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The writing of the letter to Uncle John in which they had so urged that Austin come home had been a great joy to Amy. After she had sent the letter, she began a rather impatient wait for the reply. She believed Austin would come if he was really at Uncle John’s, but how could she be sure he was there? For several days her heart beat very fast when she saw the mail carrier coming, and drooped again when he had gone by without leaving the letter.
After Austin had left, they had moved, and were now living in a house near a thriving town not very far distant. I say they were living here, but in reality the family was broken up, for Henry Hill had fulfilled Austin’s greatest fear, and had allowed the children to become scattered till there were none of them at home. Some of them had places to work, while others were staying with friends for accommodation’s sake. But the children, while they were in the little wayside house, had enjoyed it much better than the lonely spot near the oil fields.
At this time Nell was with a farmer helping his wife in her work. She was given the care of the small children. Harry was working for another farmer, doing what he could to pay for his board.
Amy helped a lady in town part of the time. The little ones were cared for by strangers. Will had come back to his father, and the two men worked most of the time, but spent what they earned as rapidly as they earned it. It was hard now to get the drink they both loved, for their state had “gone dry.” Altogether it was a torn and scattered family Austin was to find on his return.
Amy had not made the best of a success as housekeeper. She hated work in the house, cooking and dishwashing especially. If her father had been more kind, she would have done better, but he was quick to criticize and slow to approve, and she had been glad to see the family scattered that she might be free from the drudgery. Though she was glad for the freedom from responsibility, yet she did not like being drifted about, and longed for Austin. She knew he would lift the load and make it easier for all of them.
One day a young fellow alighted from the passenger coach with a suitcase in each hand and a look of eagerness in his face. He set out at once to find the little wayside house, and came to it only to find it a bachelor’s camp, there being no children about. He inquired and learned where he could find Amy and the little ones.
“Austin! Amy, Amy, look! Isn’t that Austin coming?” Lila’s excited little voice rang with joy. Amy rushed to the door in time to see the little ones way down the street, where a tall man was receiving them with open arms. She knew him at a glance and ran to meet him as fast as they had run. It seemed that she could never take her arms from about his neck. Doyle and Lila were clinging to him, and he was trying to greet them all at once. None of them could get through pressing their rosy lips to his cheeks. If he had had any misgivings as to his welcome, they were quick to dispel them.
“Where are Nell and Harry?” asked Austin when he could get his breath.
“Nell is caring for Mrs. Blaine’s children, and Harry is riding Mr. Smith’s lead horse,” promptly explained Doyle.
“Papa found places for all of us, and we like it better than staying at home alone. It is so lonely without you, Austin. Now we can all come back home again,” and Amy’s eyes were filled with tears as she looked into her beloved brother’s face.
“Well, do not cry now, sister, for I am at home and to stay. I will not leave you anymore. Let us all get on out home and begin housekeeping again,” Austin said bruskly to cover his feelings. Tears were on his cheeks, and a choke in his throat as he looked at the little motherless children so joyful to see him. He looked up with a new feeling of responsibility to God, whom he believed was pleased to have him again take care of the children.
In the next two hours the children tried to tell him all that had happened in his absence, while he listened half abstractedly, trying to plan the course he should take. He could not set up housekeeping permanently without his father’s consent and support, but he felt certain that his father meant to do his part. Before the day was done, he had etablished himself in the little house by the side of the road, and had the three children with him.
“I hear that Austin is home, Nellie,” said Mr. Blaine an evening or two later, after he had returned from town.
“Mr. Blaine, is that true? I want to go home right away. I want to see him! I must see him! Are you sure he is home?” and the little face looked up into his tremulously.
“I see I have made a mistake. Mrs. Blaine will be after me for making her nurse girl dissatisfied,” laughed Mr. Blaine.
“I have to see him!” and the child began to cry.
“There, there, don’t cry, Nellie. I will be going over that way one of these days and will take you over,” soothed the man.
“I can’t wait a day or two. I want to see him now. I’ll walk home in the morning, I will. I have to see Austin.” Nellie had dried her tears instantly at the thought of being put off a few days. Her black eyes were snapping.
“Well, we shall see about it in the morning,” and the man passed into the kitchen to wash in preparation for supper.
Nellie’s fears were high that Mrs. Blaine might object to letting her go and demand that she remain longer, for she was really needed. But so determined and defiant was she that she would have gladly undertaken the walk across the prairies to her home rather than remain away from her brother.
But Mrs. Blaine understood how Nellie felt, and let her go, and Nell rode with Mr. Blaine, who passed by the Hill home on his way to town. His children’s little nurse fairly flew up the path into the house and, bouncing in, sprang into Austin’s arms. She sobbed out her joy on his shoulder. Dear little Nell! Austin loved the others, but already he had seen in Nell something of the same devotion to duty and to the younger children that had filled his own heart. Home would mean little to him without her.
Before the week was out Harry had heard and came home to be with Austin. He had them all together again. Home had a new meaning to all of them now. Austin wept with joy at their present happiness and with pity for their past neglect. This was his work, his place in life. He would stay at home now through rough and smooth sailing. They should not be left alone again as they had been. Many were the vows he made in those first few days after his homecoming.
His father had received him kindly, with no reference to his hasty departure nor the cause of it. He seemed satisfied that Austin should take the reins of home government again, and did not openly oppose him in any way—yet neither did he lend him assistance nor encouragement. Will came over to see his brother, but they had so little in common that he did not remain very long.
Austin found his days filled with active service. He had little time for reverie; but at night when all was quiet, he lay and mused and planned. He was now almost sixteen. He marveled at his undertaking the care of the children as he did when he was but thirteen. The responsibility looked greater to him now than then. He had thought only of their physical comfort then, now he began to consider their spiritual training also. Would he be able to lead them to Christ? What ought he to do first? He looked back over the months since his mother’s death and saw that God had led him all the way, and he reached out to his heavenly Father now for guidance and grace.
He remembered his promise to Brother Bennet, and even at their first meal had bidden the children to stop while he asked God’s blessing on the food. The children had looked at him curiously. It had been a little difficult to bow and thank God at the first meal after his father was with them. Henry Hill was not a reverent man, and while he had not openly opposed his son in this pious act, he had gone ahead as if no blessing were being asked. And always since he had ignored completely the fact that Austin said grace at meals. The children waited without prompting for him to finish his prayer. To establish the family altar had been even more difficult, yet he had found time to read and pray with the children. They lent themselves to his ways, for they were glad to have him with them again. But the new order of things in the house proved in time to be very vexing to Henry Hill. Every word and act of his godly son was a stab in his conscience, and as he had no thought of turning to God, he hated accordingly the one who caused his uneasiness. Wilbur laughed at Austin for his queer ways, as he called them, and scoffed and mocked, yet down in his heart respected him. He would not have had his brother different.