Page 7 of The Second Chance


  CHAPTER VII

  THE SECOND CHANCE

  For age is opportunity no less Than youth itself, though in another dress, And as the evening twilight fades away The sky is filled with stars, invisible by day.

  _----Longfellow._

  PEARL, having taken her resolve to leave school, did not repine, andno one, not even her mother, knew how hard the struggle had been. Itall came out afterward that, John Watson, too, in his quiet way, hadbeen thinking of the advantages of farm life for his growing family.So when Pearl proposed it he was ready to rise and second the motion.

  Nearly all the land around Millford had been homesteaded, and wasbeing successfully farmed, but there was one quarter-section in thecrook of the Souris that had been abandoned. Bill Cavers had enteredit some years before, and paid his ten dollar entrance fee, built alittle house on it, and farmed it indifferently for two or threeyears; but poor Bill had to let it go at last. The numerous blackwhiskey bottles around his miserable buildings told the story. Theland was good--it was only four miles from Millford--it could bere-entered on payment of ten dollars. John Watson went out to see thefarm and came back well satisfied, so they decided to move out on itas soon as the snow was gone.

  By selling the house and lot they had enough money to buy a team ofhorses, a waggon, and some machinery. For seed grain and everythingelse that was needed Pearl would take her money. Aunt Kate protestedloudly against having Pearlie's money taken, and said if it wasn'tthat Bill's stone had come so high she'd spend her own rather thanhave Pearlie's touched. But Pearl stoutly insisted that helping herfamily in this way was just what she wanted to have done with hermoney.

  Pearl had not seen the farm until she drove out with her father onthe first load. "A movin' gen'rally looks sort of sad, doesn't it,Pa?" she said, as she settled herself on the dismembered beds. "Butthere's nothin' sad about this movin'. We're not goin' because wecan't pay the rent, and there's goin' to be a notice of it in thepaper, too."

  "How do you know that, acushla?" her father asked her.

  "I wrote it myself. I was afraid Mr. Evans might forget. He's allcluttered up wid politics, so I wrote it myself, and pinned it on hisdoor."

  "What did you say, Pearlie?"

  "I wrote this: Mr. and Mrs. John Watson and their interesting familyare leaving our midst to live on a farm, hoping to better theircircumstances and give the boys a chance to grow up decent."

  "Faith, that's puttin' it plain, Pearlie," her father laughed."You're gettin' to be real handy wid the pen."

  "I have a far lovelier one than that done, Pa; but I couldn't bear tohave it published in a newspaper, for every pryin' eye to see. So Iwrote it out in purple ink, and will just keep it in me scrapbook."

  "What was it, Pearlie?"

  "I wouldn't say it for everybody, Pa, for they wouldn't understand;but I know you will. This is what I wrote:

  Farewell, sweet childhood's happy home, For now we sadly haste away. We'll leave your happy scene with tears-- We tried to leave you yesterday, But fate denied, for Adam Watt Had broke the axle of his dray.

  Farewell, sweet childhood's happy home, We're going out four weary mile, We've gone to seek another home And may not see you for a while. But every inch of thee is dear, And every stick in thy woodpile.

  Each mark upon thy wall is linked With deepest meaning and with love, See where young Bugsey spilled the ink, Caused by his youngest brother's shove.

  See where wee Danny picked a hole-- He knew no better tho', I guess. The patch that covers it from sight Is made of Pearlie's winsey dress.

  All through the dreary winter time Thou sheltered us from cold so bleak Thou sheltered us from wind and rain, Save where thy kitchen roof did leak.

  When strangers come to live in thee, And fill thy halls with noise and shout, Still think, dear house, of those who once Did from thy gates go in and out."

  "It's just grand," her father said admiringly, "and it's true, too. Idon't know where you get the things you think of."

  The road lay along the bank of the Souris, which still ran high withthe spring floods. The spring came early in Manitoba that year, andalready the cattle were foraging through the pastures to be ready forthe first blade of grass that appeared. The April sun flooded thebare landscape with its light and heat. From the farm-yards theypassed came the merry cackle of hens. Horses and colts galloped gailyaround the corrals, and the yellow meadow larks on the fence-postsrang out their glad challenge. The poplar trees along the road wereblushing with the green of spring, and up from the river-flats,gray-purple with scrub oak and willow, came the indescribably sweetspring smell.

