Henry Hill was careless, we must admit, in his duty, but he was not careless of the opinions of others. Be had been stung to the quick more than once by the insinuations and admonitions of his parents and acquaintances that he was not doing his duty by his children. His mother especially nagged him about it. He might have passed her words off as the whims of childishness, but she was not alone in her condemnations.
“Henry, you are not doing right. Austin is only a little boy and you are laying on him too great a burden,” she would say.
“That is where you are mistaken, Mother. Austin is as tall as I am, and plenty strong enough to do all he is doing. They are getting along fine. Austin says so in his letters,” he would answer.
“You are not doing right,” retorted his mother, and her tones implied more than her words.
It seemed strange to Mr. Hill that he could not make any one understand the situation. Austin had been willing to stay. He had expressed no reluctance at all, and every week brought a letter from the children telling how well they were getting along. He was not hurt by any remorse at their words, but it seemed to him that they were unnecessarily partial to Austin in their judgment, and he felt a sort of animosity toward him on that account. Austin was only doing his duty by the children, so why should he be so praised and pitied? But a man can not long stand the bite of a fly without flinching, and Henry Hill found that he must do something to rid himself of these criticisms. He hated to do it, but he would have to send for the children and again set up housekeeping.
“O Elizabeth,” he thought, “why did you have to be taken from me when I need you so much? If you were here, I would not have all this to bear. You made my life easy and happy.”
It was with satisfaction that Mother Hill listened to her son explain that he had already sent for the children and must look for a house for them.
After a hasty toilet and a little to eat the children took the letter over to Uncle John’s. Mr. Moore read it through, then sat still for a while without comment. At last he spoke, “What does Henry mean by laying such heavy responsibility upon the boy? No instructions, no plans! One would think he believed Austin to be of age.”
“I suppose the only thing, Austin, for you to do is to make ready to go to him as your father tells us to do. I shall be glad to render you all the assistance possible. But I hate to see you go. If you remained here I could look after you and see that you get along all right. But it is not for me to say how your father shall manage his affairs.” If John Moore expressed a little bitterness in addressing the boy, he kept back most of what he felt. He knew the habit of drink that bound his brother-in-law, and how it was weakening his manhood, and he doubted either the interest or the capability of the man to care for the children. He was certain a great deal of responsibility would rest upon Austin, and he feared the father would not always be just with him. But he wisely kept all these doubtful thoughts to himself and helped the boy prepare for the journey.
The children were up early the next morning for their last day of work in the gardens of Mr. Long. That gentleman was much concerned when Austin told him of the letter and their plans.