A FAMILY TANGLE
It was not until the boys were in the motor-car and returning home
that Bob ventured to mention to Van his strange behavior of the
morning.
"What on earth was the matter with you, Van?" he asked.
Van stirred uneasily.
"Bobbie," he said, "I'm going to tell you something. I've been
wondering whether I'd better or not, and at last I've decided to. I
didn't want to go to your father's refinery to-day or, in fact, at
all. You've all been very kind to me, although it was not until I
got a letter from my father this morning that I realized how kind."
He paused.
"Has your dad told you anything about my people?" he asked abruptly.
"Of course he knows, but he may have thought best to keep it to
himself; at any rate it has not prevented him from giving me as
cordial a welcome to your home as he would if--"
"If what?"
"Well, if I weren't the person I am."
"What do you mean?"
"Why, he's trusted me and treated me as if he really liked me; and
yet under the circumstances you can't expect him actually to mean
it."
"Mean what? What are you talking about?"
"Hasn't he spoken to you about my father?"
"Of course not; why should he?"
"Then you haven't heard anything?"
"Not a word. I don't understand what you are driving at at all," Bob
declared, somewhat irritated. "Out with it. What's the matter?"
Van hesitated as if uncertain how to begin.
"That's mighty white of your father," he murmured, breaking the
pause. "You see, it is this way. When I wrote home that I was going
to New Hampshire to visit my roommate the family wrote me to go
ahead. I recall now that I didn't mention your last name; in fact I
guess I haven't in any of my letters. When I did happen to write
(which wasn't often) I've always spoken of you as _Bob_. So
when I got to Allenville I dropped a line to Father to say I'd
arrived safely and in the note I put something about Mr. Carlton.
Father lit on it right away; he wished to know who these Carltons
were. I replied they were Mr. and Mrs. Carlton, of course--the
parents of my roommate. Upon that I got another letter from home in
which Father inquired if your father was in the sugar business, and
said that years ago he used to have a partner named James Carlton,
who started in the sugar trade with him and with whom he later
quarreled. He supposed this could not be the same person, but he
just wondered if by any chance it was."
Van stopped.
"Was that all he said?"
"No, but I don't like to tell you the rest, Bobbie."
"Fire away--unless it is something about Dad," Bob replied. "If it
is I shan't listen, or at least I shan't believe it."
"It isn't exactly against your father. I do not understand it very
well myself. My father just said that if your father was Mr. James
Carlton and he was in the sugar business he felt that because of
family misunderstandings it would be better if I did not visit here
again. He was very sorry I had done it this time, but of course that
could not be helped now."
"You don't mean to say he wants you to break off your friendship
with me?" Bob gasped tremulously.
"No, he didn't seem to be opposed to you; he just was hot at your
dad. He added that he didn't believe your family could have known
who I was when they asked me here, and I am afraid that's true,
Bobbie."
"Why, of course they knew! Haven't I spoken of you over and over
again?" Bob protested indignantly.
Van shook his head.
"They knew I was your chum all right, Bob; but so far as details
were concerned your family did not know much more about me than mine
knew about you. Don't you recall how, when I arrived at Allenville,
your father asked if I was one of the _Sugar Blakes_--Asa
Blake's son?"
"Yes, I do remember that now, but--"
"That, you will recollect, was after I was landed at Allenville and
your guest. Your father didn't know until that moment who I was, and
when he found out he was too decent to say anything, or make it
evident he didn't want me in the house. What could he do?"
"But--but--"
Bob broke off from sheer inability to continue. He was much too
bewildered.
"Your father sensed the awkwardness of the situation at once. Here
you had gone to school and as ill luck would have it you had picked
from out the entire bunch of boys the son of his worst enemy for a
chum. Neither your father nor mine realized the truth until you
innocently carted me home with you for a holiday visit. When your
father found out the fact he was too polite to turn me out-of-doors;
he just acted the gentleman and made the best of a bad dilemma,"
explained Van with appalling convincingness. "He even had the
goodness to save my life the day we got lost on one of your New
Hampshire mountains. He didn't tell you any of this because he
didn't want to spoil your pleasure; but I am certain that if he had
known who I was before I came he would not have allowed you to ask
me into your home."
