The Storyteller

New Zealand Tablet, Volume XXX, Issue 23, 5 June 1902, Page 23

The Storyteller

PETHUEL PENNY'S SON.

On a bright midsummer day the few people passing along a country road m Northern Maine turned thenheads tuWdid a certain liom'-o with that expression of lespectful awe which js man's tribute to ihe presence of death. The thin line of crapo iluttering irom the knob was unusual at Twelve Corners, where a house of mourning was wont to be undistinguished except by the drawn curtains of e\ery room Indeed, it was only after long consideration that Mrs Penny had yielded to a desire for doing things ' Massachussets way,' and then she had arranged the crape with a little nnsgixing, lest she be subjected to neighborly criticism. And Mrs. Penny was not accustomed to base her actsi on the oifinion.st of other people. Pethuel Penny's married life had been lived according to her rule and method, his, long ill-< ness conducted on the principles which she laid down and his demise had taken place at the time she arranged for Pethuel Penny, ha\ing once carried his way and settled in the up-ri\er country of Maine against his wife s wishes, had been content with this victory or had learned so much wisdom by the experience thut he had ne\ er again opposed her will 'There isn't much to do.' she was now saying to the fi lendly neighbors who had come m with oflers of assistance. 'I've been getting things) ready, for I figured ho wouldn't last longer than July. I don't know whether his sisters will come from down-ii\er or not. They're the kind that, let 'em have ever so much warning, will never be reauy. 1 wouldn't he surprised if they both held to get black di esses made after they pot the word, although I've cautioned 'em all the spring it wouldn't be later than tho middle of .July No, 1 ain't havin' any thing new myself, for 1 thought I'd wait till fall and see what's being worn Poor Pethuel ' ' Mrs Penny put her handkerchief to her eyes, but removed it presently to look after her baking ' Some wav sponge-cake '-coins soi t of appropriate at a funeral,' she said, as she diew foi th the golden loaves ' Simple and plnm-liko yet, respoctfiuil I know Pethuel wouldn't want any thing done for show, like frosting ' Ha\mg disposed of her baking Mrs IN nnv 1 etui nod to her gi ief ' It's bald to be left a w(ulow with the caie and i esponsibility of a place like this ' she mourned ' Y"es, Reuben's a good boy, but ho s young yet.' Two days latei , m such mourning apparel as her w.u drobe afforded, Mrs Penny was moving !>i iskly about the kitchen, looking after the final arrangements of the evening meal ' Be sure and have the table set when we get back, she instructed the friends who had kindly volunteered to ' stay at 1 lie house It's a long ride and thov 11 all bo hungry 1 wouldn't have any thing go wrong about the supper for the world Sonny, run and get) mothers best tablr-eloth from the table bureau I'd go myself, but 1 don't want to get my feelings all worked up before the turnes conn s 'Sonny,' a tall, loose-iointed lad of 16, with limp light hair and a palo complexion that tinned to n nnson whenever he was addiessod, obeyed, pausing a moment in the darkened room for a fond look at his father's quiot face. Tt was a large gathering, for Pethuel Penny's upright life and kindly nature had won the respect and aftection of the neighborhood Many a kindly word of regret was dropped in the lodgy doorway, where

