WHAT LAURA HAD TO TELL
The train was nearly an hour late, and during that time Dave walked
impatiently up and down the railroad platform. Occasionally he thought
of school matters, and his friends and enemies, but most of the time
his mind was on his sister. His father and his uncle talked together
and did not interrupt his meditations.
At last a far-away whistle proclaimed the coming of the Western
express, and Dave's face took on a more eager look than ever. His
father gazed into his clear eyes and caught him by the arm.
"I trust with all my heart you find Laura all you desire," he said in
a low tone, and Dave nodded, for his throat was so choked up that he
could not speak.
The long train rolled in and the passengers for Crumville began to
alight. "There she is!" cried Dunston Porter and ran forward, with his
brother and Dave at his heels. A mist seemed to come over the boy's
eyes and his heart thumped furiously. Then he saw a tall girl standing
before him, her eyes looking deeply into his own.
"Laura, this is Dave," he heard his father say. Then the girl came
closer, reached out her arms, and in a moment more brother and sister
were locked in the closest of embraces. It was such a moment Dave had
longed for--prayed for--and all on the instant he knew that Laura was
what he had hoped she would be and that they should love each other
with the sweetest of sisterly and brotherly love as long as they lived.
Laura was handsome rather than pretty. She had an aristocratic air
which had come down to her from her mother and grandmother. She was
stately in her movements and her voice charmed Dave the moment he heard
it.
"Just to think, you are really and truly my brother!" she exclaimed.
"Isn't it wonderful!"
"It's wonderful for me to find a sister--and a father," answered Dave.
"Sometimes I am afraid I'll wake up and find it all a dream."
"When I got papa's telegram I thought it was a dream. One of the
cowboys on the ranch brought it over from the railroad station. At
first I thought there must be some mistake, but Mr. Endicott said there
couldn't be, and so I arranged to come east at once. A gentleman and
his wife, who had been stopping at the ranch, came with me as far as
Buffalo. Oh, I really couldn't get here fast enough! Did you get the
telegram I sent from Chicago?"
"Yes," answered her father. "And the one from the ranch, too."
"I want to hear the whole of the wonderful story just as soon as
possible," continued Laura. "I promised Belle Endicott I'd send her the
particulars, for she is dying to know. Belle is my friend, you know.
Her father is a railroad president, but he owns that ranch, too, and
they go out there whenever they feel like it, winter or summer. Belle
said she'd rather read my next letter than a story book." And Laura
smiled brightly.
"And I shall want to hear all about you and your travels," answered
Dave. "Oh, I guess we'll have enough to talk about to last a week."
The party of four were soon in the sleigh, with Laura and Dave on the
front seat. The youth showed how he could handle the team, and in a
short while drove up to the stepping-stone of the Wadsworth mansion. At
once there was a rush from within, and the girl was introduced to those
who had in the past done so much for her brother, and those who were
Dave's chums. Jessie was a trifle shy at first, but this presently wore
away, and when Laura heard what the Wadsworths had done for her brother
she speedily took mother and daughter to her heart, and Jessie and she
became the best of friends.
It was assuredly a grand gathering around the bountiful table which the
Wadsworths had supplied, and all lingered long, listening to what the
various members of the Porter family had to tell: of Dave's doings on
the Potts farm, at school, and in quest of his relatives; of Dunston
Porter's treasure hunt in the South Seas; of Mr. David Porter's trip
to Europe with Laura; and of the girl's adventures on the ranch and
elsewhere.
"Strange as it may seem, I have met two boys who knew Dave," said
Laura, during the course of the conversation. "One was that scamp, Nick
Jasniff, who tried to make himself agreeable in London."
"Yes, I know about him," answered Dave. "But who was the other?"
"The other is the son of the man who owns the cattle ranch next to Mr.
Endicott's, Mr. Felix Merwell."
"Merwell!" cried Dave, Roger, and Phil in a breath.
"Yes. Why do you look so astonished?"
"Do you mean Link Merwell's father?" asked her brother.
"Yes. Link came out there just a few days before I started for the
East. He seemed to be a nice sort, and he is one of the best horseback
riders I ever saw."
"Did you--er--go out with him?" stammered Dave.
"Yes, twice, but not alone--Belle was along." Laura looked at her
brother, whose face was a study. "What makes you look so queer? You
know Mr. Merwell, don't you?"
"Oh, yes, we know him," answered Phil, before Dave could speak.
"We'd like to know less of him," added Roger.
"Oh!" And now Laura's face showed her wonder.
"You see, it's this way," continued the senator's son, thinking it
might be difficult for Dave to explain. "Link Merwell tried to lord it
over a lot of us fellows at Oak Hall. He's a domineering chap, and some
of us wouldn't stand for it. I gave him a piece of my mind once, and so
did Phil, and Dave did more--gave him a sound thrashing."
"Oh, Dave, did you really!" Laura's face showed her distress. "Why,
I--I thought he was nice enough. Maybe it was only a boyish quarrel,"
she added, hopefully. "I know boys do fight sometimes with hardly a
reason for it."
"Dave had a good reason for hitting Merwell," said Phil. "The best
reason in the world." He looked at Jessie and Mrs. Wadsworth and the
others. "I'll not spoil this gathering by saying what it was. But it
was something very mean, and Merwell deserved the drubbing he got."
