Gustavus Weitbreck had lived so long on his Pennsylvania farm that he even thought in English instead of in German, and, strangely enough, in English much less broken and idiomatic than that which he spoke. But his phraseology was the only thing about him that had changed. In modes of feeling, habits of life, he was the same he had been forty years ago, when he farmed a little plot of land, half wheat, half vineyard, in the Mayence meadows in the fatherland,--slow, methodical, saving, stupid, upright, obstinate. All these traits "Old Weitbreck," as he was called all through the country, possessed to a degree much out of the ordinary; and it was a combination of two of them--the obstinacy and the savingness--which had brought him into his present predicament.
In June he had had a good laborer,--one of the best known, and eagerly sought by every farmer in the county; a man who had never yet been beaten in a mowing-match or a reaping. By his help the haying had been done in not much more than two thirds the usual time; but when John Weitbreck, like a sensible fellow, said, "Now, we would better keep Alf on till harvest; there is plenty of odds-and-ends work about the farm he can help at, and we won"t get his like again in a hurry," his father had cried out,--
"Mein Gott! It is that you tink I must be made out of money! I vill not keep dis man on so big wages to do vat you call odd-and-end vork. We do odd-and-end vork ourself."
There was no discussion of the point. John Weitbreck knew better than ever to waste his time and breath or temper in trying to change a purpose of his father"s or convince him of a mistake. But he bided his time; and he would not have been human if he had not now taken secret satisfaction, seeing his father"s anxiety daily increase as the August sun grew hotter and hotter, and the grain rattled in the husks waiting to be reaped, while they two, straining their arms to the utmost, and in long days" work, seemed to produce small impression on the great fields.
"The women shall come work in field to-morrow," thought the old man, as he continued his anxious reverie. "It is not that they sit idle all day in house, when the wheat grows to rattle like the peas in pod. They can help, the mutter and Carlen; that will be much help; they can do." And hearing John"s steps behind him, the old man turned and said,--
"Johan, dere comes yet no man to reap. To-morrow must go in the field Carlen and the mutter; it must. The wheat get fast too dry; it is more as two men can do."
John bit his lips. He was aghast. Never had he seen his mother and sister at work in the fields. John had been born in America; and he was American, not German, in his feeling about this. Without due consideration he answered,--
"I would rather work day and night, father, than see my mother and sister in the fields. I will do it, too, if only you will not make them go!"
The old man, irritated by the secret knowledge that he had n.o.body but himself to blame for the present dilemma, still more irritated, also, by this proof of what was always exceedingly displeasing to him,--his son"s having adopted American standards and opinions,--broke out furiously with a wrath wholly disproportionate to the occasion,--
"You be tam, Johan Weitbreck. You tink we are fine gentlemen and ladies, like dese Americans dat is too proud to vork vid hands. I say tam dis country, vere day say all is alike, an" vork all; and ven you come here, it is dat n.o.body vill vork, if he can help, and vimmins ish shame to be seen vork. It is not shame to be seen vork; I vork, mein vife vork too, an" my childrens vork too, py tam!"
John walked away,--his only resource when his father was in a pa.s.sion.
John occupied that hardest of all positions,--the position of a full-grown, mature man in a father"s home, where he is regarded as nothing more than a boy.
As he entered the kitchen and saw his pretty sister Carlen at the high spinning-wheel, walking back and forth drawing the fine yarn between her chubby fingers, all the while humming a low song to which the whirring of the wheel made harmonious accompaniment, he thought to himself bitterly: "Work, indeed! As if they did not work now longer than we do, and quite as hard! She"s been spinning ever since daylight, I believe."
"Is it hard work spinning, Liebchen?" he asked.
Carlen turned her round blue eyes on him with astonishment. There was something in his tone that smote vaguely on her consciousness. What could he mean, asking such a question as that?
"No," she said, "it is not hard exactly. But when you do it very long it does make the arms ache, holding them so long in the same position; and it tires one to stand all day!"
"Ay," said John, "that is the way it tires one to reap; my back is near broke with it to-day."
