Bertie and the Gardeners; or, The Way to be Happy

by Madeline Leslie

  "There's Whitefoot, and that dear little boy Mr. Carpenter told usabout," exclaimed a young girl, who was no other than Emma Blagden.

  The donkey trotted on until the two carriages met, when a pleasantvoice called out:

  "Stop a minute, please. Is your name Herbert Curtis?"

  "Yes, ma'am."

  "How do you do, Whitefoot?" exclaimed the young girl, springing to theground and throwing her arms around the donkey's neck.

  "Oh, you stupid creature not to know your old mistress!" she went on,as the animal took no notice of her caresses.

  "I'm very glad to see you," Bertie began, his eyes sparkling withpleasure. "Will you please go and see mamma?"

  "Have you moved into the new house yet," inquired the lady who hadasked them to stop.

  "No, ma'am. Mamma is over there though; and she would be very glad tosee you, and thank you for sending me the bird."

  "Oh, yes!" cried Emma. "Where is the linnet? I dare say she'd knowme."

  "I'm sorry; but I lent my bird to a little girl in the hospital. Itdoes amuse the children there so much to watch it."

  "Did you tire of it, then?"

  "Oh, no, indeed! I like it dearly; but they have to be in their cots,you know; and it makes them feel better to have something to look at."

  "Shall we waive ceremony and call at Woodlawn?" asked the lady of herhusband.

  "Just as you say," answered the gentleman smiling.

  "Well, Bertie, if you think your mamma is not too much engaged, wewill call for a few moments. You may drive Whitefoot on, and we willfollow."

  "Oh, mamma! Mr. Carpenter didn't tell half the beauties of thescenery," exclaimed Emma, gazing from the carriage window; "and wethought that he exaggerated. Only look at the water glistening throughthe trees; and then the reflection of that weeping willow in the lakeis so perfect."

  Bertie drove quickly to the front door, and lifting Winnie from herseat, ran into the house to announce the visitors.

  It was a pleasant call, though a short one, the only seats being thestairs. Then Bertie persuaded his sister to stay with Nancy, who waswashing windows; and he took mamma in his donkey carriage andaccompanied their new friends over the nicely gravelled road to thelake.

  There were a pair of swans, now, which had grown so tame that theywould sail up close to the shore and pick up the crumbs the childrenthrew to them.

  CHAPTER V.

  THE SORROWING FATHER.

  In another volume of this series, I have told you about Mr. Cahartwho brought the stone steps from the granite quarry. He had a son whogave him great trouble, and whom he promised that that he would send toOxford for Bertie to take to his mamma, hoping she would do him good.

  Every day for a long time the little fellow expected the boy wouldcome up the avenue at Woodlawn. But nothing had ever been seen orheard from him; and now more than a month had passed.

  One lovely afternoon during the pleasant season called the Indiansummer, Mr. Curtis invited his wife, Bertie and Winnie to ride withhim to the quarry where he wished to pay the balance of his bill, partof which Bertie had paid Mr. Cahart.

  The lady gladly consented and told Nancy to dress the children assoon as possible.

  The country never had looked so delightful to Mrs. Curtis as now thatthe fields were dressed in their gay, autumn attire. Their road laythrough rich woods of maple, birch and oak, brilliant in their red andyellow hues.

  Mrs. Curtis could scarcely express her delight.

  "Oh, there is a branch so perfect! I must have that!" or, "Lawrence,it's too bad to trouble you again; but it does seem wicked to pass somany beauties. They would look so lovely in our new house."

  And Lawrence, the most indulgent of husbands, would check up his gayhorses, and spring from the carriage and break off branch after branchas she directed.

  Herbert had inherited all his mother's love for the beauties ofnature, as well as her enthusiasm. His cheeks glowed and his blue eyessparkled as she piled her treasures in his lap, charging him to guardthem with care.

  At length they reached the town and drove at once to the hotel, whereMr. Curtis left them, promising to return in fifteen or twentyminutes.

  The air was so fine that Mrs. Curtis preferred to sit in the carriage,which she could easily do as the hostler stood at the horses' heads.

