CHAPTER XI
HELPERS
The man who had come so noiselessly over the grass, from Cat Hollow,might well have been the "Nanarchist" his daughter had termed him, wereone to judge from tradition and appearance; and it is small wonder thatMrs. Chester had cried out so unexpectedly, beholding this specimen ofthe "Red Brotherhood."
Tall beyond the average, "Pa Babcock"--he was rarely spoken ofotherwise--had a great head covered by a shock of fiery hair whichproved Alfaretta truthful in her statement that "he'd disdain to combit." The hair was stiff and bristly, and stood out in every direction,while the beard matched it in growth and quantity. He wore a faded redflannel shirt, and denim overalls that had once been red, while hisgreat hairy feet were bare and not too clean. He wore no hat andscarcely needed one, and while his physique was that of a mighty manhis face was foolishly weak and vain. His voice perfectly suited theface: and, altogether, he was a most unprepossessing candidate for theposition of "hired man" at Skyrie.
"You wish to hire out?" asked the mistress of the farm, repeatingincredulously his statement. "But I thought--Alfaretta said----"
"I do not doubt it. The reputation I have won at the hands of my ownhousehold is part of the general injustice of society--as it exists.Nothing can convince my labor-loving spouse that I am preparing for herand her children a future of--Stay, lad: are you, also, a member of thisestablishment?"
"I'm goin' down suller after lumber. Come along an' help. If we hustleright smart we can get a pen done 'fore dark, let alone gettin' themcattle into a shed. Strange critters need shuttin' up, a spell, elsethey'll make tracks for home--wherever 'tis," answered Jim, leading theway toward the house and the door he judged must lead to the cellar. Hisown voice sounded very strong and masterful by contrast with the high,thin falsetto of the "Nanarchist," and Mrs. Chester smiled, whileDorothy cried out:
"Alfy's father may be a _giant_, but my Jim is a _man_!"
They were no longer afraid of "Pa Babcock." His outward appearancewholly belied his nature, and they instinctively recognized that herewas an easy-going, lazy fellow, who might impress his own household witha sense of his importance but could not overawe outsiders. They sat downon the barn doorsill to wait and watch events, and presently therereturned Pa Babcock carrying an enormous quantity of the heavy, cobwebbyplanking that had formed the framework of the old churn. Behind him wasJim, rolling the treadmill part of the affair and as profoundlyengrossed by the task in hand as by all he undertook. He had evidentlyassumed the direction of matters and his big assistant was amusinglyobedient.
Mr. Chester, also, came out to the spot and was made comfortable with anold horse-blanket for cushion of a low chopping-block near. Dorothyfound the blanket in the barn and also triumphantly asserted that therewas a lot of "real nice hay" in one part of it. But Jim scoffed at thisstatement, declaring that hay kept as long as Skyrie had been closedwouldn't be "wuth shucks."
"James, James! Don't become a pessimist!" warned father John, yetsmiling, too.
"Say it again, please, sir, an' I'll look it out in that littledictionary Mis' Calvert she's put in my room. Hurry up, man! Wish togoodness I had some decent tools! Nothin' but a rusty ax to workwith--an' look yonder at that sky!"
All looked and mother Martha grew frightened. She was timid during anythunder shower and this was worse than a shower which threatened--atornado seemed imminent. To retreat indoors and help John to get therewas her first impulse, but Pa Babcock held up a protesting hand and shehesitated, curiously observing his movements. Moistening his fingers helet the rising wind blow over them, then calmly resumed his task ofnailing a board to a post in the cattle-shed still left standing besidethe barn.
"It will not come on to rain till midnight. Then look out for a deluge.You are perfectly and entirely safe here, ma'am, until our undertakingis accomplished and it is always well to have the eye of the master--Iwould say, mistress--upon----"
"Hand over that scantlin', old step-an'-fetch-it!" ordered Jim, withscant reverence and--the scantling was handed. Furthermore, Pa was setto searching the barn for a possible crowbar, pick-ax, or, "Any plaguything a feller can bore a post-hole with."
Thus rudely interrupted, the "Nanarchist" calmly surveyed his companionin labor, then squeaked out:
"There is no occasion for such remarkable activity, young man, but----"
"Hurry up! 'Twon't be no midnight 'fore that 'gust' strikes us!" orderedJim Barlow.