  At the corner of Thomas Perkins's farm they turned straight north,following the river.

  "There's our farm, Pearlie," her father said.

  What Pearl saw was one long field of old stubble, gray and faded, cutout of the scrub, and at the end of the field, against a grove ofpoplars, stood a little house, so sad, so battered, so broken, thatPearl's stout heart almost sank. It was made of logs and plasteredwith mud, and had settled down on one side, looking as ungainly andtired as an old horse when he rests on one leg. There was a door inthe side next the road, with one window at each side of it--windowswith almost everything in them except glass.

  Pearl jumped down from the waggon and ran around her new home tryingto find something good about it. When her father came in after tyingup his horses, he found her almost in tears.

  "Pa," she said, "this is sadder than I ever thought it would be. Iwish it had been real dirty and shiftless; but look, Pa, they'vetried to keep it nice. See, it's been whitewashed, and there's aplace you can tell they've had a bit of oil-cloth behind the box thewash basin sat on, to keep the spatters off the wall. And see here,Pa," stooping to pick up a piece of cretonne from the rubbish on thefloor--"this has been a paper holder--there's beads sewed on itaround the flowers; and do you see yon little shelf? It's got tackmarks on it; she's had a white curtain on it, with knitted lace. Iknow she has, and see, Pa"--looking behind the window casing--"yes,sir, she's had curtains on here, too. There's the tack. She had themtied back, too, and you can see where they've had pictures. I knowjust what Mrs. Cavers is like--a poor, thin woman, with knots on herknuckles. I could see her face in the house as we drove up to thedoor, kind of crooked like the house, and gray and weather-beaten,with teeth out. Houses always get to look like the people who live inthem. They've tried--at least she has, and she's failed. That's thesad thing to me, Pa--she's tried. If people just set around and letthings go to smash and don't care, that's too bad but there's nothingsad about it. But to try your livin' best and still have to gounder--that's awful!"

  Pearl walked to the window and wiped the cobwebs from it.

  "I know how she felt when she was standin' here watchin' fer Bill,hopin' so hard that he's come home right this time, and bring thelist of things she asked him to bring with his wheat-ticket. I cansee she was that kind, always hopin'; if she wasn't that kind shewouldn't ever have sewed the beads on. She'd stand here and watch forBill so full of hope and still so black afraid, and then it wouldcome on dark and she couldn't see anything but Perkins's lightwinkin' through the trees, and then she'd lay out the supper, but noteat a bite herself, but just wait, and wait, and wait. And then whenBill did come she'd run out wid the lantern with her heart thumpin'so, and her knees all weak and wobbly--and Bill, you know how he'dbe. Sandy Braden had got the wheat-ticket, and he hadn't paid a billor bro't a thing for the house, and so at last she saw she was beatand done for; she saw that every hope she had had was a false one."

  They were putting up the stove now, and when it was set in placePearl said: "Let's get a fire goin' now, quick, Pa--and that'll cheerus up."

  Her father went to the river and brought water, which they heated onthe stove, and then he scrubbed the floor while Pearl cleaned thewindows and put up the cheese-cloth curtains she had brought. Shewent outside to see how the curtains looked, and came back wellplease
d.

  "Pa," she said, "I've got a name for it. We'll call it 'The SecondChance.'"

  "For why, Pearlie?" her father asked curiously. "Well, it just cameto me as I was lookin' round, what this farm has had to put up withBill Cavers. Here it is as good a farm as any around here, and it'sall run to weeds. I am sure this yard is knee-high with ragweed andlamb's quarter in the summer, and the fields are all grown up withmustard and wild-oats, and they're an abomination to any farm; and soit has just sort, of give up and got discouraged, and now it lets inany old weed that comes along, because it thinks it'll never be anygood. But here comes the Watsons, the whole bilin' of them, and I cansee over there, Pa"--taking him to the window--"the place the gardenwill be, all nicely fenced to keep out the cattle; and over there,under the trees, will be the chicken-house, with big white hensswaggerin' in and out of it and down the ravine there will be thepig-pasture, and forninst us will be acres and acres of wheat, and behind the bluff there will be the oat-field. I can see it, Pa."