"Has no one come to help yet?" she said.
"No!" said John, angrily, "and that is what I told father when he let Alf go. It is good enough for him for being so stingy and short-sighted; but the brunt of it comes on me,--that"s the worst of it. I don"t see what"s got all the men. There have always been plenty round every year till now."
"Alf said he shouldn"t be here next year," said Carlen, each cheek showing a little signal of pink as she spoke; but it was a dim light the one candle gave, and John did not see the flush. "He was going to the west to farm; in Oregon, he said."
"Ay, that"s it!" replied John. "That"s where everybody can go but me!
I"ll be going too some day, Carlen. I can"t stand things here. If it weren"t for you I"d have been gone long ago."
"I wouldn"t leave mother and father for all the world, John," cried Carlen, warmly, "and I don"t think it would be right for you to! What would father do with the farm without you?"
"Well, why doesn"t he see that, then, and treat me as a man ought to be treated?" exclaimed John; "he thinks I"m no older than when he used to beat me with the strap."
"I think fathers and mothers are always that way," said the gentle, cheery Carlen, with a low laugh. "The mother tells me each time how to wind the warp, as she did when I was little; and she will always look into the churn for herself. I think it is the way we are made. We will do the same when we are old, John, and our children will be wondering at us!"
John laughed. This was always the way with Carlen. She could put a man in good humor in a few minutes, however cross he felt in the beginning.
"I won"t, then!" he exclaimed. "I know I won"t. If ever I have a son grown, I"ll treat him like a son grown, not like a baby."
"May I be there to see!" said Carlen, merrily,--
"And you remember free The words I said to thee.
"Hold the candle here for me, will you, that"s a good boy. While we have talked, my yarn has tangled."
As they stood close together, John holding the candle high over Carlen"s head, she bending over the tangled yarn, the kitchen door opened suddenly, and their father came in, bringing with him a stranger,--a young man seemingly about twenty-five years of age, tall, well made, handsome, but with a face so melancholy that both John and Carlen felt a shiver as they looked upon it.
"Here now comes de hand, at last of de time, Johan," cried the old man.
"It vill be that all can vel be done now. And it is goot that he is from mine own country. He cannot English speak, many vords; but dat is nothing; he can vork. I tolt you dere vould be mans come!"
John looked scrutinizingly at the newcomer. The man"s eyes fell.
"What is your name?" said John.
"Wilhelm Rutter," he answered.
"How long have you been in this country?"
"Ten days."
"Where are your friends?"
"I haf none."
"None?"
"None."
These replies were given in a tone as melancholy as the expression of the face.
Carlen stood still, her wheel arrested, the yarn between her thumb and ringer, her eyes fastened on the stranger"s face. A thrill of unspeakable pity stirred her. So young, so sad, thus alone in the world; who ever heard of such a fate?
"But there were people who came with you in the ship?" said John. "There is some one who knows who you are, I suppose."
"No, no von dat knows," replied the newcomer.
"Haf done vid too much questions," interrupted Farmer Weitbreck. "I haf him asked all. He stays till harvest be done. He can vork. It is to be easy see he can vork."
John did not like the appearance of things. "Too much mystery here," he thought. "However, it is not long he will be here, and he will be in the fields all the time; there cannot be much danger. But who ever heard of a man whom no human being knew?"
As they sat at supper, Farmer Weitbreck and his wife plied Wilhelm with questions about their old friends in Mayence. He was evidently familiar with all the localities and names which they mentioned. His replies, however, were given as far as possible in monosyllables, and he spoke no word voluntarily. Sitting with his head bent slightly forward, his eyes fixed on the floor, he had the expression of one lost in thoughts of the gloomiest kind.
"Make yourself to be more happy, mein lad," said the farmer, as he bade him good-night and clapped him on the shoulder. "You haf come to house vere is German be speaked, and is Germany in hearts; dat vill be to you as friends."
A strange look of even keener pain pa.s.sed over the young man"s face, and he left the room hastily, without a word of good-night.