CHAPTER XV.
SIMPLE JOHNNY.
It was very hard for Hesper to keep up her courage and go about her work as usual, now that Mose was gone. Her father was more desponding than ever, and though her mother seemed cheerful, yet it was very evident that she had to make a great effort to be so. Every night, when Hesper laid her head upon her pillow, she felt that she would like to have a good long cry, but she resolutely kept back the tears, for she knew if she once began, she would soon become so disheartened that she could not attend to anything properly. So she remembered the last words of Mose, and consoled herself by doing as he had told her—to pray for him every night. These seemed to Hesper the darkest days she had ever known. Capt. Clark still remained a true and faithful friend and this kept her from wholly despairing. He did not often visit them, but out of his abundance, he gave them many things, without which they would actually have suffered. Yet even with his help, the prospect was very discouraging, and Hesper puzzled her brains night and day, to think of something she could do to earn a little money. Her mother needed medicine and comfortable food, and the boys’ clothes were getting sadly out of repair. Her father still had writing to do, but he only earned enough by this to pay the rent. His foot troubled him constantly, for he could not be patient till it got well, but he hobbled about on it every day, and thus made it a great deal worse. Beside this, his general health was very poor, and he always looked on the dark side of everything, which made him unhappy and discontented. He said very little, but one could easily tell by his gloomy countenance how he felt.
Late one afternoon, as Hesper was returning home with simple Johnny, who had been spending the day with aunt Nyna, she was overtaken by Mrs. Grimsby. The poor woman looked very tired, for her day’s work had been hard. Under one arm she carried her old wash-gown, and on the other was a large basket of clothes she was taking home to iron.
“O dear,” she said, “I feel as though I could not take another step! I don’t believe there’s a slave at the South that has to work harder than I. But then I get my pay for it, and in these hard times that is a great comfort.”
“Yes,” said Hesper, “I would like to go out a washing myself, if I were able.”
“You poor little thing!” said Mrs. Grimsby, in a tone of unusual kindness—“I’m glad you can’t, for you would work yourself almost to death. Why don’t you keep school, Hesper?”
This was a new thought, and for a moment Hesper’s heart beat quicker, but then it occurred to her directly, that she had no room, and she shook her head sorrowfully.
“No,” she said, “neither father or mother could bear the noise of the children at home, and there is no other place.”
“Fie!” said Mrs. Grimsby, “that is no excuse at all, for you can have my back kitchen just as well as not, and be right welcome, if you will take George and Benny and keep them out of mischief. I’m scarce ever at home, and if I was, the school would not trouble me at all. Come now, you had best take up with my offer at once, and to-morrow when I go out to work, I will look up some scholars for you.”
“Well,” said Hesper, without hesitation, “I will, though I hardly know how to thank you enough for your kindness.”
“Fie!” said Mrs. Grimsby, with seeming impatience, “I only do it for my own convenience, so you needn’t say anything more about it.”
Just then they reached home, and Mrs. Grimsby went directly into her own room, leaving Hesper with a hopeful heart and smiling countenance.
At the beginning of the next week the school was opened. There were eight scholars besides Fred and Charlie and the Grimsby boys. Juliana knew very little about reading and spelling, so she improved the opportunity, and soon was able to assist Hesper, which she did very willingly. As for simple Johnny, he could not be persuaded to stay in the school, so Hesper let him go out to play as he had been in the habit of doing. He knew very well how to take care of himself, Moreover, he had such an innocent expression of countenance, and was so gentle and inoffensive, that every one was kind to him. At first Hesper used to worry a great deal about him, but she soon became accustomed to having him away. He never went far from home, and almost always returned at the right time. They could easily tell where he had been by the little tokens he brought back. Sometimes he would have a pinafore full of blocks from the ship-yard—a bunch of field flowers, or a handful of smooth white pebbles gathered on the seashore. But of late, he had puzzled them, for he had returned several times with a most beautiful bouquet of choice garden flowers, tastefully arranged and tied with a string, and sometimes with his little basket full of ripe, rosy apples and peaches.
“Who could be so good to him?” said Hesper; “it must be some lady, I know.” But the poor child could not tell, so the matter remained a mystery. One night he was out later than usual. The weather was now quite cold, so that Hesper felt all the more anxious. She wrapped her mother’s shawl about her, and went out in search of him, though she did not feel much alarmed, for she expected every moment to meet him. First she went to the ship-yard and along the seashore. Next to Capt. Clark’s, where a large party of boys were husking corn—then to uncle Nathan’s and aunt Nyna’s, but he could not be found at any of these places. It was now almost dark. The wind was cold and chilly, and a few light flakes of snow were falling. Hesper’s heart beat quickly, and she ran home as fast as possible to see if he was there, but nothing had been seen of him. Again she hastened forth, questioning the people along the street, but they could give her no information. At length she met a little fellow, who told her he saw Johnny not long before dark, gathering acorns in the wood beyond the Rolling Mill. Away she flew as fast as her feet would carry her, and was soon ranging about in the midst of the wood. It was so dark among the trees she could not see the way before her—- the briers laid fast hold of her—she stumbled over the roots in her pathway, and finally lost one shoe in the low, swampy ground, whither she had unconsciously wandered, yet still she urged her way onward.
