Chapter III: Eben and Flora Take a Drive

AT this moment the conversation was interrupted by Mr. Wilbur, who entered in a great flutter.

"I should like to know who's been a-meddling with that ere team of mine?" said he, in an aggrieved tone of voice. "There's my horse a-standing hitched by the mill door with the traces just hacked right off, and the wagon ain't nowhere to be seen. I'd like to know who's been a-meddling with my team, that's all."

"Here's the fellow," said Jeduthun, laying his hands on Eben. "If it hadn't been for him, your old horse would have been lying where your wagon is—in the mill pond."

And Jeduthun proceeded to tell the story, which lost nothing in the process. Mr. Wilbur did not seem inclined to be very grateful to Eben for his interference.

"Just like boys! Never have no sense," said he, angrily. "Why couldn't you hold on and holler?"

"I did make all the noise I could, but nobody heard me," said Eben. "I saw the old horse must go in a minute, and I did what seemed for the best."

"Next time, Eben, you can let the horse go along with the wagon," said Jeduthun. "You don't seem to get much thanks for saving him. I know I thought you'd be killed before I could get to you. I never saw anything better done in my life."

"Indeed, Mr. Wilbur, I don't see what better the boy could do," said Mr. Antis. "It was not a very good place to leave a horse."

"Of course it wasn't. Trust a boy for finding out the worst place to leave a horse or anything else. I told Tom to put him in the shade. Just like boys! I never saw one that wasn't a plague. Now, there's my wagon in the pond, and all my groceries in it."

"I think I will go and got the horse, and find out what Mrs. Antis wants," said Eben, addressing himself to the miller. "There is no time to lose."

"Do, my boy, and take Flora with you, as I said, and, Jeduthun, you find some of the men to help about getting up the wagon for Mr. Wilbur."

"I knew it," said Jeduthun as they walked over towards the house. "I would have taken my Bible oath that it was Tom Wilbur who tied that horse. If you do take this place, Eben, you will find Mrs. Antis a very pleasant lady to work for. She isn't any of your snappish kind of women, nor she ain't one of the slack kind, either. She calculates to do what's right herself, and she wants other people to do it by her. I'll just pull out the buggy for you while you go in and speak to her."

Mrs. Antis was pleased to find a chance to send to the Springs, and gave Eben a number of commissions.

"Please write them down, Mrs. Antis," said Eben.

"Why, can't you remember?"

"I dare say I could, but every one forgets sometimes, and when a thing is written, it is written, you know."

"Very true," said Mrs. Antis. "Is any one going with you?"

"Mr. Antis said I might take Flora for the ride," said Eben.

"So much the better," replied Mrs. Antis, good-naturedly giving up the thought she had just entertained of riding over herself. "She can do my errand at the milliner's, and save me the trouble. Just go over and get your sister and call here, and I will have the basket all ready."

"If one could find such a boy as that, there would be comfort in it," thought Mrs. Antis as Eben went out, "but I think every one we have tried has been a greater plague than the last."

It was with no little satisfaction that Eben helped his sister into the buggy and set out for his drive over to the Springs. He felt the pleasure that any boy would feel in driving a fine horse; he was gratified that Mr. Antis had been willing to trust him with so valuable an animal; he was glad of the chance to oblige that person, who had always been kind to him, and he was especially glad of the opportunity to have a quiet talk with Flora before seeing his mother.

The afternoon was warm, and he had plenty of time before him, so he drove rather slowly over the pretty country road which led from Boonville to the Springs, telling Flora, meanwhile, of the talk he had with Mr. Antis and Jeduthun. Flora looked grave at first.

"It just amounts to your being Mr. Antis's hired man," said she.

"Just exactly that, and nothing more, only I shall board at home instead of in the family."

"That's something," said Flora, thoughtfully. "But, Eben, don't you feel as if it were something of a come dawn in the world?"

"No, I don't know that I do. Why?"

"Well, you know we have always visited Mrs. Antis, and felt ourselves just as good as she is—I mean as far as position and all that goes, for in other ways I am sure she is a great deal better than I am. It seems as if it wouldn't be very pleasant for you to be living there as a servant: that is the truth of it. I dare say you think it is very silly in me, but I do feel so."

"It is natural enough, I suppose," said Eben, "and yet I can't say I feel as you do. I can't see that any honest work is degrading. Of course it is not the kind of work that I would have chosen,—we cannot have everything to suit us—but it is better than a good many other things. I would rather do it than go in a store, for instance."

"Would you, really?"

"Yes, because I like the work—taking care of the horses and working in the garden, and so on—better than standing behind a counter all day. It never did seem to me like a man's work to be selling yards of ribbon and calico, and papers of pins, and so on."

