Nan Sherwood at Pine Camp; Or, The Old Lumberman's Secret, Page 3

  Chapter III. "FISHING"

  Nan told of Bess Harley's desire to have her chum accompany her toLakeview Hall the following autumn, as a good joke.

  "I hope I'll be in some good situation by that time," she said to hermother, confidentially, "helping, at least, to support myself instead ofbeing a burden upon father and you."

  "It's very unselfish of you to propose that, honey," replied her mother."But, perhaps, such a sacrifice as the curtailment of your educationwill not be required of you."

  "But, my DEAR!" gasped Nan. "I couldn't go to Lakeview Hall. It wouldcost, why! a pile!"

  "I don't know how much a pile is, translated into coin of the realm,honey," responded Mrs. Sherwood with her low, sweet laugh. "But the onlything we can give our dear daughter, your father and I, is an education.That you MUST have to enable you to support yourself properly when yourfather can do no more for you."

  "But I s'pose I've already had as much education as most girls inTillbury get. So many of them go into the mills and factories at my age.If they can get along, I suppose I can."

  "Hush!" begged her mother quickly. "Don't speak of such a thing. Icouldn't bear to have you obliged to undertake your own support in anysuch way.

  "Both your father and I, honey, had the benefit of more than theordinary common-school education. I went three years to the TennesseeTraining College; I was prepared to teach when your father and I metand married. He obtained an excellent training for his business in atechnical college. We hoped to give our children, if we were blessedwith them, an even better start in life than we had.

  "Had your little brother lived, honey," added Mrs. Sherwood tenderly,"we should have tried to put him through college, and you, as well. Itwould have been something worthwhile for your father to work for. But Iam afraid all these years that his money has been wasted in attempts tobenefit my health."

  "Oh, Momsey! Don't say it, that way," urged Nan. "What would we everdo without you? But I sometimes think how nice it would be had I been aboy, my own brother, for instance. A boy can be so much more help than agirl."

  "For shame!" cried her mother, laughing. "Do you dare admit a boy issmarter than a girl, Nan?"

  "Not smarter. Only better able to do any kind of work, I guess. Theywouldn't let me work in the file shop, or drive a grocery wagon."

  "Goodness! Listen to the child!" gasped Mrs. Sherwood. "I should hopenot! Why, honey, is your mind running continually on such dreadfulthings? I am afraid your father and I allow you to hear us talk toofrequently about family matters. You must not assume the family'sburdens at your age."

  There was that trend to Nan Sherwood's character, however. With allher blithesomeness and high spirits she was inclined to be serious inthought.

  This conversation occurred several days after the evening when, on theirway home from school, Nan and her school chum, Bess Harley, had read theyellow poster at the gate of the Atwater Mills.

  The district surrounding the mills, in which most of the hands lived,had put on an aspect of mourning. Some of the workmen and their familieshad already packed up and gone. Most of the houses occupied by the handswere owned by the Atwater Company, and if the poor people remained tillJanuary 15th, the wages due them then would be eaten up by the rent ofthe tenements.

  So they were wise to leave when they could. Many who remained would be aburden upon the taxpayers of Tillbury before the winter was over.

  Nan and her folks were not in such a sad situation as the laborers, ofcourse. Mr. Sherwood had a small sum in bank. He had, too, a certainstanding in the community and a line of credit at the stores that hemight have used.

  Debt, however, save that upon their house, he had fought to keep out ofall his married life. That his equity in the Amity Street cottage was sosmall was not his fault; but he owed not any man.

  "Now we must go fishing," Mrs. Sherwood said, in her sprightly way, whenthe little family really discussed the unfortunate situation after theannouncement of the shut-down of the mills was made public.

  "Goodness, Momsey! What a reckless creature you are," laughed Mr.Sherwood. "Waste our precious time in such employment, and in the deadof winter, too?"

  "Now, Papa Sherwood, I don't mean that kind of fishing at all!" criedthe little woman gaily. "We are going to fish for employment for you,perhaps for a new home."

  "Oh!" gasped Nan. The thought of deserting the little cottage on AmityStreet was a dreadful shock.

  "We must face that possibility," said her mother firmly. "It may be.Tillbury will see very hard times now that the mills are closed. Othermills and shops will follow suit."

  "Quite true, Momsey," agreed the husband and father.

  "I am a very logical person, am I not?" said the smiling little lady.

  "But the fishing?" cried Nan curiously.

  "Ah, yes. I am coming to that," said her mother. "The fishing, to besure! Why, we are going to write letters to just everybody we know, andsome we only know by hearsay, and find out if there isn't a niche forPapa Sherwood somewhere outside Tillbury."

  "So we can!" cried Nan, clapping her hands.

