Janet's Love and Service Part 7

But there was no time for explanations. Their father had reached the steps, and the children were replying to the greeting of the Judge.

Judge Merle, was in the opinion of the majority, the greatest man in Merleville, if not in the country. The children had made his acquaintance on Sat.u.r.day. He had brought them with his own hands, through the rain, a pail of sweet milk, and another of hominy, a circ.u.mstance which gave them a high idea of his kindness of heart, but which sadly overturned all their preconceived notions with regard to the dignity of his office. Janet, who looked on the whole thing as a proper tribute of respect to the minister, augured well from it, what he might expect in his new parish, and congratulated herself accordingly. The children were glad to see him, among the many strangers around them, and when Mr Snow gave him a familiar nod, and a "Morning Judge," Graeme felt a little inclined, to resent the familiarity. The Judge did not resent it, however. On the contrary, when Mr Snow, nodding sideways toward the minister, said, "He guessed the folks would get about fitted this time," he nodded as familiarly back, and said, "He shouldn't wonder if they did."

There are no such churches built in New England now, as that into which the minister and his children were led by the Judge. It was very large and high, and full of windows. It was the brilliant light that struck the children first, accustomed as they had been to a.s.sociate with the Sabbath wors.h.i.+p, the dimness of their father's little chapel in Clayton.

Norman the mathematician was immediately seized with a perverse desire to count the panes, and scandalised Graeme by communicating to her the result of his calculation, just as her father rose up to begin.

How many people there were in the high square pews, and in the galleries, and even in the narrow aisles. So many, that Graeme not dreaming of the quiet nooks hidden among the hills she had thought so beautiful, wondered where they all could come from. Keen, intelligent faces, many of them were, that turned toward the minister as he rose; a little hard and fixed, perhaps, those of the men, and far too delicate, and care-worn, those of the women, but earnest, thoughtful faces, many of them were, and kindly withal.

Afterwards--years and years afterwards, when the bairns had to shut their eyes to recall their father's face, as it gleamed down upon them from that strange high pulpit, the old people used to talk to them of this first sermon in Merleville. There was a charm in the Scottish accent, and in the earnest manner of the minister, which won upon these people wonderfully. It was heart speaking to heart, an earnest, loving, human heart, that had sinned and had been forgiven, that had suffered and had been comforted; one who, through all, had by G.o.d's grace struggled upwards, speaking to men of like pa.s.sions and necessities. He spoke as one whom G.o.d had given a right to warn, to counsel, to console.

He spoke as one who must give account, and his hearers listened earnestly. So earnestly that Deacon Fish forgot to hear for Deacon Slowcome, and Deacon Slowcome forgot to hear for people generally.

Deacon Sterne who seldom forgot anything which he believed to be his duty, failed for once to prove the orthodoxy of the doctrine by comparing it with his own, and received it as it fell from the minister's lips, as the very word of G.o.d.

"He means just as he says," said Mr Snow to young Mr Greenleaf, as he overtook him in going home that afternoon. "He wasn't talking just because it was his business to. When he was a telling us what mighty things the grace of G.o.d can do, he believed it himself, I guess."

"They all do, don't they?" said Mr Greenleaf.

"Well, I don't know. They all say they do. But there's Deacon Fish now," said Mr Snow, nodding to that worthy, as his wagon whirled past, "he don't begin to think that grace or anything else, could make _me_ such a good man as he is."

Mr Greenleaf laughed.

"If the vote of the town was taken, I guess it would be decided that grace wouldn't have a great deal to do."

"Well, the town would make a mistake. Deacon Fish ain't to brag of for goodness, I don't think; but he's a sight better than I be. But see here, Squire, don't you think the new minister'll about fit?"

"He'll fit _me_," said the Squire. "It is easy to see that he is not a common man. But he won't fit the folks here, or they won't fit him. It would be too good luck if he were to stay here."

"Well, I don't know about that. There are folks enough in the town that know what's good when they hear it, and I guess they'll keep him if they can. And I guess he'll stay. He seems to like the look of things. He is a dreadful mild-spoken man, and I guess he won't want much in the way of pay. I guess you had better sh.e.l.l out some yourself, Squire. _I_ mean to."

"You are a rich man, Mr Snow. You can afford it."

"Come now, Squire, that's good. I've worked harder for every dollar I've got, than you've done for any ten you ever earned."

