CHAPTER IX.
A BARGAIN AND A PROMISE.
DURING the next few days work went on rapidly in the Decker home:or, more properly speaking, in the room over Job Smith's barn.Jerry developed such taste in the manufacture of furniture, or of"skeletons," that Nettie grew alarmed lest there should never be foundclothing enough to cover them. However, matters in that respect beganto look brighter. Mrs. Job Smith, as she grew into an understanding ofthe plan, dragged out certain old trunks from her woodhouse chamber andlooked them over. There were treasures in those trunks, which even Mrs.Job herself had forgotten. A gay chintz dress of Job's mother's, whichhad been saved by her daughter-in-law "she couldn't rightly tell forwhat, only Job set store by it because it was his old mother's." Nettiefairly clapped her hands in delight over it, and then blushed crimsonwhen she remembered it was not hers.
"Well, now," said Mrs. Job, "I'll just tell you what it is. If you seeanything in life to do with these rolls of things, here is a bundle ofold muslin curtains, embroidered, you know, and dreadful pretty once, Isuppose, but they are all to pieces now. Mrs. Percival, a lady I usedto clear starch and iron for, gave them to me; paid me in that kind oftrash, you know, though what in the world she thought I could ever dowith them is more than I could imagine. But I was younger then than Iam now, and was kind of meek, and I lugged home the great roll and saidnothing; only I remember when I got home I just sat down on a cornerof the table and cried, I was so disappointed. I had expected to bepaid in money, and I had planned two or three things to surprise Job,and they had to be given up. Well, as I was saying," she added, in abrisker tone, having roused from her little dream of the past to watchNettie's fingers linger lovingly and wistfully among the rolls of softmuslin, "they have never been the least mite of good to me. I have justkept them because it didn't seem quite the thing to throw such prettysoft stuff into the rag-bag, and they were dreadful poor trash to giveaway; and Sarah Jane, she is tired of having them in the attic takingup room, and if there is anything in life can be done with these thingsin this trunk, I wish you would just go shares, and make some thingsfor me too. Sarah Jane would like it, first-rate."
This sentence fairly made Nettie catch her breath. The treasures inthat trunk were so wonderful to her. "I could make such lovely things!"she said, almost gasping out the words; "but, O Mrs. Smith, you can'tmean it! I'm afraid I oughtn't to."
"Why, bless your heart, child, I tell you I don't know of a singleuseful thing in that trunk; not one; it is just a pack of rubbish, now,that's the truth; and if Sarah Jane has begged me once to let her sellit to the rag pedlers, I believe she has twenty times."
The bare thought of such a sacrifice as this almost made Nettie pale.Also it settled her resolution and her conscience. She reached forwardand plunged into the delights of the despised trunk with a satisfiedair. "I will make you some of the prettiest things you ever saw inyour life," she said, with the air of one who knew she could do it. AndMrs. Smith laughed, and watched her with admiring eyes, and told SarahJane that she believed the child could do some things that other folkscouldn't.
It was after the day's work was done, and the little girls were asleep,and Nettie sat in the back door waiting for father and Norm, andwishing that they had not gone down town again, that she had a chanceto say the few little words which she had made up her mind to say toJerry. While her hands had been busy over long seams of rag carpeting,and over the wonderful trunk full of treasures, her thoughts had, muchof the time, been busy with other matters. Yesterday at noon she hadbeen sure that she should never go to that Sabbath-school again. Bynight, after the quiet talk under the trees with Norm and the littlegirls, she had not been so sure of it. The little girls could not gowithout her, and they had learned sweet lessons that very day, whichhad filled their young heads full of wondering thoughts, and they hadasked questions which had at least amused Norm, and which might sethim to thinking. In any case, ought she, because she had not beenhappy in her class, to deprive the little girls of the help which theSabbath-school might be to them? Then how badly it would look to Norm,and to her mother, if she went no more. And what would Jerry think? Onthe whole, the longer she thought about it, the more she felt inclinedto believe that her decision might have been a hasty one, and it washer duty to continue in that Sabbath-school, and even in that class,at least until the superintendent placed her in some other. It was agood deal of a trial to her to decide the question in this way, but shecould not make any other seem right.
There had also been another question to decide, which had been harder,and cost her more tears than the other. She was a very lonely littlegirl, and it seemed hard to give up a friend. But this, too, seemed tobe the only right thing to do, so she made it known to Jerry in themoonlight.
