A TANGLED WEB
When the Carnegys sat down to dinner that day there was that subtle air
of constraint which is the result of family jars--an electric
disturbance in the home atmosphere which each and all feel. Theo, at
the head of the table, looked grave and pained. Geoff was
uncomfortable also, and, in his awkwardness, overtalked himself, in a
frantic desire to smooth matters. Queenie and the captain himself were
the only members of the family at their ease; while as for Alick, he
sat sullen and dumb, brooding over his self-made wrongs.
'Well,' said the master of the house towards the end of the meal, 'have
you boys come to your senses yet, hey? Has order been restored on the
decks? I strongly advised Price to read the Riot Act; I hope he did
so, hey?' The captain began dimly to be aware of the prevailing
constraint, and then suddenly he recollected the tutor's complaining
report, which had dropped out of his mind two minutes after it was
spoken.
Nobody spoke in answer. The captain glared, over the top of his
glasses, round the party; but Theo and Geoff would not for worlds have
told tales. Each felt that silence was the best policy under the
circumstances.
Queenie at last, observing, with some surprise, the unusual hush, took
it upon her small self to reply.
'Alick's been so good! He has mended all my doll-ladies' broken legs,
and the canary's head, too; and he has made such a bewful new tail for
the old horse--the grey horse, you remember, father, what lost his tail
when he was quite young. And Alick's tidied all the toy-shelves. He
has got such a long holiday, Alick has! Did you know, father?' she
said importantly.
'Ah!' the captain observed gravely, looking his youngest calmly over,
and losing her last words. 'The toy-shelves are _your_ decks, I
suppose, my little woman; the play-room your ship, hey? Well, well,
history repeats itself. Oh, by the way, what a wretched memory I've
got! Dear, dear! why, it has only just come into my mind! Theo, my
dear, I had occasion to go across the bay the other day, last week I
think it was, about some references I wanted from the Vicarage library,
and I just looked in to have a chat with Mrs. Vesey in her
morning-room. What a sweet woman that is! If ever there were a saint
permitted to remain on earth, it is herself. But what I had to say was
about a special message she gave me for you. To-morrow will be her
birthday, and she wants all you young folk to go over early, to have
tea and strawberries and cream. You will like that, my dear, and so
will Queenie. As for you boys, there's to be a special treat for you,
in honour of the occasion. I was to be sure and tell you so, I
remember now. You are to have the key of the museum for yourselves,
and spend the evening there. But mind, no tricks with the specimens,
which are a valuable collection. Remember you are on honour, and being
gentlemen, I presume that will suffice to prevent any mischief. Stupid
of me to forget the message! However, it's not too late, fortunately;
to-morrow has not yet come.'
There was an involuntary shout of delight from the boys when the
captain finished. A treat indeed, and a rare one, it was to be
permitted to pass an evening in the curiosity-room of the Vicarage.
From their childhood this museum had been the most interesting spot to
the young Carnegys. It was packed from floor to ceiling with a
collection of foreign monsters, weapons, and rarities, gathered
together, during a long life on foreign stations in different quarters
of the globe, by the venerable vicar, who, in his heyday, had been an
army chaplain. A more entrancing treat for Alick and Geoff could not
possibly have been devised. Suddenly, however, Alick's face gloomed
over. He remembered that the morrow, the birthday, was Wednesday, and
it was on that day he had bound himself to go to Brattlesby Woods with
Jerry Blunt, the bird-trainer, defying his tutor in the teeth to do so.
Even Alick felt a spasm of regret. If he had not been so perversely
obstinate in refusing to yield to Mr. Price, here would have been his
reward--a whole evening among the wonders of the Vicarage museum. It
was maddening! But the misguided boy felt that he had gone too far to
retrace his steps. It was too late, he ignorantly told himself; for
Alick knew not that it is never, it can be never, too late to confess
and make amends for a fault--so long as there is breath to bravely
speak out the remorseful confession.
'We know, father, about it,' Theo's quiet voice was saying. 'Mrs.
Vesey guessed you might just possibly forget the message, so she sent
me a note, next day. It's all arranged, and we are all going. Father,
dear, wouldn't it be possible for you to come with us too?' The girl
had left her seat at the head of the table, and came round to lean on
the back of her father's chair. It seemed to Theo that if the captain
could be induced to join his family's life-pleasures, he would come, in
time, to be a refuge and a help in their life-troubles also; so she
pleaded.
'Tut! tut! tut! Don't be absurd, my dear Theo. It's quite unlike you.
I thought you, at least, understood what a life full of urgent
importance mine is, until the _magnum opus_ is achieved. After
that--well, well, we'll see!'
'Yes, but, dear, just one little holiday! I know the book is a great
labour, but you might take one afternoon from your work, and come with
us--just for once!'
'No, no, child! When a man has put his hand to the plough he has no
right to turn back. And you ought to know better than tempt me, I say.
But with regard to you young people it is very different; you haven't a
care, so you can't do better than be happy, that is, at the appointed
time. There's a time for everything, the Book says, doesn't it? Now
then, my dear, let me get away back to my work, if you please.'
The fiery old sailor held a firm conviction that he had an imperative
duty to perform in this world, in the shape of his proposed literary
work. Duty had been, hitherto, the sailor's god through thick and
thin. To do him justice, the captain had not the faintest notion of
the gusts of rebellious discontent that often enough swept over the
little household he imagined to be so well ordered. Deeply attached to
his boys and girls, one and all, though he was, he took no heed of the
fact that the minds of the mere children, as he considered them to be,
were fast awaking up--growing apace with their youthful bodies. The
truth was, the young folk were utter strangers and foreigners to the
man who had married late in life. So long as his gentle, tender
wife--a woman eminently fitted for her niche in life by her sweet
nature and her heart filled with Christian grace--lived, the captain's
children were well cared for indeed. Their needs both of body and soul
were alike looked after. But the mother who was so qualified by her
rare sweetness to bring up the children God had given her 'in the
nurture and admonition of the Lord,' was called away to a higher,
fuller life 'beyond these voices'; and the sailor, taking the reins of
the household in his unaccustomed fingers, held them over-slackly.