Little Fishers: and Their Nets

  CHAPTER V.

  A GREAT UNDERTAKING.

  JERRY turned away whistling. Did you ever notice how apt boys are towhistle when something has stirred their feelings very much, and theydon't intend that anybody but themselves shall know it?

  Nettie went back into the little brown house to see if her mother wascomfortable for the night. Her heart was lighter than she had thoughtit ever would be again.

  Everything was quiet within the house. The children with their armstossed about one another, and their cheeks flushed with sleep, lookedsweeter than they often did awake. The heartsick mother had forgottenher sorrow again for a little while, in sleep. Where father and Normwere, Nettie did not know. It seemed strange to go away and leave thelight burning, and the door unfastened. At home, they always gatheredat about this hour, in the neat sitting-room, and sang a hymn andrepeated each a Bible verse, and then Mr. Marshall prayed, and afterthat she kissed Auntie Marshall and the others, and tripped away to herpretty room. The contrast was very sharp. If it had not been for thatnew friend whose voice she heard at this moment softly singing a cheerytune, I think the tears would have come again.

  As it was, she slipped into Mrs. Job Smith's neat kitchen. What acontrast that was to the kitchen next door! The first thing she saw wasthe tall old clock in the corner. "Tick-tock, tick-tock." She had neverseen so large a clock before; she had never heard one speak in such aslow and patronizing tone, as though it were managing all the world.She looked up into its face and smiled. It seemed like a great strongfriend.

  There was nothing very remarkable about that kitchen. At least Isuppose you would not have thought so, unless you had just spentan afternoon in the Decker kitchen. Then you might have felt thedifference. The floor was painted a bright yellow, and had gay rugsspread here and there. The stove shone brilliantly, and the two chairsunder the window were painted green, with dazzling white seats. A high,old-fashioned, wooden-backed rocker occupied a cosey corner near theclock. A table set against the wall had a bright spread on it, andnewspapers, and a book or two, and a pair of spectacles lay on it. Thelamp was in the centre, and was clear and beautifully trimmed.

  Simple enough things, all of them, but they spoke to Nettie's heart ofhome.

  There was a brisk step on the stair; the door opened, and Mrs. Smith'sstrong, homely face appeared in sight. "Here you are," she saidcheerily, "tired enough to go to sleep, I dare say. Well, the room isall ready for you. I guess you won't be lonesome, for it is right outof Sarah Ann's room, and my boy Jerry is across the hall. You've gotacquainted with Jerry, I guess? I saw you and him talking, out in themoonlight. I'm glad of it. Jerry is good at chirking a body up; andthere never was a better boy made than he is.

  "Now you get right to sleep as goon as you can, and dream of all thenice things you can think of. It is good luck to have nice dreams in anew room, you know."

  "Poor little soul!" she said to herself as the door closed afterNettie. "I hope she will be so sound asleep that she won't hear herfather and Norm come stumbling home. Isn't it a mean thing, now, thatthe father of such a little girl as that should go and disgrace her?"

  Mrs. Smith was talking to nobody, and so of course nobody answered her;and in a little while that house was still for the night. Nettie, inthe clean, sweet-smelling woodhouse chamber, was soon on her knees; notsobbing out a homesick cry, as she thought she would, as soon as evershe had a chance, but actually thanking God for these new friends; andasking Him to be One in this new society, and show them just what andhow to do. Then she went into sound sleep; and heard no stumbling, norgrumbling, though both father and brother did much of it when at lastthey shambled home.

  The new plans came up for consideration early the next morning. BeforeNettie had opened her eyes to the neatly whitewashed walls in thewoodhouse chamber, she heard the sound of merry whistling, keeping timeto the swift blows of an axe. Jerry was preparing kindlings. In a veryshort time after that, he looked up to say good-morning, as Nettie wasmaking her way across the yard to the other house.

  "Don't you want some of these nice chips? They will make your kettleboil in a jiffy."

