ROY AND HIS FATHER
When, in four or five days, the grief in the household had subsided
sufficiently to lose some of its poignancy, Mr. Henning called his son
to his study for the purpose of having a long talk with him concerning
his prospects and the affairs at St. Cuthbert's. He was still under
the impression that the extraordinary test to which he had submitted
his son was a wise one.
The two sat opposite each other in large, leather-covered reading-chairs
in a very wealthy man's private "den." Roy waited respectfully for
his father to begin. Full of the thoughts of Ethel, he began to speak
of his recent loss.
"So the poor child is gone, gone! I never thought she would last very
long; she was too frail and delicate. If she had grown up I am sure
she would have become a nun. Ah, that reminds me! Do you still hold to
the notion you mentioned to me last summer?"
"Of the priesthood? Most assuredly, sir."
"Humph!"
The white whiskers looked whiter as the florid face became more
florid.
"H--um! So! I thought then that it was a mere passing fancy of yours,
and that it would soon go. As you have asked for no more money than
the small--yes, very small--allowance I settled on, I began to
think--yes, I began to believe, that you had more of the Henning
family spirit--yes, more of the real family spirit--than at first I
gave you credit for. So far, so good. So you are determined, if
possible, to become a priest?"
"Yes, sir," said the young man firmly.
"Now tell me, my boy, how you have passed through the tests I set."
Roy was silent. He thought of the many times he had experienced more
or less bitterly rebellious thoughts against these tests.
"Don't be afraid, Roy. Speak plainly. Have you failed?"
"No, father," he answered emphatically; "I have not."
"That is good. I am very glad to hear that."
"I confess that it was very hard. Frequently I felt like writing to
you about the prohibition of sports and of my--my shortness of cash."
"So most of your troubles came from lack of cash, eh?"
"Oh, no! Really the greatest test of obedience I have ever had was to
follow your instruction strictly when you declared that I should
engage in no sports except enough to keep a sound mind in a sound
body."
"Yes, I remember to have said that."
"That, sir, was a hard blow to me. All the unpleasantness of the year
has arisen from trying to be faithful to your command."
"How so? Explain."
"As you know, I am an enthusiastic and pretty good ball-player."
"Yes, I have heard enough about that to be well acquainted with the
fact."
"And I am a good all-round athlete as well. As a consequence, I stood
high in the councils of the college athletic circles. When I announced
my intention of retiring from the football eleven, and the baseball
nine there was a good deal of disagreeable talk. I must confess,
father, this was the hardest thing I ever had to do in my whole life."
"So?"
"Yes, and the worst of it was I was made miserable by insinuations and
innuendos that I had betrayed the college teams. I was disloyal. I was
acting out of pique or spite. This was all very hard to bear because I
was actuated by the very best intentions. I wanted to prove to you
that I was a dutiful and obedient son."
"I never doubted that, my boy, never for a moment doubted that!"
"I thank you, sir."
"Poor lad! all this is too bad; but tell me about the robbery. By the
way, you never sent for that check; but tell me all about it, that is,
as far as it concerns yourself."
"I will, sir. Not being allowed to engage in any sports by your
orders, I did not see why I could not make myself useful in some other
way. Late in the fall there was much talk about the following season's
games. In order to keep the team in practice it was decided to take up
a collection among the boys and purchase a pitcher's cage, to be
placed in the playroom, where indoor practice could be had all the
winter. The boys appointed me solicitor and treasurer. I kept the
money in the table-drawer in the committee-room off the playroom. From
that drawer the money was stolen. What made my chagrin the deeper was
that I had been warned by a close friend to place the money with the
college treasurer for safer keeping. This I intended to do, but during
the Christmas holidays it escaped my memory."
"I do not see why you could not have written for that check. As far as
I can see there is nothing in all this story to prevent you from
replacing the money. Surely you and your cousin Andrew did everything
in your power to trace the thief and get the money back?"
Here was a critical moment for Roy. Blood is thicker than water with
the father as well as the son. Mr. Henning never dreamed but that
Andrew would make this a family affair and exert himself with his
cousin to recover the stolen money. It was a temptation for Roy.
