Part 17 (1/2)

Ben came stumping along the deck with his gruff, ”Well, we hev brought yer lumber an' yer carpenter, lad,--both on 'em the best I c'u'd find.

One's 'bout stacked up on the sand, yender, and t'other'll be waitin'

fur yer orders purty soon. He's good at his trade, John Sampson be, an' he'll do fair an' square by ye. John ben't delicate neither, an' won't mind the livin' he'll get 'mongst these 'ere good-fur-nothin's,--I looked out fur that, ye see.”

”I thank you more than I can tell, Ben,” said Noll, taking the skipper's hand; ”and have you taken your pay for the freight and all the trouble?”

”The freight be paid fur,” said Ben, ”an' the trouble likewise. An' ef ye hev anythin' more fur the 'Gull' ter do, don't ye be backward, boy, about lettin' her know't.”

The last of the lumber was now being dragged up the sand, and the skipper hurried away, saying,--

”Luck ter ye an' yer undertakin', lad! We be in a desput hurry to get off, fur we'd stan' a poor chance on this sh.o.r.e in a storm.”

Noll wished the skipper a safe run to a better harbor, and went back to the wharf, where the carpenter intercepted him. He was a rough, blunt-spoken man, but was evidently ”good at his trade,” as Ben had said, and did not despair of making the Culm huts decent and habitable; and after a long talk with him, Noll started for home, as the afternoon was fast giving way to a gray and lowery night. His heart was full of grat.i.tude and love to Ned, and he stopped more than once on his homeward walk to read the letter over by the gray glimmer of twilight. At first he was more than half resolved to return the money, and bid his friend to buy the pony,--it seemed such a great denial for horse-loving, mirthful Ned to make,--but as he read the letter again and again, and pondered over its contents, he began to think that his friend had more earnestness and love for kind-doing than he had ever suspected.

”I wronged the poor fellow,” he thought to himself, ”because he was so merry and careless all the time. And now he's sent me this great roll of bills to help those people whom he pretended to hate! Oh, I wonder if it is best to keep them?”

This question was not decided then. It took more than one day's thought about the matter before he at last concluded to accept Ned's bounty, and perhaps he would not have decided thus at all if he had been quite sure that his friend would not be greatly grieved and offended at having the money returned.

Meanwhile, the carpenter commenced operations. Dirk's house was the first to undergo repairs, and Noll took every opportunity to go over to Culm to see how matters were progressing. It was a great delight to him to watch John Sampson at his labor, and note how saw and hammer and plane, guided by his strong and skilful hand, repaired the rents, brought the shackling doors and windows to comfortable tightness, made the crooked and twisted roofs to a.s.sume something like straight and even proportions, and righted matters generally. When Dirk's habitation was thoroughly repaired, it was the wonder and admiration of all the Culm people.

”It be like what it was when I was a gal, an' all the housen was new,”

said one old fish-wife, who had tottered in with the others.

”Ay, mother,” said Dirk, ”an' it be time we had new habits to go with the new housen, eh?”

Noll had not allowed any good opportunities, wherein he might hint to Dirk that cleanliness and industry should reign in the snug new quarters, to pa.s.s without improving them. Dirk, out of regard and grat.i.tude to ”the young master,” as he called him, was willing to make the attempt, and strove, in his bungling way, to impress his neighbors with the fact that they were expected to reform their way of living.

But it was up-hill work for people who had lived all their life in filth and wretchedness, and progressed but slowly. Many were the hours, after the recitations were over, that Noll spent over at the little village those warm days, planning with John Sampson about broken doors and shattered beams, which were to be made strong and serviceable, or, sitting on a pile of lumber, watching the carpenter as he put in execution the plans which they had made. The children of the village were generally playing near by, in the sand, with blocks and chips,--growing up as unlettered and ignorant as their parents.

Some of them were great boys and girls,--almost as tall as Noll himself,--and had never yet seen the inside of a book.

”If Uncle Richard would only hire a teacher,” thought Noll, ”and have them grow up with some knowledge in their heads, they'd never get so low and wretched as their parents. But that never'll be, I'm afraid.

Oh! if I were only rich, how quick I'd change it all!”

But there was no prospect of any such fortune befalling him, and he usually turned away from the cl.u.s.ter of dirty, unkempt children with a hopeless sigh. He said, one day, while sitting on a great heap of s.h.i.+ngles beside the carpenter,--

”What's to become of all these children, Mr. Sampson? Will they be left to grow up like their fathers and mothers?”

”Well, I don't see much to hinder,” said the carpenter, with a glance at the dirty little ones who were throwing sand over their heads.

”Don't think you'll ever see many lawyers and ministers out o' the lot.”

”If there could only be a school here,” continued Noll, ”what a change it would make! But there's no teacher, no schoolroom, no nothing, and no prospect of there ever being anything!”

”Why don't you teach 'em yourself?” said Sampson, between the creakings and rasping of his saw.

Noll was silent for a few minutes before he answered, ”Why, to tell the truth, I never had thought of the thing. But how can I? I don't have any time till after four o'clock.”

The carpenter sawed and planed, and made no reply, being entirely indifferent to the whole matter; but his chance question had put an idea in Noll's head which was not out of it for that afternoon, at least. Could he teach those idle, ignorant children? he wondered.