Saxe Holms Stories | Page 2

caught Jane by the waist, put both his arms round
her, and said,--
"Why, mother, what's come over you! You know poor little Eph's dyin'
of that white swellin'. You wouldn't have me refuse his mother
anything we've got, would you?"
Jane Miller walked back to the house with tears in her eyes, but her
homely sallow face was transfigured by love as she went about her
work, thinking to herself,--
"There never was such a man's Reuben, anyhow. I guess he'll get
interest one o' these days for all he's lent the Lord, first and last,
without anybody's knowin' it."
But the Lord has His own system of reckoning compound interest, and
His ways of paying are not our ways. He gave no visible sign of
recognition of indebtedness to Reuben. Things went harder and harder
with the Millers, until they had come to such a pass that when Reuben
Miller went after the doctor, in the early dawn of the day on which little
Draxy was born, he clasped his hands in sorrow and humiliation before
he knocked at the doctor's door; and his only words were hard words
for a man of sensitiveness and pride to speak:--
"Doctor Cobb, will you come over to my wife? I don't dare to be sure I
can ever pay you; but if there's anything in the store "--
"Pshaw, pshaw, Reuben, don't speak of that; you'll be all right in a few
years," said the kind old doctor, who had known Reuben from his
boyhood, and understood him far better than any one else did.
And so little Draxy was born.
"It's a mercy it's a girl at last," said the village gossips. "Mis' Miller's
had a hard time with them four great boys, and Mr. Miller so
behindhand allers."
"And who but Reuben Miller'd ever think of givin' a Christian child

such a name!" they added.
But what the name was nobody rightly made out; nor even whether it
had been actually given to the baby, or had only been talked of; and
between curiosity and antagonism, the villagers were so drawn to
Reuben Miller's store, that it began to look quite like a run of custom.
"If I hold out a spell on namin' her," said Reuben, as in the twilight of
the third day he sat by his wife's bedside; "if I hold out a spell on
namin' her, I shall get all the folks in the district into the store, and sell
out clean," and he laughed quizzically, and stroked the little mottled
face which lay on the pillow. "There's Squire Williams and Mis'
Conkey both been in this afternoon; and Mis' Conkey took ten pounds
of that old Hyson tea you thought I'd never sell; and Squire Williams,
he took the last of those new-fangled churns, and says he, 'I expect
you'll want to drive trade a little brisker, Reuben, now there's a little
girl to be provided for; and, by the way, what are you going to call her?'
"'Oh, it's quite too soon to settle, that,' said I, as if I hadn't a name in my
head yet. And then Mis' Conkey spoke up and said: 'Well, I did hear
you were going to name her after a heathen goddess that nobody over
heard of, and I do hope you will consider her feelings when she grows
up.'
"'I hope I always shall, Mis' Conkey,' said I; and she didn't know what
to say next. So she picked up her bundle of tea, and they stepped off
together quite dignified.
"But I think we'll call her Darachsa, in spite of 'em all, Jane," added
Reuben with a hesitating half laugh.
"Oh, Reuben!" Jane said again. It was the strongest remonstrance on
which she ever ventured. She did not like the name; but she adored
Reuben. So when the baby was three months old, she was carried into
the meeting-house in a faded blue cashmere cloak, and baptized in the
name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Ghost, "Darachsa
Lawton Miller."

Jane Miller's babies always thrived. The passive acquiescence of her
nature was a blessing to them. The currents of their blood were never
rendered unhealthful by overwrought nerves or disturbed temper in
their mother. Their infancy was as placid and quiet as if they had been
kittens. Not until they were old enough to understand words, and to
comprehend deprivations, did they suffer because of their poverty.
Then a serious look began to settle upon their faces; they learned to
watch their father and mother wistfully, and to wonder what was wrong;
their childhood was very short.
Before Draxy was ten years old she had become her father's inseparable
companion, confidant, and helper. He wondered, sometimes almost in
terror, what it meant,