  The children were chatting gayly when a loud geeing was heard; andpresently an ox-team was seen slowly approaching from the direction ofthe granite quarry.

  "Oh, mamma!" said Bertie greatly excited, "there's Mr. Cahart. I dohope he will stop and speak to me. I want to know why his son did notcome to Woodlawn as he promised."

  The child leaned as far as he could from the carriage, hoping toattract attention; but the man did not once glance toward him. Hisface looked very sober, as if his heart were sore.

  Just as the great load of granite was opposite the carriage Bertieshouted in an excited tone:

  "Mr. Cahart! Oh, Mr. Cahart! Please stop! I want to see you!"

  Mrs. Curtis was surprised at the effect of her son's voice on the man.He started, gazed about him, and then spying the little fellow in thecarriage, came quickly toward them, seizing the small hand Bertie socordially held out, and exclaiming with great energy:

  "Aye, aye, boy, I'm powerful glad to see you!"

  "This is my mamma," explained Bertie. "We came to pay Mr. Fuller'sbill, and I hoped I should see you somewhere; but why didn't you letyour son come to see us?"

  Mr. Cahart's face worked convulsively. For a moment he seemed unableto articulate one word; but presently recovering himself he said, witha gasp:

  "I've never set eyes on that boy since."

  "Why, I'm so sorry, where is he?"

  "Run off."

  "Oh, dear! how could he do so?"

  "Did you never find where he had gone?" inquired Mrs. Curtis in adeeply sympathizing tone.

  "I followed him to the city, ma'am, found he'd sailed the morningbefore, in company with one of his mates, the worst boy in town."

  The last words were accompanied by a groan.

  "Where was the vessel bound?" asked the lady.

  "For the West Indies, ma'am. She's due next week; but I'm afeard thatduring the voyage my boy has learned nothing but wickedness incompany with those rough, swearing sailors."

  Mrs. Curtis thought this so probable that she could not think of aword to comfort the poor father's heart, and Bertie could only gazesorrowfully in his face.

  The man turned away, and made a step towards his oxen, but then cameback and said abruptly:

  "I never shall forget your boy, ma'am. His words led me to the Bible.Bad as wife and I have taken on since our only child ran away fromus, we should have been a great deal worse but for the words ofcomfort we found in God's book."

  "I am truly rejoiced to hear you say that," exclaimed Mrs. Curtis,warmly. "If you have learned to pray, you will find comfort in leavingyour child in the hands of the almighty Friend whose eye has followedhim in all his wanderings. Remember the heart of our Saviour yearnsover the creatures for whom he has shed his blood."

  "Thank you, ma'am," faltered the man, his eyes growing dim. "I wishwife could have heard you talk; but I shall tell her every word I canremember. I don't mind saying to you, that wife and I were never sonigh each other as since we began to pray. There used to be high wordsbetween us, I accusing her of humoring the boy; and she calling me ahard old tyrant. But each of us sees now that we were both in thewrong. If we'd taught him the Bible from the first, he would havestuck to it. There's the promise, 'Train up a child in the way heshould go, and when he is old he will not depart from it.'"

  At this moment Mr. Curtis was seen hurrying toward them; and Mr.Cahart with a "God bless your boy, ma'am," turned abruptly away.

  CHAPTER VI.

  CLEARING THE CREEK.

  Albert Dodge, the new gardener passed ten days while he was recruitinghis health, in visiting gardens and green houses, trying to improvehis taste and gain all the information in his power. H
e had agreedwith Mr. Curtis to return to Oxford as soon as the family were settledat Woodlawn and remain as long as the weather would allow out-doorwork. When the frost forbade further improvements, he was to leave andspend three months in the employ of Hantz, the celebrated florist.

  But one morning the very last of October, as Mr. Curtis was saunteringalong near the lake, absorbed in a project he had just formed, thedaily coach stopped before the gate, and who should spring from it butAlbert Dodge.

  This young man, as I have already described, had such a merry facethat few could meet him without a warmth in the region of the heart.Certainly his new master could not, and advancing cordially he heldout his hand, exclaiming:

  "I was just thinking of you, and wishing you were at hand to help meplan a little. I want to do something with this brook."

