Timothy Crumps Ward | Page 4

hadn't done it sooner," was the comforting suggestion of Rachel.
"Mustn't cry over spilt milk," said the cooper, good-humoredly. "Perhaps we might have lived a leetle more economically, but I don't think we've been extravagant."
"Besides, I can earn something, father," said Jack, hopefully. "You know I did this afternoon."
"So you can," said Mrs. Crump, brightly.
"There ain't horses to hold every day," said Rachel, apparently fearing that the family might become too cheerful, when, like herself, it was their duty to become profoundly gloomy.
"You're always trying' to discourage people," said Jack, discontentedly.
Rachel took instant umbrage at these words.
"I'm sure," said she; mournfully, "I don't want to make you unhappy. If you can find anything to be cheerful about when you're on the verge of starvation, I hope you'll enjoy yourselves, and not mind me. I'm a poor dependent creetur, and I feel to know I'm a burden."
"Now, Rachel, that's all foolishness," said Uncle Tim. "You don't feel anything of the kind."
"Perhaps others can tell how I feel, better than I can myself," answered his sister, knitting rapidly. "If it hadn't been for me, I know you'd have been able to lay up money, and have something to carry you through the winter. It's hard to be a burden upon your relations, and bring a brother's family to poverty."
"Don't talk of being a burden, Rachel," said Mrs. Crump. "You've been a great help to me in many ways. That pair of stockings now you're knitting for Jack--that's a help, for I couldn't have got time for them myself."
"I don't expect," said Aunt Rachel, in the same sunny manner, "that I shall be able to do it long. From the pains I have in my hands sometimes, I expect I'm going to lose the use of 'em soon, and be as useless as old Mrs. Sprague, who for the last ten years of her life had to sit with her hands folded in her lap. But I wouldn't stay to be a burden. I'd go to the poor-house first, but perhaps," with the look of a martyr, "they wouldn't want me there, because I should be discouragin' 'em too much."
Poor Jack, who had so unwittingly raised this storm, winced under the words, which he knew were directed at him.
"Then why," said he, half in extenuation, "why don't you try to look pleasant and cheerful? Why won't you be jolly, as Tom Piper's aunt is?"
"I dare say I ain't pleasant," said Aunt Rachel, "as my own nephew tells me so. There is some folks that can be cheerful when their house is a burnin' down before their eyes, and I've heard of one young man that laughed at his aunt's funeral," directing a severe glance at Jack; "but I'm not one of that kind. I think, with the Scriptures, that there's a time to weep."
"Doesn't it say there's a time to laugh, also?" asked Mrs. Crump.
"When I see anything to laugh about, I'm ready to laugh," said Aunt Rachel; "but human nature ain't to be forced. I can't see anything to laugh at now, and perhaps you won't by and by."
It was evidently of no use to attempt a confutation of this, and the subject dropped.
The tea-things were cleared away by Mrs. Crump, who afterwards sat down to her sewing. Aunt Rachel continued to knit in grim silence, while Jack seated himself on a three-legged stool near his aunt, and began to whittle out a boat after a model lent him by Tom Piper, a young gentleman whose aunt has already been referred to.
The cooper took out his spectacles, wiped them carefully with his handkerchief, and as carefully adjusted them to his nose. He then took down from the mantel-piece one of the few books belonging to his library,--"Captain Cook's Travels,"--and began to read, for the tenth time it might be, the record of the gallant sailor's circumnavigations.
The plain little room presented a picture of peaceful tranquillity, but it proved to be only the calm which precedes a storm.
The storm in question, I regret to say, was brought about by the luckless Jack. As has been said, he was engaged in constructing a boat, the particular operation he was now intent upon being the excavation or hollowing out. Now three-legged stools are not the most secure seats in the world. That, I think, no one can doubt who has any practical acquaintance with them. Jack was working quite vigorously, the block from which the boat was to be fashioned being held firmly between his knees. His knife having got wedged in the wood, he made an unusual effort to draw it out, in which he lost his balance, and disturbed the equilibrium of his stool, which, with his load, tumbled over backwards. Now it very unfortunately happened that Aunt Rachel sat close behind, and the