



Produced by Daniel Fromont.  HTML version by Al Haines.









[Transcriber's note: This is the third of a series of four novels by
Susan Warner, all of which are in the Project Gutenberg collection:

  1. What She Could
  2. Opportunities
  3. The House in Town
  4. Trading]





THE

HOUSE IN TOWN.



A Sequel to "Opportunities."



BY


THE AUTHOR OF

"THE WIDE WIDE WORLD."







"No man that warreth entangleth himself with the affairs of this life;
that he may please him who hath chosen him to be a soldier."--2 TIM.
ii. 4.







NEW YORK:

ROBERT CARTER AND BROTHERS,

530 BROADWAY.

1872.





Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1871, by

ROBERT CARTER AND BROTHERS,

In the Office of the Librarian of Congress at Washington.





CAMBRIDGE:

PRESS OF JOHN WILSON AND SON.







THE HOUSE IN TOWN.




CHAPTER I.


"Oh Norton! Oh Norton! do you know what has happened?"

Matilda had left the study and rushed out into the dining-room to tell
her news, if indeed it were news to Norton. She had heard his step.
Norton seemed in a preoccupied state of mind.

"Yes!" he said. "I know that confounded shoemaker has left something in
the heel of my boot which is killing me."

Matilda was not like some children. She could wait; and she waited,
while Norton pulled off his boot, made examinations into the interior,
and went stoutly to work with penknife and file. In the midst of it he
looked up, and asked,--

"What has happened to _you_, Pink?"

"Then don't you know yet, Norton?"

"Of course not. I would fine all shoemakers who leave their work in
such a slovenly state! If I didn't limp all the way from the bridge
here, it was because I wouldn't,--not because I wouldn't like to."

"Why not limp, if it saved your foot?" inquired Matilda.

"_You_ would, Pink, wouldn't you?"

"Why, yes; certainly I would."

"Well, you might," said Norton. "But did you ever read the story of the
Spartan boy and the fox?"

"No."

"He stole a fox," said Norton, working away at the inside of his boot,
which gave him some trouble.

"But you haven't stolen a fox."

"I should think not," said Norton. "The boy carried the fox home under
his cloak; and it was not a tame fox, Pink, by any means, and did not
like being.carried, I suppose; and it cut and bit and tore at the boy
all the while, under his cloak; so that by the time he got the fox
home, it had made an end of him."

"Why didn't he let the fox go?"

"Ah! why didn't he?" said Norton. "He was a boy, and he would have been
ashamed."

"And you would have been ashamed to limp in the street, Norton?"

"For a nail in my boot. What is a man good for, that can't stand
anything?"

"I should not have been ashamed at all."

"You're a girl," said Norton approvingly. "It is a different thing.
What is your news, Pink?"

"But Norton, I don't see why it is a different thing. Why should not a
woman be as brave as a man, and as strong,--in one way?"

"I suppose, because she is not as strong in the other way. She hasn't
got it to do, Pink, that's all. But a man, or a boy, that can't bear
anything without limping, is a muff; that's the whole of it."

"A muff's a nice thing," said Matilda laughing.

"Not if it's a boy," said Norton. "Go on with your news, Pink. What is
it?"

"I wonder if you know. Oh Norton, do you know what your mother and Mr.
Richmond have been talking about?"

"I wasn't there," said Norton. "If you were, you may tell me."

"I was not there. But Mr. Richmond has been talking to me about it.
Norton,"--and Matilda's voice sank,--"do you know, they have been
arranging, and your mother wishes it, that I should _stay_ with her?"

Matilda spoke the last words very softly, in the manner of one who
makes a communication of somewhat awful character; and in truth it had
a kind of awe for her. Evidently not for Norton. He had almost finished
his boot, and he kept on with his filing, as coolly as if what Matilda
said had no particular interest or novelty. She would have been
disappointed, but that she had caught one gleam from Norton's eye which
flashed like an electric spark. She just caught it, and then Norton
went on calmly,--

"I think that is a very sensible arrangement, Pink. I must say, it is
not the first time it has occurred to me."

"Then you knew it before?"

"I did not know they had settled it," said Norton, still coolly.

"But you knew it was talked about? O Norton! why didn't you tell me?"

Norton looked up, smiled, dropped his boot, and at once took his new
little sister in his arms and clasped her right heartily.

"What for should I tell you, Pink?" he said, kissing Matilda's eyes,
where the tears of that incipient disappointment had gathered.

"How could you _help_ telling me?"

"Ah, that is another thing," said Norton. "You couldn't have helped it,
could you?"

"But it is true now, Norton."

"Ay, it is true; and you belong to mamma and me now, Pink; and to
nobody else in the wide world. Isn't that jolly?"

"And to Mr. Richmond," Matilda added.

"Not a bit to Mr. Richmond; not a fraction," said Norton. "He may be
your guardian and your minister if you like; and I like him too; he's a
brick; but you belong to nobody in the whole world but mamma and me."

"Well, Norton," said Matilda, with a sigh of pleasure--"I'm glad."

"Glad!" said Norton. "Now come,--let us sit right down and see some of
the things we'll do."

"Yes. But no, Norton; I must get Mr. Richmond's supper. I shall not
have many times more to do that; Miss Redwood will be soon home, you
know."

