Cap'n Warren's Wards Part 61

Pearson did not take the next train, nor the next. Instead, he stayed for dinner and well into the evening, and when he did go it was after a prompt acceptance of the captain's invitation to "come again in a mighty little while."

Caroline, when she and her uncle were alone after their visitor's departure, made no protest against the invitation having been given.

She did not speak of Pearson at all. Captain Elisha also talked of other things, princ.i.p.ally about the sail-boat, the summer lease of which he had arranged that afternoon. He declared the sloop to be an "able craft of her tonnage" and that they would have some good times aboard her or he missed his guess. In his own room, when ready for bed, he favored his reflection in the gla.s.s with a broad smile and a satisfied wink, from which proceeding it may be surmised that the day had not been a bad one, according to his estimate.

Pearson came again a week later, and thereafter frequently. The sessions with Cap'n Jim and his a.s.sociates were once more regular happenings to be looked forward to and enjoyed by the three. As the weather grew warmer, the sloop--Captain Elisha had the name she formerly bore painted out and Caroline subst.i.tuted--proved to be as great a source of pleasure as her new skipper had prophesied. He and his niece--and occasionally Pearson--sailed and picnicked on the Sound, and Caroline's pallor disappeared under the influence of breeze and sunshine. Her health improved, and her spirits, also. She seemed, at times, almost happy, and her uncle seldom saw her, as after the removal to the suburb he so frequently used, with tears in her eyes and the sadness of bitter memories in her expression and manner. Her work at the University grew steadily more difficult, but she enjoyed it thoroughly and declared that she would not give it up for worlds.

In June two very important events took place. The novel was finished, and Stephen, his Soph.o.m.ore year at an end, came home from college. He had been invited by some cla.s.smates to spend a part of his vacation with them on the Maine coast, and his guardian had consented to his doing so; but the boy himself had something else to propose. On an evening soon after his return, when, his sister having retired, he was alone with the captain, he broached the idea.

"Say," he said, "I've been thinking a good deal while I've been away this last time."

"Glad to hear it, I'm sure," replied his uncle, dryly.

"Yes. I've been thinking--about a good many things. I'm flat broke; down and out, so far as money is concerned. That's so, isn't it?"

Captain Elisha looked at him keenly for an instant. Then:

"It appears that way, I'm afraid," he answered. "What made you ask?"

"Nothing. I wasn't asking, really; I was just stating the case. Now, the way I look at it, this college course of mine isn't worth while. You're putting up for it, and I ought to be much obliged; I am, of course."

"You're welcome, Stevie."

"I know; but what's the use of it? I've got to go to work when it's over. And the kind of work I want to do doesn't need university training. I'm just wasting time; that's what I'm doing."

"Humph! I ain't so sure about that. But what sort of work do you want to do?"

"I want to be down on the Street, as the governor was. If this Rubber Company business hadn't knocked us out, I intended, as soon as I was of age, to take that seat of his and start in for myself. Well, that chance has gone, but I mean to get in some way, though I have to start at the foot of the ladder. Now why can't I leave college and start now? It will be two years gained, won't it?"

Captain Elisha seemed pleased, but he shook his head.

"How do you know you'd like it?" he asked. "You've never tried."

"No, I never have; but I'll like it all right. I know I shall. It's what I've wanted to do ever since I was old enough to think of such things.

Just let me start in now, right away, and I'll show you. I'll make good; you see if I don't."

He was very earnest. The captain deliberated before answering.

"Stevie," he said, doubtfully, "I rather like to hear you talk that way; I own up it pleases me. But, as to your givin' up college--that's different. Let me think it over for a day or two; that is, if you can put off the Maine trip so long as that."

"Hang the Maine trip! You let me get into business, the business I want to get into, and I won't ask for a vacation; you can bet on that!"

"All right then. I'll think, and do some questionin' around, and report soon's I've decided what's best."

He laid the stump of his cigar in the ash receiver and rose from his chair. But his nephew had not finished.

"There was something else I intended to say," he announced, but with less eagerness.

"That so? What?"

"Why--why, just this." He fidgeted with his watch chain, colored and was evidently uneasy. "I guess--" he hesitated--"I guess that I haven't treated you as I ought."

"I want to know! You guess that, hey? Why?"

"Oh, you know why. I've been thinking since I went back to New Haven.

I've had a chance to think. Some of the fellows in the set I used to be thick with up there have learned that I'm broke, and they--they aren't as friendly as they were. Not all of them, of course, but some. And I wouldn't chase after them; not much! If they wanted to drop me they could. You bet I didn't try to hang on! I was pretty sore for a while and kept to myself and--well, I did a lot of thinking. I guess Caro is right; you've been mighty decent to her and me."

