Wait and Hope: or, A Plucky Boy's Luck

Nancy Sawyer, an old-maid daughter of the deacon, answered the bell.

"Good morning, ma'am," said Ben politely.

"Good morning, Ben," the deacon's daughter responded. "How's your aunt to-day?"

"Pretty well, thank you."

"Will you come in?"

"I called on business," said Ben. "Don't you want that wood sawed and split?"

"Yes, I suppose it ought to be," said Nancy. "Do you want to do it?"

"Yes," said our hero. "I'm out of work and ready to do anything I can find to do."

"Are you used to sawing and splitting wood?" inquired Nancy cautiously. "We had a boy once who broke our saw, because he didn't understand how to use it."

"You needn't be afraid of my meeting with such an accident," said Ben confidently. "I saw and split all our wood at home, and have ever since I was twelve years old."

"Come in and speak to father," said Nancy; "I guess he'll be willing to hire you."

She led the way into a very plain sitting room, covered with a rag carpet, where the deacon sat in a rocking chair, reading an agricultural paper – the only one he subscribed to. His daughter, whose literary tastes were less limited, had tried to get him to subscribe for a magazine, but he declined, partly on account of the expense, and partly because of the pictures of fashionably dressed ladies, and he feared his daughter would become extravagant in dress.

Deacon Sawyer looked up as Ben entered the room.

"It's Ben Bradford, father," said Nancy, for her father's vision was impaired.

"He ain't come to borrow anything, has he, Nancy?" asked the old man.

"No, he wants you to employ him to saw and split your wood."

"Don't you know I'm a sawyer myself?" said the deacon, chuckling over a familiar joke.

Ben laughed, feeling that it was his policy to encourage what feeble glimmering of wit the deacon might indulge in.

"That's your joke, father," said Nancy. "You'll have to get the wood sawed and split, and you might as well employ Ben."

"I thought you was in the factory, Benjamin," said the old man.

"So I was, but they cut down the number of hands some weeks ago, and I had to leave among others."

"How do you make a livin', then?" inquired the deacon bluntly.

"We've got along somehow," said Ben; "but if I don't get work soon,

I don't know what we shall do."

"Nancy," said the deacon, "seems to me I can saw the wood myself.

It will save money."

"No, you can't father," said Nancy decidedly. "You are too old for that kind of work, and you can afford to have it done."

"You are a sensible woman, even if you are homely," thought Ben, though for obvious reasons he did not say it.

"I dunno about that, Nancy," said her father.

"Well, I do," said Nancy peremptorily.

The fact is, that she had a will of her own, and ruled the deacon in many things, but, it must be admitted, judiciously, and with an eye to his welfare.

"How much will you charge, Benjamin," the deacon asked, "for sawing and splitting the whole lot."

"How much is there of it?" asked Ben.

"Two cords."

"I don't know how much I ought to charge, Deacon Sawyer. I am willing to go ahead and do it, and leave you to pay me what you think right."

"That's right," said the deacon in a tone of satisfaction. "You may go ahead and do it, and I'll do the right thing by you."

"All right," said Ben cheerfully. "I'll go right to work."

I am obliged to say that in this agreement Ben was unbusiness-like. There are some men with whom it will answer to make such contracts, but it is generally wiser to have a definite understanding. For the lack of this, disputes often arise, and mean men will take advantage when so fair an opportunity is afforded them.

After Ben left the room, Nancy, who was sensible and practical, and by no means niggardly as her father, said to him; "You ought to have named your terms, Ben. Then you would know just what you are earning."

"I was afraid I might ask too much, and lose the job."

"Now you may get too little."

"Even if I do, I would rather be at work than be doing nothing."

"That's the right way to feel," said Nancy, approvingly. "I like to see a boy at your age industrious. As to the terms, I will try to make my father do you justice."

"Thank you, ma'am. Can you tell me where you keep the saw and ax?"

"You will find them in the woodshed, in the L part."

"Thank you."

"How long do you expect the job will take you?"

"I should think two or three days; but I have never undertaken such a large job of any kind before."

"Very well. I didn't speak of it because there is any hurry about it."

"You may not be in a hurry, but I am," thought Ben, "for I want the money."

Ben tackled the wood-pile vigorously. It was not a kind of work he was partial to; but he was sensible enough to know that he must accept what work came in his way without regard to his own preferences.

He had been at work about an hour when he heard his name called from the street. Looking up, he recognized James Watson.

"Is that you, Ben?" asked James, in some astonishment.

"It is supposed to be. Don't I look natural?" asked Ben, smiling.

"What are you doing?"

"Don't you see? I am sawing wood."

"You don't mean you go around from house to house sawing wood?"

"Why not?"

"I should think you would be too proud to do it."

"I am not too proud to do any honest work that will put money in my pocket. Isn't it as respectable as working in the factory?"

"Certainly not. I am willing to work in the factory, but I wouldn't go round sawing wood."

"You can afford to be proud, James, but I can't. We are almost out of money, and I must do something."

"I don't believe the deacon will give you much of anything. He hasn't the reputation of being very generous."

"I must take my chance at that."

"I am sorry for it. I wanted you to go fishing with me this afternoon."

"I should like to go, James, but business before pleasure, they say."

"Ben has not pride," thought James, as he went away, disappointed.

But he was mistaken. Ben was proud in his way, but he was not too proud to do honest work.

