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“So it is. Wonder if Spitfire was right about these beastly spots?” And Dolly sat down to try dry cleansing with one of his handkerchiefs. “Asleep?” he asked, after a few moments of this cheerful occupation, fearing that his chum might be too comfortable when he was in a fume himself.
“No. I was thinking that Jo wasn’t far wrong about shirking. ’Tis a shame to get so little done, when we ought to be grinding like Morton and Torry and that lot. I never wanted to go to college; but my governor made me. Much good it will do either of us!” answered Stuffy, with a groan; for he hated work, and saw two more long years of it before him.
“Gives a man prestige, you know. No need to dig. I mean to have a gay old time, and be a ‘howling swell’, if I choose. Between you and me though, it would be no end jolly to have the girls along. Study be hanged! But if we’ve got to turn the grindstone, it would be mighty nice to have some of the little dears to lend a hand. Wouldn’t it now?”
“I’d like three this minute—one to fan me, one to kiss me, and one to give me some iced lemonade!” sighed Stuffy, with a yearning glance towards the house, whence no succour appeared.
“How would root-beer do?” asked a voice behind them, which made Dolly spring to his feet and Stuffy roll over like a startled porpoise.
Sitting on the stile that crossed the wall nearby was Mrs Jo, with two jugs slung over her shoulder by a strap, several tin mugs in her hand, and an old-fashioned sun-bonnet on her head.
“I knew the boys would be killing themselves with ice-water; so I strolled down with some of my good, wholesome beer. They drank like fishes. But Silas was with me; so my cruse still holds but. Have some?”
“Yes, thanks, very much. Let us pour it.” And Dolly held the cup while Stuffy joyfully filled it; both very grateful, but rather afraid she had heard what went before the wish she fulfilled.
She proved that she had by saying, as they stood drinking her health, while she sat between them, looking like a middle-aged vivandière, with her jugs and mugs:
“I was glad to hear you say you would like to have girls at your college; but I hope you will learn to speak more respectfully of them before they come; for that will be the first lesson they will teach you.”
“Really, ma’am, I was only joking,” began Stuffy, gulping down his beer in a hurry.
“So was I. I’m sure I—I’m devoted to ’em,” stuttered Dolly, panic-stricken; for he saw that he was in for a lecture of some sort.
“Not in the right way. Frivolous girls may like to be called ‘little dears’ and things of that sort; but the girls who love study wish to be treated like reasonable beings, not dolls to flirt with. Yes, I’m going to preach; that’s my business; so stand up and take it like men.”
Mrs Jo laughed; but she was in earnest; for by various hints and signs during the past winter she knew that the boys were beginning to “see life” in the way she especially disapproved. Both were far from home, had money enough to waste, and were as inexperienced, curious, and credulous as most lads of their age. Not fond of books, therefore without the safeguard which keeps many studious fellows out of harm; one self-indulgent, indolent, and so used to luxury that pampering of the senses was an easy thing; the other vain, as all comely boys are, full of conceit, and so eager to find favour in the eyes of his comrades that he was ready for anything which would secure it. These traits and foibles made both peculiarly liable to the temptations which assail pleasure-loving and weak-willed boys. Mrs Jo knew them well, and had dropped many a warning word since they went to college; but till lately they seemed not to understand some of her friendly hints; now she was sure they would, and meant to speak out: for long experience with boys made her both bold and skilful in handling some of the dangers usually left to silence, till it is too late for anything but pity and reproach.
“I’m going to talk to you like a mother, because yours are far away; and there are things that mothers can manage best, if they do their duty,” she solemnly began from the depths of the sun-bonnet.
“Great Scott! We’re in for it now!” thought Dolly, in secret dismay; while Stuffy got the first blow by trying to sustain himself with another mug of beer.
“That won’t hurt you; but I must warn you about drinking other things, George. Overeating is an old story; and a few more fits of illness will teach you to be wise. But drinking is a more serious thing, and leads to worse harm than any that can afflict your body alone. I hear you talk about wines as if you knew them and cared more for them than a boy should; and several times I’ve heard jokes that meant mischief. For heaven’s sake, don’t begin to play with this dangerous taste ‘for fun’, as you say, or because it’s the fashion, and the other fellows do. Stop at once, and learn that temperance in all things is the only safe rule.”
