“It will go near to break my Jem’s heart,” said Dame Preston to herself, as she sat one evening beside the fire stirring the embers, and considering how she had best open the matter to her son, who stood opposite to her, eating a dry crust of bread very heartily for supper.
“Jem,” said the old woman, “what, ar’t hungry?”
“That I am, brave and hungry!”
“Ay! no wonder, you’ve been brave hard at work — Eh?”
“Brave hard! I wish it was not so dark, mother, that you might just step out and see the great bed I’ve dug; I know you’d say it was no bad day’s work — and oh, mother! I’ve good news: Farmer Truck will give us the giant strawberries, and I’m to go for ’em tomorrow morning, and I’ll be back afore breakfast.”
“God bless the boy! how he talks! — Four mile there, and four mile back again, afore breakfast.”
“Ay, upon Lightfoot, you know, mother, very easily; mayn’t I?”
“Ay, child!”
“Why do you sigh, mother?”
“Finish thy supper, child.”
“I’ve done!” cried Jem, swallowing the last mouthful hastily, as if he thought he had been too long at supper—”and now for the great needle; I must see and mend Lightfoot’s bridle afore I go to bed.”
To work he set, by the light of the fire, and the dame having once more stirred it, began again with “Jem, dear, does he go lame at all now?”
“What, Lightfoot! Oh, la, no, not he — never was so well of his lameness in all his life. He’s grown quite young again, I think, and then he’s so fat he can hardly wag.”
“God bless him — that’s right. We must see, Jem, and keep him fat.”
“For what, mother?”
“For Monday fortnight at the fair. He’s to be — sold!”
“Lightfoot!” cried Jem, and let the bridle fall from his hand; “and WILL mother sell Lightfoot?”
“WILL? no: but I MUST, Jem.”
“MUST! who says you MUST? why MUST you, mother?”
“I must, I say, child. Why, must not I pay my debts honestly; and must not I pay my rent, and was not it called for long and long ago; and have not I had time; and did not I promise to pay it for certain Monday fortnight, and am not I two guineas short; and where am I to get two guineas? So what signifies talking, child?” said the widow, leaning her head upon her arm. “Lightfoot MUST go.”
Jem was silent for a few minutes—”Two guineas, that’s a great, great deal. If I worked, and worked, and worked ever so hard, I could no ways earn two guineas AFORE Monday fortnight — could I, mother?”
“Lord help thee, no; not an’ work thyself to death.”
“But I could earn something, though, I say,” cried Jem, proudly; “and I WILL earn SOMETHING — if it be ever so little, it will be SOMETHING — and I shall do my very best; so I will.”
“That I’m sure of, my child,” said his mother, drawing him towards her and kissing him; “you were always a good, industrious lad, THAT I will say afore your face or behind your back; — but it won’t do now — Lightfoot MUST go.”
Jem turned away struggling to hide his tears, and went to bed without saying a word more. But he knew that crying would do no good; so he presently wiped his eyes, and lay awake, considering what he could possibly do to save the horse. “If I get ever so little,” he still said to himself, “it will be SOMETHING; and who knows but landlord might then wait a bit longer? and we might make it all up in time; for a penny a day might come to two guineas in time.”
But how to get the first penny was the question. Then he recollected that one day, when he had been sent to Clifton to sell some flowers, he had seen an old woman with a board beside her covered with various sparkling stones, which people stopped to look at as they passed, and he remembered that some people bought the stones; one paid twopence, another threepence, and another sixpence for them; and Jem heard her say that she got them amongst the neighbouring rocks: so he thought that if he tried he might find some too, and sell them as she had done.
Early in the morning he wakened full of this scheme, jumped up, dressed himself, and, having given one look at poor Lightfoot in his stable, set off to Clifton in search of the old woman, to inquire where she found her sparkling stones. But it was too early in the morning, the old woman was not at her seat; so he turned back again, disappointed. He did not waste his time waiting for her, but saddled and bridled Lightfoot, and went to Farmer Truck’s for the giant strawberries.
A great part of the morning was spent in putting them into the ground; and, as soon as that was finished, he set out again in quest of the old woman, whom, to his great joy, he spied sitting at her corner of the street with her board before her. But this old woman was deaf and cross; and when at last Jem made her hear his questions, he could get no answer from her, but that she found the fossils where he would never find any more. “But can’t I look where you looked?”
“Look away, nobody hinders you,” replied the old woman; and these were the only words she would say.
Jem was not, however, a boy to be easily discouraged; he went to the rocks, and walked slowly along, looking at all the stones as he passed. Presently he came to a place where a number of men were at work loosening some large rocks, and one amongst the workmen was stooping down looking for something very eagerly; Jem ran up, and asked if he could help him.
“Yes,” said the man, “you can; I’ve just dropped, amongst this heap of rubbish, a fine piece of crystal that I got to-day.”
“What kind of a looking thing is it?” said Jem.
“White, and like glass,” said the man, and went on working whilst Jem looked very carefully over the heap of rubbish for a great while.
