Chapter 24 A Relief
Chapter 24
A Relief
“Mother!” cried Tom, hurrying in from school, not long after Lucy’s return home.“There’s a great big box down at the post office for you. And here’s a letter for Lucy, too!”
While the mother allowed herself to be led off by the children to make arrangements for this wondrous box, Lucy eagerly opened her letter. It was from her uncle, and the old yellow note fell out and lay unnoticed on her lap.
“I want this,” said Joseph, placing his hand on it. Lucy read on, not observing the child.
“I’ll put it in the fire!” he said, mischievously. He had not lost his old trick of throwing things into the fire and now ran toward it as fast as those little fat legs could carry him. Closing her letter, Lucy looked up, saw the paper firmly grasped in the small hand, and rushed to rescue it. Hearing her steps behind him, Joseph quickened his own. A moment later, the old yellow note was in the middle of the bright blaze. Less than a moment, and there was nothing left but the logs of wood crackling and burning cheerfully away, and the minute fragment of ashes the paper had left.
Lucy sat down and burst into tears. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” cried Joseph, not understanding her tears. He climbed on her lap and tried to unclasp the hands that hid her face. She threw her arms around him, and kissed him over and over, while he wiped away her tears with his little apron.
“The box can’t get in the door!” shouted a merry voice.
“Oh, yes, it can, it’s long and narrow!” cried another. They all came tumbling in together, all those happy boys, and very soon the big box was opened, and then there was joy and confusion indeed! Never was there a cheerier group, as jackets were tried on, caps passed out, and new city boots put on. Not one forgotten! And amid the uproar, Lucy took her father aside and told him about the bit of paper little Joseph had destroyed, and the child repeated, “I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I won’t do it again!”
“That note has lain on my chest like a nightmare!” said her father, drawing a long, relieved sigh. “Yes, like a nightmare!”
“And you’re free now!” cried Lucy, joyfully. “You can’t help it now. Joseph has settled it for you!” She caught the child and kissed him again, calling him a little rogue and all sorts of pet names, until he began to think that throwing paper into the fire was a feat to be repeated at the first possible opportunity.
The good news soon reached the ears of the busy mother, who came to speak her gratitude but could not. “This is too much!” was all she could say, and then she was glad to snatch up the baby and hide her face on his soft neck.
Lucy went now to help the children, who were almost wild with delight, as they went deeper and deeper into the box. Hatty was helping retrieve items from the box while she held under one arm a very special package addressed to herself. She had not had time to open it.
Lucy’s quick eye soon perceived that Arthur had vanished from the noisy group. She went to look for him. “I was a little tired,” he said apologetically, as she entered his room, “and besides, I wanted to look at my new books. Look, Lucy! All these books for me! Isn’t it strange they sent just the very books I wanted most?”
“Yes, they are very beautiful!’’ she said. “But, dear Arthur, shouldn’t we all be together right now?”
“You always think of everything!” he said smiling and following her.
“I thought they might not all understand you wanting to be by yourself when you are happy, that’s all. I understand it myself, but perhaps Hatty and John—”
“Yes, I’ll come!” repeated Arthur. “But what have you been crying about?”
“Nothing new,” she said, smiling. “Only at their kindness in doing so much for us all.” Arthur threw his arm around her, and they went downstairs together. He saw with pride and delight that he was fast attaining Lucy’s height, and now they could easily walk in this position, of which brothers and sisters are so fond.
“I’ve grown an inch since you decided to stay at home!” he said.
“I love our home!” said Lucy. “I never want to leave it, even for a better one—if there is such a thing as a better home in this world.”
“It seems hard for you to be tied down here when you might be enjoying yourself in school, and with Helen!” said Arthur.
“Oh no, it doesn’t seem hard! It seems easy!” she returned. With Arthur’s loving arm around her, everything looked easy!
As they went down together, she began to explain to him about the note. “Uncle once made me promise to accept a present from him,” she said, “and I was not to refuse or sell or give it away. So of course, Father could not help himself if he wanted to. Besides, Joseph threw it into the fire, so that ends it.”
“It wouldn’t end it if Father chose to make a new note, would it?”
“I don’t know. I thought when I saw it in the fire, that now Father would be obliged to consider himself out of debt. I don’t know anything about business.”
“Me neither. But I am pretty sure that burning the note makes no difference unless Father chooses.”
“But he can’t choose! I promised Uncle I would accept whatever he sent. Of course, I could not guess it was anything so important. But since I’ve learned to know and love Uncle, and know how much money he gives away every month, I don’t feel as I did before about this debt. And I don’t think Father does. I’m sure he would not be willing to be dependent on Uncle or anybody else, but I can’t see any harm in just this. It wasn’t a very large amount.”
“I suppose it doesn’t look very large to Uncle; but it does to me, and if I live to be a man, I plan to pay it. I don’t like to have people give us so much.”
“People! You don’t call Uncle ‘people,’ do you? Oh, Arthur!” He smiled. “It’s because you don’t know him. Remember he is Mother’s brother! You say you expect me to come and live with you one of these days. Do you want me to pay for my board?”
He smiled again. “It seems different,” he said. “I can’t feel that Uncle Arthur is as close to Mother as you are to me.”
While this conversation was going on, another, of like nature, was proceeding between Mr. and Mrs. Grant. He was unwilling to accept this relinquishment of the old debt. Pride even urged him to leave it to his children. There was no chance that he would ever pay it all himself.
