Philip called at the hotel, and inquired, with considerable confidence,
if “Mr. Congreve” was in.
“He has not returned,” answered the landlord.
“Then he won’t be back to-night,” said Philip, feeling considerably
disappointed.
“No; the last train is in.”
“I wonder if he had any trouble in selling the bonds,” thought Philip;
but this thought was one to which he didn’t think it prudent to give
expression.
He walked home slowly, while Colonel Ross kept on his way to the modest
home of the Gilberts. We will precede him.
The little family was gathered in the plain sitting-room. There were
but three—Mrs. Gilbert, Harry and Uncle Obed.
The old man—to begin with the oldest first—was sitting in a rocking
chair, with his hands folded in his lap, and an expression of placid
contentment on his face. He had reached the age when rest is agreeable,
and was satisfied to sit through the evening, now watching Harry or his
mother, and now occupied with thoughts of earlier days and distant
scenes. He was thoroughly satisfied with the new home he had found,
plain and humble though it was. Indeed, perhaps, for that very reason,
it suited him better.
Mrs. Gilbert was sewing. She had time enough to sew for some of her
neighbors, and in that way earned a moderate sum for herself, though,
as the family was now situated, she could have dispensed with it.
Harry was reading a “Life of Benjamin Franklin,” which he had taken
from the Sunday school library, and was evidently deeply interested in
it.
“What are you reading, Harry?” asked the old man, after a while.
“Franklin’s life, Uncle Obed.”
“You couldn’t read anything better. Old Ben is a good model for
American boys. He was a great man.”
“So he was, Uncle Obed; and he began poor, too.”
“Sarten, sarten! Poor boys make the smartest men—that’s my
observation.”
“Then I’ve got one thing in my favor,” said Harry, smiling.
“And you will succeed, too; I make no doubt of it. You’ve made a pretty
good beginning already.”
“Thank you, Uncle Obed, for your favorable opinion. I hope I shall
deserve it.”
“You’re worth half a dozen boys like Philip Ross. I reckon he’ll never
amount to much.”
“He doesn’t think so,” said Harry, smiling. “He thinks himself a very
important character.”
“Like enough! He looks like it. He doesn’t care to own me as a
relation.”
“It would be different if you were rich, Uncle Obed.”
“Mebbe so. I think so myself. Thank the Lord, I ain’t beholden to him
or his family for any favors. They wanted to send me home to Illinoy. I
was too unfashionable for them, I expect, but I’ve found a home—yes,
I’ve found a good home.”
“I am glad we succeeded in making it comfortable for you, Mr. Wilkins,”
said Mrs. Gilbert, looking up from her sewing.
“You do, ma’am,” said the old man. “I ain’t been so well taken care of
for years as I am now. I wish I could do something to show my
gratitude.”
“The money you pay us is of great service. It makes the largest part of
our income. I am only afraid you pay too much.”
“No, I don’t,” said Uncle Obed. “Money isn’t of much vally, compared
with a good home. If I ain’t as rich as my niece, I can afford to pay
fair board. When a man’s turned seventy, as I have, the best money can
do for him is to give him a happy home.”
Mrs. Gilbert and Harry were pleased to find their boarder so contented.
The money he paid weekly, with unvarying punctuality, made things easy
for the widow, and relieved her of the anxiety which she had constantly
felt before his arrival.
The conversation above recorded was scarcely over, when a knock was
heard at the front door—a sharp, peremptory knock—as of one who
demanded admittance, rather than requested it.
All looked up, with some surprise, for it was now eight o’clock, and
they did not often have evening callers.
“I will go to the door, mother,” said Harry. “You need not interrupt
your sewing.”
So Harry opened the outer door, and, considerably to his surprise, saw
standing on the step the dignified figure of Colonel Ross.
“Colonel Ross!” he exclaimed, in surprise.
“I will come in a few minutes,” said the Colonel, stiffly.
“Certainly, sir. Excuse my not inviting you.”
“It is very excusable—under the circumstances,” said the Colonel,
stiffly.
“What does he mean?” thought Harry. “I can’t tell what circumstances he
refers to.”
“Mother,” said he, opening the door of the sitting-room, “here is
Colonel Ross.”
“Take a seat, Colonel Ross,” said the widow, politely.
Colonel Ross seated himself deliberately in a chair near his wife’s
uncle.
“Glad to see you, Mr. Ross,” said Uncle Obed, thinking the visit was
meant for him. “You’re very kind to look in on an old man.”
“I—well, my visit this evening has a different object.”
“Oh, come to see Mrs. Gilbert! Well, how’s Lucinda?”
“Mrs. Ross is enjoying her usual health,” said Colonel Ross,
ceremoniously.
“Glad to hear it,” said the old man. “She hasn’t called on me yet,
though I’m the only relation she’s got within a thousand miles.”
“Mrs. Ross is very much occupied,” said her husband, coldly. “However,
you will excuse me if I proceed to the object of my visit. I regret to
say that last evening the trunk in which I keep a part of my securities
was opened, and two government bonds abstracted.”
“You don’t say so!” exclaimed Mr. Wilkins, really surprised. “When did
it happen?”
“Sometime in the evening or night. The outer door was left unlocked,
through the neglect of my son, Philip, who sat up later than his mother
or myself. Unfortunately, I had myself carelessly left my bunch of
keys, including the key to this trunk, on my desk, so that the thief
found his work very easy.”
“You and Philip were both careless. Have you got track of the rogue?”
“I think I have,” answered Colonel Ross, in a significant tone.
“I’m glad on’t. These fellows ought to be caught. I don’t have much
sympathy for a thief.”
“I am glad to hear you say so,” said Colonel Ross.
“You didn’t think I had, did you?” asked the old man, puzzled.
“I thought you might have, when you came to know who it was I suspect.”
“I don’t see as that will make any difference. Who is it?”
“My son, just before retiring, saw a person prowling round the house,
and looking into the window. Doubtless, he saw the bunch of keys, and
was tempted to enter and steal the bonds.”
“Have you arrested him?”
“Not yet; but probably I shall before long.”
“Who is it, Colonel Ross?” asked Mrs. Gilbert, with interest.
“Madam,” said the Colonel, slowly, “it pains me to say that the person
seen prowling round my house, and looking in at my window, was your
son, Harry!”
“Harry!” ejaculated the widow, scarcely thinking she had heard aright.
“It’s ridiculous!” exclaimed Uncle Obed.
“Colonel Ross,” said Harry, rising to his feet, and confronting the
visitor, with clear eyes and an expression of honest indignation, “do
you mean to say that you suspect me of stealing any of your property?”
“Young man, I advise you not to be impudent or brazen-faced. Do you
mean to deny that you were near my house last evening between half-past
nine and ten o’clock?”
“No, I don’t. I did pass your house about that time.”
“I am glad you have the sense to own it. You may as well confess the
rest—that you entered through the unlocked door, opened my small trunk,
and took out two government bonds of a hundred dollars each.”
“Whoever charges me with that utters a falsehood,” said Harry, boldly.
“I passed your house, but I did not enter it, and did not even look in
the window, and it is news to me that the door was unlocked, or the
keys on the desk. In fact, I didn’t know you had a trunk in which you
kept your bonds.”
“Of course you deny it,” said Colonel Ross, “but I think it entirely
likely that the stolen bonds are at this very moment hidden beneath
this roof.”