the men stood uneasily awaiting tho arrival of the minister f i om 40 imles below. '1 hey waited m vain l\Jts Penny's cligniiiod eomposuie began to give way to anxiety lost her careful ai i angements should come to grief. 'It wouldn't seem anything but appropriate to begin a little late,' she declared, stretched on tip-toe m tho front dooiway and peering down the road. ' But Pethuel was never so late as tins. I wrote IClder (Joodrich myself, and wrote it strong.' Reuben just behind her, with face that rivaled the bouqueti of peonnes on the unuised parlor stove, was fumbling desperately in his pockets, and rumoi sefullv drew forth a letter, stamixxl and scaled ' 1 forgot to mail it,' he said, feebly Mrs. Penny transfixed him with a look ' That shows how much mteiest you take in jour father's funeral ! she said, severely. But she was fully equal to the occasion, and continued . ' Well, since the singers are here to help out, maybe Deacon Colby 'll oblige us by leading the services.' Deacon Colby, wh"b, for want of a church in the community, was deacon of the little brown sohoolhouse at Twelve Corners, was quite willing to oblige, and the neighbors, and oxen Mis Penny herself, agiccd that he did his duty by Pethuel, and did it well Yet it was a trying experience for J\hs Penny, and it was not pei haps burpi ismg th.it anxiety for tho service still absorbed her mind to the exclusion of grief And it was for Reuben and his future that Mrs Penny thought during the long drive out to Twelve Comets and on down the i lver to the West Ridge burying ground It was beginning to dawn upon her tluit he was fast approaching manhood's estate and that she ha,d thus far boon negligent in failing to map out the course of his future life 'Ihe lesult was that on fhe homeward drive she announced ' 1 shall hitti Freeman Brings to look after the farm tins winter. I mean for von to go to school.' Reuben offered no protest, although he hated school, and m his heai I pi efei i i'd work in a lumbering camp to an\ of the learned professions lie regai ded it as a hopeful circumstance t,h.it hi-, mother addod thoughtfully, ' I ha v iMi t made up mv mind what you're going to be yet, but you might as xxell be going to school w Ink 1 I think it ox er To determine xxms with Mrs Penny to act The long procession xvaited behind hor w1 i i 1 o she stopped at the low farmhouse by 1 he river and made a close bargain xxith Freeman llriggs for the coming winter. Freeman vva<=; a stiong \oung man sev ci <U veais older than Reuben and the I«i mus f.innlv weie noted as excellent v\ oi kei s for otheis although unable to get ahead for themselves Auixed at home, Reuben escaped in the confusion from the suffocating attentions of aunts, cousins, and neighbors, anil concealing sotmo bio. id and butter under his Sunday coat sought the- little stneain which (ut an oss the Penny farm Throwing himself doxxn on the grassy bank ,u\(\ gazing- into the wide arch of cloud-llecked blue* above lit 1 found consolation r l he stieam had been a f.ivonto lesort of Pethuel Penny, and Reuben recalled long Sunday afternoons \x hen his lather had lounged on tho bank xxith book or paper, while ho a nan-footed little fellow, piavod ' ii\ ei -<drivoi ' m the shallow x\ at ci abox <• the lishmg pool It, verk/'s-' lonos<Ano, ' he safd to himself blushing his giav coatsleexe acioss his eves to dispel a sudden blui ' But 't.nn't half so

lonesome here as it would "be up there with all those women.' Mrs. Penny's pllansi for her som. matured slowly. For the year after tho funeral Reuben liemained at school and Freeman Briggs had charge ot the farm work under Mrs. Penny's supervision. Then Mrs Penny developed a belief that the medical profession offered opportunities for her son, and sent him for a year to a high school down the river,. giving lain injunctions to pay sipenal attention to chemustry and plhysiology. A ,\Ldi later she recalled him, having secured a position for him as) teacher of the district school. His strong muscles and breadth of shoulder went far to qualify him for the place Yet here lor the first time Reuben rebelled 'He wasn't cut out for a school teacher ! ' he declared ' Perhaps Ido know enough. And, of course, 1 can handle the boys all right. But what'll I do w hen the big girls laugh at me ? ' Mrs Penny would not admit the possibility. 'If you had a little respect for yourself,' she said impatiently, ,' your scholars would maybe copy it ' And Reuben bent as usual to his mother's will, and found, though hiardly to his relief, that the girl pupils were inclined to look up to a young man of his advantages, and treated him with a coquettish deference In spite of his distaste for tho work Reuben was a successful teacher, and parents and committee were loud in his praise. Mrs. Penny was gratified. ' I guess you'd better settle down to home for a spell,' she stud. 'You, can teach winters, and help abojutl the haying summers.' Reuben hesitated. Ho was standing by the window looking out upon an early fall of snow A.s he watched a loaded team went past on its way to lumber camps far abo\e. Two or three young men whom he knew swung their hats gaily in farewell. Ilis heart rebelled against another winter in the school-room. The frea air of the woods seemed calling him, and his blood tingled, urging him to| be out among men engaged in some enterprise of his own ' 1 told Deacon Colhy yesterday, Unit >ou'<l take tho school,' went on Mrs Penny, and Reuben, who had neen. taught to obey when he was ►'poken to, hesitated but a anojtniept /lind answered, ' Well** It was some time before Reuben's twenty-first birthday that a new responsibility for his welfare engaged Mrs Penny's attention, and she betj.in at once to lay her plans. His" father had married at twenty a wife who had been the making of him. Yet, strange to say, with the shining example of Re-übon's parents before her eyes. Mrs Penny proceeded! to select for her son's wife tho exact' opposite of his father' .choice 'Reuben don't need a manager as long as his mother lives,' .she argued truthfully ' And it's to be hoped by the time I'm laid aside he'll bo olid enough to plan for himself. It was Beacon Colby's daughter who held preference over all other young women in Mrs Penny's favor. For Dorcas had been well brought up and was q.uite free from the independence of thought and action which most girls of her age affected. Airs Penny had a long talk with Deacon f \-)\hy one morning, and the deacon tjnfessed that he thought Reuben a worthy young man wh-om he would be glad to welcome into his family I 'or the first time in her dealing with her son Mrs Penny decided that diplomacy was necessary. It was Hong before Reuben suspected the motivo of the three-mile drive which ho and his mother took so frequently to the Colby farm. There Reuben and the deacon would talk politics on one side of the kitchen fire and thin, faded Mrs. Colby would entertain Mrs Penny on tho other wlnle Dorcas, sitting in a corner, worked industriously inj crow el stitch on a green felt 'lambrequin and said little, as became a