“Come,” said the man, “it’s gone for ever; don’t trouble yourself any more, my boy.”
“It’s no trouble; I’ll look a little longer; we’ll not give it up so soon,” said Jem; and after he had looked a little longer, he found the piece of crystal.
“Thank’e,” said the man, “you are a fine little industrious fellow.”
Jem, encouraged by the tone of voice in which the man spoke this, ventured to ask him the same questions which he had asked the old woman.
“One good turn deserves another,” said the man; “we are going to dinner just now, and shall leave off work — wait for me here, and I’ll make it worth your while.”
Jem waited; and, as he was very attentively observing how the workmen went on with their work, he heard somebody near him give a great yawn, and, turning round, he saw stretched upon the grass, beside the river, a boy about his own age, who, in the village of Ashton, as he knew, went by the name of Lazy Lawrence — a name which he most justly deserved, for he never did anything from morning to night. He neither worked nor played, but sauntered or lounged about restless and yawning. His father was an ale-house keeper, and being generally drunk, could take no care of his son; so that Lazy Lawrence grew every day worse and worse. However, some of the neighbours said that he was a good natured, poor fellow enough, and would never do anyone harm but himself; whilst others, who were wiser, often shook their heads, and told him that idleness was the root of all evil.
“What, Lawrence!” cried Jem to him, when he saw him lying upon the grass; “what, are you asleep?”
“Not quite.”
“Are you awake?”
“Not quite.”
“What are you doing there?”
“Nothing.”
“What are you thinking of?”
“Nothing.”
“What makes you lie there?”
“I don’t know — because I can’t find anybody to play with me to-day. Will you come and play?”
“No, I can’t; I’m busy.”
“Busy,” cried Lawrence, stretching himself, “you are always busy. I would not be you for the world, to have so much to do always.”
“And I,” said Jem, laughing, “would not be you for the world, to have nothing to do.”
They the
n parted, for the workman just then called Jem to follow him. He took him home to his own house, and showed him a parcel of fossils, which he had gathered, he said, on purpose to sell, but had never had time enough to sell them. Now, however, he set about the task; and having picked out those which he judged to be the best, he put them in a small basket, and gave them to Jem to sell, upon condition that he should bring him half of what he got. Jem, pleased to be employed, was ready to agree to what the man proposed, provided his mother had no objection. When he went home to dinner, he told his mother his scheme, and she smiled, and said he might do as he pleased; for she was not afraid of his being from home. “You are not an idle boy,” said she; “so there is little danger of your getting into any mischief.”
Accordingly Jem that evening took his stand, with his little basket, upon the bank of the river, just at the place where people land from a ferry- boat, and the walk turns to the wells, and numbers of people perpetually pass to drink the waters. He chose his place well, and waited nearly all the evening, offering his fossils with great assiduity to every passenger; but not one person bought any.
“Hallo!” cried some sailors, who had just rowed a boat to land, “bear a hand here, will you, my little fellow, and carry these parcels for us into yonder house?”
Jem ran down immediately for the parcels, and did what he was asked to do so quickly, and with so much good-will, that the master of the boat took notice of him, and, when he was going away, stopped to ask him what he had got in his little basket; and when he saw that they were fossils, he immediately told Jem to follow him, for that he was going to carry some shells he had brought from abroad to a lady in the neighbourhood who was making a grotto. “She will very likely buy your stones into the bargain. Come along, my lad; we can but try.”
The lady lived but a very little way off, so that they were soon at her house. She was alone in her parlour, and was sorting a bundle of feathers of different colours; they lay on a sheet of pasteboard upon a window seat, and it happened that as the sailor was bustling round the table to show off his shells, he knocked down the sheet of pasteboard, and scattered all the feathers. The lady looked very sorry, which Jem observing, he took the opportunity, whilst she was busy looking over the sailor’s bag of shells, to gather together all the feathers, and sort them according to their different colours, as he had seen them sorted when he first came into the room.
“Where is the little boy you brought with you? I thought I saw him here just now.”
“And here I am, ma’am,” cried Jem, creeping from under the table, with some few remaining feathers which he had picked from the carpet; “I thought,” added he, pointing to the others, “I had better be doing something than standing idle, ma’am.” She smiled, and, pleased with his activity and simplicity, began to ask him several questions; such as who he was, where he lived, what employment he had, and how much a day he earned by gathering fossils.
“This is the first day I ever tried,” said Jem; “I never sold any yet, and if you don’t buy ’em now, ma’am, I’m afraid nobody else will; for I’ve asked everybody else.”
“Come, then,” said the lady, laughing, “if that is the case, I think I had better buy them all.” So, emptying all the fossils out of his basket, she put half a crown into it.
Jem’s eyes sparkled with joy. “Oh, thank you, ma’am,” said he, “I will be sure and bring you as many more, to-morrow.”
“Yes, but I don’t promise you,” said she, “to give you half a crown, to- morrow.”
“But, perhaps, though you don’t promise it, you will.”
