This declaration so damped the feelings of the mother that she could not reply for some moments. At length she said—
“If you will take my boy with the understanding, that, in case I am not able to support him, or hear of a situation where a salary can be obtained, you will let him leave your employment without hard feelings, he shall go into your store at once.”
To this the man consented, and Hiram Mayberry went with him according to agreement. A few weeks passed, and the lad, liking both the business and his employer, his mother felt exceedingly anxious for him to remain. But she sadly feared that this could not be. Her little store was just about exhausted, and the most she had yet been able to earn by working for the shops, was a dollar and a half a week. This was not more than sufficient to buy the plainest food for her little flock. It would not pay rent, nor get clothing. To meet the former, recourse was had to the sale of her husband’s small, select library. Careful mending kept the younger children tolerably decent, and by altering for him the clothes left by his father, she was able to keep Hiram in a suitable condition, to appear at the store of his employer.
Thus matters went on for several months. Mrs. Mayberry, working late and early. The natural result was, a gradual failure of strength. In the morning, when she awoke, she would feel so languid and heavy, that to rise required a strong effort, and even after she was up, and attempted to resume her labors, her trembling frame almost refused to obey the dictates of her will. At length, nature gave way. One morning she was so sick that she could not rise. Her head throbbed with a dizzy, blinding pain—her whole body ached, and her skin burned with fever. Hiram got something for the children to eat, and then taking the youngest, a little girl about two years old, into the house of a neighbor, who had showed them some good-will, asked her if she would take care of his sister until he returned home at dinner time. This the neighbor readily consented to do—promising, also, to call in frequently and see his mother.
At dinner-time, Hiram found his mother quite ill. She was no better at night. For three days the fever raged violently. Then, under the careful treatment of their old family physician, it was subdued. After that she gradually recovered, but very slowly. The physician said she must not attempt again to work as she had done. This injunction was scarcely necessary. She had not the strength to do so.
“I don’t see what you will do, Mrs. Mayberry,” a neighbor who had often aided her by kind advice, said, in reply to the widow’s statement of her unhappy condition. “You cannot maintain these children, certainly. And I don’t see how, in your present feeble state, you are going to maintain yourself. There is but one thing that I can advise, and that advice I give with reluctance. It is to endeavor to get two of your children into some orphan asylum. The youngest you may be able to keep with you. The oldest can support himself at something or other.”
The pale cheek of Mrs. Mayberry grew paler at this proposition. She half-sobbed, caught her breath, and looked her adviser with a strange bewildered stare in the face.
“Oh, no! I cannot do that! I cannot be separated from my dear little children. Who will care for them like a mother?”
“It is hard, I know, Mrs. Mayberry. But necessity is a stern ruler. You cannot keep them with you—that is certain. You have not the strength to provide them with even the coarsest food. In an asylum, with a kind matron, they will be better off than under any other circumstances.”
But Mrs. Mayberry shook her head.
“No—no—no,” she replied—”I cannot think of such a thing. I cannot be separated from them. I shall soon be able to work again—better able than before.”
The neighbor who felt deeply for her, did not urge the matter. When Hiram returned at dinner-time, his face had in it a more animated expression than usual.
“Mother,” he said, as soon as he came in, “I heard to-day that a boy was wanted at the Gazette office, who could write a good hand. The wages are to be four dollars a week.”
“You did!” Mrs. Mayberry said, quickly, her weak frame trembling, although she struggled hard to be composed.
“Yes. And Mr. Easy is well acquainted with the publisher, and could get me the place, I am sure.”
“Then go and see him at once, Hiram. If you can secure it, all will be well; if not, your little brothers and sisters will have to be separated, perhaps sent into an orphan asylum.”
Mrs. Mayberry covered her face with her hands, and sobbed bitterly for some moments.
Hiram eat his frugal meal quickly, and returned to the store, where he had to remain until his employer went home and dined. On his return, he asked liberty to be absent for half an hour, which was granted. He then went direct to the counting-house of Mr. Easy, and disturbed him, as has been seen. Approaching with a timid step, and a flushed brow, he said in a confused and hurried manner—
“Mr. Easy, there is a lad wanted at the Gazette Office.”
“Well?” returned Mr. Easy, in no very cordial tone.
“Mother thought you would be kind enough to speak to Mr. G—for me.”
“Haven’t you a place in a store?”
“Yes, sir. But I don’t get any wages. And at the Gazette office they will pay four dollars a week.”
“But the knowledge of business to be gained where you are, will be worth a great deal more than four dollars a week.”
“I know that, sir. But mother is not able to board and clothe me. I must earn something.”
“Oh, aye, that’s it. Very well, I’ll see about it for you.”
“When shall I call, sir?” asked Hiram.
“When? Oh, almost any time. Say to-morrow or next day.”
The lad departed, and Mr. Easy’s head fell back upon the chair, the impression which had been made upon his mind passing away almost as quickly as writing upon water.
With anxious trembling hearts, did Mrs. Mayberry and her son wait for the afternoon of the succeeding day. On the success of Mr. Easy’s application rested all their hopes. Neither she nor Hiram eat over a few mouthfuls at dinner-time. The latter hurried away, and returned to the store, there to wait with trembling eagerness, until his employer should return from dinner, and he again be free to go and see Mr. Easy.
To Mrs. Mayberry, the afternoon passed slowly.
She had forgotten to tell her son to return home immediately, if the application should be successful. He did not come back, and she had, consequently to remain in a state of anxious suspense, until dark. He came in at the usual hour. His dejected countenance told of disappointment.
“Did you see Mr. Easy?” Mrs. Mayberry asked, in a low, troubled voice.
“Yes. But he hadn’t been to the Gazette office. He said he had been very busy. But that he would see about it soon.”
Nothing more was said. The mother and son, after sitting silent and pensive during the evening, retired early to bed. On the next day, urged on by his anxious desire to get the situation of which he had heard, Hiram again called at the counting-room of Mr. Easy, his heart trembling with hope and fear. There were two or three men present. Mr. Easy cast upon him rather an impatient look as he entered. His appearance had evidently annoyed the merchant. Had he consulted his feelings, he would have retired at once. But there was too much at stake. Gliding to a corner of the room, he stood, with his hat in his hand, and a look of anxiety upon his face, until Mr. Easy was disengaged. At length, the gentleman with whom he was occupied, went away, and Mr. Easy turned toward the boy. Hiram looked up earnestly in his face.
“I have really been so much occupied, my lad,” the merchant said, in a kind of apologetic tone, “as to have entirely forgotten my promise to you. But I will see about it. Come in again, to-morrow.”