“Upon my honour, I only take wine and iron. I need a tonic, mother says, to repair the waste of brain-tissue while I’m studying,” protested Stuffy, putting down the mug as if it burnt his fingers.
“Good beef and oatmeal will repair your tissues much better than any tonic of that sort. Work and plain fare are what you want; and I wish I had you here for a few months out of harm’s way. I’d Banting you, and fit you to run without puffing, and get on without four or five meals a day. What an absurd hand that is for a man! You ought to be ashamed of it!” And Mrs Jo caught up the plump fist, with deep dimples at each knuckle, which was fumbling distressfully at the buckle of the belt girt about a waist far too large for a youth of his age.
“I can’t help it—we all grow fat; it’s in the family,” said Stuffy in self-defence.
“All the more reason you should live carefully. Do you want to die early, or be an invalid all your life?”
“No, ma’am!”
Stuffy looked so scared that Mrs Jo could not be hard upon his budding sins, for they lay at his over-indulgent mother’s door line in a great measure; so she softened the tone of her voice, and added, with a little slap on the fat hand, as she used to do when it was small enough to pilfer lumps of sugar from her bowl:
“Then be careful; for a man writes his character in his face; and you don’t want gluttony and intemperance in yours, I know.”
“I’m sure I don’t! Please make out a wholesome bill of fare, and I’ll stick to it, if I can. I am getting stout, and I don’t like it; and my liver’s torpid, and I have palpitations and headache. Overwork, mother says; but it may be overeating.” And Stuffy gave a sigh of mingled regret for the good things he renounced, and relief as he finished loosening his belt as soon as his hand was free.
“I will; follow it, and in a year you’ll be a man and not a meal-bag. Now, Dolly” and Mrs Jo turned to the other culprit, who shook in his shoes and wished he hadn’t come.
“Are you studying French as industriously as you were last winter?”
“No, ma’am; I don’t care for it—that is, I—I’m busy with G-Greek just now,” answered Dolly, beginning bravely, quite in the dark as to what that odd question meant till a sudden memory made him stutter and look at his shoes with deep interest.
“Oh, he doesn’t study it; only reads French novels and goes to the theatre when the opera bouffe is here,” said Stuffy,
innocently confirming Mrs Jo’s suspicions.
“So I understood; and that is what I want to speak about. Ted had a sudden desire to learn French in that way, from something you said, Dolly; so I went myself, and was quite satisfied that it was no place for a decent boy. Your men were out in full force; and I was glad to see that some of the younger ones looked as ashamed as I felt. The older fellows enjoyed it, and when we came out were waiting to take those painted girls to supper. Did you ever go with them?”
“Once.”
“Did you like it?”
“No’m; I—I came away early,” stammered Dolly, with a face as red as his splendid tie.
“I’m glad you have not lost the grace of blushing yet; but you will soon, if you keep up this sort of study and forget to be ashamed. The society of such women will unfit you for that of good ones, and lead you into trouble and sin and shame. Oh, why don’t the city fathers stop that evil thing, when they know the harm it does? It made my heart ache to see those boys, who ought to be at home and in their beds, going off for a night of riot which would help to ruin some of them for ever.”
The youths looked scared at Mrs Jo’s energetic protest against one of the fashionable pleasures of the day, and waited in conscience-stricken silence—Stuffy glad that he never went to those gay suppers, and Dolly deeply grateful that he “came away early”. With a hand on either shoulder, and all the terrors smoothed from her brow, Mrs Jo went on in her most motherly tone, anxious to do for them what no other woman would, and do it kindly:
“My dear boys, if I didn’t love you, I would not say these things. I know they are not pleasant; but my conscience won’t let me hold my peace when a word may keep you from two of the great sins that curse the world and send so many young men to destruction. You are just beginning to feel the allurement of them, and soon it will be hard to turn away. Stop now, I beg of you, and not only save yourselves but help others by a brave example. Come to me if things worry you; don’t be afraid or ashamed; I have heard many sadder confessions than any you are ever likely to bring me, and been able to comfort many poor fellows, gone wrong for want of a word in time. Do this, and you will be able to kiss your mothers with clean lips, and by and by have the right to ask innocent girls to love you.”