"Nonsense! You are way off. Why, he's been as interested in having
you with us as I have; at least he has acted so."
"_Acted_ is just the word," Van cut in. "He has acted, all
right. I guess you'll find he's been acting all the time. Honor
bright, hasn't he said anything to you about me?"
"No, not one word." Then suddenly Bob flushed; the memory of his
father's strange conversation about the boy's visit to the refinery
rushed over him. "Dad did say one thing which I did not understand
at the time," he confessed reluctantly. "Perhaps, though, he did not
mean anything by it."
"What was it?"
Bob struggled to evade the issue.
"Oh, it was nothing much."
"Come, Bobbie, you and I are friends," interrupted Van, "and we want
to keep on being friends no matter how our fathers feel toward one
another. If they have quarreled it is a great pity, but at least we
needn't. The only way to straighten out this tangle is to be honest
with each other and get at the truth; then, and not until then shall
we know where we stand."
"You're a brick, Van!"
"Come ahead then--let's have it. What was it your father said?"
"He merely asked whether it was your plan or mine to visit the
refinery, and when I told him I suggested it he inquired all over
again if I was sure you did not mention it first," Bob returned in
very low tone. The words seemed wrung from him, and he colored as he
repeated them.
"Was that all?"
"Not quite. After I had convinced him that the trip was my own idea
he said: '_Well, well--it can do no harm; the process is an open
secret, anyway._'"
"You see I was right in my guess as to his feelings, Bobbie."
"Maybe."
"Of course I was; this proves it."
"I'm afraid so," whispered Bob miserably.
"Now all this may explain to you why I was so queer when we were at
the refinery this morning," Van continued, once more reverting to
the subject. "Do you understand it any better?"
"I can see you didn't want Mr. Hennessey to tell you much about his
processes."
"You bet I didn't. I was in an awful hole. I got that letter from my
father just before we left the house, and I was all upset over it.
I didn't know what to do. It was bad enough to be visiting you without
being shown all through your father's business plant as if I were an
honored guest. It didn't seem as if I ought to go at all. If your
father knew who I was he certainly couldn't want me to; and if he
didn't it was worse yet. At first I thought the only honorable thing
was to go straight to him and have it out; but I found I hadn't the
nerve. Then I thought I'd ride with you to the factory and not go
in. What I dreaded was that we might run into something that I
should have no right to see, and that was precisely what happened."
"So that was the reason you stopped Mr. Hennessey when he started to
tell us the chemical formula?"
"Yes. He said it was a secret, and it seemed to me it would be wrong
for me to listen. If I didn't know what that formula was I certainly
couldn't tell it, and ignorance might help me out of an awkward
position if any one should try to persuade me to."
"You are a trump, old man."
"It was only the square thing toward your father; he has been
straight with me and I want to show him that I can be a gentleman,
too."
The boys were silent for an interval; then Bob said:
"Now about this snarl, Van--what are we going to do? Certainly we
fellows are not going to let this feud of our fathers affect us."
"Not by a jugful!" retorted Van with spirit. "The thing for us to do
is to go right on being friends as if nothing had happened. It will
make it all the easier that your father knows just who I am, and my
father knows exactly who you are; it is franker and more in the open
to have it so. If worse comes to worse we can talk the whole thing
out with our families, and tell them how we feel. I am sure both
your father and mine are too big to spoil a friendship like ours
because of some fuss they had years and years ago. No, sir! I'm
going to hold on to you, Bobbie, and," he added shyly, "I'm going to
hold on to your father, too, if he'll let me, for I like him."
"I'm glad you like Dad," Bob said, flushing with pleasure. "I do
myself."
"My dad isn't so bad, either," Van ventured with a dry little smile.
"Some time you shall see for yourself."
"I hope so."
"Then it is agreed that we'll stick together, no matter what
happens," said Van solemnly.
"Sure thing!"
"Promise."
"You may bank on me," was Bob's earnest answer.