  This was his good-morning; he held out both hands to her, full of broadsmooth chips. "Aunt Jerusha likes them better than any other kind; Ikeep her supplied. Wait, I'll carry them in."

  "Oh, you needn't," Nettie said in haste, and blushing. What would hethink of the Decker kitchen after being used to Mrs. Smith's! But hetook long springs across the walk, vaulted the fence and stood at thekitchen door waiting for her. It looked even more desolate, in contrastwith the sunny morning, than it had the night before. Nettie resolvedto blacken the stove that very day. "Do you know how to make a fire?"Jerry asked. "I do. I made aunt Jerusha's for her, two mornings, but itis hard work to get ahead of her."

  Yes, Nettie knew how. She had made the fire for the supper, in Mrs.Marshall's boarding house, many a time. She proceeded to show her skillat once; Jerry, looking on admiringly, admitted that she knew moreabout it than he did.

  "You see, father and I board," he said apologetically, "and thereisn't much chance to learn things. I'll tell you what I can do--get youa fresh pail of water."

  Before she could speak, he darted away. There was a sound of feetcoming down the unfinished stairs, and Norm lounged into the room,rubbing sleepy eyes, and looking as though he had not combed his hairin a week. He stared at Nettie as though he had never seen her before,and answered her good-morning, with:

  "I'll be bound if I didn't forget you! Where have you been all night?"

  "Asleep," said Nettie, brightly. "Now I want to have breakfast ready bythe time mother comes out, to surprise her. Will you tell me whetheryou have tea or coffee?"

  Norm laughed slightly. "We have what we can get, as a rule. I heardmother say there wasn't any tea in the house. And I don't believewe have had any coffee for a month. I'd like some, though; I knowthat. I've got a quarter; I'll go and get some, if you will make us afirst-rate cup of coffee."

  "Well," said Nettie, "I'll do my best."

  She spoke a little doubtfully, having a shrewd suspicion that thequarter ought to be saved for more important things than coffee;but she did not like to object to Norm's first expressed idea ofpartnership; so he went away, and when the fresh water came, theteakettle was filled, the table set, the potatoes washed and put in theoven; by the time Mrs. Decker appeared, Nettie, with a very flushedface, was bending over her hot griddle, testing the cake she had baked.

  "Well, I do say!" said Mrs. Decker, and the tone expressed not onlysurprise, but gratitude. There was a pleasant odor of coffee in theroom, and the potatoes were already beginning to hint that they wouldsoon be done. The cake that Nettie had baked was as puffy and sweet asher heart could desire.

  "I believe you're a witch," said Mrs. Decker. "I couldn't think of athing for breakfast. Where did you get them cakes?"

  "Made them," said Nettie; "I found a cup of sour milk; Auntie Marshallused to let me make them often for breakfast. Norm went after thecoffee; and I guess it is good. I saved my egg shell from the cakes tosettle it."

  "You're a regular little housekeeper," said Mrs. Decker. "And so Normwent after coffee! Did you ask him to? Went of his own accord! That'ssomething wonderful for Norm. He used to think of things for me but hedon't any more."

  Altogether, it was really almost a comfortable breakfast, though itseemed to Nettie that she would never get it ready. She was not usedto managing with so few dishes. Her father drank three cups of coffee,said it was something like living, and gave Nettie twenty-five cents,with the direction that he hoped there would be something decent to eatwhen they came home at noon.

  Nettie's cheeks were red with more than the baking of cakes, then. Shewas ashamed of her father. How could he speak in a way to insult hiswife! They went off hurriedly at last, Norm and the father; and thechildren who had been silent, began to chatter the moment the doorclosed after them. Mrs. Decker, too, began to talk.

  "He thinks twenty-five cents will buy a dinner for us all,
and keep usin clothes, and get new furniture, and dishes! He will have it that itis because things are wasted that we have such poor meals. As if I hadanything to waste! I don't know what to do, nor which way to turn. Weneed everything."

  "Don't you think we had better clean house to-day?" Nettie asked alittle timidly, as they rose from the table and she began to gather thedishes.