"Oh, I am so sorry! That is, I don't mean I am sorry Dave thrashed
him--if he deserved it--but I am sorry that I--I went out with him, and
that I--I started a correspondence with him. I thought he was nice, by
his general looks."
"Oh, he can make himself look well, when he dresses up," said Roger.
"And he can act the gentleman on the outside. But if you get to know
him thoroughly you'll find him a different sort."
"I don't wish to know him if he's that kind," answered Laura, quickly.
"But I thought he was all right, especially as he was the son of the
owner of the next ranch. I am sorry now I ever spoke to him."
"And you have been writing to him?" asked Dave. "I thought you said you
had met him only a few days before you came away?"
"So I did. But he wanted me to buy something for him in Chicago--a lens
for his camera, and asked me to write from there, and I did. And, just
for fun, I sent him two letters I wrote on the train--along with some
letters to Belle and some other folks I know. I did it to pass the
time,--so I wouldn't know how long it was taking me to get here. It was
foolish to do so, and it will teach me a lesson to be careful about
writing in the future."
"I'm sorry you wrote to him," answered Dave, soberly. But how sorry he
was to be, and how distressed his sister was to become, he was still to
learn.
Not further to mar the joy of the occasion Link Merwell's name was
dropped, and Roger and Phil told of some funny initiations into the
secret society at Oak Hall, which set everybody to laughing, and then
Dunston Porter related the particulars of a hunt after bears he had
once made in the Rockies. Thus the afternoon and evening wore away
swiftly and all too soon it was time to retire. Laura was given a room
next to that occupied by Dave, and long after the rest of the house was
quiet brother and sister sat by a window, looking out at the moonlight
on the snow and discussing the past.
"You look very much like father," said Laura, "and much like Uncle
Dunston, too. No wonder that old sailor, Billy Dill, thought he had
seen you when he only saw Uncle Dunston."
"And father tells me you look like mother," answered Dave, softly. "I
do not remember her, but if she looked like you she must have been
very handsome," and Dave smiled and brushed a stray lock back from his
sister's brow.
"It is too bad she cannot see us now, Dave--how happy it would make
her! I have missed her so much--it is no easy thing to get along
without a mother's care, is it?--or a father's care, either. Perhaps
if mamma were alive I'd be different in some things. I shouldn't be so
careless in what I do--in making friends with that Link Merwell, for
instance, and sending him letters." Laura looked genuinely distressed
as she uttered the last words.
"Well, you didn't know him, so you are not to blame. But I shouldn't
send him any more letters."
"You can depend upon it I won't."
"He is the kind who would laugh at you for doing it, and make fun of
you to all his friends."
"He'll not get another line from me, and if he writes I'll return the
letters," answered Laura, firmly.
"Did he say when he was going back to Oak Hall?"
"Inside of two weeks. He said he had had a little trouble with a
teacher, and the master of the school had advised him to take a short
vacation and give the matter a chance to blow over."
Laura had arrived at Crumville on Thursday, and it was decided that
Dave, Roger, and Phil should not return to Oak Hall until the following
Monday. On Friday and Saturday the young folks went sleighing and
skating, Jessie being one of the party, and on Sunday the entire
household attended church. It was a service into which Dave entered
with all his heart, and he thanked God from the bottom of his soul
that at last his sister, as well as his father and his uncle, had been
restored to him.
"After I go back to boarding school where are you and Laura and Uncle
Dunston going to stay?" questioned Dave of his father.
Mr. Porter smiled faintly. "I have a little secret about that, Dave,"
he answered. "I'll tell you later--after everything is ripe."
"I know the Wadsworths would hate to have me leave them--and Professor
Potts won't want me to go either."
"Well, you wait, Dave,--and see what comes," answered his father; and
with this the lad had to be content.
Bright and early Monday morning the three boys had breakfast and
started for the depot, to take the train for Oakdale, the nearest town
to Oak Hall. Laura, Jessie, and Mr. David Porter went along to see them
off.
"Now, Dave, I want to see you make the most of this term at school,"
said Mr. Porter. "Now you have Laura and me, you won't have so much to
worry about."
"I'll do my level best, father," he answered. "We want you to come out
at the top of the class," said Laura.
"And Dave can do it too--I know he can," remarked Jessie, and gave him
a sunny smile of encouragement.
"How about us poor chaps?" asked Roger. "Can't we come in somewhere?"
"Yes, you must come in right after Dave," answered Laura, and this made
everybody laugh.
"The higher we get in school the harder the work becomes," came from
Phil. "But I am going to peg away at it--provided the other fellows
will let me."
"Phil always was very studious," said Dave, with an old-time grin
spreading over his face. "He'd rather study a problem in geometry or
translate Latin than read a story book or play baseball; wouldn't you,
Phil?"
"Not much! and you know it. But if a fellow has got to grind, why----"
"He can grind--and play baseball, too," added Mr. Porter. "My parting
advice is: when you study, study for all you are worth, and when you
play, play for all you are worth."
"Here comes the train!" cried Laura, and turning, she kissed her
brother. "Good-bye, Roger; good-bye, Phil!"
"Good-bye!" came from the others, and a general handshaking followed.
Then the three chums ran for the train, got aboard, and were off for
school once more.