Chapter VIII

Deacon Sawyer's Liberality

About four o'clock on the afternoon of the third day, Ben completed his job. Not only had he sawed and split the wood, but carried it into the woodshed and piled it up neatly, all ready for use. He surveyed his work not without complacency.

"The deacon can't find fault with that job," he said to himself. "He ought to pay me a good price."

The shed opened out of the kitchen. Ben rubbed his feet carefully on the mat, knowing that housekeepers had a prejudice against mud or dust, and, ascending a couple of steps, entered the kitchen. Miss Nancy was there, superintending her "help."

"Well, Miss Nancy," said Ben, "I've finished the wood."

"Have you piled it up in the woodshed?" asked the lady.

"Yes. Won't you come and look at it?"

Nancy Sawyer stepped into the shed, and surveyed the wood approvingly.

"You've done well," she said. "And now I suppose you want your money."

"It would be convenient," admitted Ben.

"You'll have to see father about that," said Nancy.

"Can I see him now?" asked Ben, a little anxiously, for he knew that his aunt's stock of money had dwindled to ten cents.

"Yes; you may go right into the sitting-room."

This room was connected by a door with the kitchen.

"Wait a minute," said Nancy; and she looked at Ben in rather an embarrassed way.

Ben paused with his hand on the latch, waiting to hear what Miss

Nancy had to say.

"My father is very careful with his money," she said. "He may not realize how much work there has been in sawing and splitting the wood. He may not pay you what it is worth."

Ben looked serious, for he knew that he needed all he had earned.

"What shall I do if he doesn't?" he asked.

"I don't want you to dispute about it. Take what he gives you, and then come to me. I will make up what is lacking in one way or another."

"Thank you, Miss Nancy. You are very kind," said Ben.

"I don't know about that," said Nancy. "I don't pretend to be very benevolent; but I want to be just, and in my opinion that is a good deal better. Now you may go in."

Ben lifted the latch, and entered the sitting-room. He found that the deacon was not alone. A gentleman, of perhaps thirty-five, was with him.

"I hope I am not intruding," said Ben politely, "but I have finished with the wood."

Though Deacon Sawyer was a very "close" man, he was always prompt in his payments. So much must be said to his credit. He never thought, therefore, of putting Ben off.

"I suppose you want to be paid, Benjamin?" he said.

"Yes, sir, I should like it, if convenient to you."

"Lemme see, Benjamin, how long has it taken you?"

"Two days and a half, sir."

"Not quite. It's only four o'clock now. Have you just go through?"

"Yes, sir."

"We didn't make no bargain, did we?"

"No, sir, I left it to you."

"Quite right. So you did. Now, Benjamin," continued the deacon, "I want to do the fair thing by you. Two days and a half, at twenty-five cents a day, will make sixty-two cents; or we will say sixty-three. Will that do?"

Poor Ben! He had calculated on three times that sum, at least.

"That would only be a dollar and a half a week," he said, looking very much disappointed.

"I used to work for that when I was young," said the deacon.

"At the factory I was paid five dollars a week," said Ben.

"Nobody of your age can earn as much as that," said the deacon sharply. "No wonder manufacturin' don't pay, when such wages are paid. What do you say, Mr. Manning?" continued the deacon, appealing to the gentlemen with him.

Mr. Manning's face wore an amused smile. He lived in the city, and his ideas on the subject of money and compensation were much less contracted than the deacon's.

"Since you appeal to me," he answered. "I venture to suggest that prices have gone up a good deal since you were a boy, Deacon Sawyer, and twenty-five cents won't go as far now as it did then."

"You are right," said the deacon; "it costs a sight for groceries nowadays. Well, Benjamin, I'll pay you a little more than I meant to. Here's a dollar, and that's good pay for two days and a half."

Ben took the money, but for the life of him he couldn't thank the deacon very heartily. He had been paid at the rate of forty cents a day, which would amount to two dollars and forty cents a week, for work considerably harder than he had done at the factory.

"Good afternoon," he said briefly, and reentered the kitchen.

Nancy Sawyer scanned his face closely as he closed the door of the sitting-room. She was not surprised at his expression of disappointment.

"Well," she inquired, "what did father pay you?"

"He wanted to pay me sixty-three cents," answered Ben, with a touch of indignation in his tone. "Twenty-five cents a day."

"Of course that was much too little. What did he pay you?"

"A dollar."

"How much were you expecting to get?" asked Nancy, in a business-like tone.

"I was hoping to get seventy-five cents a day. That would be less than I got at the factory."

"I think your work was worth that much myself," said the spinster.

Ben felt encouraged.

"My father is getting old. He forgets that money won't buy as much as it did in his younger days. He means to be just."

"Then I don't think he succeeds very well," thought Ben.

"I understand such things better," proceeded Miss Nancy, "and I try to make up for father's mistakes, as far as I can. Now tell me what are you meaning to do with the money you received for this job?"

"I shall give it all to Aunt Jane," answered Ben.

"You are a good boy," said Nancy approvingly. "And she will buy groceries with it, I suppose?"

"Yes, Miss Nancy. It is about all she has to depend upon."

"Just so. Now, Ben, I will tell you what I will do. Father keeps me pretty close myself, as far as money goes, but we have plenty in the house of groceries and such things as your aunt will need to have. Now, will it do just as well if I give you the balance that you have earned in that form?"

"It will do just as well, Miss Nancy, and I am very much obliged to you for your kindness."

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