The Squire shook his head.

"You don't understand my kind of work, or you wouldn't say so. But about the minister? If I were to pledge myself to any amount for his support, I should feel just as though I were in a measure responsible for the right arrangement of all things with regard to his salary, and the paying of it. Anything I have to do with, I want to have go right along without any trouble, and unless Merleville folks do differently than they have so far, it won't be so in this matter."

"Yes, I shouldn't wonder if there would be a hitch before long. But I guess you'd better think before you say no. I guess it'll pay in the long run."

"Thank you, Mr Snow. I'll take your advice and think of it," said Mr Greenleaf, as Sampson stopped at his own gate. He watched him going up the hill.

"He's goin' along up to the widow Jones' now, I'll bet. I shouldn't wonder if he was a goin' to lose me my chance of getting her place. It kind o' seems as though I ought to have it; it fits on so nice to mine.

And they say old Skinflint is going to foreclose right off. I'll have to make things fit pretty tight this winter, if I have to raise the cash. But it does seem as if I ought to have it. Maybe it's Celestia the Squire wants, and not the farm."

He came back to close the gate which, in his earnestness, he had forgotten, and leaned for a moment over it.

"Well, now, it does beat all. Here have I been forgetting all about what I have heard over yonder to the meeting-house. Deacon Sterne needn't waste no more words, to prove total depravity to me. I've got to know it pretty well by this time;" and, with a sigh, he turned toward the house.

CHAPTER SEVEN.

The next week was a busy one to all. Mr Elliott, during that time, took up his residence at Judge Merle's, only making daily visits to the little brown house behind the elms where Janet and the bairns were putting things to rights. There was a great deal to be done, but it was lovely weather, and all were in excellent spirits, and each did something to help. The lads broke sticks and carried water, and Janet's mammoth was.h.i.+ng was accomplished in an incredibly short time; and before the week was over the little brown house began to look like a home.

A great deal besides was accomplished this week. It was not all devoted to helping, by the boys. Norman caught three squirrels in a trap of his own invention, and Harry shot as many with Mr Snow's wonderful rifle.

They and Marian had made the circuit of the pond, over rocks, through bushes and brambles, over brooks, or through them, as the case might be.

They came home tired enough, and in a state which naturally suggested thoughts of another mammoth was.h.i.+ng, but in high spirits with their trip, only regretting that Graeme and Janet had not been with them. It was Sat.u.r.day night, after a very busy week, and Janet had her own ideas about the enjoyment of such a ramble, and was not a little put out with them for "their thoughtless ruining of their clothes and shoon." But the minister had come home, and there was but a thin part.i.tion between the room that must serve him for study and parlour, and the general room for the family, and they got off with a slight reprimand, much to their surprise and delight. For to tell the truth, Janet's patience with the bairns, exhaustless in most circ.u.mstances, was wont to give way in the presence of "torn clothes and ruined shoon."

The next week was hardly so successful. It was cold and rainy. The gold and crimson glories of the forest disappeared in a night, and the earth looked gloomy and sad under a leaden sky. The inconveniences of the little brown house became more apparent now. It had been declared, at first sight, the very worst house in Merleville, and so it was, even under a clear sky and brilliant suns.h.i.+ne. A wretched place it looked.

The windows clattered, the chimney smoked, latches and hinges were defective, and there were a score of other evils, which Janet and the lads strove to remedy without vexing their father and Graeme. A very poor place it was, and small and inconvenient besides. But this could not be cured, and therefore must be endured. The house occupied by Mr Elliott's predecessor had been burned down, and the little brown house was the only unoccupied house in the village. When winter should be over something might be done about getting another, and in the meantime they must make the best of it.

The people were wonderfully kind. One man came to mend windows and doors, another to mend the chimney. Orrin Green spent two days in banking up the house. Deacons Fish and Slowcome sent their men to bring up wood; and apples and chickens, and pieces of beef were sent in by some of the village people.

There were some drawbacks. The wood was green, and made more smoke than heat; and Janet mortally offended Mr Green by giving him his dinner alone in the kitchen. Every latch and hinge, and pane of gla.s.s, and the driving of every nail, was charged and deducted from the half year's salary, at prices which made Janet's indignation overflow. This latter circ.u.mstance was not known, however, till the half year was done; and in the meantime it helped them all through this dreary time to find their new friends so kind.