He paused, but Captain Elisha made no comment.

"I guess you have," continued Stephen, soberly. "When you first came, you know, Caroline and I couldn't understand. We thought you were b.u.t.ting in and weren't our sort, and--and--"

"And a hayseed nuisance generally; I know. Heave ahead, son; you interest me."

"Well, we didn't like it. And Mal Dunn and his mother were always sympathizing and insinuating, and we believed they were our best friends, and all that. So we didn't try to understand you or--or even make it livable for you. Then, after the news came that the money had gone, I acted like a kid, I guess. That business of making Mal stick to the engagement was pretty silly. I was nearly desperate, you see, and--and--you knew it was silly. You never took any stock in it, did you?"

The captain smiled.

"Not a heap," he admitted.

"No. All you wanted was to show them up. Well, you did it, and I'm glad you did. But Caro and I have talked it over since I've been home, and we agree that you've been a great deal better to us than we deserve. You didn't _have_ to take care of us at all, any more, after the money went.

By gad! considering how we treated you, I don't see why you did. _I_ wouldn't. But you did--and you are. You've given us a home, and you're putting me through college and--and--"

"That's all right, son. Good night."

"Just a minute. I--I--well, if you let me, I'd like to thank you and--and ask your pardon."

"Granted, my boy. And never mind the thanks, either. Just keep on thinkin' and actin' as you have to-night, and I'll be satisfied. I want to see my nephew makin' a man of himself--a real man; and, Steve, you talk more like a man to-night than I've ever heard you. Stick to it, and you'll do yet. As for goin' to work, you let me chew on that for a few days."

The next morning he called on Sylvester, who in turn took him to a friend of his, a broker--employing a good-sized staff of clerks. The three had a consultation, followed, the day after, by another. That evening the captain made a definite proposal to Stephen. It was, briefly, that, while not consenting to the latter's leaving college, he did consider that a trial of the work in a broker's office might be a good thing. Therefore, if the young man wished, he could enter the employ of Sylvester's friend and remain during July and August.

"You'll leave about the first of September, Steve," he said, "and that'll give you time for the two weeks vacation that you ought to have.

Then you can go back to Yale and pitch in till the next summer, when the same job'll be ready for you. After you're through college for good, if what you've learned about brokerin' ain't cured you of your likin' for it--if you still want to go ahead with it for your life job, then--well, then we'll see. What do you say?"

Stephen had a good deal to say, princ.i.p.ally in the line of objection to continuing his studies. Finding these objections unavailing, he agreed to his guardian's proposition.

"All right," said the captain; "then you can go to work next Monday. But you'll _have_ to work, and be just the same as any other beginner, no better and no worse. There'll be no favoritism, and, if you're really wuth your salt, you won't want any. Show 'em, and me, that you're wuth it."

The novel, the wonderful tale which Captain Elisha was certain would make its author famous, was finished that very day in June when Stephen came back from New Haven. The question of t.i.tle remained, and the "clinic," now reenforced by Steve--whose dislike for Pearson had apparently vanished with others of his former likes and dislikes--considered that at several sessions. At last "The Man at the Wheel" was selected, as indicating something of the hero's profession and implying, perhaps, a hint of his character. Then came the fateful task of securing a publisher. And the first to whom it was submitted--one of the two firms which had already expressed a desire to read the ma.n.u.script--accepted it, at what, for a first novel, were very fair terms. During the summer there was proof to be read and ill.u.s.trations to be criticized. Captain Elisha did not wholly approve of the artist's productions.

"Jerushy!" he exclaimed, "look at that mainmast! Look at the rake of it!

More like a yacht than a deep-water bark, she is enough sight. And the fust mate's got a uniform cap on, like a purser on a steamboat. Make that artist feller take that cap off him, Jim. He's got to. I wish he could have seen some of my mates. They wa'n't Cunarder dudes, but they could make a crew hop 'round like a sand-flea in a clam bake."

Or, when the picture happened to be a sh.o.r.e view:

"What kind of a house is that? Did you ever see a house like that Down-East? I'll leave it to anybody if it don't look like a sugar man's plantation I used to know down Mobile way. All that feller standin'

by the door needs is to have his face blacked; then he'd start singin'

'S'wanee River.' This ain't 'Uncle Tom's Cabin.' Bah!"

The advance copy, the first one, was ready early in September, and the author, of course, brought it immediately to his friends. They found the dedication especially interesting: "To C. W. and E. W., consulting specialists at the literary clinics, with grateful acknowledgments."

Probably Captain Elisha was never prouder of anything, even his first command, than of that dedication.