From Sea to Sea; Or, Clint Webb’s Cruise on the Windjammer by W. Bert Foster - HTML preview

CHAPTER XXX
In Which My Welcome Home Is a Real Welcome, After All

Ham and I went back in the hack to the hotel, where we had dinner with Phillis, Dao Singh standing behind my chair, and waiting at table. I had an idea right then and there that James, the butler, would find his job in danger when we got settled at Darringford House.

Briefly, while we ate, I related some of my adventures to my old friend. Particularly those that had to do with Philly and the Hindoo.

“It beats all—it sure does!” Ham kept repeating, and could scarcely keep his eyes off the turbanned servant.

When we drove through the wide gateway to the grounds surrounding Darringford House, I saw the flutter of a light dress upon the verandah. When we rounded the turn in the drive and the shrubbery was past, I knew my mother was standing there. But I certainly was amazed to see Chester Downes sitting in one of the arm chairs. No matter what happened, he never owned up beat! I had to hand it to him there.

But I saw what he was up to immediately. He had hurried ahead to break the news of my coming to my mother, and to lay plans for his continued influence in the house. My mother and the estate were practically his bread and butter. I knew that well enough.

But nothing then could spoil the joy of my home-coming. I tore open the door of the hack before it stopped and leaped out. Mother rushed into my arms as I came up the step and I swung her up off the ground—she was such a little, dainty woman!—and I knew that she had never ceased to love me.

“Clint! Clint!” she sobbed. “My dear, dear boy!”

“Hug me again, mother!” I returned, trying to laugh, but making a poor mess of it. “This is the happiest minute I’ve seen for two years.”

“And how you’ve grown!” she gasped, pushing me off a bit so that she could look me over better.

“And you haven’t grown a bit!” I laughed, and swung her again until she was breathless.

“And I hope you have got enough of the awful sea and sea-going!” she cried. “Oh, Clint! You will stay at home now?”

“I certainly hope to,” I returned, casting a meaning glance at Chester Downes, who had risen, with a false smile on his face, and his hand outstretched.

But in spite of the fact that at that moment I meant all that I said, and had not the remotest idea that I should ever go to sea again, circumstances not then dreamed of changed my intentions later; and the reader who so desires may follow my further course afloat in the fourth volume of this series, entitled: “The Ocean Express; or, Clint Webb Aboard the Sea Tramp.”

Then my mother caught sight of Philly and Dao Singh. They had stepped out of the hack and the tall Hindoo, in his oriental costume, stood gravely behind the little golden haired beauty. She looked like a story out of some Eastern Fairy Tale, and Dao Singh just set her off nicely.

“The pretty child!” mother murmured, clasping her hands, and I know that at that instant her heart went out to Phillis Duane.

Philly was looking up at her with a bashful little smile; yet the golden lights in her brown eyes were dancing. She had laughed to see how I had caught my little mother up off the ground.

“Who is she, Clinton?” mother asked.

“My sister,” I told her, proudly.

“What?” gasped mother, and I saw Chester Downes echo the word, but in a whisper. I could imagine the start my announcement gave him. And yet, my statement could not explain all that I saw in my uncle’s face as he glared at little Phillis. It was not until afterward, however, that I remembered how startled Chester Downes was.

“That’s what we’ve agreed to, mother,” I said, smiling, too, at my pretty little friend. “We have adopted each other. Now it remains with you to take Phillis Duane right into your heart along with me.”

“The dear, dear child!” mother murmured, and went down the verandah steps to meet the girl.

“I know I shall love you, dearly! dearly!” cried Philly, and put her arms around mother’s neck as the latter stooped over her.

Dao Singh made a low obeisance. Mother looked rather startled at him and then turned to me.

“Dao Singh,” I explained, “has had much care of Phillis since she was little. He insists upon attending upon her——”

“And upon the Webb Sahib,” concluded the Hindoo, gravely. “It is well that the little Memsahib and Webb Sahib, come in health to Her Ladyship, on whom be peace and health. Dao Singh is her servant.”

He bent low again, took up the hem of my mother’s voluminous summer dress, and pressed it to his forehead. Mother looked amazed, and well she might—a new daughter and such a kingly serving person thrust upon her so unexpectedly. I had to laugh.