Anger is a wonderful incentive to action--sometimes. At last Pa Babcockwas angry--as much so as it was in his nature ever to be. The result wasthat he fell to work with a vigor and skill that almost distanced Jim'sown; to the great advantage of the Chesters and their live stock.
By the time darkness had come a pig-pen had been constructed in one endof the cattle-shed; a milking-stool had been nailed into shape andHannah milked--with a remarkable shrinkage in the amount Oliver Sandshad accredited to her: she and "Daisy-Jewel" put under cover for thenight: and the rickety barn-doors nailed here and there as a precautionagainst the coming "gust."
This seemed long delayed; yet Jim was wise enough to button his blousetightly across his heated chest and to take his prompt departure themoment his self-imposed tasks were finished; Mrs. Chester calling afterhim:
"Don't forget to thank Mrs. Calvert for her kindness about the mail andtell her, please, that this letter held the change due us after theprinting of that advertisement And thank _you_, James Barlow, for allyour helpfulness in everything."
The lad went onward, with a comfortable sense of having been extremelyuseful and with all his slight jealousy allayed; reflecting, also:
"There ain't one that lot got any more sense about farmin' than a springchicken! Not so much, either; 'cause a chicken _will_ stir round an'scratch a livin' out the ground, sooner 'n starve. Dorothy, she--Well,she's got some ideas, kind of dull ones, but might answer once she gets'em sharpened by tryin' an' failin'; but--Pshaw! I wish to goodness shewas a boy an' not a girl! Then there'd be some show. As 'tis--shucks!"
The day may come, Master James, when you'll be very glad that your wishcould not be gratified! Meanwhile, as you plod along beneath the trees,sighing and moaning overhead--in seeming terror of the coming storm--thefamily at Skyrie have re-entered the cottage: and with the ease of onewho belongs, Pa Babcock has entered with them.
"Will you stay for supper, Mr. Babcock, or shall we take some other timefor talking about business?" asked Mr. Chester, as their newacquaintance coolly settled himself in the invalid's own rocker by thewindow and began to sway lazily to and fro, while the host himself tooka straight chair near by.
"O father John! Don't sit there. I'm sure Mr. Babcock will----" beganDorothy, indignant at the stranger's selfishness.
But her father stopped her by a shake of his head and a smile ofamusement which neither she nor Martha shared: though the latter didsay, politely enough:
"I never knew anybody to come at a time they were more needed, forwithout your help Jim could never have fixed things so nicely. We oweyou many thanks and some money. How much you will have to say, for weknow little about wages here in the North."
Pa waited for her to finish, then ejaculated:
"I should say I did help! Done it all, if you'll recall thecircumstances again. Furnished all the brain power anyway, and skilledlabor outranks muscle at any time. He means well, that boy: but--Iwonder if he realizes his own position in society! A poor, down-troddenmember of the lower class. I must see him again. I must uplift him!Ennoble him! Rouse his slumbering ambition--Make a man of him! I----"
"You couldn't! I don't mean to be rude, but you mustn't talk about myJim that way. He _isn't_ down-trodden. He _is_ uplifted. He's going tomake a man of himself, for himself, by himself--without you or even dearMrs. Cecil interfering. She'll help, of course, for she's rich and hasthe chance, but a boy like Jim Barlow--Huh!" cried Dorothy in valiantdefense of her faithful friend, and with a contemptuous glance at thisgreat man whom she had disliked on the instant.
> "Dorothy! Dorothy C.!" reproved Mrs. Chester in her sternest accents,yet not far behind her daughter in the matter of dislike. The man seemedsuch a sham, but--"Praise the bridge that carries you safe over!" He waswilling to be hired and they needed him.
Pa Babcock paid no more attention to the girl's outbreak than he did tothe fly perambulating his frowsy forehead and which he was too indolentto brush aside; and indignant at this, also, Dorothy went about bringingfood from the pantry and depositing dishes upon the table with mostunnecessary decision. She hoped, oh! how she hoped that her parentswould refuse to employ this "Anarchist"; or, if they did so, that theywould prohibit his coming to the family table.