"There is something in that. But people have a great deal more respect for clerks in stores than they have for hired men."

"That depends on who the people are, I fancy," said Eben, shrewdly. "Don't you remember how scornfully your aunt Fletcher spoke of somebody as 'a mere dry goods clerk,' and wondered how some young lady could think of marrying such a person?"

"Yes, I know; and what do you suppose she will say to you now?"

"She does not seem very much disposed to say anything to any of us, I think," said Eben, with a curious little contraction of his mouth. "I don't think she will distress herself as long as we don't want anything of her. I shouldn't like to go for it! I do not think I need be governed by her opinion. She is not my aunt, as, you know, she took pains to make me understand."

"I believe you come as near to hating Aunt Fletcher as you can to hating anybody," said Flora, smiling.

"No, I don't. I don't care anything about her. I did think she need not have been in such a great hurry to make mother comprehend that she could not possibly be expected to do anything for us. As if we ever asked her! But that is neither here nor there. The question is about taking up with Mr. Antis's offer, and I have about made up my mind to do so. Twelve dollars a month is not much, but it is something, a certainty, too, and meantime I have a chance of showing what I can do—of gaining a character—don't you see? If Mr. Antis finds I am good for something in one place, he is all the more likely to help me to another."

"You certainly are the longest-headed boy of your age, Eben. But there is something in that."

"There is another thing," said Eben. "The work at Mr. Antis's will not be very hard, and I am in hopes I may get some time to study, so that I can go on with my Latin—at least so far as not to forget what I have learned. I know Mr. Willson will help me, for he said so, and he is not the man to say more than he means."

"No, indeed, and I will go on with you. I am sure I can get time if I try. Well, Eben, I shall not say a word against your going to Mr. Antis if you think it best. Here we are at the Springs. You may leave me at Miss Hurd's."

"And where shall I find you?"

"Oh, I will be at the Cure. I want to see Miss Barnard. Her room is in front, and I can keep a lookout for you."

When Eben had carefully done all his errands, he drove round to the front of the Cure. Flora did not keep him long before she came down with two large bundles in her hands.

"More work?" asked Eben.

"Yes, more work, and something else besides work. I took up a book while I was waiting in Miss Barnard's room, and she asked me if I was fond of reading, and when I said I was, she pulled down this great bundle of old magazines—The Sunday-at-Home, The Leisure Hour, and others—and gave them to me, saying that there was a great deal in them, and I might keep them as long as I liked."

"Good for her!" said Eben. "She must be a nice person, I am sure."

"She is, indeed. And that is not the best of it. You must know—though that is a great secret—that she is to be married this fall, if she is well enough. Her mother has come up to see her, and Mrs. Barnard is so pleased with what I have done, that she says she will have me make all the wedding cloth—all the under-clothes, that is—instead of getting them done in New York. So I am sure of as much work as I can do all summer. Isn't that finding a gold mine?"

"It is, indeed," said Eben. "We do have a great deal to be thankful for, and among other things that you learned to use the machine so well. But, Flora, what would Aunt Fletcher say to your working for money? You know the remarks she made about Miss Emily Willson's working for the fancy store."

"Oh yes; she said it might do here, but in town any one would lose caste directly who should do such a thing. Miss Barnard does not seem to think there is anything degrading in my sewing for her. She always seems glad to see me, and asks about you and mother—or mother and you, rather—not condescendingly, but as if she were really interested. She treats me as if she thought I was quite as good as herself."

"I have a notion that the Barnards are a notch above the Fletchers in the way of fashion, and so on," remarked Eben.

"That is an elegant way of putting it, but I dare say you may be right," returned Flora, laughing. "Have you done all your errands?"

"Yes, and more. I have an express parcel to carry home for Mr. Antis. I must stop at the railroad station for it as we go home."

"The more I think about it, the more I am decided to take up with Mr. Antis's offer," continued Eben when the express parcel had been safely stowed away under the seat and they were on their way homewards. "If only mother can be brought to consent, without feeling too badly about it."

"She will come round all the easier for having the magazines to employ her," said Flora. "Only don't you go to reasoning and arguing, Eben. Let her just say her say out without contradiction, and then she will be ready to hear reason."

"How sensible we are!" said Eben, smiling.

Flora coloured.

"Well, I know I don't always do so, but I am always sorry when I don't; and you must admit, Eben, that I have improved. I don't argue half as much as I used to."

"You are the best and dearest as well as the most sensible girl I know," said Eben. "It is a great advantage to have you to consult with in my affairs. Come, get up, old Guy! You need not take it so very leisurely, if it is a little up hill."