  "Clean house!" repeated the dazed mother. "Why, yes, child, I supposeso. It needs it badly enough. Oh, we can wash up the floor, and theshelf. It doesn't take long; there are not many things in the way.No furniture to move. But it doesn't stay clean long, I can tellyou. Just one room in which to do everything! I might have kept itlooking better, though, if I had not been sick. I have just had to leteverything go, child. Lying awake nights, and worrying, have used meup."

  She took the broom as she spoke and began to sweep vigorously,scurrying the children out of her way.

  It was a long day, and a busy one. And at night, the room certainlylooked better. The floor had been scrubbed with hot lye to get off thegrease, and the stove had been blackened until the children shoutedthat it would do for a looking-glass. Several other improvements hadbeen made. But after all, to Nettie's eyes it was dreadfully bare andcomfortless. Not a cushioned chair, nor a rocker, nor anything that toher seemed like home. All day she had been casting glances at a closeddoor which opened from the kitchen, and thinking her thoughts aboutthe room in there. A large square room, perfectly empty. Why wasn't itused? If for nothing else, why didn't Norm sleep in it, instead of inthat dreadful unfinished attic where the rats must certainly have fullsweep? Or why did not her mother move in there with the trundle bed,instead of being cooped up in that small bedroom? Or why had they notprepared it for her to sleep in, if they really did not want it foranything else? She gathered courage at last, to ask questions.

  "Oh, that room," her mother said with bitterness, "when I first camehere to live, we pleased ourselves nights, after the children were inbed, telling what we would have in it. We meant to furnish it for aparlor. We were going to have it carpeted; he wanted a red carpet, andI wanted a brown one with a little bit of pink in, but land! I wouldhave taken one that was all yellow, just to please him. And we weregoing to have a lounge, and two rocking chairs, and I don't know whatnot. And there it is, shut up. I might have had it for a bedroom atfirst, but I wouldn't. I wanted to save it. And then, when I gave thatall up, there was nothing to fix it with. Norm couldn't sleep therewithout curtains to the windows; no more could we; it is right on thestreet, almost.

  "And things keep getting worse and worse, so I just shut the door andlocked it and let it go. If I had had a spare chair to put in, I mighthave gone in there and cried, now and then, but I hadn't even that. Itried to rent it; but the woman who was hunting rooms heard that yourfather drank, and was afraid to come. Oh, we have a splendid name inthe place, you'll find. We are just going to ruin as fast as a familycan; that's the whole story."

  In the middle of the afternoon, when Nettie had done everything shecould think of, unless some money could be raised, and some clothesmade, so that the children could have the ones washed which they werewearing, she stood in the back door, wondering how that could bebrought about, when Jerry appeared in his favorite seat on the sawhorse.

  "Everything done up for the day?" he asked.

  Nettie laughed.

  "Everything has stopped for the want of things to do with," she said."I don't see but that will be the trouble with what we want to do. Why,you can't do a single thing without money; and where is it to comefrom?"

  "That is one of the things we must think up," Jerry said gravely. "Ihave thought about it some. This temperance business needs money. Oneof the troubles with boys like Norm is that they have no nice placesto go to. Boys like to meet together and talk things over, you know,and have a good time, and how are some of them going to do it? Thechurch isn't the place, nor the schoolhouse, and those fellows haven'tpleasant homes; the only spot for them is the saloons. I don't muchwonder that they get in the habit of going there. I have heard myfather say that saloons were the only places that were fixed up, andlighted, where folks without any pleasant homes were made welcome. Why,just look at it in this town. There's your Norm. There are two fellowswho go with him a great deal. If you meet one, you may be sure thatthe other two are not far away. Their names are Alf Barnes and RickWalker. Neither of them have as decent a home as Norm's, oh! not by agood deal. And he doesn't feel like inviting them into your kitchen tospend the evening. Should you think he would?"

  Warm as the day was, Nettie shivered. "I should think they would ratherstay out in the street than to come there," she said.