Should he expose Andrew's conduct? Should he permit his father to know
that he had a nephew who was selfish and cowardly and mean, and not
above trading upon another's reputation? Roy had to think rapidly in
making up his mind what to do. His father's keen eyes were upon him.
The old gentleman was awaiting an answer. Roy's good angel prevailed.
The boy replied:
"Everything, I believe, was done that could be done to detect the
thieves by myself and my friends, but without success. Had we found
the thief and discovered that the money had been disposed of beyond
recovery I should then have written gladly to you to replace it, after
your generous offer."
"That's right; that's right."
"But," continued Roy with some hesitation, which his father did not
fail to notice, "affairs turned out so differently from what I
expected. Whether from natural causes, or from design, I do not know,
but there were two or three opinions soon prevalent about the robbery,
and there was one party who--who gave it out that they--they suspected
me."
"Suspected you!" almost shouted the lawyer. "The scoundrels! Who were
they, Roy; who were they?"
"Some whose names are not worth mentioning, and whose reputations are
still worse."
"Dear me, dear me! The rascals, to suspect my son!" fumed the old man.
He walked excitedly up and down the room. By some occult process he
connected these suspicions with his son's stringency of cash, and
blamed himself in proportion to his indignation.
"My boy, my boy! this is all too bad, too bad! If I had allowed you
your regular amount all this would not have happened. Such a thing
could not then have happened."
"I do not see that, father, unless by having plenty of money as usual
I should not have undertaken the treasurership. I do not see how this
consequence flows from the premises. Indeed I think it more than
likely had matters been normal with me I should have been treasurer
just the same."
"Well, we must rectify all this. You want to go back to St.
Cuthbert's, or do you wish to stay away?"
"I want to go back, sir, of course, and graduate. And please, father,"
said Roy right loyally, "please do not think these few boys represent
St. Cuthbert's. There are not a finer set of fellows in the world.
These I spoke of are the exceptions."
This remark thoroughly pleased the father who was himself an alumnus
of old St. Cuthbert's.
"And besides," continued the young man, "I want to go back and live
down the ugly rumor--for that is all it is--and make somebody eat his
words. I know, I feel certain it will come out all right. Matters
always do. I want to be there. If I were to stay away now, would it
not be, at least for some, a sort of tacit acknowledgment, or at least
it might be so construed by some unfriendly to me, who might say I
knew more than I chose to tell and so kept away as soon as I had a
chance to do so?"
"You are right, my boy; you are right. Go back and fight it down.
Suspected of dishonesty! A Henning, too, preposterous! Yes, yes, you
must go back, boy. You must go back."
"I am glad you look at it in that light, sir. I think it the best
thing to do."
Mr. Henning drew from his pocket a bunch of keys. Opening his desk he
took out a roll of bills.
"You must consider your test, your trial, as over. It is over as far
as I am concerned, and I am more than satisfied with you. You are free
now to take up what sports you like, and spend, in moderation, what
money you like, and in fact I leave your course of action entirely to
yourself. I am sure I need have no fear for your prudence. Here, take
this; you will need it."
Mr. Henning handed over to his son a fair-sized roll of bills. How
much he gave we will not state, but leave the amount to the
imagination of the reader, merely remarking that Mr. Henning was a
very rich man, did few things by halves, and, at the moment, was
actuated by the most generous impulse. In giving Roy the money, he
remarked: "Give your cousin Andrew twenty-five dollars, with my
regards. I suppose schoolboys are never very flush at this time of the
year. I never was."
While Roy, with a bounding heart, was thanking his father, a loud ring
of the door bell disturbed the quiet of the house. In a moment one of
the servants brought in a telegram.
"For Master Roy, sir," she said.
With a bow and a "Permit me" to his father, Roy opened the envelope
and read:
"Come at once. Great news! St. C. 8. B. 3. Ambrose."
The mystified boy showed the telegram to his father.
"Perhaps the first part refers to the robbery. You had better go. Can
you bid your mother and aunt farewell and be ready at the depot by
7.30?"
"Yes, quite easily."
"Very good. The carriage will be ready for you to catch the 7.30
train."