“No,” said the lady, “do not deceive yourself; I assure you that I will not. THAT, instead of encouraging you to be industrious, would teach you to be idle.”
Jem did not quite understand what she meant by this, but answered, “I’m sure I don’t wish to be idle; what I want is to earn something every day, if I know how; I’m sure I don’t wish to be idle. If you knew all, you’d know I did not.”
“How do you mean, IF I KNEW ALL?”
“Why, I mean, if you knew about Lightfoot.”
“Who’s Lightfoot?”
“Why, mammy’s horse,” added Jem, looking out of the window; “I must make haste home, and feed him afore it gets dark; he’ll wonder what’s gone with me.”
“Let him wonder a few minutes longer,” said the lady, “and tell me the rest of your story.”
“I’ve no story, ma’am, to tell, but as how mammy says he must go to the fair Monday fortnight, to be sold, if she can’t get the two guineas for her rent; and I should be main sorry to part with him, for I love him, and he loves me; so I’ll work for him, I will, all I can. To be sure, as mammy says, I have no chance, such a little fellow as I am, of earning two guineas afore Monday fortnight.”
“But are you willing earnestly to work?” said the lady; “you know there is a great deal of difference between picking up a few stones, and working steadily every day, and all day long.”
“But,” said Jem, “I would work every day, and all day long.”
“Then,” said the lady, “I will give you work. Come here, to-morrow morning, and my gardener will set you to weed the shrubberies, and I will pay you sixpence a day. Remember, you must be at the gates by six o’clock.” Jem bowed, thanked her, and went away.
It was late in the evening, and Jem was impatient to get home to feed Lightfoot; yet he recollected that he had promised the man who had trusted him to sell the fossils, that he would bring him half of what he got for them; so he thought that he had better go to him directly; and away he went, running along by the waterside about a quarter of a mile, till he came to the man’s house. He was just come home from work, and was surprised when Jem showed him the half-crown, saying, “Look what I got for the stones; you are to have half, you know.”
“No,” said the man, when he had heard his story, “I shall not take half of that; it was given to you. I expected but a shilling at the most, and the half of that is but sixpence, and that I’ll take. Wife, give the lad two shillings, and take this half-crown.” So the wife opened an old glove, and took out two shillings; and the man, as she opened the glove, put in his fingers, and took out a little silver penny. “There, he shall have that into the bargain for his honesty — honesty is the best policy — there’s a lucky penny for you, that I’ve kept ever since I can remember.”
“Don’t you ever go to part with it, do ye hear!” cried the woman.
“Let him do what he will with it, wife,” said the man.
“But,” argued the wife, “another penny would do just as well to buy gingerbread; and that’s what it will go for.”
“No, that it shall not, I promise you,” said Jem; and so he ran away home, fed Lightfoot, stroked him, went to bed, jumped up at five o’clock in the morning, and went singing to work as gay as a lark.
Four days he worked “every day and all day long”; and every evening the lady, when she came out to walk in her gardens, looked at his work. At last she said to her gardener, “This little boy works very hard.”
“Never had so good a little boy about the grounds,” said the gardener; “he’s always at his work, let me come by when I will, and he has got twice as much done as another would do; yes, twice as much, ma’am; for look here — he began at this ‘ere rose-bush, and now he’s got to where you stand, ma’am; and here is the day’s work that t’other boy, and he’s three years older too, did to-day — I say, measure Jem’s fairly, and it’s twice as much, I’m sure.”
“Well,” said the lady to her gardener, “show me how much is a fair day’s work for a boy of his age.”
“Come at six o’clock and go at six? why, about this much, ma’am,” said the gardener, marking off a piece of the border with his spade.
“Then, little boy,” said the lady, “so much shall be your task every day. The gardener will mark it off for you; and when you’ve done, the rest of the day you may do what you please.”
Jem was extremely glad of this;
and the next day he had finished his task by four o’clock; so that he had all the rest of the evening to himself. He was as fond of play as any little boy could be; and when he was at it he played with all the eagerness and gaiety imaginable; so as soon as he had finished his task, fed Lightfoot, and put by the sixpence he had earned that day, he ran to the playground in the village, where he found a party of boys playing, and amongst them Lazy Lawrence, who indeed was not playing, but lounging upon a gate, with his thumb in his mouth. The rest were playing at cricket. Jem joined them, and was the merriest and most active amongst them; till, at last, when quite out of breath with running, he was obliged to give up to rest himself, and sat down upon the stile, close to the gate on which Lazy Lawrence was swinging.
“And why don’t you play, Lawrence?” said he.
“I’m tired,” said Lawrence.
“Tired of what?”
“I don’t know well what tires me; grandmother says I’m ill, and I must take something — I don’t know what ails me.”
“Oh, pugh! take a good race — one, two, three, and away — and you’ll find yourself as well as ever. Come, run — one, two, three, and away.”
“Ah, no, I can’t run, indeed,” said he, hanging back heavily; “you know I can play all day long if I like it, so I don’t mind play as you do, who have only one hour for it.”
Complete Novels of Maria Edgeworth Page 294