  "Well, now you see how it is. They don't stay in the streets, suchfellows don't. Not all the time. They get tired, and sometimes itrains, and in winter it is cold, and they look about them for somewhereto go. There's a saloon, bright and clean; comfortable chairs, andgood-natured people. It is the only place that says Come in! to suchfellows. Why shouldn't they go in?

  "I've heard my father talk about this by the hour. In big cities theyhave rooms warmed and lighted, and nicely furnished, on purpose forsuch young men; only father is always saying that they don't begin tohave enough of them; but in such a town as this, I would like to knowwhat the boys who haven't nice homes to stay in, are expected to dowith themselves evenings? One of these days, when I am a man, thatis the way I am going to use all my extra money. I'll hunt out townswhere the fellows have just been left to stay in the streets, or elsego to the rum-holes, and I'll fit up the nicest kind of a room forthem. Bright as gas can make it, and elegant, you know, like a parlor;and I'll have cakes, and coffee, and lemonades, and all those things,cheaper than beer, and serve them in fine style. Wouldn't that be afine thing to do?"

  "Then the first thing," said Nettie, "is a room."

  Jerry turned round on his horse and looked full at her and laughed."You talk as though it was to be done now," he said. "I was tellingwhat I would do in that dim future, when I become a man."

  "We might begin pieces of it now. Norm will be too old when you are aman; and so will those others. There is our front room. If we only hadsome furniture to put in it. My Auntie Marshall made some real prettyseats once, out of old boxes; she padded them with cotton, and coveredthem with pretty calico, and you can't think how nice they were. Icould make some, if I had the boxes and the calico."

  "I could get the boxes," said Jerry. "I know a man in the blacksmithshop who has a brother in the grocery down at the corner, and he couldget boxes for us of him, I'm pretty sure. He is a nice man, thatblacksmith. I like him better than any man in town, I believe. I couldfix covers on the boxes myself, and do several other things. I have abox of tools, and I often make little things. I say, Nettie, let's fixup the front room. I've often wondered what there was in there. Wouldyour mother let us have it?"

  "She would let us have most everything, I guess," Nettie saidthoughtfully, "if she thought it would do any good."

  "All right. We'll make it do some good. Let's set to work right away.The first thing as you say, is a room. No, we have the room; the firstthing is furniture. I'll go and see Mr. Collins this very evening. Heis the blacksmith."

  In less than half an hour from that time Jerry stood beside Mr. Collins.

  That gentleman had on his big leather apron, and was busy about hiswork as usual.

  "Boxes?" he said to Jerry. "Why, yes, there are piles of them in hiscellar, and out by his back door. I should think he would be glad toget rid of some. But what do you want of them? Furniture? How are yougoing to make furniture out of boxes? What put such a notion as thatinto your head, and what do you want of furniture, anyhow?"

  So Jerry sat down on a box and told the whole story. Mr. Collinslistened, and nodded, and shook his head, and smiled grimly,occasionally, and sighed, and in every possible way showed his interestand appreciation.

  "And so you two are going to take hold and reform the town?" he saidat last. "Humph! Well, it needs it bad enough! if old box
es will help,it stands to reason that you ought to have as many as you want. I'llengage to see that you get them."

  When Mr. Collins told his brother-in-law, the grocer, the two laugheda good deal, but the blacksmith finished his story with, "Well, now Itell you what it is--something is better than nothing, any day; there'sbeen nothing done here for so long that I think it is kind of wonderfulthat those two young things should start up and try to do something."

  "So do I, so do I," assented the grocer, heartily, "and if old boxeswill help 'em, why, land, they're welcome to as many as they can use.Tell the chap to step around here and select his lumber, and I'll haveit delivered."

  This message Jerry was not slow to obey; so it happened that the verynext afternoon Mrs. Job Smith stood in her back door and watched withcurious eyes the unloading of the grocer's wagon. Six, seven, eightempty boxes! "For the land's sake, what be you going to do with them?"she asked Jerry.