maiden brought up to be seen rather than heard. Neither Reuben nor Doroas could tell just how it came about. There had been no long sleigh rides through wintry snowdnifts or lingering strolls through summer's shady lanes ; but all at oruce Reuben foiund himself shut away from the cheerful fireside of the Colby kitchen and occupying a haircloth rocking-chair in the chilly best room, while Dorcas sat opposite with primly folded hands, lookiing regretfully at her completed work, which adorned tho mantelpiece and swayed in the waves of heat from the air-tight stove. Reuben hardly knew what; to talk about after they had looked through the photo-graph album. His eyes wandered about the room, encountered the parlor organ and he suggested music. Conversation was unnecessary while, he sat at ease listening to Dorcas' rendering of ' The maiden's prayer ' or ' Home, sweet home,' with variations. After that he never failed to ask for music, and sometimes he joined Dorcas in a vocal duet. Then the interested trio on the other side of the kitchen do,or nodded approvingly an,d commented in low tones on the successful outcome of their plans. So the winter passed away, and one spring evening, when Reuben had been sent over by his mother to obtain Mrs. Colby's recipe for soft soap, he found Dorcas raking her flower bed, and could do no less than offer to ' spade it up.' And under the influence of the spring air and mountain sunset his courage rose with tho vigorous use of the spade, and he suddenly remembered the second half of his mother's errand. ' Mother wants we should get married the second of June,' he said, upturning a hiige shovelful of moist brown earth. ' It's my Irtirthday.' Dorcas might well have felt this an abriupt termination to the mild siege which had been laid to her affections, but she betrayed no surprise, only explaining that her parents preferred June tenth as the anniversary of their own wedding day. There bade fair to be difficulty here, for rneok Mrs. Colby, with whom sentiment was strong, declined to yield. An appeal to the two supposed to be most interested failed to settle the matter. Dorcas was sure she didn't care, and Reuben only wished the matter settled without a fuss. Having thus far accepted thenfuture reaidy-made, the \oung couplo showed small wish to plan for themselves, although Reuben had confided tO Dorcas his desne to go lumbering tho next winter, and Dorcas, commending his plan, had suggested that she spend the time of his' absence down-n\er learning the milliner's trade. ' I always took to that kind of work,' she said wistfully. A few days before the wedding, when all Mrs Penny's arrangements were completed and e\cn her new gray cashmere lay ready on the spare room bed, Freeman Bng^s, passing the open window of the Fenny kitchen, heard sounds of grief within. Mrs. Penny sat swaying back and forth in the wooden rocking-chair, dropping tears upon the pile of mending in ,her lap. ' There ain't anything happened to break fit off, has there ? ' inquired Freeman, anxiously, loaning his folded arms on tho window-sill. Mrs. Penny shook her iiead ' 1 almost wish there had,' she answered, brokenly. 'How would you feel to be the mother of tho best son in the world twenty-one. >ears and then have to gi\c him up to another woman '> Ive been cr\ ing all tho afternoon, thinking this was the last time I should ever do Reuben's mending.' Mrs. Penny wiped her eyes drearily. ' I reckon I wouldn't shed any more tears o\er that,' Freeman said. ' Dorcas is* a mighty nice girl. She .can work prettier flowers on a tidy than ever grew in a flower-gar-

