The Re-Creation of Brian Kent Part 29

Before the mountain girl had finished speaking, Betty Jo's arm was around the poor twisted shoulders, and Betty Jo's eyes were answering Judy's pleading.

And so, when Auntie Sue came home, it was Judy who met her at the station, with "Old Prince" and the buggy; and as they drove down the winding road to the little log house by the river, the mountain girl told the old gentlewoman all that had happened in her absence.

CHAPTER XXV.

THE RIVER.

Brian Kent recovered quickly from the effects of his experience in the Elbow Rock rapids, and was soon able again to take up his work on the little farm. Every day he labored in the garden, or in the clearing, or at some task which did not rightly fall to those who rented the major part of Auntie Sue's tillable acreage.

Auntie Sue had told him about her visit to the President of the Empire Consolidated Savings Bank, and of the arrangement made by the banker--as she understood it--for Brian's protection. But while the dear old lady explained that Homer T. Ward was one of her pupils, she did not reveal the relation between Brian's former chief and Betty Jo. Neither Auntie Sue nor Betty Jo, for several very good reasons, was ready for Brian to know the whole truth about his stenographer. It was quite enough, they reasoned, for him to love his stenographer, and for his stenographer to love him, without raising any more obstacles in the pathway of their happiness.

As the busy weeks pa.s.sed, several letters came from the publishers of Brian's book,--letters which made the three in the little log house by the river very happy. Already, in the first reception of this new writer's work, those who had undertaken to present it to the public saw many promises of the fulfillment of their prophecies as to its success.

When the third letter came, a statement of the sales to date was enclosed, and, that afternoon, Betty Jo went to Brian where he was at work in the clearing.

When they were comfortably, not to say cozily, seated on a log in the shade at the edge of the forest, she announced that she had come for a very serious talk.

"Yes?" he returned; but he really looked altogether too happy to be exceedingly serious.

"Yes," she continued, "I have. As your accredited business agent and--"

she favored him with a Betty Jo smile--"shall I say manager?"

"Why not managing owner?" he retorted.

"I am glad you confirm my promotion so readily," she returned, with a charming touch of color in her cheeks, "because that, you see, helps me to present what I have to say for the good of the firm."

"I am listening, Betty Jo."

"Very well; tell me, first, Brian, just exactly how much do you owe that bank, reward-money and all, and Auntie Sue, interest and everything?"

Brian went to his coat, which lay on a near-by stump, and returned with a small pocket account-book.

"I have it all here," he said, as he seated himself close beside her again. And, opening the book, he showed her how he had kept a careful record of the various sums he had taken from the bank, with the dates.

"Oh, Brian, Brian!" she said with a little cry of delight, "I am so glad,--so glad you have this! It is exactly what I want for my wedding present. It was so thoughtful of you to fix it for me."

Thus by a characteristic, Betty Jo turn she made the little book of painful memories a book of joyous promise.

When they again returned to the consideration of business matters, Brian gave her the figures which answered her questions as to his total indebtedness.

Again Betty Jo exclaimed with delight: "Brian, do you see? Take your pencil and figure quick your royalties on the number of books sold as given in the publishers' statement."

Brian laughed. "I have figured it."

"And your book has already earned more than enough to pay everything,"

said Betty Jo. "Isn't that simply grand, Brian?"

"It is pretty 'grand,' all right," he agreed. "The only trouble is, I must wait so long before the money is due me from the publishers."

"That is exactly what I came to talk about," she returned quickly. "I tried to have it different when I made the arrangements with them, but the terms of payment in the contract are the very best I could get; and so I have planned a little plan whereby you--that is, we--won't need to wait for your freedom until the date of settlement with the publishers."

"You have a plan which will do that?" Brian questioned, doubtfully.

She nodded vigorously, with another Betty Jo smile. "This is the plan, and you are not to interrupt until I have finished everything: I happen to have some money of my very, very own, which is doing nothing but earning interest--"

At the look on Brian's face, she stopped suddenly; but, when he started to speak, she put her hand quickly over his mouth, saying: "You were not to say a single word until I have finished. Play fair, Brian, dear; please!"

When he signified that he would not speak, she continued in her most matter-of-fact and businesslike tone: "There is every reason in the world, Brian, why you should pay off your debt to the bank and to Auntie Sue at the earliest possible moment. You can think of several reasons yourself. There is me, for instance.