However, here he was and supper was ready, and he was invited to drawnear; yet to the surprise of all, with the provision stipulated for bythe host:
"To-night, Mr. Babcock, we consider you our guest: but should you engageto work for us I would like to arrange that you should board yourself.Mrs. Chester has no servant."
"Sir, I admire her for it! Let every member of society serve himself andthe reign of equality begins. My wife is a fine cook and there will beno difficulty in our arrangements. Oliver Sands is my good friend, andit is by his suggestion that I am here. He is a man as is a man! Thereis no giving of titles by him. A plain man, Oliver, though not--notquite as fully imbued with the doctrines of universal equality andbrotherhood as I should desire. Sir, are you a--Socialist?"
Certainly this strange man was what his daughter had described him, "agood talker," judging from the ready flow of language, and of betterquality than is commonly found in men of his class. Though this may beaccounted for by the fact that he was a greedy reader--of any and everything which came his way. But to this suddenly propounded inquiry Mr.Chester answered, with his own merry smile:
"No, indeed! Nothing half so 'uplifted' or ambitious. Just a poor,afflicted fellow out of work and anxious to make a living for hisfamily. Let us get through our meal and come to business."
Fortunately, while Pa Babcock was eating he could not well talk, and hewas one, as Alfaretta had said, "could always relish his victuals." Henow relished so many of prudent mother Martha's that her heart sank,knowing that food costs money and money was unpleasantly scarce in thatcottage; but, at last, he seemed satisfied and pushed back from thetable, saying:
"Now, let's settle things. I was sent here, first off, by my friendOliver Sands, to negotiate a loan for him--for your benefit. He's aforehanded fellow, Oliver is, and always ready to help those along whoare in trouble or--He's wanted to put a mortgage on my place in CatHollow, so's to give me time and opportunity--meaning cash--topromulgate the principles of----"
"Yes," said John impatiently.
"Of course, you understand. All sensible persons do and I shalleventually convert you to my ideas----"
"Possibly, possibly! But return to your errand from the miller, please.It's growing late and we've had a fatiguing day."
"I was just coming to it. He was so pleased by you and your family, sodelighted to find your wife, here, such a woman of business, that hewished me to say that in case you were in need of funds, a little readymoney, you know, he would feel perfectly safe in advancing it: securingit, of course, by the necessary documents."
Mr. and Mrs. Chester exchanged glances, which Dorothy did not see. Shehad escaped the obnoxious presence of this man by simply going to bed,meaning to get up again, as soon as he should depart, and bid herparents good-night. Then said the ex-postman, after this brieftelegraphing of opinions:
"Mr. Sands has guessed correctly. We are in need of ready money--to getthings into running order; but the property is my wife's and, like yourfriend, I have the fullest confidence in her business ability. She willdo as she thinks best."
Now what a cruel thing is jealousy! It had embittered the honest heartof Jim Barlow, earlier in the day, and now attacked the tender one ofMartha Chester. It was quite true--they did need money. True, also, thatthey had expected to raise it by a mortgage on Skyrie, at present freeand clear. They knew that this money would be forthcoming from themistress of Deerhurst, simply upon application, and upon the mostfavorable terms. She had already delicately hinted at the matter, andhad her visit to the cottage been made that morning, as she intended, itwould doubtless have been settled.
But Martha Chester disliked to be beholden to the old gentlewoman who"made so much of Dorothy" and who, the mother fancied, was supersedingherself in the child's heart. It had become a habit of Dorothy's toquote Mrs. Cecil as a paragon of all the virtues, and the child'sambition was to form her own manners and opinions upon her "fairygodmother's."
Now offered a chance for independence which Mrs. Chester eagerly seized,without protest from her husband, though inwardly he disapproved puttingthemselves in the power of a stranger when there stood ready to takehis place a tried, true friend.
"Shall you see Mr. Sands again, to-night?" she asked.
"No, ma'am. I'm due to deliver an oration in the 'Sons of Freedom' Hall,Upper Village, eight o'clock sharp, tickets twenty-five cents. Oliverdirected me to say that if you would send your little daughter toHeartsease, his place, to-morrow morning he would make it his pleasureto call and arrange everything. He's a sort of lawyer, himself. And, ohyes! If you should need anything in the way of feed or fodder he isalways ready to supply his customers, at the ruling prices and withdispatch.
