'As Gold in the Furnace' Part 33

Henning was pleased to see that Andrew Garrett was quite demonstrative of good will. Andrew, for a long time tried to catch his cousin's eye.

When he did so, he dropped his knife and fork and imitated a handshaking. Roy did the same to his cousin, and was repaid by seeing a look of intense pleasure spread over Andrew's face.

Of course all these signs and signals and other unusual occurrences were breaches of discipline which, at any other time would not have gone unchecked and unpunished. But Mr. Shalford knew exactly "how it was." He had been a real boy himself once, and knew exactly when not to see too much. He believed in the scriptural motto, "Be not over just."

And after dinner! What a scene the yard presented for a few minutes!

The delighted boys shook Roy's hand until his arm fairly ached. His arm ached because he allowed it to be shaken by others, instead of himself shaking every hand extended. In this business he was unexperienced.

In the midst of the enthusiasm, which resembled that which follows an important and successful baseball game, only more intense, Harry Gill jumped upon a long bench by the wall and shouted:

"Listen, gentlemen. I have good news for you. Hi, there! listen.

Listen there, boys, listen, listen! Roy Henning has promised to pitch for the rest of the year! Did--you--hear that--boys?"

Roy suddenly remembered that he had intended to give Gill the credit for this. He jumped on the bench in a second. Raising his hand, the hero of the hour obtained silence in a much shorter time than Gill had done.

"If I pitch for the rest of the year," he said, "it is all Gill's fault. I simply could not resist his importunities. Oh, he's a sly one!"

"It isn't," said Gill laughing.

"It is."

"It is not."

"It is."

Then there was a cheer which could be heard down at Cuthberton.

After a time Roy, Jack, Ambrose, and Rob Jones extricated themselves from the throng of happy boys, and with Gill and Andrew Garrett repaired to the Philosophy cla.s.sroom, or Hilson's parlor, as it was called, which the other members of the cla.s.s considerately left at their disposal for the time being.

"Oh, what a day we're having!" sighed Jack Beecham as he sank into a chair.

"Glorious, isn't it?" said the jubilant Bracebridge.

"And now that we are alone," began Andrew Garrett, "that is, among special friends, I want to say something."

All were silent in an instant. Gill, who did not appear to have realized the previous strained relations between the two cousins began to say something funny, but he was checked by an unmistakably significant glance from Ambrose, who had become quite serious, for he rather expected a scene, if not an explosion. Shealey, who had come in, was too full of fun and nonsense to imagine that anybody just now could be serious, but when he saw the nervous look on Ambrose's face, and the evident nervousness of Garrett, he, too, realized that it was time to suspend bantering.

All the friends were standing in a group around Henning, laughing and chattering as only boys thoroughly happy can laugh and chatter, when Garrett began to speak. At the sound of his voice, they all, with Roy in the center, turned and faced Garrett as he stood two or three feet away.

"I want to say something," Garrett began again, "and I think it only fair, Roy, to say it before these others, as well as to you."

Henning bowed slightly, having only a faint idea of what was coming.

At present he was too pleased to know that Garrett was not implicated and that the family name was untarnished.

"I want to say that I consider myself to have been a pretty mean and small sort of a fellow in this whole business."

"Oh! Don't----" began Roy in protest.

"Wait a minute, Roy. This is the task I have set myself, for it seems to me the only possible way in which I can make reparation. I want to say that I had a good deal to do with those rumors. I got in, somehow, with a crowd of boys I ought to have been ashamed to a.s.sociate with.

How it all happened I don't exactly know. Things went from bad to worse with me, and pretty far, too. It seems a dream to me now. About a week ago suddenly I began to realize my position. How this realization came about I don't know. It must have been dear little Ethel's prayers for me, but I began to think of my position, think of what I was doing, and, yes, to think of the sin of it all. You were away, Roy, and when I remembered your trouble and grief at home, and when, finally, your brotherly telegram came, I began to be thoroughly ashamed of myself. So now all I can do is to ask your pardon, and the pardon of all these, your loyal and staunch friends."

As he listened to this manly avowal, there arose in Roy Henning's breast an admiration for his cousin's moral courage. The other auditors were deeply impressed. They waited with curiosity to see what Roy would do. And he? He did precisely what might be expected of him.

Without saying a word, he stepped forward, took Garrett's hand and shook it warmly. Then:

"It's all over, old man. Let bygones be bygones. I forgive everything and forget."

"Thanks, very much. I do not deserve this, but you shall see I shall deserve it."

There was a world of pathos and earnestness in Andrew's voice at that moment.

The rest of the gathering of friends extended their hands, and Andrew shook hands all around.

"Now," said Roy, "will you permit me to ask a few questions, to clear up some obscure points in my mind?"

"Certainly; anything," said Andrew, with alacrity.

"How did that wretched Stockley come to wear your blue sweater? He tells me he did, and, besides, I saw him get down below that grating that night and I thought it was you."

"Thought it was me!" said Garrett in the greatest amazement. "You thought it was I, and all this time you thought I was the thief, and yet stood all I said against you, and never said a word! Oh, Roy! No wonder on that Sunday afternoon you insisted on my clearing you!"

Andrew Garrett appeared to be fairly overcome by his cousin's generosity.

"Why, oh, why didn't I know all this before? How differently I would have acted. Believe me, it is only this very day I learned that the thief wore my sweater that night. Before going to bed on the night of the play I hung my sweater on a peg in the study-hall. The next morning I saw that it had been used by some one, for there were dirt stains on it and some rust marks from contact with rusty iron. I determined not to wear it after that. I had no idea the thief had used it, though."

"Thanks," said Roy. "Now one more question, Andrew."

"Fire away."

"This morning Stockley said something about a letter which you knew something of--one in some way connected with me. Can you tell me anything about it?"

Now it so happened that the affair of the letter was the only incident in the untoward conduct of Garrett for many months past in which he could take any kind of satisfaction. It will be remembered that he had refused to allow Stockley and Smithers to circulate it among the boys. He had retained it ever since.

"That's easy enough," he answered, as he drew the crumpled letter from his pocket.

"But I have to ask you a question now, for the wording of the letter certainly looks compromising enough. Listen to this, gentlemen."

Andrew read the sc.r.a.p of paper to the astonished listeners.

"Dec. 23rd. My dear chum: Your letter received last Monday. Sorry to say that"--"here's a blank," said Garrett, and then continued, "have no money just now, so can not do the thing you wish. Awfully sorry. Feel like stealing the money rather than letting this thing go undone. However, wait till the end of Christmas week. Something's going to turn up before that--then we can go into partnership in this, at least for the merit--keep everything dark. Don't say a word to anybody about it. Mind, now, chum, everything must be kept secret or--smash! Yours, Roy H."

When Garrett began to read the note, Henning looked puzzled. After a time he seemed to remember all about it, and then he--blushed.

"Oh! that's----" but he stopped suddenly. He was going to make a revelation of some kind, and suddenly thought better of it. He blushed profusely--like a girl. He was awkward. For a moment he appeared embarra.s.sed in no slight degree. Twice he was going to say something; twice he changed his mind.

His friends were very much puzzled. Was there a shade of truth in some of the charges made against Roy after all? Had their idol fallen?

Was he, after all, not to be their hero? Was he a lesser character than all along they had judged him?

Roy saw these fleeting fancies on their wavering faces, all except Ambrose's. He never doubted, nor did he show the least sign of wavering. Roy saw wonder and incipient doubt elsewhere, at which he blushed the more furiously.

The situation was certainly dramatic. A climax had come to-day. Was there, after all, to be an anticlimax? Was the idol to be shattered at the very last moment?