Part 12 (1/2)
The old housekeeper took two or three side glances at the boy's sober face as she poured the hot water over her dishes, and said at last, ”Now don' ye s'pose Hagar knows what ye're t'inkin' ob so hard, chile?
Ki! she c'u'd tell ye quicker'n nuffin. You's t'inkin' ob dem mis'able Culm folks, you is.”
”You are partly right,” said Noll. ”It seems to me as if I couldn't think of anything else. I try to sometimes, but the sight of their wretched ways keeps coming to me, and it's no use to try and put it away. Oh, dear, I wish something could be done for them!”
”Dat's yer bressed father all ober!” said Hagar. ”'Spects ef he was 'live an' livin' on dis yer wild'ness, we'd see somethin' did fur 'em.
But Mas'r d.i.c.k--well, his heart is all frizzed up, jes' as I telled ye afore. But de Lord'll open it sometime, honey,--Hagar's got faith 'nough to b'lieve dat!”
”Oh! I hope so,” said Noll; ”but what are the people going to do till then?”
”Can't tell ye nuffin 'bout dat,” said Hagar, making a vigorous clatter among her dishes; ”'spects the day's comin', tho', when de Lord gets ready fur't. 'Tain't till _he_ says, honey.”
Noll gravely replenished the fire from the great basket of cones and chips which stood on the hearth, and stood listening, for a little time, to their brisk snap and crackle, then turned to Hagar, saying,--
”Do you think I could do anything for them, Hagar? I've been thinking this long time about it, and there's no one to ask but you, for I can't quite get courage enough to say anything to Uncle Richard about it,--he would be angry, I'm afraid. Do you think I could do anything, Hagar?”
The old housekeeper let go her dishcloth, and turned about to look at Noll, as he stood before the fire. Her eyes surveyed the lad from head to foot,--as if it was the first time she had seen him,--and after a few minutes of silence she slowly said, ”What put dat in yer head, chile?”
”I don't know; it's been there this great while. It was the misery over there, I suppose,” said Noll.
”Well, well,” said she, turning back to her dishes, ”Hagar's 'stonished, she is! Does I 'spect ye ken do anything fur dem yer?
Bress de Lord! He'll help ye, honey!--he'll help ye! An' ef it wa'n't de Lord dat put it in yer head--Well, chile,” Hagar added, ”de Lord's eberywhere, an' 'pears to me like as ef it was his doin'. What ye t'ink, honey?”
Noll was looking in the rosy bed of coals, and for a few minutes made no reply; then he said, in answer to Hagar's question,--
”I'd like to think that, Hagar. I'd like to have all my thoughts and plans come from him, and I'd like to do the Lord's work; for that's what I promised,--that's what I am trying to do.”
Hagar wiped a pile of plates, and laying down her towel, said, reverently,--
”Promise, chile? Did ye promise de Lord, or who?”
After she had asked this question, she looked furtively over her shoulder at Noll, as if fearing she had asked about something which she had no right to know.
But Noll, with hands clasped over knee, was looking straight into the firelight, and did not appear offended; and pretty soon he said, slowly and softly, Hagar stopping her clatter to listen,--
”Before mamma died--Did you know mamma, Hagar?”
”Not muchly, chile,” said Hagar; ”yer Uncle d.i.c.k's wife was my lady.”
”Well, before mamma died,” continued Noll, ”we used to take long walks upon the sh.o.r.e by the town. A great s.h.i.+ning sh.o.r.e it was, I remember, and yellow like gold sometimes when the sun shone upon it.”
”Like de sh.o.r.e ob de new Jerusalem,” interposed Hagar, gazing abstractedly in her dish-pan.
”And there were great cedars and pines drooping down from the rocks,”
continued Noll, ”and here mamma and I used to walk up and down when papa was busy in his study; and almost always he used to come out to walk a little with us before we were through. And one day we waited a long time for him to come out, and at last sat down on a rock, for mamma was not well then, and could not walk long without a rest; and as she looked across the smooth water, she said, 'And the building of the wall of it was of jasper: and the city was pure gold, like unto clear gla.s.s.' Though I was a good deal smaller than I am now, I knew what she meant, and of what she was thinking, for mamma used to talk about leaving me then; and I laid my head in her lap and cried a little, and said,--
”'Oh, don't talk of that, mamma, for what am I going to do?'”