THE NEW AVENUE.
The sound of Tom's loud talk to his oxen, started Bertie; and he tried to stop crying and see whether Jerry was walking by the side of the drag.
Mr. Curtis motioned to the man to stop, and Tom wondered not a little to see how stern the Squire's face had grown. Bertie's eyes, too, were red and swollen with crying. What could it mean?
"Mr. Grant," began Mr. Curtis, "can you tell me whether the head mason down there is a habitual drunkard?"
"He has the name of it, Squire, I'm sorry to say," answered Tom, greatly confused.
"Wait a moment, I may need you;" and Mr. Curtis walked quickly down the bulkhead into the cellar.
The mason who had been drinking was sitting on a stone, holding his hand to his head. The other one kept on with his work though he could do nothing to advantage alone.
Mr. Curtis picked up the bottle, and, holding it in his fingers, said to the sober man,—
"Do you use this vile stuff?"
"No, sir; not a drop. I see too much of it to want to put myself in the power of any kind of liquor."
"Do you live with Jerrold?"
"Yes, sir, he's a second cousin to my father. He could be a rich man, sir, if he'd let drink alone."
"He has done his last day's work for me. I will not employ a man who swears or makes a beast of himself with liquor. If you have a mind to work and can comply with my conditions, you may get an assistant and take Jerrold's place. I shall know in a few days whether you are capable of carrying on the whole job."
"I thank you, sir, all the same; but it'll be a terrible disappointment to Jerrold. His wife is a good woman; and she'll take it to heart terribly. He was overcome with liquor, and didn't know what he said to the boy."
"My son has told me nothing," explained Mr. Curtis. "I saw him throw the bottle in your face; and I heard what you said to him. I should wish your answer at once, whether you would choose to go on with the work."
"Yes, sir, I'll take it and do the best I can, and much obleeged for the chance."
Tom, all this time, had stood on the top of the bank where he could hear every word. His face looked very sober as he turned back to his oxen, and he said to himself,—
"There's a lesson for you, Tom Grant. You may thank your old mother that you haven't tasted a drop of spirits for a year."
"Now, Bertie; jump on the drag," said Mr. Curtis, in a cheerful tone. "Jerry is waiting by the lake for you; and I'll show you what a trench is."
Bertie obeyed; but his father saw it was hard for him to keep back his tears. The gentleman walked along with Tom, talking about the work as if nothing unpleasant had occurred; but it was evident that the man was thinking of something else.
At last, just as they had reached the lake, he turned to his master and said, earnestly,—
"Squire, one year ago I was as great a drunkard as Jerrold. I was going right straight to ruin, when my old mother came to live with me. She begged and begged me to take a pledge never to taste spirits again; and at last I yielded to her, and since that I've airned enough to support my family and buy these oxen.
"Now, Squire, I didn't think of religion till I see how it worked with you. If I didn't think your religion was the out-and-out Bible kind, I'd never ask you the question I'm going to now.
"If mother can persuade Jerrold to take the pledge as I did, and knock off drinkin' and swearin', will you take him back?"
"With all my heart, Tom; and any help I or my wife can give your mother in such a good work, we'll do it with the greatest pleasure."
"Come up, Bright, gee;" began Tom, wiping his eye with his shirt sleeve, when he suddenly turned round again, and said, fervently,—
"There's a good many Oxford people, Squire Curtis, are praying that your wife's life and yours may be spared to us, to be a blessing to the whole town."
Tom drew his load of small stones and rubbish close to the edge of a ditch about twenty-two feet wide and two feet deep, when he stopped the oxen and threw the stones in.
The Irishmen who had dug the cellar, were working away; and the two men with the oxen had as much as they could do to fill the trench as fast as it was dug.
Jerry came forward looking so clean and neat Bertie scarcely knew him.
"I've brought my donkey," he said; "but if you don't mind I should like to ask papa about the trench before we go to ride."
Jerry looked quite satisfied but did not dare to speak. So his father answered for him,—
"He's in no hurry, I'm sure, Master Bertie. But he's too shamefaced to talk much before strangers. If he takes you to see his tame squirrels, or the mice he's taught to eat out of his hand, his tongue will move fast enough, I reckon."
"I don't see, papa," said Bertie, "what is the use of digging out the earth and filling it right up again."
"I am filling it with stones, my dear, so that the water, when it rains, will drain through and keep the walk dry."
"But, papa, horses can't walk on those rough stones."
"Of course not. I intend to cover them with coarse gravel, and then on the top put a dressing of broken oyster shells mixed with small stones from the beach. These will gradually work down till the avenue is as hard as a brick."
"I understand now, papa, what a trench is."
"And how to make a cellar?" added papa, laughing.
"Yes, sir; I know the earth has to be dug out and carried off, and a wall made, and pointed with cement, which grows very hard, so that the underpinning which you bought can lie on the top of it; but I don't know how the wood is fastened on."
"That is the carpenter's job," answered his father; "we shall come to that by and by."