"Which brings me, ma'am and sir, to the subject of wages betweenourselves; and if it's handy, to the payment for my services in erectinga pig-pen and repairing a cow-manger. Let me see. Two hours, at a dollaran hour--Two dollars, I make it. Do you find me right?"
Well! Pa Babcock might look like a simpleton, but he could use his queervoice to his own advantage!
John Chester shrugged his shoulders and Martha replied with considerablecrispness:
"A dollar an hour! I never heard of such a thing. In Baltimore----"
"We are not in Baltimore, much as I should admire to visit that city.Skilled labor, you know----"
"But the _skill_ was poor Jim Barlow's, and the lumber _mine_. At such arate your farm services would be worth a fortune, and far more than Icould pay. I hoped to get somebody to work 'on shares'; or at least,very cheaply."
"For the present, ma'am, there wouldn't be any 'shares.' The ground isabsolutely profitless. But I am not exorbitant, nor would I grind theface of the poor. I am a poor man myself. I glory in it. I think thattwo dollars and a half a day would be fair to both sides."
With this the high, thin voice subsided and John Chester took up thetheme, like his wife quoting their old city as a unit of measurement:
"In Baltimore, or its suburbs, a day or farm laborer would not earn morethan a dollar and a half, or even so low as a dollar and a quarter."
"Per day, working on every consecutive day?" asked this would-beemployee, leaning back in the rocker and folding his arms. It seemed henever could form a sentence without putting into it the largest words athis command, and listening to him, Martha almost hoped that theirpresent discussion would prove fruitless. However could they endure hiswordiness!
"Yes. Of course it would be every day," she answered.
But his next remark came with an originality worthy none other thanhimself:
"Very well. I have my price and my opinion--you have yours. Let us meetone another halfway. I will work only every other day--I can do as muchas two ordinary men, anyway--and thus you will be called upon for nomore than you would have had to pay some assistant from privilegedBaltimore."
"But we could not board you!" protested John Chester. "I cannot haveextra labor imposed upon my wife."
Pa Babcock rose, stretching all his mighty limbs as if he would convincethese strangers that he could, indeed, accomplish the work of twoordinary men per day; then, waving the trivial matter of board asidewith an airy lightness which his recent exhibition of appetite scarcelywarranted, announced:
"We will consider the affair closed. I will work every other day,Sundays excluded, at two dollars and a half
per day and find myself. Iwill enter upon my duties to-morrow morning, and I now wish yougood-night. I go to establish the rule of equality in this unenlightenedneighborhood."
So saying he slipped out of the house, a fearsome-looking but whollyharmless "crank," who seemed rather to have left his shadow behind himthan to have taken it with him. As he departed the roar of thunder, thebrilliant flash of lightning, filled the room; and, forestalling aremonstrance she feared might be forthcoming, mother Martha exclaimed:
"The storm is coming at last. I must go see to all the windows."
"I'll limp around and help you; and, wife dear, I can't help feeling weshould think twice before we take up with that miller's offer. He's toosweet to be wholesome and I know that Mrs. Calvert----"
"The matter is settled, John. You reminded me that Skyrie was myproperty. I claim the right to use my own judgment in the case. I willsend Dorothy to see that kind old Quaker early to-morrow."
She did. But as her husband went about with her that evening, making allsecure against the tempest, the shadow that Pa Babcock had left behindhim--the shadow of almost their first disagreement--followed her lightfootsteps and the tap-tap of his crutches from room to room.
Till at last they came to the little upper chamber which they had bothvied in making attractive for Dorothy's homecoming and saw her sleepingthere; her lovely innocent face flushed in slumber and dearer to themboth than anything else in life.
"It was for her, else I'd have let John have his way and ask Mrs. Cecil.But I cannot have her drawn away from me--and she's being drawn, she'sbeing drawn," thought mother Martha, stopping to straighten a moistcurl and kiss the pretty cheek.
"Oh! if only for that darling's sake we had trusted Mrs. Cecil. She hastrusted us: but Martha--Well, women are kittle cattle. I don'tunderstand them, but somehow I'm sorry," was his reflection.
So they went down again, he limping, she skipping almost like a girl,but with a division of thought which saddened both.