MRS. DEPEW HAS THINGS HER OWN WAY
Before five o'clock the three Depews--father, mother, and daughter--were
in the New York lawyer's office, and punctually at the hour Gerald
entered.
The lawyer, who had guessed something of what had happened, judiciously
left them together for a few minutes.
Mrs. Depew carried out her threat; she walked straight over to Gerald,
and gave him what she called a "smack."
"You, Gerald," she said, "I'm as real pleased to see you as I am to see
the snow go away in winter. I believed in you, my lad, from the first,
and if I've got an old fool for a husband, remember that he is only an
old fool, and there's no scrap of real bad in him--that he's as good a
husband, and as good a father as ever stepped in shoes."
"I want to say right here, Gerald," interposed the farmer, "that I'm as
real sorry as any man can be for what I----"
"There's no need for you to say anything to me just now, farmer,"
interrupted Gerald stiffly; "you said enough last time we met to last me
for many a day."
"I know, lad, I know, lad--don't I know it? You're not going to play
heavy on a man old enough to be your father?"
"You were heavy enough on me--young enough to be your son! I have made
up my mind"--he sat down with an air of determination as he spoke "to
talk to you; to talk to you freely, when the whole of your nineteen
thousand pounds is found.
"I've got hold on the balance that's missing, and it only wants the
lawyer to put things in trim for it to be recovered. When it is--when
the whole nineteen thousand pounds is in your possession--I shall want
you to eat the word 'thief' you applied to me."
"Ain't I just eating it, Gerald?" said the old man humbly. "Is there a
man here in N'York with as much humble pie in his mouth as I've got? I
take back all I said----"
"Maybe, but I----"
And then Gerald paused.
Two soft, warm hands passed over the back of his chair, passed his face,
came round his neck; warm lips touched his ear, and a voice he loved
better than any other whispered:
"Gerald!--he is my father."
That did it. Gerald jumped up and took the farmer by the hand.
All his anger had evaporated under the touch of those soft, warm lips.
"Well, farmer, let bygones be bygones. We'll forget all that's been said
that ought not to have been said. Here comes the lawyer. Let's get along
with the declaration."
"I have it all ready," said the lawyer. "It is a joint declaration." He
read it, and then said, "Come along with me to the justice's office; and
it can be declared right off."
The justice before whom they presented themselves glanced at the
document he was signing.
"Coincidence," he said, "or is it the same? Loide's--an English
lawyer--death was reported at the police station this afternoon."
Death! Gerald started. Had he then killed the man he had struggled with?
He said:
"You mean Richard Loide." And he mentioned the hotel.
"That's where the accident occurred. Lift accident--there is the
certificate just brought in."
"Will you loan this to me?" inquired the lawyer, after perusing it; "I
think it will save some trouble."
"Yes," answered the justice; "if you return it within two hours. It has
to go to the coroner by then."
This was promised. Outside the office the lawyer hailed a hackman.
"Get in," he said to his companions; "we will drive straight to the
money changer's."
They did. The hackman waited. They entered the office.
"You remember me, Mr. Wolff?" queried the lawyer.
It was evident the banker did--from his obsequious manner in receiving
his visitor. Doubtless the lawyer knew something of him.
"You have a thousand pound English note in your possession belonging to
my client here."
"I hope you not tink, Meestair Denison, dat I intends----"
"Oh, I know you only want to give it up to the right owner. He's
here--this gentleman. Mr. Loide left it with you--Loide's dead. Here's
the police certificate of his death."
"Det, eh?"
"He was acting in England as a lawyer for this client of mine, and paid
over eighteen out of nineteen thousand pounds. The other thousand pound
note was missing. This declaration sworn to before Justice Colonel
George F. Vanderwood to-day proves the ownership."
"So."
It was evident that the mention of the justice had impressed the banker.
"You will give up the note, I suppose, without any trouble?"
"Sairtenly, Meestair Denison, if you say so. I suppose I haf some
eendemnity, eh?"
"I have prepared one. Here it is. Mr. Depew, will you sign it?"
Mr. Depew did so, and in exchange got the missing thousand pound note.
"Now, back to my office," said the lawyer, "where the ladies are
waiting."
They returned there. The farmer flourished his note, and then threw it
into his wife's lap.
"All's well, old girl," he said; "got him. It's all settled."
"And now you have only to settle with me," said the lawyer, with a
smile, "and the whole thing will be ended."
"Not much, it isn't," interposed Mrs. Depew. "There's a marriage
settlement for you to draw up. My old man is settling nine thousand
pounds on our daughter, Tessie, who is to be married to Mr. Gerald
Danvers here."
"No need for a settlement, madam. Give her the money now before they are
married, and it's hers as firmly as any deed could make it so."
"Is that so? Then, George, you'd better give it right away--here."
"Plenty of time, old girl, when we get back----"
"Get back! There's no putting back from here with a couple of single
people around. Those two is going to be made one before we step out of
N'York again."
"Mother!"
"That's me, Tess--you hear me say it.
"You really mean that, Mrs. Depew," inquired Gerald, with sparkling
eyes.
"Young man," she answered, "you've evidently got to learn that when your
mother-in-law that is to be says a thing, she means it."
"Mrs. Depew, you're the finest mother-in-law the world holds! You're a
brick! a regular brick!"
"But, mother," said the blushing Tessie, "I haven't got anything
ready----"
"Lawd sakes! Listen to that now! And here are we in N'York with a bank
full of money, too! Can't you buy what you want?"
"Of course she can," interrupted Gerald eagerly. "Mrs. Depew, you're the
most sensible woman I've ever met."
"None of your soft soap now!"
"It's a fact. It's a capital idea. Couldn't be better. Don't you think
so, farmer?"
Of course the farmer thought so. He valued his domestic peace, and
assured it by acquiescence in most of his wife's ideas.
He even went so far as to say that he had thought a similar idea out as
they drove along.
Tessie made another--must it be confessed, very faint-hearted?--protest.
"Why should you be in such a hurry, mother?"
"Because I don't believe in long engagements--that's why. Because this
boy was promised his reward--that's why. Because you know perfectly well
that you are just as anxious to get married as he is to marry
you--that's why. Because I'm getting an old woman, and the sooner you
get married, the longer I shall have on earth to play with my
grandchildren--that's why."
"Mother!"
Of course it was settled that way. When they left New York shortly
after, Gerald and Tessie were man and wife.
Mrs. Depew usually contrived to get her own way. If, of that household
it was true that the husband was the head, she was the neck--she was so
capable of turning the head.
THE END