"Do you know, Jerry, I have been thinking all day of something that Iought to say to you?"
"All right," said Jerry, whittling away at the stick which he wasfashioning into a proper shape to do duty as a towel rack for Mrs. JobSmith's kitchen towel. "Go ahead, this is a good time to say it."And he held the stick up and took a scientific squint at it in themoonlight. "This thing would work better if the wood were a littlesofter. I am going to make one for your mother if it is a success, andit will be. Now what is your news?"
"It isn't news," said Nettie, "it is only something that I have madeup my mind I ought to say. Jerry, I think, that is, I don't think, Imean"-- And there she stopped.
"Just so," said Jerry, nodding his head gravely, "that is plain, I amsure, and interesting; I agree with you entirely." After that, both ofthem had to laugh a little, and the story did not get on.
"But I truly mean it," Nettie said at last, her face growing graveagain, "and I ought to say it. What I want to tell you is, that I havemade up my mind that you and I must not be friends any more."
Jerry did not laugh now, he did not even whistle. His knife suddenlystopped, and he squared around to get a full view of her face.
"What!" he said at last, as though he did not think it possible that hecould have understood her.
"Yes," she said firmly, "I mean it, Jerry, and it is real hard to say;you and I ought not to be friends, or, I mean we must not let folksknow that we are friends. We mustn't take walks together, nor worktogether. I don't mean that I shall not like you all the same; but wemustn't have anything to do with each other."
"Why not, pray? Have I done anything to make you ashamed of me? I'lltry to behave myself, I'm sure."
This was so ridiculous that Nettie could not help smiling a little.
"O, Jerry!" she said, "you know better than to talk in that way. Itsounds strange, I know, and it is real hard to do, but I am sure it isright, and we must do it."
"But what in the world is the trouble? Can't you give a fellow a reasonfor things? Is it your brother who doesn't like it?"
"O no! Norm likes you; and mother is as much obliged to you as she canbe, for getting him to go a-fishing. But, you see, it is bad for you tobe my friend."
"Oh-ho! I don't believe your influence is very hard on me; I don't feelas though you had led me very far astray!"
"It isn't fun, Jerry, it is sober earnest. I have heard things saidthat set me to thinking. I overheard the girls talk! those girls in theclass, you know, yesterday. I guess they did not know I was there. Theytalked about me a good deal. They said I had a last year's hat on, andthat is true, and my dress was only gingham, and washed at that."
"Washed!" interrupted Jerry in bewilderment; "well, what of that? Wouldthey have had you wear it dirty?"
But Nettie hastened on; she did not feel equal to explaining to himthe subtle distinction between a brand-new dress and one that had been"done up."
"They said a good deal more than that, Jerry, and it was all true. Theysaid I was nothing but a drunkard's daughter," and here Nettie found ithard work to control the sob in her throat.
"That is not true," said Jerry, indignantly. "Your father has not dranka drop in three days."
"Oh! but, Jerry, you know he does drink;
and he has gone down townto-night, and mother is sure that he will not come home sober. It isall true, Jerry. I don't mean that I am going to give up. I shall tryfor father all the time; and I think maybe he will reform, after awhile. And I won't forget our promise, and I know you won't; but it isbest for us not to act like friends. They talked about you, too; theysaid you were handsome, and they used to like you; they thought youwere smart. But now you had begun to go with me, so you couldn't bemuch. One of them said you were an Irish boy, that you had a real Irishname. Are you Irish, Jerry?"
"Not much! Or, hold on, I don't know but I am. Why, yes, mygreat-grandmother came from the North of Ireland. Father is proud ofit, I remember."
"Well, I don't care where you came from, you know. Nor whether you areIrish, or Dutch, or what; I am only telling you what they said. Theytold how you worked at Job Smith's for your board; and one of them saidyour father had run away and left you."
"Well, he has; run three thousand miles away, and left me, as sure astime. But he means to run back again, when he gets ready."
"I knew that wasn't true, Jerry; and I only tell you because I thoughtyou might want to speak about your father in a way that would show themit wasn't so. But what I want to say is, that I know they will get allover those feelings when they come to know you; and they will likeyou, and invite you to places, if you don't go with me; but they won'tany of them have anything to do with me, on account of my father. And,Jerry, I want you not to go with me, or talk with me any more."
