Chapter 16
"No, I am aware of that. I will have no more trouble with you, for I never intend to let you come ten feet inside the front door of my shop."
"But I have reformed my bad habit, Mr. Evenly. I will give you no more trouble with my drinking," said the poor man, alarmed at this language.
"It's no use for you to talk to me, Gordon," replied Evenly, in a rough manner. "I've long wanted to get rid of you, and I have finally succeeded. Your place is filled. So there is no more to say on that subject. Good morning."
And the man turned on his heel and left Gordon standing half stupified at what he had heard.
"Rum's done the business for you at last, my lark! I told you it would come to this!" said an old fellow workman, who heard what pa.s.sed between Gordon and the employer. He spoke in a light, insulting voice.
Without replying, the unhappy man left the shop, feeling more wretched than he had ever felt in his life.
"And thus I am met at my first effort to reform!" he murmured, bitterly.
"Hallo, Gordon! Where are you going?" cried a voice as these words fell from his lips.
He looked up and found himself opposite to the door of one of his old haunts. It was the keeper of it who had called him.
"Come! Walk in and let us see your pleasant face this morning. Where were you last night? My company all complained about your absence.
We were as dull as a funeral."
"Curse you and your company too!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Gordon between his teeth, and moved on, letting his eyes fall again to the pavement.
"Hey-day! What's the matter?"
But Gordon did not stop to bandy words with one of the men who had helped to ruin him.
"It's all over with us, Mary. Evenly's got a man in my place," said Gordon, as he entered his house and threw himself despairingly into a chair. "But won't he give you work, too?" asked Mrs. Gordon, in a husky voice.
"No! He insulted me, and said I should never come ten feet inside of his shop."
"Did you tell him that you had signed the pledge?"
"Yes. But it was no use. He did not seem to care for me any more than he did for a dog."
The poor man's distress was so great that he covered his face with his hands, and sat swinging his body to and fro, and uttering half-suppressed moans.
"What are we to do, Mary? There is no other shop in town," he said, looking up, after growing a little calm. "Doesn't it seem hard, just as I am trying to do right?"
"Don't despair, Henry. Let us trust in Providence. It is only a dark moment; yet, dark as it is, it is brighter to me than any period has been for years. A clear head and ready hands will not go long unemployed. I do not despond, dear husband, neither should you. Keep fast anch.o.r.ed to your pledge, and we will outride the storm."
"But we shall starve, Mary. We cannot live upon air."
"No," replied Mrs. Gordon; "but we can live upon half what you have been earning at your trade, and quite as comfortably as we have been living. And it will be an extreme case, I think, if you can't get employment at five dollars a week, doing something or other. Don't you?"
"It appears so. Certainly I ought to be able to earn five dollars a week, if it is at sawing wood. I'll do that--I'll do any thing."
"Then we needn't be alarmed. I'll try and get some sewing at any rate, to help out. So brighten up, Henry. All will be well. It will take a little time to get things going right again; but time and industry will do all for us that we could ask."
Thus encouraged, Gordon started out to see
"It's no use to try, Mary," he said, despondingly, as he entered his poorly-furnished abode, and found his wife busy with her needle. "I can't get any work."
"I have been more successful than you have, Henry," Mrs. Gordon returned, speaking cheerfully. "I went to see if Mrs. Hewitt hadn't some sewing to give out, and she gave me a dozen s.h.i.+rts to make. So don't be discouraged. You can afford to wait for work even for two or three weeks, if it doesn't come sooner. Let us be thankful for what we have to-day, and trust in G.o.d for to-morrow. Depend upon it, we shall not want. Providence never forsakes the man who is trying to do right."
Thus Mrs. Gordon strove to keep up the spirits of her husband. After dinner, he went out again and called to see a well-known temperance man. After relating to him what he had done, and how unhappily he was situated in regard to work, the man said--
"It won't do to be idle, Gordon; that's clear. An idle man is tempted ten times to another's once. You will never be able to keep the pledge unless you get something to do. We must a.s.sist you in this matter. What can you do besides your trade?"
"I have little skill beyond my regular calling; but then, I have health, strength, and willingness; and I think these might be made useful in something."
"So do I. Now to start with, I'll tell you what I'll do. If you will come and open my store for me every morning, make the fire and sweep out, and come and stay an hour for me every day while I go to dinner, I will give you three dollars a week. Two hours a day is all your time I shall want."
"Thank you from my heart! Of course I accept your offer. So far so good," said Gordon, brightening up.
"Very well. You may begin with to-morrow morning. No doubt you can make an equal sum by acting as a light porter for the various stores about. I can throw a little in your way; and I will speak to my neighbors to do the same." There was not a happier home in the whole town than was the home of Henry Gordon that night, poor as it was.
"I knew it would all come out right," said Mrs. Gordon. "I knew a better day was coming. We can live quite comfortably upon five or six dollars a week, and be happier than we have been for years."
When Gordon thought of the past, he did not wonder that tears fell over the face of his wife, even while her lips and eyes were bright with smiles. As the friend had supposed, Gordon was employed to do many errands by the storekeepers in the neighborhood. Some weeks he made five dollars and sometimes six or seven. This went on for a few months, when he began to feel discouraged. The recollection of other and brighter days returned frequently to his mind, and he began ardently to desire an improved external condition, as well for his wife and children as for himself. He wished to restore what had been lost; but saw no immediate prospect of being able to do so. Six dollars a week was the average of his earnings, and it took all this, besides what little his wife earned, to make things tolerably comfortable at home.
Gordon was in a more desponding mood than usual, when he indulged in the complaint with which our story opens. What was said to him changed the tone of his feelings, and inspired him with a spirit of cheerfulness and hope.
"Time, Faith, Energy!" he said to himself, as he walked with a more elastic step. "Yes, these must bring out all right in the end. I will not be so weak as to despond. All is much improved as it is. We are happier and better. Time, Faith, Energy! I will trust in these."
When Gordon opened the door of his humble abode, he found a lad waiting to see him, who arose, and presenting a small piece of paper, said--
"Mr. Blake wishes to know when you can settle this?"
Mr. Blake was a grocer, to whom ten dollars had been owing for a year. He had dunned the poor drunkard for the money until he got tired of so profitless a business, and gave up the account for lost.
By some means, it had recently come to his ears that Gordon had signed the pledge.
"Some chance for me yet," he said, and immediately had the bill made out anew, and sent in; not thinking or caring whether it might not be premature for him to do so, and have the effect to discourage the poor man and drive him back to his old habits. What he wanted was his money. It was his due; and he meant to have it if he could get it.
"Tell Mr. Blake that I will pay him as soon as possible. At present it is out of my power," said Gordon, in answer to the demand.
The lad, in the spirit of his master, turned away with a sulky air, and left the house.
Poor Gordon's feelings went down to zero in a moment.
"It's hopeless, Mary! I see it all as plain as day," he said. "The moment I get upon my feet, there will be a dozen to knock me down.
While I was a drunkard, no one thought of dunning me for money; but now that I am trying to do right, every one to whom I am indebted a dollar will come pouncing down upon me."
"It's a just debt, Henry, you know, and we ought to pay it."
"I don't dispute that. But we can't pay it now."
"Then Blake can't get it now; so there the matter will have to rest.
A little dunning won't kill us. We have had harder trials than that to bear. So don't get discouraged so easily."