IN WHICH A COUNCIL IS HELD.
The next morning, when Chap Webster came over to Hyson Hall, he brought
his sister Helen with him. Phœnix Poole was already there, for he was
determined to make the best of the period of slack work on his father’s
farm, and he arrived very early in the day.
“Mother sent me,” said Helen to Philip, “to see if you are getting on
comfortably here, and if you needed anything we could do for you. She
would have come herself, but she could not do so to-day because she had
things to attend to which she could not very well leave.”
Mrs. Webster was a good lady, who never went away from her home except
on Sunday, because she always had things to attend to which she could
not very well leave.
“Mother thinks that men can’t get along in a house by themselves,”
said Chap. “I don’t agree with her; but, if you want anything done in
the way of buttons, or casting a general eye over dusty corners, Helen
is just as good as she is.”
“Oh, I don’t need anything of that kind!” said Phil, laughing. “Susan
attends to me first-rate. But it’s comfortable to have neighbors like
your mother, who are kind enough to send to see how a fellow is getting
along.”
“Another thing mother wants to know,” said Helen, “and that is if you
really do want Chap to come and stay with you. He has been going on at
a great rate, trying to make us think that something like a band of
Indians was coming to attack the house, and that he ought to stay here
to help you keep them from climbing in at the doors and windows.”
“People don’t climb in at doors,” said Chap.
“Well, they get in somehow,” said Helen.
“But do you really want him, Phil?”
“Not for that kind of thing,” said Phil; “but I should be very glad to
have him come and stay with me till uncle comes back. And Phœnix, too,”
he added.
“There’s no use talking about that,” said Phœnix. “It’s hard enough for
me to get off in the daytime.”
“There’s only one difficulty in the way,” said Phil, coloring a
little. “I don’t know that I’ll be able to feed any visitors. The money
uncle left with Mr. Welford to keep this castle in running order has
about given out----”
“Oh, pshaw!” said Chap, interrupting, “there’s always plenty of flour
and butter and eggs and vegetables on a place like this; and if we want
butcher’s meat and groceries, mother can send them over from our house,
and call them my rations.”
“Uncle wouldn’t like that,” said Phil, “and we never run up any bills
with the people in town.”
“At any rate,” said Chap, “if one fellow can get along here, two can.
If that’s the only objection you have to my staying here, I’m going to
stay. I don’t think you ought to be left alone.”
“Nor I, either,” said Phil; “and if I starve you, you can go home to
your meals.”
“Well, then, I suppose everything is going on all right,” said Helen,
“except the money, of course, and I’m sure there will be no trouble
about that. Your uncle will remember that he didn’t leave you enough,
and will send you some, if he doesn’t intend to come back soon.”
“I don’t know about that,” said Phil; “but everything else isn’t all
right. I would like you all to hear a letter I got this morning, and
then to tell me whether you think that it is all right or not. I
suppose Chap has told you, Helen, about that Touron fellow that was
here?”
“I believe Chap has told me everything that has happened here, and
everything he knew about everything, and I hope he hasn’t told me more
than he ought to.”
“Not if he didn’t draw too much on his imagination,” said Phil. “I knew
he always told you everything, and I don’t mind a bit your knowing what
is going on here. Now just listen, all of you, to this letter from Mr.
Welford.”
Helen Webster, who had a very practical and business-like side to her
character, sat straight up in the wicker chair which Phil had brought
out on the porch for her, and prepared to give her earnest attention to
all the details of Mr. Welford’s communication.
Chap stood up straight, with his hands in his pockets and a cloud
on his brow. He had always had his doubts of that Welford, and was
prepared to criticise whatever he might hear. Phœnix, who was a good
hand at paying attention, but a poor one to talk, sat on a bench,
with his elbows on his knees and his chin in his hands, and gazed
steadfastly at Phil.
Mr. Welford’s letter read as follows:
“MASTER PHILIP BERKELEY,--Sir----”
“He begins as stiff as a poker,” said Chap.
“And he stirred me up like a poker, too,” said Phil.
And then he read on:
“I have put the matter of the mortgage on Hyson Hall into the hands
of Mr. John P. Harrison, who will see what can be done. In the mean
time, I desire you to make every effort to find out your uncle’s
whereabouts, and to acquaint him with the state of affairs. I shall
put an advertisement into several newspapers, requesting him to
return as soon as possible.”