  Mrs. Job Smith had a great warm heart, but no education to speak of;and no mother had, in her childhood, begged her a dozen times a day notto use such expressions as "for the land's sake!" she knew no betterthan to suppose they added emphasis to her words; Jerry laughed.

  "It is for the room's sake, auntie," he said. "We are going to have acabinet shop in the barn loft. Mr. Smith said I might. I shall makesome nice things, auntie, see if I don't. Come up in the loft, willyou, and see my tool chest?"

  This last sentence was addressed to Nettie who had appeared in herback door to admire the boxes. So the two climbed the ladder stairs,Nettie a little timidly as one unused to ladders, and Jerry with quicksprings, holding out his hand to her at the top, to help her in makingthe final leap. Then he took from his pocket a curious little key whichhe explained to Nettie would open that tool chest provided you knewhow to use it; but he supposed that a man who had stolen it might tryfor a week, and yet not get into the chest.

  A skilful touch, and the handsome chest was open before her, displayingits wonders to her pleased eyes. It was a well-stocked chest. Chisels,and saws, and hammers, and augers, and sharp, wicked-looking littlethings for which Nettie had no name, gleamed before her.

  "How nice!" she said at last. "How splendid! It looks as thoughsomebody who knew how, could make splendid things with them."

  "And I know how," said Jerry. "At least, I know some things. I spent asummer down in a little country town where father had some business;and the man we boarded with kept a small shop, where all sorts ofthings were made. Not a great factory, you know, where they make athousand chairs of one kind, and a thousand of another, and nevermake anything but chairs. This was just a little country shop, wherethey made a table one day, and a chair the next, and a bedstead thenext; and you could watch the men at work, and ask questions and learnever so much. I got so I could use tools, as well as the next one,Mr. Braisted said, whatever he meant by that. Father liked to haveme learn. He said tools were the cleanest sharp things that he knewanything about. I can make ever so many things. I like to do it. Iwonder I have not been about it since I came here. Now what shall we goat first? What does your mother say about the room?"

  "She is willing," said Nettie, "only she doesn't see how much ofanything can be done. She is most discouraged, you see, and nothinglooks possible to her, I suppose."

  "That's all right. She can't be expected to know we can do things untilwe show her. If she will let us try, that is all we need ask."

  "She says the room ought to have some kind of a carpet; they alwayshave carpets in home-like rooms, she says; and I guess that is so.Except in kitchens, of course."

  Nettie hastened to say this, apologetically, thinking of Mrs. JobSmith's bright yellow floor.

  Jerry whistled.

  "That is so, I suppose," he said thoughtfully; "and they don't makecarpets out of boxes, nor with saws and hammers, do they? I don't knowhow we would manage that. There must be a way to do it, though. Let'sput that one side among the things that have got to be thought about."

  "And prayed about," said Nettie.

  "Yes," he said, flashing a very bright look at her, "I thought that,but somehow I did not like to say it out, in so many words."

  "I wonder why?" said Nettie thoughtfully; "I mean, I wonder why it isso much harder to say things of that kind than it is to speak aboutanything else?"

  "Father used to say it was because people didn't get in the habit oftalking about religion in a common sense way. They don't, you know;hardly anybody. At least hardly anybody that I know; around here,anyway. Now my father speaks of those things just as easy as he does ofanything."

  "So does Auntie Marshall; but I used to notice that not many peopledid. Your father must be a good man."

  "There never was a better one!"

  Notwithstanding Jerry said all this with tremendous energy, his voicetrembled a little, and there came one of those dashes of feeling overhim which made him think that he must drop everything and go to thatdear father right away.

  "When he comes after you and takes you away, what will I do?"

  Nettie's mournful tone restored the boy's courage.

  He laughed a little. "No use in borrowing trouble about that. He isafraid he cannot come back before winter, if he does then. I'm goingto get him to let me stay here until he does come, though. And now wemust attend to business. What will you have first in my line? Chairs,tables, sofas--why, anything you say, ma'am."

  And both faces were sunny again.