As the children had foreseen, Mrs. Fairchild had a great many objections to make to Eben's plan. Eben let her exhaust herself upon them, and quietly recurred again and again to the advantages of the arrangement, dwelling particularly on the facts that he would board at home and that he should have time to study, and at last Mrs. Fairchild was brought to say that Eben might try it till something better turned up.

"But I'm sure I don't know what sister Fletcher will say," was her conclusion.

"We need not mind what she says," said Flora. "Advice is the only thing she is liberal with. We are not likely to see her very soon, I fancy, now that we have not the farm for her to rusticate upon."

"Never mind her," said Eben, good-naturedly. "There, mother! I forgot part of my errand, after all. Mr. Budd, the steward at 'The Cure,' has sent you a basket of famous duck eggs to put under one of our hens. You know how much you admired those beautiful white ducks we saw in the park that day. He has sent you eight of the eggs, and old Dusty wants to set, so we can put them right under her."

Mrs. Fairchild was very fond of poultry, and very skilful in raising the more delicate kinds. The present of the duck eggs, and the sight of the magazines, which Flora now brought out, quite restored her good humour, and before bed-time, she was ready to believe that Eben had done the best thing possible, and to say what a good thing it was that he had a mother to advise him, to which Eben very heartily agreed.

"And as for sister Fletcher, why, as you say, Eben, we are not bound to mind her. If your father had been governed by her, we never should have adopted you at all, for she was very much opposed to it. And you always have been a comfort, Eben—always. I will say that for you, and your dear father said the same. And I dare say you will get an education yet, somehow or other. Things often do come round, you know, when we least expect them."

"Very true," said Eben, cheerfully. "Goodnight, dear mother. I must be up bright and early, you know."

Then Eben went to his own little room, and setting down his candle, dropped wearily into his chair and laid his head on his arms. He did not look quite so cheerful. In fact, nobody, not even Flora, guessed the sacrifice he was making.

Eben loved study and the acquirement of learning for learning's sake to a degree somewhat unusual in a boy of his age. He learned easily, especially where languages were concerned, and he had a kind of passion for everything connected with physiology and natural history. Eben had a quick and strong imagination, and had been somewhat given to castle-building. Often and often he had gone over all the circumstances of his future life—how he would get through college and into the medical schools, working his way, after a while, so as not to be so much of a burden on his father; how he would take his degree and got into practice, and then, when he could afford it, how he would go abroad and see the hospital and health establishments of Europe; how he would get in as assistant to the famous Doctor Henry at the Springs, and after a while set up an establishment of his own.

Latterly, these dreams had somewhat changed their character. A brother of Mrs. Willson's had come home from India, where he had been a medical missionary, and had made a long visit to his brother-in-law. Doctor Auben was a man of great sense and kindness, and struck by the eagerness and fixed attention with which Eben had listened to his Sunday-evening lectures, he took the opportunity of becoming acquainted with the boy. Since that time Eben's views had undergone a change, and instead of a grand establishment at home, he thought of a large practice in India or China, where he might minister to the bodily wants of the heathens, and at the same time help to extend the kingdom of the Master whom he loved. For Eben was a true Christian boy, a member of the church, and quite ready to confess himself such on all proper occasions, and to make the glory of God the great aim of his life.

It was very hard to give up all these bright dreams and plans, and go to work with a good grace at the hundred and one little things which go to fill up the time of a "hired boy." Eben could not but feel that it was hard, though he had quite made up his mind what to do. It seemed to him somehow as if his Master had rejected him as unfit for the place he had wished so much to fill—as if he must have deceived himself and overrated his own talents, since, after all his aspirations, he was simply compelled to occupy himself with the commonest task which any dunce could have performed as well. Eben had some very bitter thoughts during the hour that he sat by his little table with his head resting on his arms. The tempter was busy with him, suggesting hard and unkind thoughts of the Master he had tried so hard to serve, and resisting all his attempts to say heartily, "Thy will, not mine, be done."

"There is no use in all this," Eben said, at last, aloud, and starting to his feet. "I can't make myself submissive, nor cheerful, nor believing, as I know I ought to be, but I know who can and will do all that and more for me."

Eben threw himself on his knees by the bedside and prayed as he had never done before, with tears and sobs and almost groans of anguish. It was his first great spiritual conflict, and a hard one, but he took the right way to conquer by fleeing from his enemy to his best and all-powerful Friend, and leaving that Friend to fight for him. He did not feel, even when he lay down, that the victory was gained, but cried himself to sleep as he had not done since his father died. When he woke in the morning, however, he found that all was well. His faith was once more clear, and he felt that he was quite ready to serve his Master in the way that Master chose for him.