The Complete Works of Mark Twain. Mark Twain
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Clay is at work; we must lose you, also, for a little while, my boy. But it will not be long — the Tennessee land — — ”
He stopped, and was conscious of a blush. There was silence for a moment, and then Washington — now a lank, dreamy-eyed stripling between twenty-two and twenty-three years of age — said:
“If Col. Sellers would come for me, I would go and stay with him a while, till the Tennessee land is sold. He has often wanted me to come, ever since he moved to Hawkeye.”
“I’m afraid he can’t well come for you, Washington. From what I can hear — not from him of course, but from others — he is not far from as bad off as we are — and his family is as large, too. He might find something for you to do, maybe, but you’d better try to get to him yourself, Washington — it’s only thirty miles.”
“But how can I, father? There’s no stage or anything.”
“And if there were, stages require money. A stage goes from Swansea, five miles from here. But it would be cheaper to walk.”
“Father, they must know you there, and no doubt they would credit you in a moment, for a little stage ride like that. Couldn’t you write and ask them?”
“Couldn’t you, Washington — seeing it’s you that wants the ride? And what do you think you’ll do, Washington, when you get to Hawkeye? Finish your invention for making window-glass opaque?”
“No, sir, I have given that up. I almost knew I could do it, but it was so tedious and troublesome I quit it.”
“I was afraid of it, my boy. Then I suppose you’ll finish your plan of coloring hen’s eggs by feeding a peculiar diet to the hen?”
“No, sir. I believe I have found out the stuff that will do it, but it kills the hen; so I have dropped that for the present, though I can take it up again some day when I learn how to manage the mixture better.”
“Well, what have you got on hand — anything?”
“Yes, sir, three or four things. I think they are all good and can all be done, but they are tiresome, and besides they require money. But as soon as the land is sold — — ”
“Emily, were you about to say something?” said Hawkins.
“Yes, sir. If you are willing, I will go to St. Louis. That will make another mouth less to feed. Mrs. Buckner has always wanted me to come.”
“But the money, child?”
“Why I think she would send it, if you would write her — and I know she would wait for her pay till — — ”
“Come, Laura, let’s hear from you, my girl.”
Emily and Laura were about the same age — between seventeen and eighteen. Emily was fair and pretty, girlish and diffident — blue eyes and light hair. Laura had a proud bearing, and a somewhat mature look; she had fine, cleancut features, her complexion was pure white and contrasted vividly with her black hair and eyes; she was not what one calls pretty — she was beautiful. She said:
“I will go to St. Louis, too, sir. I will find a way to get there. I will make a way. And I will find a way to help myself along, and do what I can to help the rest, too.”
She spoke it like a princess. Mrs. Hawkins smiled proudly and kissed her, saying in a tone of fond reproof:
“So one of my girls is going to turn out and work for her living! It’s like your pluck and spirit, child, but we will hope that we haven’t got quite down to that, yet.”
The girl’s eyes beamed affection under her mother’s caress. Then she straightened up, folded her white hands in her lap and became a splendid iceberg. Clay’s dog put up his brown nose for a little attention, and got it. He retired under the table with an apologetic yelp, which did not affect the iceberg.
Judge Hawkins had written and asked Clay to return home and consult with him upon family affairs. He arrived the evening after this conversation, and the whole household gave him a rapturous welcome. He brought sadly needed help with him, consisting of the savings of a year and a half of work — nearly two hundred dollars in money.
It was a ray of sunshine which (to this easy household) was the earnest of a clearing sky.
Bright and early in the morning the family were astir, and all were busy preparing Washington for his journey — at least all but Washington himself, who sat apart, steeped in a reverie. When the time for his departure came, it was easy to see how fondly all loved him and how hard it was to let him go, notwithstanding they had often seen him go before, in his St. Louis schooling days. In the most matter-of-course way they had borne the burden of getting him ready for his trip, never seeming to think of his helping in the matter; in the same matter-of-course way Clay had hired a horse and cart; and now that the goodbyes were ended he bundled Washington’s baggage in and drove away with the exile.
At Swansea Clay paid his stage fare, stowed him away in the vehicle, and saw him off. Then he returned home and reported progress, like a committee of the whole.
Clay remained at home several days. He held many consultations with his mother upon the financial condition of the family, and talked once with his father upon the same subject, but only once. He found a change in that quarter which was distressing; years of fluctuating fortune had done their work; each reverse had weakened the father’s spirit and impaired his energies; his last misfortune seemed to have left hope and ambition dead within him; he had no projects, formed no plans — evidently he was a vanquished man. He looked worn and tired. He inquired into Clay’s affairs and prospects, and when he found that Clay was doing pretty well and was likely to do still better, it was plain that he resigned himself with easy facility to look to the son for a support; and he said, “Keep yourself informed of poor Washington’s condition and movements, and help him along all you can, Clay.”
The younger children, also, seemed relieved of all fears and distresses, and very ready and willing to look to Clay for a livelihood. Within three days a general tranquility and satisfaction reigned in the household. Clay’s hundred and eighty or ninety, dollars had worked a wonder. The family were as contented, now, and as free from care as they could have been with a fortune. It was well that Mrs. Hawkins held the purse otherwise the treasure would have lasted but a very little while.
It took but a trifle to pay Hawkins’s outstanding obligations, for he had always had a horror of debt.
When Clay bade his home goodbye and set out to return to the field of his labors, he was conscious that henceforth he was to have his father’s family on his hands as pensioners; but he did not allow himself to chafe at the thought, for he reasoned that his father had dealt by him with a free hand and a loving one all his life, and now that hard fortune had broken his spirit it ought to be a pleasure, not a pain, to work for him. The younger children were born and educated dependents. They had never been taught to do anything for themselves, and it did not seem to occur to them to make an attempt now.
The girls would not have been permitted to work for a living under any circumstances whatever. It was a southern family, and of good blood; and for any person except Laura, either within or without the household to have suggested such an idea would have brought upon the suggester the suspicion of being a lunatic.
CHAPTER VII.
Via, Pecunia! when she’s run and gone
And fled, and dead, then will I fetch her again
With aqua vita, out of an old hogshead!
While there are lees of wine, or dregs of beer,
I’ll never want her! Coin her out of cobwebs,
Dust, but I’ll have her! raise wool upon eggshells,