_MR. TREBY'S DINNER-PARTY._
SIX weeks of hard work had passed away, and Jack's father had a roof
over his head once more. He said it was the flood of happiness that
overflowed his bounding heart when Jack was found, that enabled him
to do twice as much work as he could at any other time in his life.
Seco had been sent with the good news to Jaarsveldt, and brought back
a pressing invitation for Jack to return there until the house was
finished. But Mr. Treby shook his head.
"No, no," he said; "we'll part no more. Come what may, we'll rough it
together, Jack."
Yet Jack did often wonder what Zyl and Genderen and Sannie were doing,
and wished the farms were just a little nearer, so that they might see
one another now and then. Neither did Mr. Treby forget their kindness
to his boy.
"I tell you what, Jack," he said at last; "as soon as the house is
finished, we'll have a grand day, and ask Van Immerseel to bring all
his family to eat the first dinner in it with us."
Jack was full of glee. How he worked and slaved at the preparations—now
raking out the rubbish from the garden, now helping his father with the
carpentering, and busiest of all when his father trusted him with the
paint-brush. An arbour was built in the shadiest nook he could find.
The Black Antelope, with an apron of Tottie's tied over her scarlet
blanket, was with Jack's assistance making herself a gown. There was
not much to be said for its shape and work. Jack insisted upon it that
it must have sleeves and a skirt; and the Black Antelope protested that
the bags for the arms must be loose, or she should feel as if her arms
were tied. She was learning fast a mixture of Hottentot and English,
which Jack understood better than any one.
Life was running in the old grooves once again, except the watching for
the English post. That had been altogether forgotten by Jack, and his
father never spoke about the letter to grandfather which had almost
cost Jack his life; for the thought of the poor child wandering in the
veldt was more than he could bear. He could not talk about it yet; the
very mention of it overcame him. But for all that the answer arrived by
the return mail.
There was a thick letter for Mr. Treby, full of sympathy and
consolation, assuring him his old father had sent him all he could
spare to help him up the hill, and promising more by-and-by. Inside
it there was another for Jack himself; and, odder still, a third for
Sandford Algarkirke. Mr. Treby was entreated in a postscript to forward
this to the young man at once, if he knew anything of his whereabouts.
There was something also in Mr. Treby's letter about Jack, which made
him look up with proud, astonished eyes and murmur a fond, "God bless
him!"
But Jack neither saw nor heard, for he was absorbed in his own, quite
overwhelmed, in fact, by the dignity of receiving a letter of his own.
It read as follows:—
"MY DEAR LITTLE GRANDSON,—That was a wonderful find of yours. That a
bank-note should be lost in Nottingham and found in South Africa seems
to me little short of a miracle. As soon as I had read your letter, I
took my hat and stick and off I went to Hawkswood Hall. It was a good
step for me, but I managed it by resting a bit here and there. For my
little grandson's sake, I determined to give the note into the lady's
own hands.
"The servants told me she was just going out and could not see me
then. So I took out the note you had found, and told them to ask her
if it was not her own handwriting; and if it were, they might say
something else had been found with it which I wished to restore to her.
I knew very well it was, for I had had many a note from her about the
coal-club I started in the winter.
"Back came the footman with, 'Step this way, sir;' and he took me
into a large room full of pictures and pretty things. There sat Mrs.
Featherstone, with the tattered note spread out on a little table
beside her. There was an eager look in her face that spoke of pain
rather than pleasure.
"'I can hardly believe my eyes, Mr. Treby,' she began before I was
well in at the door. 'But where, where in the whole world was this
discovered?'
"'Where you would little think, ma'am—in the wilds of South Africa,'
I said.
"'Was there anything in it?' she gasped.
"'Yes, ma'am—this.' And I spread the bank-note before her. First she
turned crimson, then white as death itself. I thought she was fainting,
so I looked round the room for the bell and rang it sharply. Whilst the
servants were coming, I hobbled to the window and got it open.
"'Don't!' she gasped. 'Only tell me all quickly.'
"'As soon as you feel better, I'll read you my grandson's letter, and
then you will know as much as I do.' I took out my glasses and began to
clear them; but she couldn't wait that minute. She almost snatched the
letter out of my hand, so I let her read it for herself. Presently she
looked up.
"'You must leave me this.'
"I shook my head over that. 'Part with my grandson's first letter!
No, no.'
"'Then wait,' she implored, 'while I send for Mr. Bourke. The loss
of this note has made us bitter enemies. I sent it to him to head a
subscription list, but it never reached him. I charged his landlady
with stealing it; he charged my messenger. Two innocent people have
been injured—perhaps irreparably injured. And now here it is. Imagine
what my feelings are. I can never express my gratitude to your
grandson. You must tell me how I can best I reward his honesty, his
sterling honesty.'