“Your theory that we must have trouble in some shape haunts me today,” he said. “Suppose, now, I consent to put my head out from under this yoke, don’t you suppose some new trial will come hurrying in?”
“Perhaps so,” she answered calmly. “But when God sends us new trials, He will send us new grace and patience. I’m sure patience with that debt was nearly worn threadbare.”
“I’ve gotten so used to trouble that I don’t think I can get along without it. And no doubt God sees that I need it. But poverty is better than sickness and death.”
“You can’t choose for yourself which you will have. We have had the discipline of poverty for a great many years. Perhaps it has done us all the good it can do. And so God is going to try something else. It may be prosperity, it may be an affliction; but in either case, I know it will be just the best thing that could possibly happen to us. If we can feel that, it won’t matter what happens.”
“I’m not sure that I do feel it as you do, but I can be made to do so when the time comes. The truth is, since we had children, I’ve never been so proud of, so happy in ours. How Lucy has improved! I can hardly keep my eyes off her face, it’s so lovely! She’s not in the least spoiled. If anything, she is more childlike and simple than ever.”
“But are you afraid anything is going to happen to her?”
“No, only that I can see that the spot she occupies in my heart is a weak spot, one where I might be made to suffer as I never have suffered yet.”
His wife looked up into his face and smiled. “What a mercy it is that you and I are so unlike! If I had as many gloomy ideas in a year as you have in a single day, I don’t know what would become of us all.”
“You’ve kept my head above water a good many years,” he answered tenderly. “Aren’t you almost tired of it?”
“It’s worth living for!” she answered. “And now promise me! You’ll write to my brother, accepting the release, won’t you? Or shall I?”
“If I accept it, I’ll do it like a man,” he replied. “I’ll write myself.” She placed pen and paper before him.
“It’s best to strike while the iron is hot,” she said. “By the way, have you ever asked Lucy about the money she sent home for Arthur?”
“No, We’ve had so much else to think of and talk about.”
“Her uncle insisted on her having spending money, as Helen did, and the dear child did not use a cent of it for herself. She must have seen a thousand things it would have been nice to buy—books especially.”
“We are rich in our children,” said Mr. Grant, without looking up from his letter.
“I think this is going to be an easy winter,” she continued. “There’s no new baby, and we are out of debt. John and Arthur will both be provided for, and Lucy says she has enough clothes for herself and Hatty too. You know she won’t need as many here as she did there. Every year there has been some special burden, usually a baby, but now I’m beginning to see my way through.”
She went back to the kitchen, where she found the children making merry with their new possessions. “The baby,” as they still called Willy, sat flat on the floor amid his treasures, and with a look of indescribable satisfaction, ate a stick of candy. In his other hand, he grasped a stout wooden cart, whose wooden horses stood all around him. Joseph was near, wearing a new pair of trousers. His hands were plunged deep into his pockets, where they jingled bright coins just discovered there. He still looked like a little king, as he used to in his babyhood, and felt as dignified as a king in new trousers and real boots. His two elder brothers danced about him, similarly dressed, while Tom went into silent raptures over his share of the spoils, and wondered what Fred Hayes would say when he saw him come into meeting next Sunday! John was lost in thought. A complete set of tools had made him feel both rich and responsible. Such tools were not to be found every day. A boy who owned a treasure so valuable ought to be a sober industrious fellow, invent something remarkable, and immortalize himself! Everyone was pleased. Everyone had just what he or she wanted. Even Lucy went into raptures when she found the little simple clock, which
she knew was inexpensive, yet would be just as useful as the most costly watch, as well as far more suitable in her circumstances. The combination of a substantial gift with a smaller one is often happy. This is how the Grants, while weighed down under the sense of obligation, found it now. The box seemed to make the acceptance of the old note easier. The philosophy of this is simple. The smaller gift says: “Love and goodwill were not exhausted in the greater favor. I come to prove it!”
Amid the joy and excitement of this day, Lucy’s fears concerning Arthur were lulled to rest. He was in fine spirits the whole evening. One of his cheeks was brilliant with apparent health, and the cough, as he sat by the fireside, sounded less ominous.
“It may be nothing more than such a cough as I had, she thought. But as she listened to it as she lay in bed, it struck her more painfully. She rose and went down as softly as possible, in search of some simple remedies that were always kept on hand, and while entering the kitchen for a candle, she awoke her mother.
“Is something the matter?” she asked.
“Arthur coughs a lot. I thought I would get something for him,” she answered.
“He’s said nothing about it,” said the voice, now more anxiously.
“I think this will relieve him,” said Lucy, as cheerfully as possible. “I’m so sorry you’ve woken up! I thought I could creep in softly without disturbing you.”
“If he coughs badly, we must have Dr. White see about it,” said her father.
“You know I got nicely over mine,” said Lucy.
“Yes, she did,” said her mother, as Lucy retired. “I’m sure this is just such a cough as hers was.”
Lucy crept up to Arthur. His candle was burning and he was almost sitting up in bed, there were so many pillows behind him. He looked up with his usual pleasant smile, and said, “Now you’ve caught me reading in bed!”
“It’s one o’clock!” she answered.
“Yes, I’m sure. But I sleep best toward the morning. What’s that?”
“Only a cough mixture. Here, take a teaspoonful.”
“For you, I will. Especially if you won’t tell Mother I read in bed!” he said, playfully. The smile and the joking did not deceive her this time. She went back to her room and lay awake all night listening to the cough.