"Very well. You have the money to your credit with the publishers; but you can't use it yet. I have money that you can just as well use. You will make an a.s.signment of your royalties to me, all in proper form, to cover the amount you need. You will pay me the same interest my money is now earning where it is.

"I will arrange for the money to be sent to you in the form of a cashier's cheque, payable to the banker, Homer T. Ward, so the name Brian Kent does not appear before we are ready, you see. You will make believe to Auntie Sue that the money is from the publishers. You will send the cheque to Mr. Bank President personally, with a statement of your indebtedness to him properly itemized, interest figured on everything. You will instruct him to open an account for you with the balance. And then--then, Brian, you will give dear Auntie Sue a cheque for what you owe her, with interest of course. And we will all be so happy! And--and--don't you think I am a very good managing owner? You do, don't you?"

When he hesitated, she added: "And the final and biggest reason of all is, that I want you to do as I have planned more than I ever wanted anything in the world, except you, and I want this so because I want you. You can't really refuse, now, can you?"

How, indeed, could he refuse?

So they worked it out together as Betty Jo had planned; and when the time came for the last and best part of the plan, and Brian confessed to Auntie Sue how he had robbed her, and had known for so long that she was aware of his crime against her, and finished his confession by giving her the cheque, it is safe to say that there was nowhere in all the world more happiness than in the little log house by the river.

"G.o.d-A'mighty sure helped me to do one good turn, anyway, when I jumped inter the river after that there book when Mr. Burns done throw'd hit away," commented the delighted Judy.

And while they laughed together, Betty Jo hugged the deformed mountain girl, and answered: "G.o.d Almighty was sure good to us all that day, Judy, dear!"

It was only a day later when Auntie Sue received a letter from Homer T.

Ward which sent the dear old lady in great excitement to Betty Jo. The banker was coming for his long-deferred vacation to the log house by the river.

There was in his letter a kindly word for his former clerk, Brian Kent, should Auntie Sue chance to see him; much love for his old teacher and for the dearest girl in the world, his Betty Jo.

But that part of Homer T. Ward's letter which most excited Auntie Sue and caused Betty Jo to laugh until she cried was this: The great financier, who, even in his busy life of large responsibilities, found time for some good reading, had discovered a great book, by a new and heretofore unknown writer. The book was great because every page of it, Homer T. Ward declared, reminded him of Auntie Sue. If the writer had known her for years, he could not have drawn a truer picture of her character, nor presented her philosophy of life more clearly. It was a remarkable piece of work. It was most emphatically the sort of writing that the world needed. This new author was a genius of the rarest and best sort. Mr. Ward predicted boldly that this new star in the literary firmament was destined to rank among those of the first magnitude.

Already, among the banker's closest book friends, the new book was being discussed, and praised. He would bring a copy for Auntie Sue and Betty Jo to read. It was not only the book of the year;--it was, in Homer T.

Ward's opinion, one of the really big books of the Century.

"Well," commented Betty Jo, when they had read and reread that part of the letter, "dear old Uncle Homer may be a very conservative banker, but he certainly is more than liberal when he touches on the question of this new author. Won't we have fun, Auntie Sue! Oh, won't we!"

Then they planned the whole thing, and proceeded to carry out their plan.

Brian was told only that Mr. Ward was coming to visit Auntie Sue, and that he must be busy somewhere away from the house when the banker arrived, and not come until he was sent for, because Auntie Sue must make a full confession to her old pupil of the part she had played in the Re-Creation of Brian Kent before Homer T. Ward should meet his former clerk.

Brian, never dreaming that there were other confessions to be made, smilingly agreed to do exactly as he was told.

When the momentous day arrived, Betty Jo met her uncle in Thompsonville, and all the way home she talked so continuously of her school, and asked so many questions about his conduct and life and their many Chicago friends, that the helpless bank president had no chance whatever of asking her a single embarra.s.sing question. But, when dinner was over (Brian had taken his lunch with him to the clearing), Homer T. Ward wanted to know things.

"Was Brian Kent still working in the neighborhood?"

Auntie Sue informed him that Brian was still working in the neighborhood.

"Betty Jo had seen the bank clerk?" Betty Jo's uncle supposed. "What did she think of the fellow?"