"'He will find a rich reward when I tell him what you say,' I put in.
'Two innocent people cleared through him.'
"'Yes, through his courageous honesty. A man could not have acted more
prudently. You ought to be proud of him,' she went on.
"'No need to tell me that,' I said. 'He is the very joy of his father's
life. He'll make an upright, honourable man to take his father's place;
for as the twig is bent, so is the tree inclined.'
"Whilst we were talking, in came the clergyman and his son. I liked the
lad's face. He was a big, broad-shouldered young fellow, fresh from a
military college.
"'Is it found?' asked the young cadet eagerly. 'Broad as my back may
be, it has felt the weight of the blame I have had to bear for giving
the note to Sandford Algarkirke, when I ought to have taken it myself.'
"'We have both of us been wrong, Mrs. Featherstone,' said the clergyman
gravely. 'You and I refused to believe this money had been lost; we
both agreed it must have been stolen. You fixed upon my housekeeper
as the thief; and I, in my indignation at such injustice, determined
to clear her by hunting out the real offender, and threatened to
prosecute him, whoever he might prove to be. You persisted in believing
Algarkirke's assertion, that he could not recollect what he did with
the note, but as it was not in his pocket, he must have left it at my
door.'
"'I warned him,' interrupted the soldier, 'he was likely to get into
an unpleasant business, and begged him to try to remember. Like a coward,
he took himself off to avoid the nuisance of the investigation. "The
most foolish thing he could do," we all exclaimed. Of course suspicion
fastened on him at once, and if he had set foot in England, he would
have been taken by the police.'
"'Now read this letter,' interrupted Mrs. Featherstone.—'I wish you
would leave it with us, Mr. Treby.'
"I was obliged to consent. They all promised to take the greatest care
of it, and return it safely, saying such handsome things of you, my
Jack, that it brought the tears into your old grandfather's eyes.
"In the evening young Bourke called, and asked me if I would enclose
a note for Sandford Algarkirke to my son; for since it appeared he
had bought a coat of him, he might know where to find him, which none
of them did. So I promised him you and your father would do your best
to find the foolish young fellow. Then he began to tell me how he was
longing to reward my noble grandson.
"'Gently, gently,' I interrupted. 'Gentlemen don't take rewards for
doing right.'
"'Well, anyhow, he shall hear from us all, and that before long,'
he cried.
"So we shook hands most heartily; and I sat down to write this letter,
and charge you never to part with that ostrich. What would I give to
see you and your bird before I die!—Your delighted grandfather,
"JOHN TREBY.
"P.S.—I have written to your dear father about all his troubles. Be a
good boy to him, and keep his courage up."
It was a happy moment for Jack when he laid down his grandfather's
letter; and a happier still for Mr. Treby as he ran his eye over the
closely-written page.
"Well, well," he said; "we'll give the letter for that young
scatter-brain to Van Immerseel. He is sure to be at Jaarsveldt before
long. But we've some weighty matters to consider before our Dutch
neighbours arrive. There is a haunch of elk venison to be roasted and a
game pie to be manufactured between us; and it strikes me I shall make
a better out of it than Tottie, although I am not a Frenchman. Anyhow,
we must try."
So to work they went, sunning themselves in grandfather's letter. The
great effort, the risk, the peril, had not been all in vain.
"But they little think of all that effort cost," added Mr. Treby, with
a deep-drawn sigh.
"Never mind, father," whispered Jack. "Now it's all over, let's be
happy. Here they are!"
Jack pointed as he spoke to a lumbering vehicle, half gig, half cart,
in which Van Immerseel was seated with his wife beside him, and Sannie,
radiant in her Sunday attire, jolting on her mother's knee. Then came
Walt upon his favourite hunter, with Genderen riding pillion behind
him. Not a dozen yards behind them, Zyl was to be seen jogging along in
the Hottentot's cart with the English schoolmaster.
"This is good luck, indeed!" exclaimed Mr. Treby, as he ran out to
welcome his guests. "Where's my voorlooper?" asked Mr. Treby, as he
took Sannie in his arms and kissed her fondly; for his heart had gone
out to the Dutch baby, when she struck him on the knee and bade him
look again for his Jack when everybody else was giving him up for dead.
But he was obliged to give her up to Jack, who rather shrank from
meeting Van Immerseel, who roared out in his stentorian tones that he
was coming to pay him for all his tricks.