CHAPTER XI
THE HOUSE OF TROUBLE
There! little girl--don't cry!
_----James Whitcomb Riley._
A MILE from the Chicken Hill School stood the little vermin-infestedhouse in which the Cavers family lived after they abandoned theweed-choked farm on the river-bank. This unpretentious log house hadbeen the first home of Mr. and Mrs. Steadman, and was part of the"improvements" specified by the Government to show that a homesteadis entered in good faith. The land had been rich and productive, andfrom it George Steadman had made the money to buy the half-section ofschool land just across the road and to erect the magnificent brickhouse and splendid barns that were the pride of his heart.
George Steadman was so keen after money that he even overworked hisfarms, and now his old farm was so impoverished that it was unable togrow a heavy crop. This was the principal reason he had for lettingit to such an undesirable tenant as Bill Cavers. No wide-awake tenantwould take it, and, besides, if he had rented it to almost any personelse, he would have had to spend some money fixing up the house,which was in a most dilapidated condition.
Bill Cavers had lost the ambition that he once had, and now did notcare very much what sort of house he lived in. Bill was content tolive the simple life, if the liquid refreshment were not simplifiedtoo much, and Mrs. Cavers never complained.
The Caverses had only one child living, Libby Anne, eleven years old;but there were several little unmarked mounds in the Millfordcemetery that Libby Anne and Mrs. Cavers sometimes piled high withwhite cherry-blossoms or blue anemones. Little George had lived to betwo years old, and Libby Anne remembered that when he died there wasa funeral, with horses and buggies in the yard, and the ministerprayed and there was singing, and Martha Perkins brought over littlecookies with pink seeds on them, and it was fine!
But for days and days Libby Anne would steal up the narrow stairs,fully expecting to find her little brother sleeping under the pinkquilt on his mother's bed, but there wasn't ever even the dint of himon the quilt, and Libby Anne at last went up with her eyes shut tofeel around the bed, so as not to be disappointed so soon. Then hermother told her about the beautiful country that little George hadgone to, and Libby Anne was glad to know that no one there was evercold or hungry, and that nobody's father ever came home drunk. Oneday in school Libby Anne told the teacher what heaven was like, andwhen she mentioned this last and greatest advantage of living therehe told her gently that she must not say such things.
For some time after coming to the Steadman farm things had gonebetter with the Caverses, for a strong influence was brought to bearon Bill, to keep him sober. Mr. Steadman had never taken any interestin the liquor question--he had no taste for whiskey himself, and,besides, it costs money--but now, with Bill Cavers for his tenant, hebegan to see things differently. If Bill Cavers drank he would not beable to pay the rent. So Mr. Steadman desired Bill to be a sober man,and to this end had a very straight talk with him on the subject oftotal abstinence.
Bill Cavers was a very poor farmer, as one look at his abandonedhomestead would show; that he was not a success as a husband no onewould doubt after seeing Mrs. Cavers; and that he was a conspicuousfailure as a father, Elizabeth Anne Cavers, his daughter, with herfrightened eyes and sad mouth, would abundantly testify. But therewas one capacity in which William Cavers was a spectacular success,and that was in maintaining the country's revenue from malt anddistilled liquors, for Bill was possessed of a thirst that neverfaltered.
Bill was quite different from the drunkard who consumes and neverproduces, for he would work and work hard; and he was strictly honestwith every one except himself and his family. Sandy Braden was notafraid to trust Bill with all the whiskey he wanted, for Bill wouldsurely pay. His wife might not have respectable clothes to come totown in, and Libby Anne knew what it was like more than once to gohungry to bed, but Bill always paid what was chalked up against himat the Grand Pacific without question. All the neighbours called BillCavers a good, straight fellow.
When Bill was sober, he bitterly regretted the way he had wasted hismoney, and he often made solemn protestations as to his futureconduct, the strange part of it being that at such times he fullybelieved that he would never drink again, and his wife was always,sure that he would not.
In this way life was harder for her than it would have been for aless sanguine woman, who would have long ago given up all hope, butMrs. Cavers always saw her husband as he had been in his good days;his drinking had never ceased to be a shock to her; she never couldaccept it as the inevitable, but constantly looked for better days tocome.
Mrs. Cavers often told Libby Anne about the lovely home she had whenshe was a little girl, and showed her just how the flower-beds werelaid out and how the seat was put in the big elm-tree outside hermother's window, where she often sat and read and dreamed; and so itwas no wonder that her mother's old home in Ontario, where hergrandmother and Aunt Edith still lived, became to Libby Anne a sortof Paradise Valley, the delectable country of her dreams, and throughall her colourless childhood there ran a hope like a thread of goldthat some time she and her mother would go back.
