For John's Sake Part 4

[Ill.u.s.tration]

CHAPTER V.

A CHANGE OF OPINIONS AND OF HOUSEMAIDS.

"I CAN'T think what's come to Ruth," said Mr. Groombridge one day, at dinner-time, about six months after John Greenwood had sailed for Australia; "she's lost all her brightness, and goes about the house as white and silent as a ghost."

"She is greatly changed, poor girl, and though I cannot get her to confess it, cook tells me there was some misunderstanding between her and John, and that she has not heard from him since he sailed," replied his wife.

"She told me the other day he had arrived safely and was doing well in a store," said Harry.

"She would hear all that from his parents; but, my dear, you had better try and win the girl's confidence, and see if you can do anything. It's a thousand pities for a young thing to mope and pine away her best years, when a little advice may set matters right, and make two people happy."

"I'll do what I can, but I'm afraid it will not be of much use," said Mrs. Groombridge.

"Ruth," she said, when retiring that evening, "I want you to do one or two little things in my room."

"Yes, ma'am," replied Ruth, and followed her mistress upstairs. As she was flitting about the bedroom Mrs. Groombridge suddenly asked:

"By the bye, Ruth, when did you last hear from John?" Ruth turned away to hide the painful flus.h.i.+ng of her face.

"I--I--what did you say, ma'am?"

"When did John last write to you?"

A silence ensued, and then Ruth said: "He's written to his parents, ma'am, and not to me."

"Why, how is that, Ruth? Surely you expected to hear from him."

"Not much, ma'am," Ruth forced herself to say.

"But, Ruth, if you are going out to marry him, he ought to write to you, and you ought to expect him to do so." Ruth's apparent apathy gave way as the remembrance of all her happy dreaming swept over her at her mistress's words. She buried her face in her hands and wept bitterly.

Mrs. Groombridge laid a kindly hand upon her shoulder. "Sit down, my poor child, and tell me all about your trouble. Something is wrong between you and John, and perhaps I can help to make it right."

"Oh, no, no, ma'am, it's past any one's help," sobbed Ruth, and by degrees her sorrowful story was told. "And, ma'am, I know that his brother will be the ruin of John; he'll go downhill fast, as many a fine young fellow has done."

Mrs. Groombridge looked grave. She was no abstainer, as we know; but she could not help seeing the danger that menaced John, if he could be so easily persuaded to overstep the limits of prudence and sobriety.

"Yes, Ruth, I think there is cause for anxiety about John, but you must not lose heart. I think you acted unwisely in letting him go as you did; at least you might have gone out to him if you knew he was keeping sober and doing well, and the very antic.i.p.ation of your coming might have given him a motive and impetus that nothing else could. Men dislike to be forced into anything, and have a great objection to be bound by a pledge. You should have been more careful in urging that."

"But, ma'am, John was one of those who needed to promise, for he's good-tempered and obliging, and doesn't know how to refuse a friend."

"Still, I think you were too hasty in cutting away the hope he had of your going out to him. What has he to look forward to?"

"Perhaps you are right, ma'am. I might have waited; but I was frightened to think of what might lie before me. I know the misery of a home cursed by drink."

"Ruth, will you write and say as much to John? Tell him you'll come out to him as soon as he has a home ready for you, and he can a.s.sure you that he is leading a sober life."

A hard, almost defiant look pa.s.sed into Ruth's eyes for a moment. She thought how cruelly John had left her, without a word of tenderness, and she said coldly: "Oh, no, ma'am, I couldn't do that; if John would write and ask me, I might; but I will never humble myself to him, for he has been wrong and unkind all through, and I dare say he's glad to be free."

She had said the same to herself many a time since the morning when John had said good-bye to her with as much composure as if he were going to return in a few hours, and she had almost grown to believe they must be true. Nevertheless, her heart leaped to hear her mistress say:

"You should not try to think that, Ruth, for I believe you wrong John by doing so; he is true and manly, and probably he would be only too happy to receive a letter from you."

"Well, ma'am, I don't feel as if I could write first," was the obstinate reply; and Ruth presently left the room with a still heavier heart than she had entered it.

"It's a sad case, George, and my conscience is not at rest about the part we have played in it," was Mrs. Groombridge's remark to her husband, after retailing her conversation with Ruth.

"How are we to blame, my dear?" was the surprised question.

"I can't help remembering how we laughed at Ruth for her fanatical whims as we called them, and encouraged John to do the same. Events have proved she was right. Perhaps if we had taken another stand, John might have followed Ruth's example, and all this unhappiness been spared to both."

"Perhaps," was the curt response.

"Harry, my boy," said his father the following morning, "how many cases did I hear you say you had at the hospital the other day which were the result of drink?"

"About three-fourths, father; of course, not all caused by the drinking habits of the patients themselves: but when a child is brought in badly burned because its mother was off on a drinking spree, or when a man has been run over because a driver is the worse for drink, or even when a woman is dying of disease, the result of want and neglect which drink has brought about, I suppose it's quite fair to credit the drink as the indirect cause of such cases."

"Oh, decidedly! Good gracious! I wish the Government would let all other questions go to the wall, Ireland included, while they did something to mend matters!"

"My dear, how would you like Government to step in and stop your supplies?"

"I'd be content they should do that, if it were for the public good,"

warmly replied Mr. Groombridge.

"I have heard of private individuals not waiting for the interference of Government; but who, believing it to be for the public good, have themselves banished all intoxicants from their homes," said Mrs.

Groombridge, in a meaning tone.

Mr. Groombridge looked thoughtfully at his wife across the table, but said nothing, and the subject dropped.

That evening Jane the housemaid bounced into the kitchen, and flung herself into the nearest chair.

"What's the matter now?" asked cook, glancing at her disturbed face.

"A very good matter indeed! I'm going to make a change. I've had enough scolding and faultfinding, as I told mistress a minute ago."

"I suppose she's given you a month's notice, and you deserve it richly for your saucy tongue."

"You're a fine one to talk, for I couldn't hold a candle to you! Yes, she told me I had better look out for another place, and I told her it was just what I had thought of doing."

"Well, I hope you'll be taught a lesson, for I tell you there aren't many mistresses as kind and considerate as Mrs. Groombridge, and you'll find it out to your cost, I'm afraid," said Ruth.

"You've got no cause to complain, for every one of them pets you up to the skies," replied Jane.