  "Faith, and yer a grand girl at seein' things," her father said, withhis slow smile, "and I just hope yer right."

  "I'm sure of it," said Pearl, after a pause, "and that's why, we'llcall it 'The Second Chance,' for it's a nice kind name, and I likethe sound of it, anyway. I am thinkin', maybe that it is that waywith most of us, and we'll be glad, maybe, of a second chance. Now,Pa, I don't mind tellin' ye that it was a sore touch for me to haveto leave school, and me doin' so well, but I am hopin' still thatsome time, some place, perhaps, for me, too, like the farm, there maybe a second chance. Do you see what I mane, Pa?"

  "I see it, acushla," said her father. "And I'm thinkin' maybe there'sone for me, too."

  And all day long, as John Watson worked, there was a wish in hishonest heart, so earnest a wish that it formed a prayer, that hemight be able to give his children many of the things that had beendenied him; and it came to him, vaguely at first, but growing everclearer that in Pearlie, Teddy and the rest of them, and his desireto do better for them, than he had done for himself, he was gettinghis second chance.

  The next day saw the whole family moved out and safely landed on thefarm. Mrs. Watson, Aunt Kate and Pearlie were soon busy putting upbeds and setting the house in order. Teddy, who was fifteen yearsold, and a strong boy for his age, was set to plow at once on thefield in front of the house, for it was still early in April, andthere was time to get in some crop. John Watson, when he got hisfamily and household goods safely landed, went to work, assisted byBilly and Jimmy, to prop up the old stables and make them habitablefor the two cows.

  Mary was given the hardest task of all--to look after her four youngbrothers--not to let them play in the mud, for obvious reasons; climbtrees, which is hard on the clothes; go in bare feet, which is not asafe thing to do until after the 24th of May; or fall in the river,which is a dangerous proceeding at any time. Mary was something of achild-trainer, and knew what fascination the prohibited has forpeople, and so marched her four young charges down to the river,regaling them, as they went, with terrible stories of drowning andshipwreck. They threw sticks in, pretending they were drowningsailors, but that soon grew monotonous, for the sailors all madetheir escape and went sailing serenely down the stream. The balm ofGilead trees exuded their healing perfume on the cool breeze thatblew ceaselessly up the broad valley; a golden-brown chipmunk racedup a tree and scolded at them from the topmost branches; overhead, inthe clear blue of the mid-heaven, a flock of wild geese, withflashing white wings, honked away to the Brandon Hills, en route forthat northern lake that no man knows; while a flock of goldfinches,like a shower of marigolds, settled on a clump of willows, singingpauselessly.

  "Let's catch them and sell them," said Tommy, who had the stubbyhands of a money-maker.

  "What'll ye do with the money?" Patsey asked.

  But before Tommy could decide between an automobile and an Irishmail, the goldfinches had crossed the river and were fluttering overthe purple branches of the leafless saskatoon bushes, which borderedthe stream.

  A jack-rabbit came gaily leaping down the road behind them, and atsight of him the four boys set off in eager pursuit. Bugsey got rightin Tommy's way, which was a fortunate thing for the jack-rabbit,because only for that Tommy would have had him he is pretty sure ofthat.

  After the rabbit had gone from sight and the baffled hunters returnedto where Mary sat, Bugsey came in for a good deal of abuse from theother three. Then, to change the conversation, which was ratherpainful, Bugsey suggested: "What do you bet that fellow hasn't got anest somewhere around here? Say we have a look for it."

  A vigourous search began. Incidentally Tommy found a nest of mice,and Patsey discovered a hawk's nest in a tree and was halfway upbefore Mary saw him. She made him come straight down--climbing treeswas too hard on the clothes; but when she came back from looking upDanny, who had dropped behind to look down a gopher's hole, she foundthat Patsey had discovered a plan whereby he could climb up for thelovely silver nest and not endanger the safety of his clothes,either. He stood below the tree with the coveted nest in his arms,covered with glory and scratches, but little else.

  When the boys got home everybody had something to show but Danny.Tommy had his mouse's nest; Patsey had the hawk's nest; Bugsey had afungus. Danny was the only empty-handed one, but Pearlie cheeredhim up wonderfully by predicting that he would get the very firstwood-tick when the season opened.

 
Nellie L. McClung's Novels