“Your Ladyship will get used to it in time. As a man before the mast in an old windjammer, being served by an oriental prince has its drawbacks; but you’ll get used to it, Little Mum!”

But mother’s interest was soon fixed entirely upon Phillis, and with her hand upon the child’s shoulder, she urged her up the steps. There Chester Downes was hanging about, eager to be noticed, anxious to come into the picture.

“Your Uncle Chester, Clinton,” said mother, “has been so kind to me while you were away.”

I said nothing. She glanced from my face to his, and then back again, and her lips began to tremble.

“Oh! I hoped that you would meet him differently now, Clinton,” she said.

“I am sorry if I consider Mr. Downes just what he was before I went away. Any house would be uncomfortable if both of us remained in it. Can I speak plainer?”

“You don’t need to, boy!” snarled Mr. Downes, his face reddening again.

“Colonel Playfair will probably see you at any time you wish to call on him—either he or Mr. Charles Aborn,” I said, pointedly. “They have my affairs in charge.”

Mother did not hear. She was talking with Phillis. And Mr. Downes, after a brief hesitation, went down the steps and through the shrubbery to the street.

I took the chair upon the other side of Philly and Dao Singh, like a gaily painted life-size statue, stood at a respectable distance. Briefly we told mother the story of the little girl’s adventures; and as I well knew mother received the waif with joy.

“It has been a great sorrow all his life, my child,” mother said, drawing Philly upon her lap, “that Clint had no sister. A boy is a great comfort to a widowed woman; but he cannot take the place of a daughter. Love me, my child, if you can.”

And I knew by the way that the child threw her arms about mother’s neck and sobbed upon her breast, that she had already begun to love my mother. Philly’s heart had been sore for just the sort of protective care my mother could give her. I saw that my scheme was going to be a huge success!

With Chester Downes out of the way my home-coming was all that I could have hoped for. The help around the house welcomed me with delight, too. Even my mother’s French maid, Marie Portent, gave me a wintry smile—and I had never been a favorite with her.

The neighbors came in to see me, too, for the news had spread all over town that I had come back from my wanderings. Mr. Chester Downes had not succeeded in turning everybody against me.

But you may believe I got into some decent clothes before I held any reception. Then I went down town and wired Thankful Polk a hundred dollars and the news that everything was O. K. with me.

“Now we will go to Bolderhead and open the house for the rest of the summer,” mother said that very evening. “I could not bear to open it without you, dear boy.”

We kept off the subject of the Downes just then; but I might as well state right here that Mr. Chester Downes was not appointed by the court co-trustee with my mother. Colonel Playfair was, and that before we closed Darringford house and went to live in mother’s summer villa on Bolderhead Neck.

Thankful Polk came north to visit us, too; and mother was greatly pleased with him. Dao Singh, as I foresaw, soon made it advisable for us to find another situation for James, our butler. Singh actually, when we got to Bolderhead, took the entire responsibility of the housekeeping upon himself, and mother thankfully declared that she had never had so easy a time before, nor had the household been run so smoothly.

For the first time since I could remember Mr. Chester Downes did not go to Bolderhead with us. I had no friction over it, and mother was not troubled. Colonel Playfair knew how to bring things about. I liked him a whole lot better for a guardian than I had Mr. Hounsditch.

As for my cousin Paul, when he returned home—if he ever did—I knew I had a method of keeping him at a distance. The threat of punishment for what he had done to me still hung over him like a sword of Damocles.

It was not many weeks before I had a letter from Mr. Jim Barney. Among other interesting items of news, he stated that both he and his brother had been exonerated together with Captain Bowditch in the matter of the collision and the sinking of the Seamew. If blame lay anywhere it was upon poor Captain Somes, who had gone down with his ship.

As to the Barney brothers’ private affairs, they had both refused their uncle’s offer of money and position. As long as the old man would not divide his wealth between them and give both of them an opportunity of entering the shipping firm, Jim and Alf had resigned and were going to sail upon ships belonging to other owners. That seemed to them to be the best and final settlement of the matter.

I often thought of my long cruise in the Windjammer, and I could not say that I was sorry for having gone through those adventures. I certainly was not sorry that they had brought about the coming of Phillis Duane to our house. For, as the weeks flew by, the British consul heard nothing regarding the girl’s friends or relatives.

It looked as though she was ours “for keeps,” as Thank said; and both my mother and I were satisfied.

THE END.