University of Virginia Library

4. IV.
THE RETURNED SOLDIER.

Daylight the next morning dissipated their doubts, and
made both feel that they had been the victims of unnecessary
and foolish alarms.

“I hope ye won't git so worked up another night,” said
Mr. Ducklow. “It 's no use. We might live in the house
a hundred years, and never hear of a robber or a fire. Ye
only excite yerself, and keep me awake.”

“I should like to know if you did n't git excited, and rob
me of my sleep jest as much as I did you!” retorted the
indignant housewife.

“You began it; you fust put it into my head. But
never mind; it can't be helped now. Le' 's have breakfast
as soon as ye can; then I 'll run over and see Reuben.”

“Why not harness up, and let me ride over with ye?”

“Very well; mabby that 'll be the best way. Come,
Taddy, ye must wake up. Fly round. You 'll have lots o'
chores to do this mornin'.”

“What 's the matter 'th my breeches?” snarled Taddy.
“Some plaguy thing 's stuck to 'em!”

It was Mrs. Ducklow's apron, trailing behind him at
half-mast, — at sight of which, and of Taddy turning round
and round to look at it, like a kitten in pursuit of her own
tail, Ducklow burst into a loud laugh.

“Wal, wal, mother! you 've done it! You 're dressed
for meetin' now, Taddy!”

“I do declare!” said Mrs. Ducklow, mortified. “I
can't, for the life of me, see what there is so very funny
about it!” And she hastened to cut short Taddy's trail
and her husband's laughter with a pair of scissors.

After breakfast the Ducklows set off in the one-horse
wagon, leaving Taddy to take care of the house during their
absence. That each felt secretly uneasy about the coupon
bonds cannot be denied; but, after the experiences of the
night and the recriminations of the morning, they were unwilling
to acknowledge their fears even to themselves, and
much less to each other; so the precious papers were left
hidden under the carpet.

“Safe enough, in all conscience!” said Mr. Ducklow.

“Taddy! Taddy! now mind!” Mrs. Ducklow repeated
for the twentieth time. “Don't you leave the house, and
don't you touch the matches nor the fire, and don't go to
ransacking the rooms neither. You won't, will ye?”

“No 'm,” answered Taddy, also for the twentieth time, —
secretly resolved, all the while, to take advantage of their
absence, and discover, if possible, what Mr. Ducklow brought
home last night in his boot-leg.

The Ducklows had intended to show their zeal and affection
by making Reuben an early visit. They were somewhat
chagrined, therefore, to find several neighbors already
arrived to pay their respects to the returned soldier. The
fact that Miss Beswick was among the number did not
serve greatly to heighten their spirits.

“I 've as good a notion to turn round and go straight
home again as ever I had to eat!” muttered Mrs. Ducklow.

“It 's too late now,” said her husband, advancing with
a show of confidence and cordiality he did not feel. “Wal,
Reuben! glad to see ye! glad to see ye! This is a joyful
day I scurce ever expected to see! Why, ye don't look so
sick as I thought ye would! Does he, mother?”

“Dear me!” said Mrs. Ducklow, her woman's nature,
and perhaps her old motherly feelings for their adopted
son, deeply moved by the sight of his changed and wasted

aspect. “I 'd no idee he could be so very, so very pale
and thin! Had you, Sophrony?”

“I don't know what I thought,” said the young wife,
standing by, watching her returned volunteer with features
surcharged with emotion, — deep suffering and sympathy,
suffused and lighted up by love and joy. “I only know I
have him now! He has come home! He shall never
leave me again, — never!”

“But was n't it terrible to see him brought home so?”
whispered Mrs. Ducklow.

“Yes, it was! But, oh, I was so thankful! I felt the
worst was over; and I had him again! I can nurse him
now. He is no longer hundreds of miles away, among
strangers, where I cannot go to him, — though I should
have gone long ago, as you know, if I could have raised the
means, and if it had n't been for the children.”

“I — I — Mr. Ducklow would have tried to help you to
the means, and I would have taken the children, if we had
thought it best for you to go,” said Mrs. Ducklow. “But
you see now it was n't best, don't you?”

“Whether it was or not, I don't complain. I am too
happy to-day to complain of anything. To see him home
again! But I have dreamt so often that he came home,
and woke up to find it was only a dream, I 'm half afraid
now to be as happy as I might be.”