  "I came on purpose to offer a suggestion, sir. I've been here andthere on an exploring tour; and I am happy to say I have found noplace which has so many natural advantages as _ours_."

  He laid some stress on the word; his eye twinkling, and then added:

  "It is my intention to make myself so important to you, that you willnever part with me. I already feel almost as much interest in Woodlawnas if the deeds stood registered in the name of Albert Dodge."

  "I'm glad of it," answered the Squire, laughing, "and to prove myconfidence in your ability, I will ask you what I shall do with thislittle creek; it spreads itself out very awkwardly just at this pointwhere it ought to be most graceful."

  "I have it, sir," said Dodge after a careful survey. "I should clearthe stream which runs muddy in this place by throwing pebbles to thebottom; widen it twenty feet more; make a pretty little egg-shapedisland in the centre, upon which I should plant a few shrubs andperhaps a weeping willow, which would thrive admirably in this wetsoil."

  "Good! good! It shall be done! When shall you be ready to go towork?"

  "To-day, if Grant can come with his oxen. I can postpone one visit Iwish to make till winter."

  The next morning Bertie came riding to the spot on Whitefoot's back.Buck and Bright were there, the wagon backed down to the very edge ofthe water, while Star and Spot were dragging off a load of mud scrapedor scooped up from the bed of the shallow brook.

  "Where is papa?" inquired Bertie, after he had sat awhile watchingthe operations.

  "Gone with the new gardener to buy some trees," answered Tom,laughing. "The Squire's up to all sorts of improvements. Shouldn'twonder a mite if he should take down yonder mountain to give him aview of the city."

  "I think this will be very pretty when it's done," remarked the child."How long did they say they should be gone?"

  "Didn't say in my hearing. Bertie I wish you'd ask the Squire if he'dlike a load of beach pebbles, 'cause if he does, I'll bring him a loadto-morrow morning. Those are the kind to make this water run clear."

  "Oh, there they are!" shouted the boy, trotting off to meet them."Have you bought the trees, Papa?"

  "Yes, and brought them home, don't you see them?"

  "What, those little things?"

  "Willows grow very fast, my son. They will thrive better than if theywere larger."

  "But, papa, how can we get to the island? Shall we have a bridge?"

  "You must ask Dodge, Bertie. He is the author of this plan."

  "I'll tell you what would be better than a bridge," explained Dodge,laughing. "You must learn to row a boat; and then you can land at anyplace, you know. But our island is more for ornament than for profit.We don't expect to have a settlement there."

  "Why wouldn't it be pretty to have a little house for the swans on it?Joe Allen told me they could be taught to come on shore for theirfeed."

  "We will consider that proposal, my dear, when the island is inexistence," answered papa; "in the meantime you may think of a prettyname for it."

  CHAPTER VII.

  PAT'S VISIT HOME.

  I hope my readers have become so much interested in Pat Riley thatthey will be as glad to hear from him as Bertie was.

  We left him, as you know, in Mrs. Taylor's back chamber, making topsfor the children. In a few days he was able to go down stairs. Thefirst use he made of his liberty was to make a reel for Mrs. Taylorto wind her yarn on.

  Wishing to keep the boy employed, the good woman had borrowed a reelof a neighbor, and set him to work winding thread. The contrivancegreatly delighted him. He examined it with the utmost care, pushing itup and down, to fit it for a larger or smaller skein, much to theamusement of the good woman.

  "Did you never see one before?" she asked, smiling.

  "No, ma'am, but it's very nice."

  No more was said on the subject, and she never noticed that heexamined it again; but the third day after he was released from thechamber he followed her one day into the pantry, and presented her anew one made by his own hands.

  "You won't have to borrow again," he said, his face all in a glow ofpleasure. "I'm going to try it now. I saved one skein on purpose."

  Mrs. Taylor carried it out and exhibited it in triumph to the family.

  "Did you do it all yourself?" asked Mr. Curtis, smiling hisapprobation.

  "Yes, sir; but I had seen the one up stairs. I made more holes though,'cause that was too large for some skeins and not large enough forothers."

