir; I know the earth has to be dug out and carried off, and awall made, and pointed with cement, which grows very hard, so that theunderpinning which you bought can lie on the top of it; but I don't knowhow the wood is fastened on."
"That is the carpenter's job," answered his father; "we shall come tothat by and by."
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