It is not well to dwell upon the second great affliction of Tom Gordon. Hewas older now than when his mother died, and though bowed to the earth bythe loss of his cherished playmate, he was too sensible to brood over hisgrief. Short as had been his stay at the home of Farmer Pitcairn, he hadmade friends, and they were abundant with the best of counsel.
There is no remedy for mental trouble like hard work. There's nothing theequal of it. When the dark shadow comes, apply yourself with might andmain to some duty. Do your utmost to concentrate your thoughts, energies,and whole being upon it. Avoid sitting down in the gloom and bemoaningyour affliction. By and by it will soften; and, relying upon the goodnessof Him who doeth all things well, you will see the kindly providence whichoverrules all the affairs of this life. With the gentle poet you will beable to murmur:--
/P "Sweet the hour of tribulation, When the heart can freely sigh, And the tear of resignation Twinkles in the mournful eye."P/
Jim Travers was laid away to rest in the beautiful country cemetery nearthe home of Farmer Pitcairn, and between it and the town of Bellemore. Indue time a plain, tasteful shaft was erected to his memory, on which,below his name, date of birth and death, were carved the expressivewords:--
"He was a tried and true friend."
It took a good deal of the earnings of Tom Gordon to erect this tribute tothe departed youth. Mr. Pitcairn and his wife insisted upon sharing a partof the expense; and the youth could not refuse them, though he would notpermit it to be more than a trifle as compared with his own. The placingof the shaft has led me to anticipate events somewhat.
Tom Gordon was approaching young manhood. He was a tall, sturdy boy, witha fair education, and it was high time that he set to work at the seriousbusiness of life. Providence had ordered that he should pass through morethan one stirring experience. He had knocked about the world a good dealmore than falls to the lot of most lads of his age, and had acquiredvaluable knowledge. He had learned much of the ways of men, and hadundergone a schooling, rough of itself, but fitted to qualify him for therebuffs of fortune to which we must all become accustomed.
What should he do? This was the question which he often debated withhimself, as was befitting in a sensible youth, who feared the danger of amistake when standing at the "crossing of the ways."
Somehow he felt a strong dislike to going back to New York. He and Jim hadmet with such rough treatment there that the memory was not pleasant. Hisyearning was to stay in the neighborhood of Bellemore. The soothing flowof the beautiful Hudson, the picturesque, restful scenery, and, above all,the sweet, sad halo that lingered around the last abiding place of hisfriend, held him to the spot, which would ever be a sacred one to him.
He could not fancy the life of a farmer, though nothing would have pleasedMr. Pitcairn more than to have the strong, thoughtful boy prepare himselfto become his successor in the management of the thrifty and well-keptplace. While Tom was in this state of incertitude, Providence opened theway, as it always does to the one who is waiting to accept the indication.
It was at the close of a mild day in early summer that he was sitting onthe front porch of his new home, talking with Mr. Pitcairn and his wife,when a carriage stopped in front, and an elderly gentleman stepped down,tied his horse, and opened the gate.
"Why, that's Mr. Warmore," said Farmer Pitcairn to his wife, as he rose togreet his visitor, who walked briskly up the graveled path.
The appearance of the gentleman was prepossessing. He was tall and spare,but with a benign expression of countenance. He was well dressed, woregold spectacles, and his scant hair and a tuft of whiskers on either sideof his cheeks were snowy white, while his features were regular. He musthave been an unusually handsome man in his younger days, and would stillattract admiration wherever seen.
He shook hands warmly with the farmer and his wife, and was introduced toTom, whom he treated with the same cordiality. The youth made haste toplace a chair at his disposal, for which Mr. Warmore thanked him, andsitting down, crossed his legs, took off his hat, and wiped his perspiringbrow with his white silken handkerchief. The chat went on in the usual wayfor a time, during which Tom discovered that the visitor showedconsiderable interest in him. His eyes continually turned in hisdirection, and he asked him a question now and then. The youth was toomodest to intrude in the conversation, but knew how to express himselfwhen asked to do so.
