David Dunne Part 30

"I know what you will do," said Carey, quickly reading the unspoken words.

"What?"

"You will do, as you always do--what you believe to be right. David, tell me the story of those days."

So from the background of his recollections he brought forward vividly a picture of his early life, a story she had heard only from others.

He told her, too, of his boyish fancy for Janey.

There was silence when he had finished. Carey looked into the flickering light of the open fire with steady, musing eyes. It did not hurt her in the least that he had had a love of long ago. It made him but the more interesting, and appealed to her as a pretty and fitting romance in his life.

"It seems so hard, either way, David," she said looking up at him in a sympathetic way. "To follow the dictates of duty is so cold and cruel a way, yet if you follow the dictates of your heart your conscience will accuse you. But you will, when you have to act, David, do what you believe to be right, and abide by the consequences. Either way, dear, is going to bring you unhappiness."

"Which do you believe the right way, Carey?" he asked, looking searchingly into her mystic eyes.

"David," she replied helplessly, "I don't know! The more I think about it, the more complicated the decision seems."

They discussed the matter at length, and he went home comforted by the thought that there was one who understood him, and who would abide in faith by whatever decision he made.

The next day, at the breakfast table, on the street, in his office, in the curious, questioning faces of all he encountered, he read the inquiry he was constantly asking himself and to which he had no answer ready. When he finally reached his office he summoned his private secretary.

"Major, don't let in any more people than is absolutely necessary to-day. I will see no reporters. You can tell them that no pet.i.tion or request for the pardon of Jud Bramble has been received, if they ask, and oh, Major!"

The secretary turned expectantly.

"If Barnabas Brumble comes, of course he is to be admitted at once."

Later in the morning the messenger to the governor stood at the window of the business office, idly looking out.

"Dollars to doughnuts," he exclaimed suddenly and confidently, "that this is Barnabas Brumble coming up the front walk!"

The secretary hastened to the window. A grizzled old man in b.u.t.ternut-colored, tightly b.u.t.toned overcoat, and carrying a telescope bag, was ascending the steps.

"I don't know why you think so," said the secretary resentfully to the boy. "Barnabas Brumble isn't the only farmer in the world. Sometimes,"

he added, pursuing a train of thought beyond the boy's knowledge, "it seems as if no one but farmers came into this capitol nowadays."

A few moments later one of the guards ushered into the executive office the old man carrying the telescope. The secretary caught the infection of the boy's belief.

"What can I do for you?" he asked courteously.

"I want to see the guvner," replied the old man in a curt tone.

"Your name?" asked the secretary.

"Barnabas Brumble," was the terse response.

He had not read the newspapers for a week past, and so he could hardly know the importance attached to his name in the ears of those a.s.sembled. The click of the typewriters ceased, the executive clerk looked quickly up from his papers, the messenger a.s.sumed a triumphant pose, and the janitor peered curiously in from an outer room.

"Come this way, Mr. Brumble," said the secretary deferentially, as he pa.s.sed to the end of the room and knocked at a closed door.

David Dunne knew, when he heard the knock, to whom he would open the door, and he was glad the strain of suspense was ended. But when he looked into the familiar face a host of old memories crowded in upon his recollection, and obliterated the significance of the call.

"Uncle Barnabas!" he said, extending a cordial hand to the visitor, while his stern, strong face softened under his slow, sweet smile.

Then he turned to his secretary.

"Admit no one else, Major."

David took the telescope from his guest and set it on the table, wondering if it contained the "doc.u.ments in evidence."

"Take off your coat, Uncle Barnabas. They keep it pretty warm in here!"

"I callate they do--in more ways than one," chuckled Barnabas, removing his coat. "I hed to start purty early this mornin', when it was cool-like. Wal, Dave, times has changed! To think of little Dave Dunne bein' guvner! I never seemed to take it in till I come up them front steps."

The governor laughed.

"Sometimes I don't seem to take it in myself, but _you_ ought to, Uncle Barnabas. You put me here!"

As he spoke he unlocked a little cabinet and produced a bottle and a couple of gla.s.ses.

"Wal, I do declar, ef you don't hev things as handy as a pocket in a shirt! Good stuff, Dave! More warmin' than my old coat, I reckon, but say, Dave, what do you s'pose I hev got in that air telescope?"

David winced. In olden times the old man ever came straight to the point, as he was doing now.

"Why, what is it, Uncle Barnabas?"

"Open it!" directed the old man laconically.

With the feeling that he was opening his coffin, David unstrapped the telescope and lifted the cover. A little exclamation of pleasure escaped him. The telescope held big red apples, and it held nothing more. David quickly bit into one.

"I know from just which particular tree these come," he said, "from that humped, old one in the corner of the orchard nearest the house."

"Yes," allowed Barnabas, "that's jest the one--the one under which you and her allers set and purtended you were studyin' your lessons."

David's eyes grew luminous in reminiscence.

"I haven't forgotten the tree--or her--or the old days, Uncle Barnabas."

"I knowed you hadn't, Dave!"

Again David's heart sank at the confidence in the tone which betokened the faith reposed, but he would give the old man a good time anyway before he took his destiny by the throat.

"Wouldn't you like to go through the capitol?" he asked.

"I be goin'. The feller that brung me up here sed he'd show me through."

"I'll show you through," said David decisively, and together they went through the places of interest in the building, the governor as proud as a newly domiciled man showing off his possessions. At last they came to the room where in gla.s.s cases reposed the old, unfurled battle flags. The old man stopped before one case and looked long and reverently within.

"Which was your regiment, Uncle Barnabas?"