  "I am afraid there is general depression in my line of businesseverywhere," suggested Mr. Sherwood. "For some years the manufacturershave been forcing cotton goods upon a false market. And the recentattempt to help the cotton growers by boosting the price of raw cottonwill come near to ruining the mills and mill workers. It is alwaysso. In an attempt to benefit one class of the people another class isinjured."

  "Now, never mind politics, sir!" cried his little wife. "We poor, weakwomen aren't supposed to understand such things. Only when Nan and I getthe vote, and all the other millions of women and girls, we will have noclass legislation. 'The greatest good for the greatest number' will beour motto."

  Mr. Sherwood only smiled. He might have pointed out that in that verystatement was the root of all class legislation. He knew his wife'sparticular ideas were good, however, her general political panacea wasrather doubtful. He listened thoughtfully as she went on:

  "Yes, we must fish for a new position for papa. We may have to go awayfrom here. Perhaps rent the house. You know, we have had good offers forit."

  "True," admitted Mr. Sherwood.

  "Oh, dear!" sighed Nan, but below her breath so that Momsey and PapaSherwood did not hear the sigh.

  "I am going to write to Cousin Adair MacKenzie, in Memphis. He is quiteprominent in business there," pursued Mrs. Sherwood. "We might find afooting in Memphis."

  Mr. Sherwood looked grave, but said nothing. He knew that the enervatingclimate of the Southern river city would never do for his wife. Changeof climate might benefit her greatly; the doctors had all said so oflate; but not that change.

  "Then," continued Nan's mother, "there is your brother, Henry, up inMichigan."

  "Oh! I remember Uncle Henry," cried Nan. "Such a big, big man!"

  "With a heart quite in keeping with the size of his body, honey," hermother quickly added. "And your Aunt Kate is a very nice woman. Youruncle has lumber interests. He might find something for your fatherthere."

  "I'll write to Hen, Jessie," Mr. Sherwood said decisively. "But a lumbercamp is no place for you. Let's see, his mail address is Hobart Forks,isn't it? Right in the heart of the woods. If you weren't eaten up byblack gnats, you would be by ennui," and he chuckled.

  "Goodness!" cried Mrs. Sherwood, making big eyes at him. "Are those anew kind of mosquito? Ennui, indeed! Am I a baby? Is Nan another?"

  "But think of Nan's education, my dear," suggested Mr. Sherwood.

  "I ought to work and help the family instead of going to school anylonger," Nan declared.

  "Not yet, Daughter, not yet," her father said quickly. "However, I willwrite to Hen. He may be able to suggest something."

  "It might be fun living in the woods," Nan said. "I'm not afraid ofgnats, or mosquitoes, or, or on-wees!"

  She chanced to overhear her father and Dr. Christian talking the nextday on the porch, and heard the wise old physician say:

  "I
'm not sure I could countenance that, Robert. What Jessie needs is aninvigorating, bracing atmosphere. A sea voyage would do her the greatestpossible good."

  "Perhaps a trip to Buffalo, down the lakes?"

  "No, no! That's merely an old woman's home-made plaster on the wound.Something more drastic. Salt air. A long, slow voyage, overseas. Itoften wracks the system, but it brings the patient to better and morestable health. Jessie may yet be a strong, well woman if we take theright course with her."

  Nevertheless, Mr. Sherwood wrote to his brother. He had to do so, itseemed. There was no other course open to him.

  And while he fished in that direction, Momsey threw out her line towardMemphis and Adair MacKenzie. Mr. Sherwood pulled in his line first,without much of a nibble, it must be confessed.

  "Dear Bob," the elder Sherwood wrote: "Things are flatter than astepped-on pancake with me. I've got a bunch of trouble with old GedRaffer and may have to go into court with him. Am not cutting a stickof timber. But you and Jessie and the little nipper,"("Consider!"interjected Nan, "calling me 'a little nipper'! What does he consider abig 'nipper'?") "come up to Pine Camp. Kate and I will be mighty glad tohave you here. Tom and Rafe are working for a luckier lumberman than I,and there's plenty of room here for all hands, and a hearty welcome foryou and yours as long as there's a shot in the locker."

  "That's just like Hen," Nan's father said. "He'd divide his last crustwith me. But I don't want to go where work is scarce. I must go where itis plentiful, where a man of even my age will be welcome."

  "Your age, Papa Sherwood! How you talk," drawled Nan's mother in herpretty way. "You are as young as the best of 'em yet."

  "Employers don't look at me through your pretty eyes, Momsey," hereturned, laughing.

  "Well," said his wife, still cheerfully, "my fishing seems to beresultless yet. Perhaps the bait's gone off the hook. Had I better haulin the line and bait again? I was always doing that when I went fishingwith Adair and his brothers, years ago, when I was a little girl."

  Her husband shook his head. "Have patience, Jessie," he said.

  He had few expectations from the Memphis letter; yet there was a mostsurprising result from it on the way, something which by no possibilitycould the little family in the Amity Street cottage have suspected.