OLD MR. CHESTER.
With the clue that the children had given the President, the affair was
more closely investigated. Donald was furiously angry at the children’s
exploit at first, as it certainly compromised him, but, with a little
management, the source of information was kept entirely a private matter
between the President, one or two of the Faculty, Doctor Ward, Donald,
and Sidney Chester. Donald and some of the others whom Cricket had named
were called up at a special meeting of the Faculty, but they still
steadily refused to say a word at the expense of their classmates. At
last, by much quiet management, the whole sentence was conditionally
repealed, and private interviews were held with those now pretty well
known to be the ringleaders. They knew that they owed their escape to
some private influence, and were well warned that the next offence would
give them the weight of this one also.
A few days later, old Mr. Chester came over to see Doctor Ward. He was a
stern old man, who had made his own way in the world, and he wanted his
son to have the education he had so sorely longed for and never had.
He had been puzzled and distressed that Sidney did not regard his
college course as a sacred privilege, and had been cut to the heart by
some of the lad’s previous escapades. He could not comprehend that the
boy was really doing good work, and was only working off his animal
spirits by all sorts of what his father called “Tom-fool tricks.” He
scowled upon athletics, which to his mind involved only an infinite
waste of time and money. That classroom lore is but half the value of
college life he could not in the least comprehend. At the last of
Sidney’s escapades, Mr. Chester had raged furiously, and vowed that the
next time the boy was caught in anything of the sort, it should end his
college career, and land him in the hated office.
When the old gentleman learned of the little girls’ part in the affair,
he came to Doctor Ward to express his gratitude that they had saved his
lad, as he put it.
“The obstinate young donkey would tell me nothing about the matter,” he
growled. “He would actually have let me take him out and put him to
work, without saying a word.”
But for all his scolding, the old man secretly felt a thrill of pride at
the loyalty—whether mistaken or not, it is not the place here to
discuss—which made this possible.
“Now, as for your little girls,” Mr. Chester said to Doctor Ward, “I
would like to do something for them—something they will remember this
by. I thought this might do, if you have no objections.”
“This” was a small morocco case which he slowly drew from a side pocket.
Then he produced a similar one from the other pocket, and laid them both
on the desk in front of Doctor Ward. Then he touched the springs, in his
deliberate way, first of one case and then of the other. The covers flew
back, and on the satin linings there lay two exquisite little watches.
Two little hunting-cases they were, with graceful monograms on the
respective covers.
“For my little piccaninnies?” exclaimed Doctor Ward, in astonishment.
“Indeed, Chester, that’s too munificent altogether. Why, I haven’t quite
settled in my own mind yet but that the little witches ought to be sent
supperless to bed for such a daring performance, without consulting
anybody. The accident of its having turned out well does not by any
means make up for their having taken matters into their own hands. Under
some circumstances, they might have done unbounded mischief. It’s too
serious a matter for such small hands to meddle with the affairs of
state, so to speak.”
The doctor laughed as he spoke, but he had been seriously in doubt, as
he said, whether to reprove or commend. He had finally compromised by a
long, serious talk with his little daughters, and they had promised
that, after this, they would duly consult the powers that be.
“All that is your affair,” answered Mr. Chester, grimly smiling. “I
can’t undertake to say what discipline other people’s children should
have. But on my own account, and because I like pluck wherever I see it,
I would like the children to have these watches. It _was_ a plucky
performance, doctor, you must admit that.”
“They certainly bearded the lion in his den,” answered Doctor Ward,
smiling also. “Yes, I think they _are_ plucky little women. But, my dear
Chester, some very much more trifling things will show your appreciation
just as well, and make me more comfortable.”
“Tut! tut! This is all in the trade, you know. I know my May was crazy
for a watch like these, so I thought they would suit your girls also.
And you must remember that, since I deal in these things, they are no
more to me than a bottle of physic would be to you.”
Doctor Ward admitted the truth of this argument, as Mr. Chester was at
the head of one of the largest jeweller’s stores in town, and he finally
agreed to accept the watches for the children, subject to his wife’s
approval.
Everything being satisfactorily settled, and Mr. Chester utterly
refusing to deliver the watches himself, the next morning, when Eunice
and Cricket came down to the breakfast-table, each viewed with
astonishment the little morocco case at her plate.
“Why, it isn’t our birthdays or anything,” said Cricket, wonderingly.
“Has anybody else anything?”
“This is your special celebration,” said mamma, gaily. “Open and see.”
The speechless children stared at what the little morocco cases held.
“What—where—why—” stammered Eunice at last, and their mother explained,
while the rest of the family looked on beamingly.
“A momentum!” shrieked Cricket, snatching up the golden, gleaming thing
from its pink satin pillow, and dancing around the room with a perfect
whoop of delight. “Mine? ours? that dear old duck! Eunice, let’s go and
thank him straight off. I want to hug him and kiss him, and I always
used to be so scared of him.”
She was bolting for the door, but her father called her back.
“He’d be ‘scared’ of you if you did. Write him a nice little note after
breakfast. He would much prefer that.”
“Aren’t they too deliciously sweet for words?” murmured Eunice, hugging
her treasure to her heart.
“See those dear little curly letters on the cover,” said Cricket,
rapturously examining them. “J. M. W.,—Jean Maxwell Ward. And
inside,—_oh_, Eunice! do you see? Here’s a date! It’s the day we went to
the President! Isn’t this the very loveliest momentum he could have
given us?”
“Memento, dear,” suggested mamma.
“Yes, memento. What did I say?”
“And Donald wants to give you the gold pins to wear them with. He is
going to take you down-town to-morrow afternoon,—to choose them
yourselves,—if you have no previous engagements.” Doctor Ward’s eyes
twinkled.
“Don’t tease, papa! Isn’t that lovely of Don. What fun to choose our own
pins, Eunice! And I love to go down-town with Don, anyway. He’s such a
treaty fellow. He always gives us ice-cream and candy.”
The pins were duly selected, after much comparing, choosing, and
rejecting. Donald quietly slipped a card into Cricket’s case, and when
she reached home and displayed their final choice, she found Donald’s
inscription with it.
To
Lady Greasewrister
and
Madame Van Twister
Her
Ladyship’s Sister.
This little “momentum”
For thanks have I sent ’em,
In closest resemblance to
Bright glaring brass;
For Brass it was took ’em
(Nor ever forsook ’em)
To give to the President
Some of their “sass.”