den, and fits up a lace collar that'll look just like soap-suds. But I never heard darnin' was one of her strong points, and you can take my word for it, she won't take away none of yo,ur privileges in that line. I guess if Reub's mendin' gets done,, you'll have to do it.' Mrs. Feixny dried her eyes and went) vigorously on with her work, her lips twitching ' Married women have something else to do than work tidies t ' she said with spirit. It was that very day that Reuben, going out to the Corners to purchase- a necktie for his wedding day, fdund a letter waiting for him on the revolving rack. It had been there for some time and bore the marks of curious fingers. Reulben delayed opening it until he reached tho foot of a long hill on his homeward way. Then, leaving Ms timsty horse to his own devices, he carefully cut the envelope and drew forth the closely-written sheet within. A slip of paper fluttered down between his feet. It was a cheque on the county bank. And to Reuben's intense surprise tho letter was written in his father's hand and signed by his father's namae. Ho lifted it care-i fully. Was it a message from another world ? Dear Son (.the letter ran), — This will reach you just as you are 21, if it don't get overlooked. I've thought a good deal on the time, you'd be a man and we could talk over things together. But it's come to me now that I sha'n't live to sees that day, and fearing you might; miss some of the things 1 want you to ha\e, I m writing to you now. S( iii ire Denson at the county seat will mail the letter when it's time. By this time you're a man. And knowing you and your mother, I can tell about how tlumgs have gone. You've stayed at home and dono just as she said, which was right and proper, and I wouldn't have allowed you to do otherwise if I'd been lnnig But you ain't got tt) 21 without finding out that your mother, though she's the best woman m the world, is a terrible manager. Piobably you'\e thought you'd like to do certain things. Most likely she's thought different and you ain't done them Which hasn't hint >ou any Obeying is one of tho first things a man has toleain, and your bringing up is lust as it should be — up to now Your mother's judgment is pretty near perfect. I ne\er went against it but once, but I always calculated to do it a second tiime if 1 d liNed till jon was grown 1 want ,\ou to take the mojiey the squire 11 send in this letter and go away An\\\heie jon ha\o a hankering to go 1 alwa\s fa\ored west lm self, but I married jonni? and lost my chance of tra\el Maybe- you'd hotter slip off kind of quiet Not dishonorable, l>ut without saying anything about it. Your mother's one of the kind that will take, it bettor if she don't find out >ou're gofng till after you're gone (lo where you like, and come back m a year or so. You al\vaj& was a boy that could be trusted. When \ou get home >ou may hear from me again. So no more at present from your affect father, F FENNY. Reuben folded the letter and placed it ie\orontly in his pocketbook Then, turning his horse about, hu dro\e rapidly toward the Colb.\ faun Dorcas 1 , in the front ;\ard, was woikmp o\er her flowers with a shadow on her face ' Reuben.' she had suggested a few days- before. 'do joii suppose your mother will be willing for me to li.no a flower bed 0 ' /Vnd Reuben had hesitated <i little as ho answeied ' Ma\bo so But she thinks green gias.s looks neat or Reuben left his horse at tho fence and went toward her. wondering how he was to harmonise his father's wishes with the present state of affairs But Dorcas, it appears, had also received a letter

which had wrought no small havoc in her hitherto submissive brain. ' Reuben,' she began, anxiously,, before he had time to speak, 'can't you get them to put it off a year ? My cousin has opened a milliner's store in the city and wants *me to come and work for her. It's just! what I always wanted to do. I'm tired of the woods, and, oh, I don't want to be married.' Reuben looked grave. A fear lest he should take undue advantage of her rebellious mood troubled him. Are you sure, Dorcas' he questioned, anxiously. ' Not at alfl ? " ' No, never,' answered Dorcas, vehemently, without a glance at the tall figure beside her. 'Do you mind ? ' she asked, with a little compunction, as he stood silent. For answer he gave her the letter he had received. Dorcas read) it with a look of awe. ' Your father was a good man,' she said, gently^ There was another silence. Dorcas fixed her eyes upon the tiny shoots of green peeping through the brown earth at her feet. * Couldn't you slip off just as ha says ? ' she suggested ' presently. ' Then I couldn't be married alone, and they'd let me go away.' But Reuben shook his head. ' I ooultin't have it said I left you that way, Dorcas,' he said. But when Dorcas, who had no such scruples, proposed going first herself, Reuben was no better pleased. ' Things like that help make a refutation for life,' he said gravely. ' 'Twould give folks a wrong idea of you to have it said you ran away from the man you were going to marry. I think we'll have to elope — not together '< — for Dorcas looked dissatisfied — •' 'but at the same time. You take the stage down-river and I'll row across to Flagtown and get .someone to carry me the other way, 1 might go west by the CanadianPacific Jt seems kind iof underhanded, but my father wouldn't admso what wasn't right. Anyway, we'd better make a mistake this way than tho other. Marrying is solemn business.' Two days later Mrs. Penny, driving swiftly toward tho Colby farm, met Deacon and Mrs. Colby coming as rapidly (in her direction. Mrs. Colby was in tears and the deacon's cheery faco looked stern. ' Then you heard ? ' faltered Mrs. lYnny, as the two horses came to a "-tandstill The deacon replied deicctedly : Not a word but the note she left behind her 1 wouldn't have believed a daughter of mmc could ha vo done it ' ' Mis IVnnv looked bewildered. But nts Reuben that's gone ! ' siho said. Mrs Colby di led her eyes and the stern expression on her husband's face f?iuo way to one of deep thought. Seems as if there'd been a mistake, and 1 don't know but what we old folks made it, Mrs. Penny,' he said, standing bareheaded in the shady road. 'We want to do our best for our children, but we ain't apt to notice wjicm we pass the pomt 1 where their rights begin.' Mrs Penny would not listen. ' I've always had to plan for Reuben,' she said ' He'd no head to do it for himself any more than his father before him.' Reuben's western trip lasted more than a year. Tt was a week before his return that Freeman brought a letier from tho post office addressed to Reuben in a legal hand. ' Just as 1 expected ' ' announced Mrs Fenny, with satisfaction, tearing open tho long envelope. 'I knew he'd get into trouble someu here ! ' ' It's Reub's letter,' suggested tho hired man, with all the prhileged candor of his class But Mrs. Penny replied with dwgnity that the letter was important and needed immediate- attention. She tosses aside

