UNDER SAILING ORDERS.
They had just finished dressing next morning. Philip was asking himself
whether, after all the fun of the last few days, the idea of adding up
columns of figures in the office was a pleasant one.
“Come in,” was Gerald’s reply to a knock.
“Good-morning,” said Mr. Marcy. In his hand was the letter.
“Gerald,” he began, walking up to the lounge, “your father wants you.”
“Papa!” exclaimed the boy, starting up as Mr. Marcy sat down. “Where is
he? When did he come? Isn’t that just like him!”
“No, sit down,” laughed Mr. Marcy, holding up the letter. “He isn’t
down-stairs. He’s just where he was, in Nova Scotia. Listen to this and
tell me what you think of it.”
He read, while Philip listened from across the room:
“CAMP HALF-DOZEN, _September, 188–_.
“DEAR MARCY: Please send Gerald up to me at this place, _via_
Halifax, as soon as possible. When he arrives he can go to the
Waverly Hotel. Somebody in our party, or myself, will meet
him. We have not roughed it so much as I expected. We shall
stay here; the hot weather seems to hold on too long down your
way. Of course, Gerald cannot make such a journey alone. Put
him in charge of an experienced servant used to traveling, or
make some arrangement of the kind convenient. I inclose check.
Supply whatever extra is needed.
“We are having a first-class time――lots of fishing and shooting.
Our nearest civilization is miles off. Hope the Ossokosee is
doing well these closing weeks. It’s a late season every-where,
isn’t it?
“Yours, etc.,
“GERALD B. SAXTON.
“P. S.――Give my love to Gerald. Tell him to write me immediately
what day he starts. Tell him to be a good boy, and not let the
whales have any excuse to eat him on the way.”
“There!” exclaimed Mr. Marcy, as he handed Gerald this business-like
letter from any father summoning his son on such a journey. “That’s
your father all over! Not a word to spare. Disposes of you and every
body else just as if you were a package of goods to be forwarded by
express.”
“Yes,” returned Gerald, with a queer tone in his voice, “that _is_ papa
to the life. But he never took me quite so much by surprise. Of course,
I’ve wanted to go up. I was dreadfully disappointed when he said I
couldn’t. But it’s too bad to have to break up here and leave before
the rest of you do.” He glanced at Philip, who sat in a surprise not
particularly pleasant looking over the letter Gerald had handed him.
“Well, I think myself you will face the hardship better if I let Philip
go along to take charge of you,” said Mr. Marcy, quizzically. “How does
that idea strike you?”
“O, Mr. Marcy!” exclaimed Gerald, with a look of intense pleasure; “do
you really mean that?”
“I surely do,” returned the proprietor of the Ossokosee. “I thought of
it the moment I read your father’s letter. I haven’t at hand just now
any servant that I could spare, or, in fact, be willing to commit you
to, and I have no time to write to find out if friends can arrange
to look after you on the steamer. Philip needs a change. Last year,”
he continued, turning to Touchtone, “you had no rest at all, from
Mrs. Ingraham and me.” He smiled as he spoke. “So I made up my mind
last night that the nicest thing I can do for both of you, and for
that harum-scarum father of yours, Gerald, will be to pack you off in
Philip’s care. What do you say to it, Philip?”
“I’d rather do it than any thing else in the world,” replied Touchtone,
“if you can spare me.”
“O, this rush may end any day now. Then I shall close the hotel at
once. Sit down here again――and be sober. To-day is Saturday. Your
father wants you to set out, Gerald, as soon as you can. I will write
him to-day, with you, and say that you and Philip will leave here for
New York next Tuesday to catch the Wednesday’s steamer. You will get
to New York on Tuesday night, and you can either go to the Windsor to
spend it, and the morning of the following day (the _Old Province_
usually sails at one in the afternoon), or else you can adopt another
plan.”
“What is that?” asked both at once.
“Why, as it will be rather lonely for you in that big hotel, I thought
I would drop a line to a friend at his bachelor apartments on Madison
Avenue and ask him to let you put up with him instead of at the
Windsor. He has plenty of room, and he will be delighted to entertain
you. Don’t you think you would enjoy that arrangement? His name is
Hilliard. He has been in London for a year or two, or Philip there
would know him better than by hearsay.”
Gerald and Philip declared that great enjoyment was promised by this
arrangement.
