Steve and the Steam Engine Part 29

[Ill.u.s.tration: He was fighting to prevent himself from being drawn beneath the jagged, crumbling edge of the hole. Page 244.]

As Stephen looked about him in the vague, groping uncertainty of returning consciousness his glance fell upon his father who stood beside his pillow, shivering nervously. He put out his hand and touched the dripping coat sleeve.

"What--" began he weakly.

Then with a rush it all came back to him and everything was clear. He had been drowning and his father had plunged into the water to save him!

A sob rose in his throat and he caught the elder man's hand between both of his.

"Oh, Dad," he exclaimed, "I've been so rotten to you--so mean--so cowardly. I'm ashamed to--"

"Don't talk about it now, son. I know."

"You know what I did?"

"Yes."

"But--" the boy paused bewildered.

"Don't talk any more about it now, Stevie," pleaded his mother.

"But I've got to know," said the lad. "Can't you see that--"

"Let me talk with him alone a moment," suggested Mr. Tolman in an undertone. "He is all upset and he won't calm down until he has this thing off his mind. Leave me here with him a little while. I'll promise that he does not tire himself."

The doctor, Mr. Ackerman and Mrs. Tolman moved across the room toward the window.

"You asked how I knew, son," began his father with extreme gentleness.

"I didn't really know. I just put two and two together. There was the scratched machine and the gasoline gone--both of which facts puzzled me not a little. But the proof that clinched it all and made me certain of what had happened came to me this morning when Havens brought me an old red sweater and some school papers of Bud Taylor's that the men who were overhauling the car found under the seat. In an instant the whole thing was solved."

"You knew before we went skating then?"

"Yes."

"And--and--you jumped into the water after me just the same."

Mr. Tolman's voice trembled:

"You are my son and I love you no matter what you may do."

"Oh, Dad, I'm so sorry!" sobbed the boy. "I wanted to tell you--I meant to. It was just that I was too much of a coward. I was so ashamed of what I had done that I hadn't the nerve. After it was over it all seemed so wrong. I knew you would be angry--"

"Rather say _sorry_, son."

"Well, sorry. And now that you have been so white to me I'm more ashamed still."

"There, there, my boy, we will say no more about it," his father declared. "You and your conscience have probably had a pretty bitter battle and I judge you have not been altogether happy since your adventure. People who do wrong never are. It is no fun to carry your fault to bed with you and find it waiting when you wake up in the morning."

"You bet it isn't!" replied the lad, with fervor. "But can't I do something now to make good, Dad?"

Mr. Tolman checked an impulsive protest and after a moment responded gravely:

"We will see. Perhaps you would like to earn something toward doing over the car."

"Yes! Yes! I would!"

"Well, all that can be arranged later. We--"

"Henry," broke in Mrs. Tolman, "you must go this instant and get into some dry clothes. You are chilled through. The doctor says Stephen is going to be none the worse for his ducking and that he can come down stairs to dinner after he has rested a little longer. So our Thanksgiving party is not to be spoiled, after all. In fact, I believe we shall have more to give thanks for than we expected," concluded she, making an unsteady attempt to speak lightly.

"I think so, too," echoed her husband.

"And so do I!" added Stephen softly, as he exchanged an affectionate smile with his father.

CHAPTER XIX

THE END OF THE HOUSE PARTY

As they were persons of strong const.i.tution and in good athletic training neither Mr. Tolman nor Steve were any the worse for the narrow escape of the morning, and although a trifle spent with excitement both were able to take their places at the dinner table so that no cloud rested on the festivity of the day.

Certainly such a dinner never was,--or if there ever had been one like it in history at least d.i.c.k Martin had never had the luck to sit down to it. The soup steaming and hot, the celery white and crisp, the sweet potatoes browned in the oven and gleaming beneath their glaze of sugar, the cranberry sauce vivid as a bowl of rubies; to say nothing of squash, and parsnips and onions! And as for the turkey,--why, it was the size of an ostrich! With what resignation it lay upon its back, with what an abject spirit of surrender,--as if it realized that resistance was futile and that it must docilely offer itself up to make perfect the feast. And the pudding, the golden-tinted pies with their delicate crust, the nuts; the pyramid of fruit, riotous in color; the candies of every imaginable hue and flavor! Was it a wonder that d.i.c.k, who had never before beheld a real New England home Thanksgiving, regarded the novelty with eyes as large as saucers and ate until there was not room for another mouthful?

"Gee!" he gasped in a whisper to Stephen, as he sank weakly back into his chair when the coffee made its appearance. "This sure is some dinner."

The others who chanced to overhear the observation laughed.

"Had enough, sonny?" inquired Mr. Tolman.

"_Enough!_"

There was more laughter.

"I suppose were it not for the trains and the ships we should not be having such a meal as this to-day," remarked Mrs. Tolman.

"You are right," was Mr. Ackerman's reply. "Let me see! Fruit from Florida, California and probably from Italy; flour from the Middle West; coffee from South America; sugar probably from Cuba; turkey from Rhode Island, no doubt; and vegetables from scattered New England farms. Add to this cigarettes from Egypt and Turkey and you have covered quite a portion of the globe."

"It is a pity we do not consider our indebtedness to our neighbors all over the world oftener," commented Mr. Tolman. "We take so much for granted these days. To appreciate our blessings to the full we should have lived in early Colonial times when the arrival of a ship from across the ocean was such an important event that the wares she brought were advertised broadcast. Whenever such a vessel came into port a list of her cargo was issued and purchasers scrambled eagerly to secure the luxuries she carried. Pipes of wine, bolts of cloth, china, silks, tea--all were catalogued. It was no ordinary happening when such a boat docked, I a.s.sure you."

"I suppose it was a great event," reflected Mrs. Tolman, "although I never half realized it."

"And not only was the advent of merchandise a red-letter day but so was the advent of travelers from the other side of the water. Picture if you can the excitement that ensued when Jenny Lind, the famous singer, visited this country! And the fact that we were now to hear this celebrated woman was not the only reason for our interest. She had actually come in a ship from across the sea! Others would come also.

America was no longer cut off from the culture of the old world, an isolated country bereft of the advantages of European civilization. We were near enough for distinguished persons to make trips here! Charles d.i.c.kens and the Prince of Wales came--and how cosmopolitan we felt to be entertaining guests from the mother-country! Certainly the Atlantic could not be very wide if it could be crossed so easily and if we could have the same speakers, the same readers, the same singers as did the English! Our fathers and grandfathers must have thrilled with satisfaction at the thought. The ocean was conquered and was no longer an estranging barrier."

"What would they have said to crossing the water by aeroplane or bobbing up in a foreign port in a submarine?" put in Doris.