the sealed document enclosed and unfolded the shret. ' It's from I'ethuel Penny . " the said, faintly. ' Kind of a spirit letter * ' a ked Freeman, respectfully. But Mrs Penny was de<>p m ihe perusal of it. Dear Son,— l suppose by this time you're back home, and likely your mothers managing wa\.s luvc ''^'jn to grow on her as the a^os. Put she means wull and Hues t Uiinlf she's running things, so you'd better do as I've donet— let her raxeher own vvjay when it don't mmier, and go ahead quiet like when you want your own You're seen something of the world now, and arc ready to settle down I've always had an idea from the 1 , time you were a little fellow that you'd take to lumbering. And in case you should I've been buying up lumber land as I saw tho chance. In case you don't want to work it it's good property to hold. The squire will send the deeds along; with this. Later on, when you've got a little start in life, you may hear from mo again. I needn't tell you to take frood care of your mother and show her all duo respect. Your affectionate father, P. PENNY. Mrs. Penny sat limply back in her chair. Freeman had gone about the evening ojiores and the setting sun was lightimg up the orchard, where ripening fruit hung heavy upon the trees. She remembered suddenly how tho trees she had oidered at Baldwins ha>d proved Northern Spies when they began to hear. 'I lived with Pethucl 19 jears,' she said, reflectively, ' but 1 never really understood him.' She sat opposite .Reuben at the supper table a few e\ en ings later, noting with pride Jus impio\ement in looks and manner and deferrimg 1 to him with a meekness quite unwonted. ' I haven't made any plans for the winter, Reuben,' she ' said, ' anjd I didn't know .mst what you want done.' But Reuben, it appeared, was q,uito willing to le.i\e the farm in the eilicient hands of his mother and her hired assistant, while he followed! Ins own desire and earned out his father's plans Three yeai s latei . when Reuben was beginning to win success m Ins lumbering opetations, Pethuel Penny's last letter aimed, and fell, like its predecessor, into Ah s Penny's hands To open Reuben's latters "seemed a. far more serious thing than formerly, but curiosity at last o\ercaxno her sci nples r Jlns is what .she read :—: — You aie well started in life now, my \>n}, , and 1 see no reason to doubt that you ,uc In mg an upright life m tho fear of the Lord and doing, your duty by your mother and your fellow men. * * * You'll be thinking of marrying soon I want you to choose for yourself, but think it over carefully, and find just the kind of woman best suited to you Your mother is one of a thousand, and it would ha»ve been a hea\y blow If I'd

been spared to see her taken first. But 1 always had a notion if it should be my lot to marry a second time, I'd try one of those soft little women that swear by every word a man speaks. Your mother is the best woman in the world, but one manager in a family is enough. Mrs. Penny dropped the letter excitedly. ' Pethuel was always a man of excellent judgment,' she said. 'He thinks exactly as 1 do.' Some weeks later Reuben and his mother, attending church at the Corner schoolhouse, met Dorcas, now home for the summer vacation and looking a little thin from her winter's work. ' Yes, it seems nice to be home again,' she acknowledged, in answer to Reuben's question. The city is very well for a change, but I seem to belong up here.' They strolled along the smooth road to the Colby house near by. The deacon and his wife and Mrs. Penny were a little in advance. ' You don't think that perhaps lit was a mistake, Dorcas ? ' Reuben said, pausing where a cluster of white birches hid the others from view. Dorcas looked steadily downward, absently pulling a rose from her belt and scattering its petals over her muslin dress. 'It was better to make it that way.' she said, shyly. ' Because, you see, the other couldn't have fbeen, undone.' — ' Youuh's Companion.'