“Your uncle won’t like that,” cried Chap. “I shouldn’t wonder if he
thrashed old Welford as soon as he comes back.”
“Oh, Chap,” said Helen, “he wouldn’t do that!”
“No,” said Phil, “he won’t thrash him, but I know he won’t like it. But
the worst part of the letter is to come.”
Phil then read:
“And now, sir, I have to say that I have received very discreditable
accounts of you. I have been told, and have been assured that
every word of the statements can be proved, that young Touron was
shamefully treated at your uncle’s house. You attempted to shoot him
with a gun, and he was afterwards dreadfully beaten by one of your
comrades. Such conduct, sir, is outrageous and amazing. You are not
only acting in an unlawful and ungentlemanly manner, but you are
directly working against the most important interests of your uncle
by injuring and exasperating the holders of the mortgage on his
property, so that they will push their claims to the utmost limit.
What action against you personally may be taken by the Tourons I do
not know. If you get into trouble you must apply to Mr. Harrison.
There is no more money subject to your order in my hands, and I wish
to have no further communication with you.
“HENRY G. WELFORD.”
“Upon--my--word!” exclaimed Chap. “A pretty gentleman! No ‘Yours
truly,’ or even ‘Yours respectfully!’ I tell you what it is, Phil, I
always believed that that Welford ought to have been put down in the
beginning. What he wanted was the iron heel. It mightn’t have seemed to
work at first, but he’d have crumbled before long. Look at Susan!”
“I think the letter is perfectly shameful,” said Helen, disregarding
her brother’s remarks. “What dreadful stories that French boy must have
told!”
“Indeed, he did,” said Phil, warmly. “I never tried to shoot him at
all. I only took the gun from Susan, and I did not even raise it. If he
hadn’t been such a coward he’d have seen that.”
“I wish I hadn’t licked him,” said Phœnix. “I didn’t think he’d cut up
as rough as this.”
“Phil,” cried Chap, extending his right arm, as if he were addressing
an audience, “if I were you I tell you what I’d do. I’d just go
to this Welford and tell him that what Touron said was a lie from
beginning to end----”
“But it wasn’t,” interrupted Phœnix.
“I’d tell him,” continued Chap, “that I hadn’t had the slightest idea
of shooting him, for the stairs are so long I could easily have popped
him before he got to the top if I had wanted to, and that I hadn’t
anything to do with beating him, but that he deserved all he got, and
that if my friend, Mr. Phœnix Poole, hadn’t thrashed him, I’d have done
it myself. And if you don’t like to go and say all that, I’ll go and
say it for you.”
“Now, Chap,” cried Helen, “don’t you be putting any such ideas into
Phil’s head, and don’t you go near Mr. Welford yourself. You will only
make matters worse.”
“And I am not going, either,” said Phil. “I should be sure to say
something I ought not to. I think he has treated me outrageously!”
“It is the crudest thing I ever heard of,” said Helen. “He ought not
to believe what the French boy said without hearing your side. But you
are right in not going to see him now. It would only make a dreadful
quarrel.”
“But I shall answer his letter,” said Phil, “and tell him what I think
of it.”
“Please don’t,” said Helen, rising up and coming up to Phil,--“not
while you are so angry. If Mr. Welford knew just how things were, he’d
think very differently. But it won’t do any good to make him madder.
Don’t one of you boys do a single thing till I have seen mother and
told her all about it. She used to know Mr. Welford very well, and
she’ll tell us what ought to be done. And now, if there isn’t anything
I can do for you, it is time for me to go. Mother said Chap could stay
with you if you really wanted him, and I don’t believe there will be
any trouble about your not having things to eat. There’s always lots of
things on a place like this, and Chap isn’t particular, and mother will
send some pies, and anything else you don’t happen to have.”
“Good!” cried Chap. “Just you tell mother that this garrison is greatly
in need of pies, and one of those rolled-up blackberry puddings would
make us hold out splendidly. Do you want me to go home with you?”
“No,” said Helen; “I’m going to take the straight path across the
fields. Good-by!”
[Illustration]