In the course of time, things were put to rights, and the little bare place began to look wonderfully comfortable. With warm carpets on the floors, and warm curtains on the windows, with stools and sofas, and tables made out of packing boxes, disguised in various ways, it began to have a look of home to them all.

The rain and the clouds pa.s.sed away, too, and the last part of November was a long and lovely Indian-summer. Then the explorations of the boys were renewed with delight. Graeme and Rosie and Will went with the rest, and even Janet was beguiled into a nutting excursion one afternoon. She enjoyed it, too, and voluntarily confessed it. It was a fair view to look over the pond and the village lying so quietly in the valley, with the kirk looking down upon it from above. It was a fine country, n.o.body could deny; but Janet's eyes were sad enough as she gazed, and her voice shook as she said it, for the thought of home was strong at her heart.

In this month they made themselves thoroughly acquainted with the geography of the place, and with the kindly inmates of many a farm-house besides. And a happy month it was for them all. One night they watched the sun set between red and wavering clouds, and the next day woke to behold "the beauty and mystery of the snow." Far-away to the highest hill-top; down to the very verge of pond and brook; on every bush, and tree, and knoll, and over every silent valley, lay the white garment of winter. How strange! how wonderful! it seemed to their unaccustomed eyes.

"It 'minds me of white grave-clothes," said Marian, with a shudder.

"Whist, Menie," said her sister. "It makes me think, of how full the air will be of bonnie white angels at the resurrection-day. Just watch the flakes floating so quietly in the air."

"But, Graeme, the angels will be going up, and--"

"Well, one can hardly tell by looking at them, whether the snow-flakes are coming down or going up, they float about so silently. They mind me of beautiful and peaceful things."

"But, Graeme, it looks cold and dreary, and all the bonnie flowers are covered in the dark."

"Menie! There are no flowers to be covered now, and the earth is weary with her summer work, and will rest and sleep under the bonnie white snow. And, dear, you mustna think of dreary things when you look out upon the snow, for it will be a long time before we see the green gra.s.s and the bonnie flowers again," and Graeme sighed.

But it was with a shout of delight that the boys plunged headlong into it, rolling and tumbling and tossing it at one another in a way that was "perfect ruination to their clothes;" and yet Janet had not the heart to forbid it. It was a holiday of a new kind to them; and their enjoyment was crowned and completed when, in the afternoon, Mr Snow came down with his box-sleigh and his two handsome greys to give them a sleigh-ride. There was room for them all, and for Mr Snow's little Emily, and for half a dozen besides had they been there; so, well wrapped up with blankets and buffalo-robes, away they went. Was there ever anything so delightful, so exhilarating? Even Graeme laughed and clapped her hands, and the greys flew over the ground, and pa.s.sed every sleigh and sledge on the road.

"The bonnie creatures!" she exclaimed; and Mr Snow, who loved his greys, and was proud of them, took the oft repeated exclamation as a compliment to himself, and drove in a way to show his favourites to the best advantage. Away they went, up hill and down, through the village and over the bridge, past the mill to the woods, where the tall hemlocks and cedars stood dressed in white "like brides." Marian had no thought of sorrowful things in her heart now. They came home again the other way, past Judge Merle's and the school-house, singing and laughing in a way that made the sober-minded boys and girls of Merleville, to whom sleigh-riding was no novelty, turn round in astonishment as they pa.s.sed.

The people in the store, and the people in the blacksmith's shop, and even the old ladies in their warm kitchens, opened the door and looked out to see the cause of the pleasant uproar. All were merry, and all gave voice to their mirth except Mr Snow's little Emily, and she was too full of astonishment at the others to think of saying anything herself. But none of them enjoyed the ride more than she, though it was not her first by many. None of them all remembered it so well, or spoke of it so often. It was the beginning of sleigh-riding to them, but it was the beginning of a new life to little Emily.

"Isna she a queer little creature?" whispered Harry to Graeme, as her great black eyes turned from one to another, full of grave wonder.

"She's a bonnie little creature," said Graeme, caressing the little hand that had found its way to hers, "and good, too, I'm sure."

"Grandma don't think so," said the child, gravely.

"No!" exclaimed Harry. "What bad things do you do?"

"I drop st.i.tches and look out of the window, and I hate to pick over beans."

Harry whistled.