"And we too, I hope. I declare, Pink, I believe you like getting
supper. Here goes! What is to do?"

"Nothing, for you, Norton."

"Kettle on?"

"On ages ago. You may see if it is boiling."

"How can an iron kettle boil? If you'll tell me that."

"Why, the water boils that is in it. The kettle is put for the water."

"And what right have you to put the kettle for the water? At that rate,
one might do all sorts of things--Now Pink, how can I tell if the water
boils? The steam is coming out of the nose."

"_That's_ no sign, Norton. Does it sing?"

"Sing!" said Norton. "I never learned kettle music. No, I don't think
it does. It bubbles; the water in it I mean."

Matilda came in laughing. "No," she said, "it has stopped singing; and
now it boils. The steam is coming out from under the cover. _That's_ a
sign. Now, Norton, if you like, you may make a nice plate of toast, and
I'll butter it. Mr. Richmond likes toast, and he is tired to-night, I
know."

"I can't make a plate," said Norton; "but I'll try for the toast. Is it
good for people that are tired?"

"Anything comfortable is, Norton."

"I wouldn't be a minister!" said Norton softly, as he carefully turned
and toasted the bread,--"I would not be a minister, for as much as you
could give me."

"Why, Norton? I think I would--if I was a man."

"He has no comfort of his life," said Norton. "This sort of a minister
doesn't have. He is always going, going; and running to see people that
want him, and stupid people too; he has to talk to them, all the same
as if they were clever, and put up with them; and he's always working
at his sermons and getting broken off. What comfort of his life does
Mr. Richmond have now? except when you and I make toast for him?"

"O Norton, I think he has a great deal."

"I don't see it."

Matilda stood wondering, and then smiled; the comfort of _her_ life was
so much just then. The slices of toast were getting brown and buttered,
and made a savory smell all through the kitchen; and now Matilda made
the tea, and the flowery fragrance of that added another item to what
seemed the great stock of pleasure that afternoon. As Miss Redwood had
once said, the minister knew a cup of good tea when he saw it; and it
was one of the few luxuries he ever took pains to secure; and the
sweetness of it now in the little parsonage kitchen was something very
delicious. Then Matilda went and put her head in at the study door.

"Tea is ready, Mr. Richmond."

But the minister did not immediately obey the summons, and the two
children stood behind their respective chairs, waiting. Matilda's face
was towards the western windows.

"Are you very miserable, Pink?" said Norton, watching her.

"I am so happy, Norton!"

"I want to get home now," said Norton, drumming upon his chair. "I want
you there. You belong to mamma and me, and to nobody else in the whole
world, Pink; do you know that?"

Except Mr. Richmond--was again in Matilda's thoughts; but she did not
say it this time. It was nothing against Norton's claim.

"Where _is_ the minister?" Norton went on. "You called him."

"O he has got some stupid body with him, keeping him from tea."

"That is what I said," Norton repeated. "I wouldn't live such a
life--not for money."

Mr. Richmond came however at this moment, looking not at all miserable;
glanced at the two happy faces with a bright eye; then for an instant
they were still, while the sweet willing words of prayer went up from
lips and heart to bless the board.

"What is it that you would not do for money, Norton?" Mr. Richmond
asked as he received his cup of tea.

Norton hesitated and coloured. Matilda spoke for him.

"Mr. Richmond, may we ask you something?"

"Certainly!" said the minister, with a quick look at the two faces.

"If you wouldn't think it wrong for us to ask.--Is the--I mean, do you
think,--the life of a minister is a very hard one?"

"So that is the question, is it?" said Mr. Richmond smiling. "Is Norton
thinking of taking the situation?"

"Norton thinks it cannot be a comfortable life, Mr. Richmond; and I
thought he was mistaken."

"What do you suppose a minister's business is, Norton? that is the
first consideration. You must know what a man has to do, before you can
judge whether it is hard to do it."

"I thought I knew, sir."

"Yes, I suppose so; but it don't follow that you do."

"I know part," said Norton. "A minister has to preach sermons, and
marry people, and baptize children, and read prayers at funerals and--"

"Go on," said Mr. Richmond.

"I was going to say, it seems to me, he has to talk to everybody that
wants to talk to him."

"How do you get along with that difficulty?" said Mr. Richmond. "It
attacks other people besides ministers."

"I dodge them," said Norton. "But a minister cannot,--can he, sir?"

Mr. Richmond laughed.

"Well, Norton," he said, "you have given a somewhat sketchy outline of
a minister's life; but my question remains yet,--what is the business
of his life. You would not say that planing and sawing are the business
of a carpenter's life--would you?"

"No, sir."

"What then?"

"Building houses, and ships, and barns, and bridges."

"And a tailor's life is not cutting and snipping, but making clothes.
So my commission is not to make sermons. What is it?"

Norton looked at a loss, and expectant; Matilda enjoying.

"The same that was given to the apostle Paul, and no worse. I am sent
to people 'to open their eyes, and to turn them from darkness to light,
and from the power of Satan to God, that they may receive forgiveness
of sins, and inheritance among them which are sanctified.'"

"But I do not understand, Mr. Richmond," said Norton, after a little
pause.

"What?"

"If you will excuse me. I do not understand that. Can you open people's
eyes?"

"He who sends me does that, by means of the message which