be done, but they are tiresome, and besides they require money. But as
soon as the land is sold—-”
“Emily, were you about to say something?” said Hawkins.
Yes, sir. If you are willing, I will go to St. Louis. That will make
another mouth less to feed. Mrs. Buckner has always wanted me to come.”
“But the money, child?”
“Why I think she would send it, if you would write her–and I know she
would wait for her pay till—-”
“Come, Laura, let’s hear from you, my girl.”
Emily and Laura were about the same age–between seventeen and eighteen.
Emily was fair and pretty, girlish and diffident–blue eyes and light
hair. Laura had a proud bearing, and a somewhat mature look; she had
fine, clean-cut features, her complexion was pure white and contrasted
vividly with her black hair and eyes; she was not what one calls pretty–
she was beautiful. She said:
“I will go to St. Louis, too, sir. I will find a way to get there.
I will make a way. And I will find a way to help myself along, and do
what I can to help the rest, too.”
She spoke it like a princess. Mrs. Hawkins smiled proudly and kissed
her, saying in a tone of fond reproof:
“So one of my girls is going to turn out and work for her living! It’s
like your pluck and spirit, child, but we will hope that we haven’t got
quite down to that, yet.”
The girl’s eyes beamed affection under her mother’s caress. Then she
straightened up, folded her white hands in her lap and became a splendid
ice-berg. Clay’s dog put up his brown nose for a little attention, and
got it. He retired under the table with an apologetic yelp, which did
not affect the iceberg.
Judge Hawkins had written and asked Clay to return home and consult with
him upon family affairs. He arrived the evening after this conversation,
and the whole household gave him a rapturous welcome. He brought sadly
needed help with him, consisting of the savings of a year and a half of
work–nearly two hundred dollars in money.
It was a ray of sunshine which (to this easy household) was the earnest
of a clearing sky.
Bright and early in the morning the family were astir, and all were busy
preparing Washington for his journey–at least all but Washington
himself, who sat apart, steeped in a reverie. When the time for his
departure came, it was easy to see how fondly all loved him and how hard
it was to let him go, notwithstanding they had often seen him go before,
in his St. Louis schooling days. In the most matter-of-course way they
had borne the burden of getting him ready for his trip, never seeming to
think of his helping in the matter; in the same matter-of-course way Clay
had hired a horse and cart; and now that the good-byes were ended he
bundled Washington’s baggage in and drove away with the exile.
At Swansea Clay paid his stage fare, stowed him away in the vehicle, and
saw him off. Then he returned home and reported progress, like a
committee of the whole.
Clay remained at home several days. He held many consultations with his
mother upon the financial condition of the family, and talked once with
his father upon the same subject, but only once. He found a change in
that quarter which was distressing; years of fluctuating fortune had done
their work; each reverse had weakened the father’s spirit and impaired
his energies; his last misfortune seemed to have left hope and ambition
dead within him; he had no projects, formed no plans–evidently he was a
vanquished man. He looked worn and tired. He inquired into Clay’s
affairs and prospects, and when he found that Clay was doing pretty well
and was likely to do still better, it was plain that he resigned himself
with easy facility to look to the son for a support; and he said, “Keep
yourself informed of poor Washington’s condition and movements, and help
him along all you can, Clay.”
The younger children, also, seemed relieved of all fears and distresses,
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