“Johnny! Johnny!” she called at the top of her voice, in the hope that he might make some sound in reply. She stopped to listen, but heard nothing save the mournful sighing of the winds among the pines, and the falling of withered leaves around her. She seemed utterly alone and desolate, and her heart failed her.
“O, merciful Father!” she exclaimed, “what shall I do!” and she burst into tears. Again she struggled onward in the midst of the darkness, till she came to the roadside. There, trembling with cold and excitement, she knelt down beneath a spreading oak, and lifting her hands, she cried out—
“O, Father in heaven! I pray thee to take pity on me and help me.” As she spoke, a bright light flashed upon her face, and looking out from the overhanging branches, she saw a man passing with a lantern.
“O, sir!” she exclaimed, as she sprang forward, “will you help me find my brother? He is lost in these woods, and it is so dark I cannot see one step before me.”
“Certainly! certainly!” he replied in a very friendly manner. “In these woods did you say? and how old a child?”
“About ten years, sir. Poor Johnny, he is a simple child, yet nevertheless he is very dear to us.”
“Indeed!” said the gentleman—“he must be the same child who has been to my house so often of late, and to whom my Kate and Alice took such a fancy. I will go with you by all means,” and he immediately led the way into the wood. He held up his lantern, looking carefully about, and calling at short intervals—but they heard no sound in reply. Hesper never seemed so weak and faint-hearted before. She wept like a child, and had it not been for the encouraging words of her unknown friend, she would have despaired of ever seeing Johnny again. She soon discovered from the gentleman’s speech, that he was the new doctor, of whose skill and kindness she had heard so much. He was very wealthy, and had always lived in the city till the past year, when he purchased an elegant residence in this town. She knew from what people had said, that he was very benevolent, and would do all he could to assist her. After they had searched through the wood in various directions, they went down over the other side of the hill, where there was a low, swampy hollow, not far from aunt Nyna’s. Here the bushes and trees grew very closely, and the long ivy vines interlaced the whole in such a manner, that it formed an almost impenetrable thicket. As the doctor held up his lantern and looked before him, he seemed to hesitate.
“Really,” he said, “if the poor child is here, it will be almost impossible to find him. I think, on the whole, we had best go back and get other assistance.”
As he spoke, Hesper felt something rub against her. She looked down, and to her inexpressible joy, beheld Bose, standing close beside her, wagging his tail and seeming very happy that he had met with her.
“O here, sir!” she called out to the doctor, “is this faithful old dog, and he will find him if anybody. I would trust him sooner than I would myself.”
“Here, Bose!” she continued, pointing to the thicket—“Johnny! Johnny!” Bose started in the direction in which she pointed, scenting the air keenly. Then he ran back again to Hesper, wagging his tail, and looking up in her face wistfully, as if very desirous of doing her will exactly, if he only knew what it was. She went with him then to the borders of the thicket, and pointing in again, called out, “Johnny! Johnny!” with all possible earnestness.
In sprang the dog at once, and she could hear the under-brush cracking beneath his feet, and the branches sweeping by him as he passed. After a few moments the doctor called again, and then, as they stopped to listen, they seemed to hear the sound of a child crying. Directly, out rushed Bose like a mad creature, and seizing Hesper by the frock, pulled her after him.
“O, he has found him! he has found him!” she exclaimed, and was about to spring at once into the thicket, when the doctor withheld her.
“Let me go first, with my lantern,” he said, “while you remain here, for I think I can be of more service to him than you, poor child.”
He turned his steps in the direction whence the sound had proceeded, and in a few moments, guided by Bose, found simple Johnny lying flat on his face, moaning and weeping most piteously. The child’s hat and little basket of acorns were upon the ground beside him, as though he had accidentally fallen asleep there. The doctor raised him up, and spoke to him kindly. He brushed away the long, wet ringlets from the poor child’s face—put his hat upon his head, gave him his basket, and then led him out to the place where Hesper was anxiously awaiting them.
The instant the poor child recognized her, he uttered a cry of joy. He seized her by the dress, and laying his head against her, made the low soothing sound he usually did when pleased. Hesper, unlike herself, scarce knew what she said or did, but when she minded how damp the child’s clothes were, and how he shivered with cold, she took off her great warm shawl and wrapped it closely about him. As they all three walked home together, the doctor asked her a great many questions about herself and family.
“Well, Miss Hesper,” he said at last, as he was about to leave her, “I am right glad that I have met with you, and shall endeavor to see you again, very soon.” He stooped down and kissed Johnny, and as he turned away, he dropped something into his basket, which afterwards proved to be a bright golden eagle.