"When you put me there you'll shut up the only wise man in the county," he returned."If your sanity doesn't make you happy, Ican tell you it's worth a great deal less than my craziness.Look at that dandelion, now--it has filled two hours chock full of thought and colour for me when I might have been puling indoors and nagging at God Almighty about trifles.The time has been when I'd have walked right over that little flower and not seen it, and now it grows yellower each minute that I look at it, and each minute I see it better than I did the one before.There's nothing in life, when you come to think of it--not Columbus setting out to sea nor Napoleon starting on a march--more wonderful than that brave little blossom putting up the first of all through the earth.""I can't see anything in a dandelion but a nuisance," observed Christopher, sitting down on the bench and baring his head to the sunshine; "but you do manage to get interest out of life, that's certain.""Interest! Good Lord!" exclaimed Tucker."If a man can't find something to interest him in a world like this, he must be a dull fellow or else have a serious trouble of the liver.So long as Ihave my eyes, and there's a different sky over my head each day, and earth, and trees, and flowers all around me, I don't reckon I'll begin to whistle to boredom.If I were like Lucy, now, Isometimes think things would be up with me, and yet Lucy is one of the very happiest women I've ever known.Her brain is so filled with pleasant memories that it's never empty for an instant."Christopher's face softened, as it always did at an allusion to his mother's blindness.
"You're right," he said; "she is happy."
"To be sure, she's had her life," pursued Tucker, without noticing him."She's been a beauty, a belle, a sweetheart, a wife, and a mother--to say nothing of a very spoiled old woman;but all the same, I don't think I have her magnificent patience.
Oh, I couldn't sit in the midst of all this and not have eyes to see."With a careless smile Christopher glanced about him--at the bright blue sky seen through the bare trees, at the dried carrot flowers in the old field across the road, at the great pine growing on the little knoll.
"I hardly think she misses much," he said, and added after a moment, "Do you know I'd give twenty--no forty, fifty years of this for a single year of the big noisy world over there.I'm dog-tired of stagnation.""Well, it's natural," admitted Tucker gently."At your age Idoubtless felt the same.The young want action, and they ought to have it, because it makes the quiet of middle age seem all the sweeter.You've missed your duels and your flirtations and your pomades, and you've been put into breeches and into philosophy at the same time.Why, one might as well stick a brier pipe in the mouth of a boy who is crying for his first gun and tell him to go sit in the chimney-corner and be happy.When I was twenty-five Itravelled all the way to New York for the latest Parisian waistcoat, but I can't remember that I ever strolled round the corner to see a peach-tree in full bloom.I'm a lot happier now, heaven knows, in my homespun coat, than I was then in that waistcoat of satin brocade, so I sometimes catch myself wishing that I could see again the people I knew then--the men Iquarrelled with and the women I kissed.I'd like to apologise for the young fool of thirty years ago."Christopher stirred restlessly, and, clasping his hands behind his head, stared at a small white cloud drifting slowly above the great pine.
"Well, it's the fool part I envy you, all the same," he remarked.
"You're welcome to it, my boy," answered Tucker; then he paused abruptly and bent his ear."Ah, there's the bluebird! Do you hear him whistling in the meadow? God bless him; he's a hearty fellow and has spring in his throat.""I passed one coming up," said Christopher.
"The same, I reckon.He'll be paying me a visit soon, and I've got my crumbs ready." He smiled brightly and then sat with his chin on his crutch, looking steadily across the road."You haven't had your chance, my boy," he resumed presently; "and a man ought to have several chances to look round him in this world, for otherwise the things he misses will always seem to him the only things worth having.I'm not much of a fellow to preach, you'll say--a hundred and eighty pounds of flesh that can't dress itself nor hobble about without crutches that are strapped on--but if it's the last word I speak I wouldn't change a day in my long life, and if it came to going over it again I'd trust it all in the Lord's hands and start blindfolded.And yet, when I look back upon it now, I see that it wasn't much of a life as lives go, and the two things I wanted most in it I never got."Christopher turned quickly with a question.
"Oh, you think I have always been a contented, prosaic chap,"pursued Tucker, smiling, "but you were never more mistaken since you were born.Twice in my life I came mighty near blowing out my brains--once when I found that I couldn't go to Paris and be an artist, and the second time when I couldn't get the woman Iwanted for my wife.I wasn't cut out for a farmer, you see, and Ihad always meant from the time I was a little boy to go abroad and study painting.I'd set my heart on it, as people say, but when the time came my father died and I had to stay at home to square his debts and run the place.For a single night I was as clean crazy as a man ever was.It meant the sacrifice of my career, you know, and a career seemed a much bigger thing to me then than it does to-day.""I never heard that," said Christopher, lowering his voice.