“Be as happy as you please, Sophrony!” spoke up
Reuben, who had seemed to be listening to Mr. Ducklow's
apologies for not coming over the night before, while he
was in reality straining his ear to catch every word his
wife was saying. He was dressed in his uniform and lying
on a lounge, supported by pillows. “I 'm just where I
want to be, of all places in this world, — or the next world
either, I may say; for I can't conceive of any greater
heaven than I 'm in now. I 'm going to get well, too, spite

of the doctors. Coming home is the best medicine for a
fellow in my condition. Not bad to take, either! Stand
here, Ruby, my boy, and let yer daddy look at ye again!
To think that 's my Ruby, Pa Ducklow! Why, he was a
mere baby when I went away!”

“Reuben! Reuben!” entreated the young wife, leaning
over him, “you are talking too much. You promised me
you would n't, you know.”

“Well, well, I won't. But when a fellow's heart is chockfull,
it 's hard to shut down on it sometimes. Don't look
so, friends, as if ye pitied me! I a'n't to be pitied. I 'll bet
there is n't one of ye half as happy as I am at this minute!”

“Here 's Miss Beswick, Mother Ducklow,” said Sophronia.
“Have n't you noticed her?”

“Oh! how do you do, Miss Beswick?” said Mrs. Ducklow,
appearing surprised.

“Tryin' to keep out o' the way, and make myself useful,”
replied Miss Beswick, stiffly.

“I don't know what I should do without her,” said
Sophronia, as the tall spinster disappeared. “She took
right hold and helped me last night; then she came in
again the first thing this morning. `Go to your husband,'
says she to me; `don't leave him a minute. I know he
don't want ye out of his sight, — and you don't want to
be out of his sight, either; so you 'tend right to him, and
I 'll do the work. There 'll be enough folks comin' in to
hender, but I 've come in to help,' says she. And here
she 's been ever since, hard at work; for when Miss Beswick
says a thing, there 's no use opposing her, — that you
know, Mother Ducklow.”

“Yes, she likes to have her own way,” said Mrs. Ducklow,
with a peculiar pucker.

“It seems she called at the door last night to tell you
Reuben had come.”

“Called at the door! Did n't she tell you she came in
and made us a visit?”

“No, indeed! Did she?”

Mrs. Ducklow concluded, that, if nothing had been said
on that subject, she might as well remain silent; so she
merely remarked, —

“O yes, a visit, — for her. She a'n't no great hand to
make long stops, ye know.”

“Only when she 's needed,” said Sophronia; “then she
never thinks of going as long as she sees anything to do.
Reuben! you must n't talk, Reuben!”

“I was saying,” remarked Neighbor Jepworth, “it 'll be
too bad now, if you have to give up this place; but he —”

Sophronia, unseen by her husband, made anxious signs to
the speaker to avoid so distressing a topic in the invalid's
presence.

“We are not going to worry about that,” she hastened
to say. “After we have been favored by Providence so far
and in such extraordinary ways, we think we can afford to
trust still further. We have all we can think of and attend
to to-day; and the future will take care of itself.”

“That 's right; that 's the way to talk!” said Mr. Ducklow.
“Providence 'll take care of ye, you may be sure!”

“I should think you might get Ditson to renew the
mortgage,” observed Neighbor Ferring. “He can't be
hard on you, under such circumstances. And he can't be
so foolish as to want the money. There 's no security like
real estate. If I had money to invest, I would n't put it
into anything else.”

“Nor I,” said Mr. Ducklow; “nothin' like real estate!”
— with an expression of profound conviction.

“What do you think of Gov'ment bonds?” asked Neighbor
Jepworth.

“I don't know.” Mr. Ducklow scratched his cheek and

wrinkled his brow with an expression of thoughtfulness and
candor. “I have n't given much attention to the subject.
It may be a patriotic duty to lend to Gov'ment, if one has
the funds to spare.”