The last summer that they had been on their own farm this hope hadbeen very real, for her father had said one day, when he was in hisbest mood, that if the crop turned out well they would all go downeast for three months.
Then what a busy, hopeful time began for Libby Anne and her mother.Everything was bent toward this one end. Mrs. Cavers made butter andsold it. Libby Anne looked faithfully after the eggs, and made everyold hen give an account of herself each night. By getting theneighbours to subscribe to a magazine, Mrs. Cavers was able to add afew dollars to her savings. The kind-hearted neighbours, who knew ofthe projected visit, were all ready to help.
Martha Perkins gave Libby Anne ten fine young turkeys, half-grown, tohelp to buy new clothes for herself, and the thought of the lovelyred curly cloth coat that she would be able to buy when she sold herturkeys comforted her not a little when, tired out with her otherwork, she came to gather them in for the night, and they obstinatelywould scamper away into the trees; as unconcerned as if there wasnever a wolf or a mink or a weasel in the world.
No crop was ever watched with greater hope and fear than that one.Every bank of cloud that gathered in the west seemed to sit like adead weight on Libby Anne's heart, for it might bring hail, anda hailed-out crop meant that they could not go home, and thatwas--outer darkness. Perhaps it was the child's wordless prayersthat stayed the hail and the frost and the rust, for certain it isthat none came, and the crop was most abundant.
Libby Anne and Mrs. Cavers worked in the field to save a hired man'swages. Libby Anne was a tireless little worker, and though many, manytimes her thin arms must have ached, she never complained, becauseevery sheaf that she carried brought her nearer the Promised Land.
People driving past looked with pity at the tired-looking woman andthe little girl in the faded derry dress carrying sheaves almost asbig as herself, and one day Mrs. Burrell, the minister's wife, spoketo them sympathizingly. Libby Anne flashed back at her almostscornfully. "Don't you know we are going home?" she said, her tiredface kindling.
At last the grain was harvested and threshed, the neighbours kindlyassisting, and Bill began to sell his grain. He paid his store bills,his binder-twine bill, his blacksmithing, and made the payment on hisbinder. Libby Anne sold her turkeys and got her coat, and the day wasset for them to go east--December the first, the first excursion!
The day before they were to start, Bill went to town to cast hisvote; the Provincial elections were held that year on the last day ofNovember. There was a good deal of excitement over the election, forSandy Braden, the popular proprietor of the Grand Pacific Hotel, wasrunning against a Brandon man, and Millford was standing solid fortheir own man. The bar could not be opened until after five o'clock,when the voting was over, but after that there was nothing to preventgood-fellowship abounding.
It did abound all night. There was a bonfire in front o
f the hotelwhen the returns began to come in, for Sandy was winning easily, andSandy certainly showed his gratitude for the way the boys had stoodby him.
Mrs. Cavers and Libby Anne waited all that long night. They tried tokeep up each other's courage, making all sorts of excuses for Mr.Cavers's absence. Mrs. Cavers knew, but she did not tell Libby Anne,that he was going to cash the wheat-tickets that he had saved for thetrip, for the train went so early in the morning he was afraid hemight not have time then.
Libby Anne went again and again into the little bedroom to look atthe trunk already strapped. Surely people always went if the trunkwas strapped, and she tried and tried to feel what it was likeyesterday.
Just as the sun was rising on the first day of December ushering inthe first day of the winter excursions, they heard him coming. He wascoming with the Thomas boys, who were often his companions on similaroccasions. Some one had loaded them up and started them for home,trusting to a drunken man's luck not to get killed.
Round the turn of the road they came singing, and Libby Anne and hermother listened with sinking hearts as the sound came nearer andnearer:
"Who's the best man in this town? Sandy Braden, Sandy Braden."
they sang, putting the words to that good old rollicking Scotch tuneof "Highland Laddie."
Bill fell out of the waggon at the door. He was covered with dirt,his clothes were torn, and one eye was blackened, but he was in agenial mood, and tried to dance on the door-step. They got him in atlast and put him to bed, where he slept profoundly until the nextafternoon. He brought home out of his wheat-tickets thirty-five centsand the half of a dollar bill--the other half was torn away!
Libby Anne did not shed a tear until she saw her mother unstrap thetrunk to get out something, and then suddenly all the strength wentout of the lithe little arms that had carried the sheaves so bravely,and she fell in a little heap on the floor, sobbing out strangely.
Her mother gathered her up in her arms and rocked her for a long timein the rocking-chair, crooning over her queer little rambling tuneswithout meaning; only once she spoke, and then what she said wasthis: "Libby Anne, I hope you will never be as lonely to see me as Iam right now to see my mother."
Just then a still later consignment of Mr. Braden's supporters drovepast the house gaily singing the same refrain:
"Who's the best man in this town? Sandy Braden, Sandy Braden."