THE MOST SURPRISING ADVENTURE OF ALL
The children had been back two or three days, and Kink was still on the
road, when one morning a telegram came from him saying that he had
reached Hounslow, and Robert asked if they might all walk out to meet
him, and so return home triumphantly in a body. Mrs. Avory agreed, and
they trooped off, after the briefest lunch, taking Horace Campbell and
the Rotherams with them.
They had been gone two or three hours, and Mrs. Avory was sitting
talking with Runcie, when Eliza Pollard brought a card on the brass
tray that Janet had repoussed for her mother's last Christmas present.
It ran:
MR. HENRY AMORY
The Red House,
Chiswick, W.
"I don't know him," said Mrs. Avory. "What is he like?"
"Well, mum," said Eliza Pollard, "he's a short gentleman with a red
face and two boys, and he seems very angry."
"Ask him what he wants to see me about," said Mrs. Avory.
"I did," said Eliza Pollard, "and he said he could not tell me, but the
matter was of the highest importance."
Mrs. Avory took the card and descended to the drawing-room, where the
visitors were waiting for her.
Mr. Amory bowed. "Pardon me, madam," he said, "but I have come to know
what you have done with my caravan."
"Your caravan!"
"Yes, madam, my caravan. A caravan was sent as a present to my sons
some three weeks or a month ago, and your family, I am creditably
informed, seized and detained it."
"Excuse me," said Mrs. Avory, "but we did nothing of the sort. A
caravan was sent here for my children as a present, and we have simply
made use of it. They have been away in it for a fortnight. It returns
to-day!"
"Ha!" said Mr. Amory. "Perhaps you will have the goodness to inform me
who gave it to you?"
"That," said Mrs. Avory, "I can't do--"
"Ha!" said Mr. Amory.
"--because," Mrs. Avory continued, "I don't know. We have never
discovered. The giver wished to be anonymous."
Mr. Amory looked surprised, and became a shade less fierce.
"You took no steps to find out?" he asked.
"How could I? There was no clue to go upon."
"I see, I see," said Mr. Amory. "There has been a huge mistake. Perhaps
you will allow me to read you a letter which we received a day or so
ago:
"'DEAR CHILDREN,
"'I have just come back, much sooner than I expected; but, finding no
letter from you, I have made some inquiries as to what you have done
with the caravan, and, to my amazement, cannot discover that it has
ever reached you at all; and since, if it has not, this letter must be
all Greek to you, I may now say that on the 23rd of June a caravan
fully furnished for a journey should have arrived at your house with a
letter saying it was from your friend X., as it amused me to call
myself. I have been to the man whom I employed to take it to you, but
he is in hospital. His wife, however, is convinced that he did take it
to Chiswick all right. Please ask your father to try to discover to
what house it was sent. Tomorrow evening I shall come to see you all.
"'Your affectionate
UNCLE EUSTACE.
"There," said Mr. Amory, "you see. Not, however, that I should have let
my sons go away in it--at any rate, without me"--the two little boys
winced--"but different people have different ideas. Well," he
continued, "I have been investigating, and of course I soon discovered
that the caravan had come here, and that your children had gone off in
it. I will admit that we have only just come to Chiswick, and that you
were better known here; but the fact remains that the letter was
addressed, not to the name of Avory, but Amory."
Mrs. Avory was bewildered. "It is all very unexpected," she said. "I
really cannot remember reading the address on the envelope at all. It
was handed to me as mine, and I opened it. It may have been Amory. If
you care to see the letter, I have it."
"Please," said Mr. Amory; and Mrs. Avory went to her desk.
"Now, boys, listen to me," said Mr. Amory to his two sons. "Let this be
a lesson to you. Never give anonymous presents. It is foolish, and it
leads to trouble; and very likely the wrong person will be thanked."
Mrs. Avory handed him the letter, and he read it.
"Quite clear," he said, "but not what I call a sensible way of doing
things. Your explanation satisfies me."
Mrs. Avory expressed her regret that the mistake had occurred. "But,"
she added, "you must allow that we had no other course than to accept
the present as though it really belonged to us. We have for so many
years been the only Avories here."
"But have you so many friends," Mr. Amory inquired, "who would be
likely to give you anonymously so handsome a gift? It did not strike
you as strange?"
"Certainly not," said Mrs. Avory.
Mr. Amory again said "Ha!"
"The caravan," Mrs. Avory resumed, rising to her feet, "shall be put in
order directly it returns, and sent to your address. Anything that has
been taken from it or broken shall be replaced. I can say no more than
that. Good afternoon."
It was not, however, the end of the visit, for at that instant the
sound of heavy wheels was heard, and cheers in the street, and, looking
out of the window, Mrs. Avory saw that the Slowcoach had already
arrived, escorted (as it had left) by all the children of Chiswick, and
a moment later Janet burst into the room, crying, "Mother, do come and
see!"
She pulled up stiff on observing the strangers.
"Janet, dear," said Mrs. Avory, "there has been a serious mistake. The
Slowcoach is not ours at all. It belongs to this gentleman's children."
Janet gasped. "But it was sent to us," she said at last.
"No," said Mr. Amory; "I beg your pardon, young lady, but it was sent
to us. It came to you in error."
Janet looked questioningly at her mother, and Mrs. Avory nodded yes.
Hester and Gregory now entered the room to insist on their mother
either coming out or giving leave for some of the street children to be
allowed to go inside the caravan. But Mr. Amory interposed. "No," he
said. "I prefer not. They are rarely clean."
Gregory looked at him in dismay.
"Mother!" he exclaimed.
"Janet," whispered Mrs. Avory, who knew her youngest son, "take Gregory
away, and keep him out of sight till they go."
"But we," Mr. Amory resumed, "will examine the caravan. I suppose there
was no inventory."
"No," said Mrs. Avory.
"Very unfortunate," he muttered, "and very unsystematic. However, we
must hope for the best;" and so saying he led the way toward the yard,
with his meek little sons, who had said not a word, but appeared to
wish themselves well out of the affair, behind him.
Kink had already unharnessed Moses, and the Slowcoach stood at rest.
Mr. Amory first went to examine a place on the wheel where a gate-post
had removed some of the paint, and he then put a foot on the step; but
Diogenes sprang up and growled so seriously that he withdrew.
"Please remove the dog," he said.
While this was being done, and the father and his two sons were inside,
Janet explained the situation to the others. They refused at first to
believe it.
"Do you mean to say," Robert exclaimed, "that the Slowcoach isn't ours
at all?"
"Yes," said Janet.
"It belongs to those measly pip-squeaks?" said Robert.
"Yes," said Janet.
Robert held his head in a kind of stupor.