“There’s one of the breakfast-bells!” Mr. Marcy exclaimed presently,
hurriedly rising. “I believe I have talked over every thing with you
that is necessary now. You can begin your packing as soon as you like,
Gerald, though you have time enough. I never knew you so quiet over any
excitement before, Philip. Are you afraid of being seasick?”
“No, he’s afraid of the responsibility of looking after me!” exclaimed
Gerald, quick as a flash.
Philip smiled. “Nothing of the sort,” he said. “Only it’s a good deal
more to me to think of going away on such a long journey so very
unexpectedly than it is to you. It makes me your guardian in good
earnest,” he concluded, with a half smile.
To Touchtone, who nowadays was accustomed to only occasional winter
trips to and from New York with Mr. Marcy, and who had known little
change from the summer routine of his hotel duties and pleasures, this
sudden episode was, truly, a little bewildering. It had all happened
in a night――like Aladdin’s palace. To Gerald there was only a passing
surprise. Orders from that handsome, gay, idle young father of his, who
seemed to think of his son very much as he did of his best horse, or
brightest diamond, or any other possession that he liked because it was
his own and beautiful and pleasant to have near him, or easy to leave
in good hands when it was more convenient, why, to Gerald such changes
were already a common story. But the boy’s delight that Philip was to
go with him was so keen that nearly all else was forgotten.
The next few days were rather busy ones. The telegrams and letters
to Nova Scotia and New York were duly dispatched. The letters might
arrive at the forest camp little sooner than the travelers, but the
telegram promised more expedition. Moreover, a hospitable reply came
back from Mr. Marcy’s friend in New York, the aforesaid Mr. Hilliard.
He would be happy to entertain the two. He added that he himself might
board their train at a certain station toward noon. He expected to be
out of the city “visiting a friend over Sunday.”
“If I stay up there until Tuesday,” he wrote, “coming back, I will hunt
the boys out. Then we can travel the rest of the day together.”
Bag and trunk were packed before night, and the trunk expressed direct
to the steam-ship baggage-room, that it might be “off our minds,” as
Gerald put it. (Afterward they were not sorry.) They drove over to bid
Mrs. Wooden and Miss Beauchamp good-bye in the afternoon, and at the
tea-table in the evening a good many of the guests stopped to wish a
pleasant journey to the two. After Gerald was in his room and asleep
Touchtone came down-stairs, where Mr. Marcy sat awaiting him in the
office.
“Two hundred and fifty dollars,” he said, handing Philip a roll of
bills. “You cannot very well want more for your tickets and incidental
expenses. You will, of course, stay in Halifax until Saxton sends for
Gerald. He is a man who arbitrarily consults his own convenience,
especially when he’s off with a set of his Wall Street cronies on a
summering lark. You may be obliged to remain several days.”
“Thank you, sir,” said Touchtone, putting the money into his pocket.
“It’s a wonderfully jolly little spree for me. I needn’t say again how
I thank you for putting me in the way of it.”
“O, pshaw, Philip,” returned the hotel proprietor, lightly, as he
reclosed the heavy safe door, “that’s all right! I don’t know how I
should accomplish Saxton’s wishes without you. I shall miss you. One
word more. This journey, as long as it lasts, and until Gerald leaves
your hands, commits this little fellow to your care. So far as any
one can be responsible for him, of course you are. I have spoken to
Gerald and drawn his attention to the fact that he must now really obey
you, not merely as his friend, but his ‘guardian’ in every sense of
the word. The boy seems already oddly fond of you. I don’t think you
will need to use a bit of authority. He will hardly attempt to differ
with you foolishly. Still, he is in your hands, and he is a valuable
handful. Saxton is a careless, rattling fellow in some respects, but
he’s fond of his boy, after his fashion.”
Philip went up-stairs soberly. He was not eighteen. Somehow the tie
between himself and this young charge who seemed to stand so in need
of his friendship all at once weighed on our hero’s heart. He _was_
Gerald’s guardian indeed; and, though the journey ahead was not like
a trip to Europe or California, there were probably unexpected events
to happen in its course where he must act for two. Well, he would try
always to “do the best he could;” and Gerald’s welfare should be his
North Star all the way from the Ossokosee to Halifax.
They were up bright and early next day. They ate their breakfasts
hurriedly, and were driven over to the station just before the express
came rolling into it. They could not reach New York before six o’clock
in the evening.