WOLF’S SPEECH.
I was never so “taken aback” in my life as when I heard the silvery
voice of Miss Grace Toppleton, and saw the magnificent gift in her
hand. At any time I should have looked at her with interest; but just
then it seemed to me that the sun had ceased to shine, and all the
light which flowed down upon the brilliant scene around me came from
her beautiful face. I wished there was a hole in the platform beneath
me, through which I might sink out of sight; but then, I am sure,
if I had gone down into the gloom of the space beneath me, I should
instantly have wished myself back again; for I was the hero of the
occasion, and the soft eyes of Miss Grace were fixed upon me.
As I listened to the silvery tones of the fair orator, I became
conscious that I was presenting a very awkward appearance. My hands
seemed to be as big as the feet of an elephant, and altogether too
large to go into my pockets. I did not know what to do with them, or
where to put them. I felt like a great clumsy booby. But when the
thought flashed upon me that Miss Grace was looking at me, and that she
must consider me a boorish cub, I felt the necessity of doing something
to redeem myself. When I was fully conscious that she was observing me,
I quite forgot that anybody else was engaged in a similar occupation.
I straightened up, stiffened the quaking muscles in my frame, and
permitted my cumbrous hands to fall at my side, just as the professor
of elocution in the Wimpleton Institute had instructed me to do when I
spoke “in public on the stage.”
If the change of attitude produced no effect upon others, it did in
me, for I knew then that I looked like a civilized boy, and bore
myself with the dignity becoming the young engineer of the Lake Shore
Railroad. Miss Grace handed me the watch, and I took it with my best
bow. She finished her “neat little speech,” and, as her silvery tones
ceased, I was painfully conscious that something was expected of me.
It was a hard case. Clinging to the cow-catcher of a locomotive going
at thirty miles an hour was nothing to it. Again I longed for a hole
in the platform through which I might disappear from the public gaze.
But there was no hole in the platform, and no chance to escape. The
audience were heartily applauding the presentation speech of Miss
Grace; and I think the major was prouder of her then than he had ever
before been in his life.
While this demonstration was in progress, I tried to gather up my
thoughts for the mighty effort I was to make. A labored apology, with
something about being in a “tight place,” flashed upon my mind as a
suitable preface to my speech; but I almost as quickly decided not
to make any apology; for, since no one could suspect me of being a
speech-maker, I was not likely to fall below their expectations as an
orator. Before I had concluded what I should say, or try to say, the
applause ceased for an instant, and then the Toppletonians began to
shout, “Speech! Speech!”
If I could run an engine, there was no good reason why I should not
make a speech. I had something to say, and all I had to do was to say
it. Really it seemed to be the simplest thing in the world, and I
determined to “go in,” however I might come out of it. In a word, I was
resolved to put it “through by daylight.”
“Miss Grace Toppleton,” I began, and the uttering of the whole name
seemed to afford me a grateful respite of some fraction of a second
in which to gather up the next idea. “I am very much obliged to the
students of the Toppleton Institute for this beautiful gift. A gold
watch is something I never expected to have. I didn’t think of anything
of this kind when I came in here, and for that reason I was very much
surprised. I shall always keep this watch, and, whenever I look at its
face, it will remind me of the generous fellows who gave it to me. I
shall”--
I was interrupted by a burst of rapturous applause from the students;
and while I was waiting for it to subside, I was satisfied that I was
doing very well.
“I shall endeavor, with the help of this watch, always to be on time;
and I hope I shall be able to do my duty to the officers and to the
liberal patron of the Lake Shore Railroad. Miss Toppleton, I am very
grateful to all the good fellows who have given me this splendid watch;
and though I don’t believe in wearing two faces, I shall never look at
the face of this watch without thinking of another face--the face of
the one who so prettily presented it.”
“Good! Good!” shouted the students; and another round of applause
encouraged me in my arduous task.
“I shall always prize this watch,” I continued, glancing at the
beautiful time-keeper, “for the sake of those who gave it to me; and I
am sure I shall give it a double value because of the fair hands from
which it passed into my own. With ten thousand thanks for the beautiful
gift, I shall try to perform my duty better than ever before; and
whatever work is given me to do, I shall put it through by daylight.”
I made my best bow again, and retired from the stage amid a storm of
applause. As Miss Grace followed me, I helped her down the steps. The
pleasant, arch smile she bestowed upon me made me feel that I had not
said anything which she disliked.
“Mr. Wolf, you are quite a speech-maker,” said she.
“I don’t know; I never did any such thing before,” I replied, blushing
like a little girl.
“You did it real well, Mr. Wolf; and when they don’t want you to run
the engine, you must go to Congress.”
“If I had only known what was going on, I should have got ready for it,
and shouldn’t have felt quite so sheepish.”
“That would have spoiled the whole. You did splendidly. Now let me
fasten the chain to your vest, and see how you look with the watch on.”