"Just so," said Jerry, in an unconcerned voice. "Do you think I ammaking this stick too long for the frame? Our kitchen towels are prettywide. Well, now, see here, Miss Nettie Decker, you would not make avery honest business woman if you went back on a square bargain inthat fashion. You and I settled it to be partners in a very importantbusiness; and partners can't get along very well without speaking toeach other. There is no use in talking. You are several days too late.The mischief is done. I'm your friend and fellow-laborer and partner inthe cabinet business, and the upholstery line, and all the other lines.You will find me the hardest fellow to get rid of that ever was. Idon't shake off worth a cent. I shall take walks with you every chanceI can get; and shout to you from the woodshed window when you are overhome, and wait for you to come out when I think it is about time youshould appear, and be on hand in all imaginable places. Now I hope youunderstand what sort of a fellow I am."
If the boy had looked in Nettie's face just then, he would have seen asudden light flash over it which carried away a good deal of the lookof patient endurance which it had worn for the last few hours. Stillher voice was full of earnestness.
"But, Jerry, they will not have anything to do with you if you actso. By and by they will not even speak to you. And they won't inviteyou to their parties, nor anywhere. There is going to be a party nextweek, and I think you would have been invited if you hadn't gone withme Sunday; now I am afraid you won't be." And now Jerry whistled a fewrollicking notes.
"All right," he said in a cheery tone. "If there is any one thing morethan another that I don't like to go to, it is a girls' party wherethey make believe act like silly, grown-up men and women. I know justabout what kind of a party those girls in that class would get up. Ifyou have been the means of saving me from an invitation, it is justanother thing to thank you for. Look here, Nettie, let us make anotherbargain, sober earnest, not to be broken. I don't care a red cent forthe girls, nor their invitations, nor their bows; I would just as soonthey did not know me when they met me as not. If that is their game, Ishall like nothing better than to meet them half-way; girls who wouldknow no better than to talk the way they did about you, are not to myliking. If because you wear clothes that are neat and nice and the bestyou can afford, and because I am an Irish boy and work for my board,are good reasons for not having anything to do with us, why, we willreturn the favor and not have anything to do with them, for betterreasons than they have shown. Let's drop them. I thought some of themwould be good friends to you, maybe, and help you to have a nice time;but they are not of the right sort, it seems. You and I will have justas good times as we can get up. And we will bow to them if they bow tous; if they don't we will let them pass. What is settled is, that weare bound to work out this thing together. Understand?"
"Yes," said Nettie, with a little soft laugh, "I understand, and Idon't believe I ought to let you do it. But you don't know how nice itis; and I can't tell you how lonesome I felt when I thought I ought notto talk with you any more."
"I should like to see you help yourself," said Jerry, in a complacenttone. "You would find it the hardest work you ever did in your life notto talk to me, when I should keep up a regular fire of questions of allsorts and sizes."
Then Nettie laughed outright, but added, after a moment of silence,"But, Jerry, I think the worst of it is about father; and that is true,you know. They might not think so much about the clothes, if it werenot for him."
"That has nothing to do with it," said Jerry sturdily. "You are not toblame for your father's drinking liquor. Wouldn't you stop it quickenough if you could? It is only another reason why they ought to befriends to you. Besides, there wouldn't be so much of the stuff forfolks to drink, if Lorena Barstow's father did not make it."
"O Jerry! does he?"
"Yes, he does. Owns one of the largest distilleries in the country."
"Jerry, I think I would rather have my father drink liquor than make itfor other folks. At least he doesn't make money out of other people'stroubles."
"So would I, enough sight," said Jerry with emphasis. Then he liftedup his voice in answer to Mrs. Job Smith who appeared in the adjoiningdoor. "All right, auntie, we are coming." And he carefully gathered thechips he had whittled, into his handkerchief, and rose up.
"Going over now, Nettie? I guess auntie thinks it is time to lock up."
Nettie darted within for a few minutes, then appeared, and they crossedthe yard together. As they stepped on the lower step of Mrs. Smith'sporch, Jerry said: "Remember this is a bargain forever and aye, Nettie;there is to be no backing out, and no caring for what folks say, or forwhat happens, either now or afterwards. Do you promise?"
"I promise," said Nettie with a smile. And they went into the cleankitchen. Before Jerry went to bed that night he took out of the flyleaf of his Bible the picture of a tall man, and kissed it, as he saidaloud: "So you have run away and left your poor little Irish boy, haveyou? But when you run back again, won't they all be glad to see you,though!"