By and by the questions of Mr. Warmore became quite pointed. Once or twiceTom was disposed to resent them; but reflecting that the gentleman wasmuch older than he, and could have no wrong purpose in thus probing intohis personal affairs, he replied promptly to all he asked.
Finally, when this had continued until it began growing dark, Mr. Warmoresaid,--
"I wish to hire you to enter my store, how would you like it?"
The question was so unexpected that Tom was fairly taken off his feet. Hereplied with a pleasing laugh,--
"How can I answer, when I never saw you before, and have no idea of whatyour business is?"
"True, neither of us has seen the other until to-day; but I may say that Ihave heard of you from our pastor, Dr. Williams, who conducted theservices of your young friend, that was buried a week ago."
"He cannot know much about me, though we have had several talks together."
"He talked, too, with Mr. Pitcairn here, as I did myself."
"Yes," said the farmer, "he asked me many questions about you, and so didMr. Warmore the other day when I was in his place."
"I keep the largest store in Bellemore. I have kept it for forty years, asdid my father before me. It is what may be called a combinationestablishment. My father started it toward the close of the last century,when a journey to New York meant a great deal more than it does to-day. Sohe tried to provide the neighbors with everything they could need, such asdry goods, groceries, hardware, farmers' implements, and, as I said, aboutall that a large and growing family are likely to require. I have followedin his footsteps, expanding the business, until now my clerks andassistants number nearly a dozen. I am in need of a large, strong, wideawake, active boy, who can write a good hand, and who is willing to beginat the lowest round of the ladder and work his way up."
It was the personality of the man, rather than the business, whichattracted Tom Gordon. He liked Mr. Warmore so well that he secretlyresolve to go with him. But the youth was not lacking in diplomacy.
"How do you know I will suit you, Mr. Warmore?" he asked.
"I don't; no one can know how another will serve him until the trial ismade. You may not suit at all. Perhaps I won't keep you beyond a week.That's a risk we must all take. I'm willing to take it. Are _you_ ready tosee how you like me and the business?"
"What is to be my pay?" asked Tom, still veiling his growing inclinationto accept the proposal of the merchant.
"Not much at first. Five dollars a week, which shall be made six at theend of a month if you suit. An increase will be given at the end of everyhalf year; I don't say provided you earn it, for, if you don't, I won'tkeep you. What do you say, young man?"
"I'll try it; when do you wish me?"
"To-day is Friday. Come Monday morning. Don't be later than eight o'clock.Good-night, all."
Mr. Warmore had risen to his feet and raised his hat politely to allthree. The farmer, who had hardly spoken a word during the interview, alsoarose and walked to the gate with his caller, where they talked for a fewminutes.
"Yes, I like his looks," remarked the merchant in a low voice, as heuntied his horse and flung the strap under the seat. "There is somethinggood in his face. He looks honest; he is well put together; he is notafraid of work. Is he fully recovered from his injured leg?"
"I never saw one get well so quick. You wouldn't know that anything hadever happened to him. Of course one would say that coming to my house inthe strange manner he did, I haven't had much chance to judge him. Thatwould be the case with a man, but a boy can't play the hypocrite for long.My wife and I are very fond of him, and he wil
l still be able to boardwith us."
"There is no reason why he should not. It is hardly a mile from here tothe store, and it won't trouble him to walk it summer and winter. Now andthen, when we are busy, I shall have to keep him in the evenings, but fromwhat I hear, he has learned how to take care of himself. Well, Joseph, weare liable to make mistakes, and it may be we have done so in this case,but we'll chance it. Good-night again."
The merchant sprang lightly into his buggy, and drove down the road at arapid pace, while the farmer, gazing for a moment or two in the directionof the cloud of dust, rejoined his wife and Tom on the porch.
Chapter XX.