She took the watch from my hand, adjusted the chain in a button-hole
of my vest with her own fair hands, and I could hardly resist the
temptation to do or say something intensely ridiculous; but I did
resist it, and only thanked her as coolly as I could for the service.
Major Toppleton came up and congratulated me on my speech. I think they
did not expect me to be able to say anything, and perhaps some of the
students would have enjoyed the scene quite as much if I had broken
down completely. But I am confident that all the compliments I received
were based upon the very meagre expectations of my intelligent audience.
The students used me very handsomely, and for the time did not put on
any airs. They treated me as an equal, and even Tommy Toppleton was
as gracious as though I had been the scion of a great house like his
own. Miss Grace walked with me to the refreshment tables, and while the
band, whose leader seemed to be an awful satirist, wickedly played,
“Hail to the Chief,” I partook of chicken salad, cake, and ice-cream,
being actually waited upon by the fair oratorical divinity who had
presented me the watch. I was afraid she would scold me for saying that
I should think of her face whenever I looked at the face of the watch;
but she did not, and I suppose she regarded the daring expression as a
piece of “buncombe” tolerated by the license of such an occasion.
I spent an hour in the most agreeable manner in the Sandy Beach Grove;
indeed, the whole scene is still a bright spot in my memory. But I was
obliged to return to the dummy, for after all I was only a poor boy, an
employee of the magnate of Toppleton. I was out of place at the feast
and the revel; but I was very grateful to the students, and to all the
people, especially Miss Grace Toppleton, who had treated me with such
“distinguished consideration.” I resumed my place on the engine, and
as there were a great many people to convey back to Middleport, I made
quick trips, and literally succeeded in putting them all “through by
daylight.”
After I had put up the dummy for the night, I went over to Centreport
with my father, mother, and sisters in the major’s sail-boat, which
he placed at my disposal for the purpose. I had never seen my parents
so happy before. If they were proud of me, I could afford to forgive
them for it. We had almost forgotten that the cloud of misfortune had
ever lowered above us. My father had not tasted a drop of liquor since
the fatal day on which he had lost his money, and this was enough to
make us all happy, without any of the other pleasant events which had
gladdened our hearts. God had been very merciful to us, and had turned
the wrath of man into blessings for us, and I am sure we were all
grateful to him for his goodness.
Nothing definite had been heard from Christy Holgate, but it was
believed that he had gone to the South. A close watch was kept upon his
family in Ucayga; for it was supposed that he would send for them, and
it was hoped that their movements would enable the officer in charge
of the case to ascertain his present residence. My father despaired
of ever hearing from the runaway or the money, and all agreed that it
would be but a poor satisfaction to have the wretch sent to the state
prison for even a short term.
We walked from the mill wharf up to the house after I had securely
moored the sail-boat. We were still talking over the pleasant events of
the day, and for the third time I had showed my watch to my sisters,
who were prouder of it than I was. As we approached the house, I saw
Captain Synders sitting on the fence, and apparently waiting for the
return of my father or myself. I could not believe that he had any
business with me, for Colonel Wimpleton had paid the honest skipper for
the destruction of his boat, and nothing had been said for a week about
arresting me for taking part in the mischief.
“I’m waiting for you, Mr. Penniman,” said Synders, as we went up to the
gate.
“I hope you haven’t had to wait long,” replied my father, gently.
“Long enough,” added the constable, gruffly.
“What can I do for you?” inquired my father, rather anxiously, I
thought, though his face wore a good-natured smile.
“Nothing for me, but you can do something for Colonel Wimpleton.”
“What can I do for him?”
“Pay the note of two thousand dollars which was due at noon to-day,”
continued Synders, maliciously.
“Colonel Wimpleton knows very well that my money was stolen from me,
and that I cannot pay him,” replied my father.
“It’s nothing to him that your money was stolen. You must pay the note.”
“I can’t do that.”
“Well, we know you didn’t do it, and this afternoon the colonel
foreclosed the mortgage. I’m here to give you notice of it, and to warn
you out of the house.”
“Does he mean to turn me out to-night?” asked my father.
“I shall give you legal notice to quit, before witnesses.”
“I will pay rent for the house,” suggested my father.
“That won’t do,” answered Synders, shaking his head. “The house must
be sold after legal notice has been given; and in my opinion it won’t
bring a dollar over the mortgage, under the hammer.”
“Well, I can’t help myself,” added my father, gloomily.
“You made a bad mistake when you turned upon the colonel,” sneered the
officer.
“I didn’t turn upon him; but we will not talk about that.”
My father was very much depressed at the thought of losing the thousand
dollars which he had invested in his house. All he had saved was to be
swept away from him. The constable procured his witnesses, served his
legal notices, and went away chuckling over the misery he left behind
him. Doubtless he exaggerated the confusion and dismay of my father
when he reported his doings to his employer, and the great man gloated
proportionally over the wreck he was making.