“Mind, what ye have heard frae me is the truth, sin a’ body kens that cross and cankered as auld Janet may be, she’s nae given to falsehood.”
The relation of auld Janet had stirred the conscience of Robert Wilson, and probed his soul to its very depths.
“I cannot,” he said within himself, “leave the boy here. The curse of that dying mother would fall on me if I did. He must come out of this place. Let me see what can I do with him? Could I only hope to prevail upon Bradford Whitman to take him—I know he hates the very sight of me and of a redemptioner, but a friendless boy of this one’s character, that I can get a certificate from the governor of the workhouse to establish, might operate to move him, and he’s a jewel of a man. I’ll try him. If I can do nothing with him, I’ll try Nevins or Conly, but Whitman first of all. If none of them’ll keep him, you must take him yourself, Robert Wilson; take him from here, at any rate.”
Mr. Wilson made his way back to the authorities, and said to them:—
“I’m taking some redemptioners to the States; if you’ll pay this boy’s passage, I’ll take him off your hands, but you must put some decent clothes on him.”
To this the chairman of the board replied: “We cannot do that. We will let you have the boy and put some clothes on him, and that’s enough. You make a good thing out of these men; you don’t have to advance anything, the farmers pay their passage and pay you head-money.”
“Thank you for nothing, that’s not enough. The rest of my redemptioners are able-bodied men used to farm-work, but this creature is but nineteen, don’t know much of anything about farm-work; only fit to pick oakum or break stones on the highway, and there’s none of that work to be done in the States. He’ll be a hard customer to get rid of, for he don’t seem to have hardly the breath of life in him; these Americans are driving characters; they make business ache, and will say right off he’s not worth his salt. I shall very likely have him thrown on my hands (if indeed he don’t die before he gets there) for I have no order for any boy.”
“You are very much mistaken, Mr. Wilson, that boy will lift you and your load, will do more work than most men, is better fitted for a new country than one who has been delicately brought up.”
“Mr. Governor, I have made you a fair offer. This boy has got a settlement in this parish, and you cannot throw it off, so you will always have him on your hands more or less. By and by he’ll marry some one as poor as himself, and you’ll have a whole family on your hands for twenty, perhaps fifty years. You know how that works, these paupers marry and raise families on purpose, because they know they will then be the more entitled to parish help. Give him up to me and pay his passage, you are then rid of him forever and stop the whole thing just where it is. I’ve told you what I’ll do. I won’t do anything different.”
After consultation the authorities consented to pay his passage and give him second-hand but whole shoes, shirts, and stockings enough for a shift, and a Scotch cap.