Chapter IV: Part FOUR

It doesn’t seem possible,--I declare it doesn’t!” exclaimed Henri, “that anybody could ever have cared to be near that horrid old man,--least of all, our nice, sweet grandma.”

“But you must not forget that he was not _always horrid_. He was as fair and bright then, as you are, Max. And I tell you, my children, if you are ever led to follow in his steps, and form the appetite for strong drink which he did, you would not be one whit better in appearance or condition in a few years than old Joe is to-day. It may well make you shudder, my boy, but I tell you the truth, and I only hope you will keep the object lesson which you have learned to-day always before you.

“I did not dream, at this time, any more than poor Joe, what this would lead to.

“A few days after this,” continued grandma, “his aunt sent him to our house to do an errand for her, and told him he might stay half an hour. After a little, while we were quietly playing, I noticed that Joey began acting strangely. When he tried to talk, his tongue seemed thick, and his eyes were red and dull.

“‘What’s the matter, Joey?’ I asked, in real alarm, for I had never seen any one act so before.

“‘Nothin’ smatter. Little too much Aunt Magsh shider. Bezzer go home now,’ and poor Joe walked unsteadily down the lane to the road. But even then it did not occur to me that my little playmate was actually a trifle drunk. I only thought he was trying to plague me, or was possibly a little sick, so I didn’t mention it. But the very next week I was sent to Aunt Maggie’s to borrow a pattern. When I asked for Joey, she said she guessed he was around somewhere, she didn’t know where, she hadn’t seen him all the morning.

“Of course, I scampered off to find him, for I wanted to spend the precious hour that mother had allotted me in which to play with Joey, in repairing our latest playhouse.

“‘Joey! Joey!’ I called. ‘Come quick! For I can’t stay very long. Come and let’s mend the playhouse!’

“But there was no answer. I called again and again. It took me a long time to find him, but at last, just as I was getting a little frightened, I turned around a corner of the old barn, and there, leaning against the corncrib, with his round face quite white, was Master Joey, sucking away bravely on an old clay pipe which we had often used to blow soap bubbles with.

“The smell of the tobacco smoke was quite strong, so I knew at once what my poor young friend was attempting to do. I had heard my father say that smoking was a very bad habit, and the smell of the nasty stuff made me feel sick, myself, for I was not accustomed to it.

“When Joe saw that he was fairly caught, he tried to put on an air of great importance, and began stuffing more of the vile tobacco into his pipe; but I could see that his hand trembled so that he could hardly hold the pipe.

“‘Why, Joe Brandon!’ I exclaimed, now fairly aroused. ‘I’ll tell Aunt Maggie, there now,--I declare, I will!’ and I started toward the house.

“‘Come back, I tell you! I wouldn’t be a little telltale!’ shouted Joey, though his voice sounded weak and strange. ‘You just march back here, Miss Tattler, or I’ll never build you another playhouse as long as I live, or play with you another minute. Every single time a fellow wants to have a little fun, then you begin to threaten to tell Aunt Maggie! As much as I’ve done for you,--and as many playhouses as I’ve made for you! Never you mind, Miss Tattler, it’s the last--the very last!’

“My children, I am ashamed to say I hung my head and slowly sauntered back; but I felt guilty.

“Joe tried to laugh boisterously, as he saw me coming back, and though he was really a kind-hearted boy, he began to mock me, and threatened to tell my mother that I had stolen the tobacco from the grocery for him.

“‘But you know that isn’t true, Joe Brandon!’ I protested with trembling voice, for it was the first quarrel we had ever had.

“‘I’m no sissy boy, I’ll have you understand, Miss Jennie Brown! Lots of the best and richest men in town smoke. Even the new minister smokes cigars, for I saw him, and I’m going to smoke, too. It’s no worse for me than it is for them. So there! I guess you’ll hold your tongue now, Miss Jennie Brown!’”

“Why, grandma!” exclaimed Henri; “he was surely very impolite, for a boy who was trying so hard to be a man. He deserved a good flogging; if I’d been there, I never would have allowed him to speak like that to my grandma.”

“Surely Joe must have been a bad boy. Did he ever talk to you like that before?” asked Bertha, whose face had grown very red.

“O no, Bertha; but you see one cannot expect much from a glutton or an intemperate person. And poor Joe had been a glutton so long and had taxed his weak stomach so many years with rich food, and stimulating tea and coffee, pepper and spices, that all this began to be felt in his nervous system, and led to all sorts of evil; until, when he was only ten years old, he had such a craving for something strong and exciting that he began learning the tobacco habit. The Bible says truly that none can bring a clean thing out of an unclean. So, how could sweet and gentle words come from lips through which passed so much calculated to destroy and break down the body and ruin the nervous system?”

“Did Aunt Maggie find it out at last?” questioned Max.

“O yes; I will tell you about it; finally after Joe had smoked his pipe out, I said to him, ‘come, now; my hour is almost up, and I’ve been waiting for you all this time. I hope you are ready to come with me now and fix our new playhouse.’ Then I turned to look at Joe. I tell you, children, I _was_ frightened this time and no mistake. The poor lad’s eyes were turned up and rolling wildly in their sockets. His cheeks were as white as marble and his lips were purple and drawn; his hands were clenched, and he rolled down like a log by the side of the straw stack. Still he groaned, ‘don’t you tell Aunt Maggie--no, no!’

“‘I must! I must! I guess you are going to die, Joey, I must call her! I can’t let you die here, all alone!’ But all poor Joe could do was just to curl up in a heap, and snarl, ‘Tattle, tattle!’ between groans.

“I was just deciding to run home and leave him to his fate, for surely I thought him dying, when I looked up, and there stood Aunt Maggie. She took in the situation at a glance. She had begun to worry about Joe’s being gone so long, and had started out to find us.

“There, by the side of the sick and spueing lad, lay the old pipe, the cause of all the mischief. The good lady was terribly disgusted, besides being considerably frightened. For a moment she did not speak, though her lips trembled; I was the first to scream:--

“‘O Aunt Maggie! he’ll die, won’t he?’

“‘Die?--No; but may be it would be better in the end if he should, before he breaks all our hearts.’

“Aunt Maggie was large and strong, and I had always thought her too stouthearted to cry, but something very much like a sob broke from her trembling lips, as she said, not unkindly, kneeling by the side of the sick boy, and putting his damp head in her motherly arms:--

“‘Joe, lad, I’ve been _thinking_ all wasn’t right with you of late. I’ve been missing the hard cider in the cellar, and I’ve thought you acted strange. No wonder. Now, Joe, if this doesn’t kill you, you must stop it at once. Where did you get the stuff?’

“‘I’ll not tell you! I’ll die first!’ groaned Joe.

“That’s all I heard,” continued grandma, “for I turned on my heel, and ran just as fast as my little feet could fly, nor stopped until I reached home, a very frightened and a very breathless little girl.”

OLD JOE, THE DRUNKARD