“Yes,” said Jepworth, warming. “When we consider
that every dollar we lend to Government goes to carry on
the war, and put down this cursed Rebellion —”

“And to pay off the soldiers,” put in Reuben, raising
himself on his elbow. “Nobody knows the sufferings of
soldiers and soldiers' families on account of the Government's
inability to pay them off. If that subject was felt
and understood as some I know feel and understand it,
I 'm sure every right-minded man with fifty dollars to spare
would make haste to lend it to Uncle Sam. I tell ye, I
got a little excited on this subject, coming on in the cars.
I heard a gentleman complaining of the Government for
not paying off its creditors; he did n't say so much about
the soldiers, but he thought contractors ought to have
their claims settled at once. At the same time he said he
had had twenty thousand dollars lying idle for two months,
not knowing what to do with it, but had finally concluded
to invest it in railroad stock. `Have ye any Government
stock?' said his friend. `Not a dollar's worth,' said he;
`I 'm afraid of it.' Sick as I was, I could n't lie and hear
that. `And do you know the reason,' said I, `why Government
cannot pay off its creditors? I 'll tell ye,' said I.
`It is because it has n't the money. And it has n't the
money, because such men as you, who have your thousands
lying idle, refuse to lend to your country, because
you are afraid. That 's the extent of your patriotism: you
are afraid! What do you think of us who have gone into
the war, and been willing to risk everything, — not only
our business and our property, but life and limb? I 've
ruined myself personally,' said I, `lost my property and

my health, to be of service to my country. I don't regret
it, — though I should never recover, I shall not regret it.
I 'm a tolerably patient, philosophical sort of fellow; but I
have n't patience nor philosophy enough to hear such men
as you abuse the Government for not doing what it 's your
duty to assist it in doing.'”

“Good for you, Reuben!” exclaimed Mr. Ducklow, who
really felt obliged to the young soldier for placing the previous
day's investment in such a strong patriotic light.
(“I 've only done my duty to Gov'ment, let Miss Beswick
say what she will,” thought he.) “You wound him up, I
guess. Fact, you state the case so well, Reuben, I believe,
if I had any funds to spare, I should n't hesitate a minute,
but go right off and invest in Gov'ment bonds.”

“That might be well enough, if you did it from a sense
of duty,” said Neighbor Ferring, who was something of a
croaker, and not much of a patriot. “But as an investment,
't would be the wust ye could make.”

“Ye think so?” said Mr. Ducklow, with quick alarm.

“Certainly,” said Ferring. “Gov'ment 'll repudiate.
It 'll have to repudiate. This enormous debt never can be
paid. Your interest in gold is a temptation, jest now; but
that won't be paid much longer, and then yer bonds won't
be wuth any more 'n so much brown paper.”

“I — I don't think so,” said Mr. Ducklow, who nevertheless
turned pale, — Ferring gave his opinion in such a
positive, oracular way. “I don't believe I should be
frightened, even if I had Gov'ment securities in my hands.
I wish I had; I really wish I had a good lot o' them
bonds! Don't you, Jepworth?”

“They 're mighty resky things to have in the house,
that 's one objection to 'em,” replied Jepworth, thus adding
breath to Ducklow's already kindled alarm.

“That 's so!” said Ferring, emphatically. “I read in

the papers almost every day about somebody's having his
cowpon bonds stole.”

“I should be more afraid of fires,” observed Jepworth.

“But there 's this to be considered in favor of fires,”
said Reuben: “if the bonds burn up, they won't have to be
paid. So what is your loss is the country's gain.”

“But is n't there any — is n't there any remedy?”
inquired Ducklow, scarcely able to sit in his chair.

“There 's no risk at all, if a man subscribes for registered
bonds,” said Reuben. “They 're like railroad stock. But
if you have the coupons, you must look out for them.”

“Why did n't I buy registered bonds?” said Ducklow to
himself. His chair was becoming like a keg of gunpowder
with a lighted fuse inserted. The familiar style of
expression — “Your bonds,” “your loss,” “you must look
out” — used by Ferring and Reuben, was not calculated to
relieve his embarrassment. He fancied that he was suspected
of owning Government securities, and that these
careless phrases were based upon that surmise. He could
keep his seat no longer.

“Wal, Reuben! I must be drivin' home, I s'pose. Left
everything at loose ends. I was in such a hurry to see ye,
and find out if there 's anything I can do for ye.”

“As for that,” said Reuben, “I 've got a trunk over in
town which could n't be brought last night. If you will
have that sent for, I 'll be obliged to ye.”

“Sartin! sartin!” And Mr. Ducklow drove away,
greatly to the relief of Mrs. Ducklow, who, listening to the
alarming conversation, and remembering the bonds under
the carpet, and the matches in the pantry, and Taddy's
propensity to mischief, felt herself (as she afterwards confessed)
“jest ready to fly.”