LITMIR.BIZ

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get there. I will make a way. And I will find a way to help myself along, and do what I can to help the rest, too.”

      She spoke it like a princess. Mrs. Hawkins smiled proudly and kissed her, saying in a tone of fond reproof:

      “So one of my girls is going to turn out and work for her living! It’s like your pluck and spirit, child, but we will hope that we haven’t got quite down to that, yet.”

      The girl’s eyes beamed affection under her mother’s caress. Then she straightened up, folded her white hands in her lap and became a splendid iceberg. Clay’s dog put up his brown nose for a little attention, and got it. He retired under the table with an apologetic yelp, which did not affect the iceberg.

      Judge Hawkins had written and asked Clay to return home and consult with him upon family affairs. He arrived the evening after this conversation, and the whole household gave him a rapturous welcome. He brought sadly needed help with him, consisting of the savings of a year and a half of work — nearly two hundred dollars in money.

      It was a ray of sunshine which (to this easy household) was the earnest of a clearing sky.

      Bright and early in the morning the family were astir, and all were busy preparing Washington for his journey — at least all but Washington himself, who sat apart, steeped in a reverie. When the time for his departure came, it was easy to see how fondly all loved him and how hard it was to let him go, notwithstanding they had often seen him go before, in his St. Louis schooling days. In the most matter-of-course way they had borne the burden of getting him ready for his trip, never seeming to think of his helping in the matter; in the same matter-of-course way Clay had hired a horse and cart; and now that the goodbyes were ended he bundled Washington’s baggage in and drove away with the exile.

      At Swansea Clay paid his stage fare, stowed him away in the vehicle, and saw him off. Then he returned home and reported progress, like a committee of the whole.

      Clay remained at home several days. He held many consultations with his mother upon the financial condition of the family, and talked once with his father upon the same subject, but only once. He found a change in that quarter which was distressing; years of fluctuating fortune had done their work; each reverse had weakened the father’s spirit and impaired his energies; his last misfortune seemed to have left hope and ambition dead within him; he had no projects, formed no plans — evidently he was a vanquished man. He looked worn and tired. He inquired into Clay’s affairs and prospects, and when he found that Clay was doing pretty well and was likely to do still better, it was plain that he resigned himself with easy facility to look to the son for a support; and he said, “Keep yourself informed of poor Washington’s condition and movements, and help him along all you can, Clay.”

      The younger children, also, seemed relieved of all fears and distresses, and very ready and willing to look to Clay for a livelihood. Within three days a general tranquility and satisfaction reigned in the household. Clay’s hundred and eighty or ninety, dollars had worked a wonder. The family were as contented, now, and as free from care as they could have been with a fortune. It was well that Mrs. Hawkins held the purse otherwise the treasure would have lasted but a very little while.

      It took but a trifle to pay Hawkins’s outstanding obligations, for he had always had a horror of debt.

      When Clay bade his home goodbye and set out to return to the field of his labors, he was conscious that henceforth he was to have his father’s family on his hands as pensioners; but he did not allow himself to chafe at the thought, for he reasoned that his father had dealt by him with a free hand and a loving one all his life, and now that hard fortune had broken his spirit it ought to be a pleasure, not a pain, to work for him. The younger children were born and educated dependents. They had never been taught to do anything for themselves, and it did not seem to occur to them to make an attempt now.

      The girls would not have been permitted to work for a living under any circumstances whatever. It was a southern family, and of good blood; and for any person except Laura, either within or without the household to have suggested such an idea would have brought upon the suggester the suspicion of being a lunatic.

      CHAPTER VII.

       Table of Contents

       Via, Pecunia! when she’s run and gone

       And fled, and dead, then will I fetch her again

       With aqua vita, out of an old hogshead!

       While there are lees of wine, or dregs of beer,

       I’ll never want her! Coin her out of cobwebs,

       Dust, but I’ll have her! raise wool upon eggshells,

       Sir, and make grass grow out of marrow-bones,

       To make her come!

       B. Jonson.

      Bearing Washington Hawkins and his fortunes, the stagecoach tore out of Swansea at a fearful gait, with horn tooting gaily and half the town admiring from doors and windows. But it did not tear any more after it got to the outskirts; it dragged along stupidly enough, then — till it came in sight of the next hamlet; and then the bugle tooted gaily again and again the vehicle went tearing by the horses. This sort of conduct marked every entry to a station and every exit from it; and so in those days children grew up with the idea that stagecoaches always tore and always tooted; but they also grew up with the idea that pirates went into action in their Sunday clothes, carrying the black flag in one hand and pistolling people with the other, merely because they were so represented in the pictures — but these illusions vanished when later years brought their disenchanting wisdom. They learned then that the stagecoach is but a poor, plodding, vulgar thing in the solitudes of the highway; and that the pirate is only a seedy, unfantastic “rough,” when he is out of the pictures.

      Toward evening, the stagecoach came thundering into Hawkeye with a perfectly triumphant ostentation — which was natural and proper, for Hawkey a was a pretty large town for interior Missouri. Washington, very stiff and tired and hungry, climbed out, and wondered how he was to proceed now. But his difficulty was quickly solved. Col. Sellers came down the street on a run and arrived panting for breath. He said:

      “Lord bless you — I’m glad to see you, Washington — perfectly delighted to see you, my boy! I got your message. Been on the lookout for you. Heard the stage horn, but had a party I couldn’t shake off — man that’s got an enormous thing on hand — wants me to put some capital into it — and I tell you, my boy, I could do worse, I could do a deal worse. No, now, let that luggage alone; I’ll fix that. Here, Jerry, got anything to do? All right-shoulder this plunder and follow me. Come along, Washington. Lord I’m glad to see you! Wife and the children are just perishing to look at you. Bless you, they won’t know you, you’ve grown so. Folks all well, I suppose? That’s good — glad to hear that. We’re always going to run down and see them, but I’m into so many operations, and they’re not things a man feels like trusting to other people, and so somehow we keep putting it off. Fortunes in them! Good gracious, it’s the country to pile up wealth in! Here we are — here’s where the Sellers dynasty hangs out. Hump it on the doorstep, Jerry — the blackest niggro in the State, Washington, but got a good heart — mighty likely boy, is Jerry. And now I suppose you’ve got to have ten cents, Jerry. That’s all right — when a man works for me — when a man — in the other pocket, I reckon — when a man — why, where the mischief as that portmonnaie! — when a — well now that’s odd — Oh, now I remember, must have left it at the bank; and b’George I’ve left my check-book, too — Polly says I ought to have a nurse — well, no matter. Let me have a dime, Washington, if you’ve got — ah, thanks. Now clear out, Jerry, your complexion has brought on the twilight half an hour ahead of time. Pretty fair joke — pretty fair. Here he is, Polly! Washington’s come, children! come now, don’t eat him up — finish him in the house. Welcome, my boy, to a mansion that is proud to shelter the son of the best man that walks on the ground. Si Hawkins has been a good friend to me, and I believe I can say that

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