  "You are a genius, Pat. I have no doubt you'll succeed, now thatyou've resolved to try your best."

  The day before he left for the school, Pat asked Mrs. Taylor'spermission to go and bid his father good-by. It was some weeks sincethe old man had been there, though he promised to come in a day ortwo. The good woman consented, though she told him the air was ratherchilly for a boy who had been so sick.

  On his way he passed the spot where Bertie had first talked with him.He stopped and sat on the top of the stone wall, where he had listenedto the first kind words he ever remembered to have heard addressed tohim. I trust no little boy or girl who reads this will think the worseof him, when I tell them that his breast began to heave, and thetears gushed to his eyes.

  "I wouldn't be 'thieving Pat' again," he said, doubling his fist, "no,not for--not for--" At this moment his eye rested on the handsome newedifice at Woodlawn; and he added with an impressive gesture, "no, notfor the Squire's new house. I'd rather starve again and have mammypush me down stairs or anything rather than go sneaking round hidingbehind the walls, and feeling so ashamed to look any body in the face.No, no, I'll stick to the new Patrick, as Mrs. Taylor tells about,let what will come, I'll never lie to Bertie, and go back to my oldways."

  He felt stronger and better after this resolve, and walked on rapidlyuntil he reached the tree into which he had climbed to watch forBertie. The sight of his old home just beyond, had excited him a gooddeal; and he laughed at the recollections of his fear that the Squirehad sent Joe Allen to take him to jail.

  Then he stepped up to the door and looked within. All seemeddeserted. A few half-burnt brands had broken and fallen apart on thewide, old-fashioned hearth, the low wooden chair usually occupied byhis father was vacant; a piece of crust, mouldy with age, lay on thetable, and a broken pipe beside it.

  Pat stood a moment gazing around, his face growing every moment moresad, then suddenly ran up the old creaking stairs to his own chamber.

  "She's done it. I knew she would," he exclaimed, angrily. "She alwaysdid everything she could to spite me!"

  He picked from the dirty floor two or three tail feathers of a tinyyellow bird which he had saved from the jaws of a cat, though notuntil it had received it's death wound; and which after a fashion ofhis own he had stuffed.

  This, almost his only treasure, his drunken step-mother haddeliberately pulled to pieces, scattering the feathers on the floor.

  One tiny feather he put into his pocket as a memorial of the lifewhich had forever passed, and then hurried away from scenes whichrecalled such bitter memories.

  "Dad is gone," he exclaimed aloud, walking a short distance from thehouse, then turning back for another last gaze; "and perhaps I sh
allnever see him again."

  CHAPTER VIII.

  LETTER FROM PAT.

  Before this he had been glad to meet no one; but now he felt a keendesire to ascertain where his father had gone; and resolved to returnby the way of Tom Grant's, though a flurry of snow filled the air, andinquire whether Mr. Riley had been seen of late. Mrs. Grant, Tom'smother, was getting dinner, while Jerry was at work cutting wood inthe back yard. The old lady knew how hard Pat had tried to reform, andgreeted him in a most cordial manner.

  "Why, Patrick!" she exclaimed, catching hold of his arm, "Come rightin out of the snow. So yer going off to school, I hear my son say,well it's a lucky chance for ye, and I wish ye well. Sit right downnow. Thomas will be at home soon, and he'll be glad to see ye."

  "I must be going in a minute," Pat answered, "twirling his hat, Ionly wanted to know when you've seen Daddy. I've been to the oldplace, and there's no sign of anybody living in it."

  "Haven't ye heard? Well, I s'pose ye haven't. Yer daddy's cleared out,bag and baggage. I don't s'pose he had to hire much of a team, either,to carry off what was left at the old place; but he took his pipe anda change of clothes; and I don't believe there is enough left in theshanty, to make it dangerous to leave the door open o' nights. Folksas heard him talk, do say he was clear discouraged with yer mammy'sdrinking and quarrelling; and he's gin her up entirely. But I can'ttell nothing how that is."

  "Do you know where he's gone?" asked Pat.