A RAY OF SUNSHINE
Mrs. Martin gave Westy about ten minutes to regain his poise and then
followed him to his room where his open trunk stood in the middle of the
floor. Westy was sitting on the bed and the oilcloth cover of his
departed rifle lay like a snake upon the pretty bedspread. It was
evident that when he had gone to his room to get the gun in obedience to
his father’s demand, he had removed the cover to gaze at his treasure
before handing it over. Mrs. Martin lifted the limp thing and hung it
over the foot-board.
“I’m going to ask him to put the gun in it,” Westy said wistfully.
“I don’t think I would, dearie,” said his mother, sitting down on the
bed beside him. “I think I just wouldn’t say any more about it; let the
matter drop. If you speak to him again he will only flare up. Doris says
she thinks some ancestor of his may have been killed by a rifle back in
the dark ages; some cave man, that’s what she says. And she thinks the
fear of guns is in your father’s blood. He’s very nervous about such
things, dearie.”
“They didn’t have rifles in the dark ages,” said Westy.
“I know, but it’s just the way Doris talks; she’s very modern and
independent. She shouldn’t say that a hundred dollars isn’t a great deal
of money, for it is. Maybe it isn’t a great deal for Charlie Westcott
and those friends of hers, but it’s a good deal for you, dear.”
Westy sat on the edge of the bed half listening, his eyes brimming. And
it is odd, when you come to think of it, that no one save a rough farm
hand with an exceedingly varied and checkered career, had ever taken
particular notice of a certain quality in those gray eyes.
“Oh, my dear,” said Mrs. Martin with deep sympathy and affection, “I’m
so sorry, so sorry for the whole thing. Your father should never have
suggested your going to work on the farm. Now he says he never wants to
hear the Yellowstone mentioned. Doris says she thinks we may have to
take the yellow vase from the parlor because it will remind him of the
Yellowstone——”
“I don’t mind,” said Westy, getting command enough of himself to speak.
“I had fun working and I don’t mind about the hundred dollars.”
“And it was so noble and straightforward of you to tell your father what
you had done. I told him if he had only given you a chance you might
have explained. I told him that perhaps the deer was chasing you and
intended to kill you.”
Westy smiled ruefully.
“Was it?” his mother ventured to ask.
“No, deers don’t run after people,” Westy said.
“Well, I don’t know anything about them,” said his mother resignedly.
“It’s all right, mom,” said Westy.
“I’m only sorry you ever went up there,” mused Mrs. Martin. “But I want
you to promise me, dearie, that you won’t say another word about it to
your father; don’t speak about Yellowstone Park either, because he feels
very strongly about the whole thing.”
“I won’t,” said Westy.
“You know, dear,” Mrs. Martin observed with undeniable truth, “I’ve
known your father longer than you have. We must just say nothing and let
the whole matter blow over. Very soon he’ll be angry about his income
tax and then he’ll forget about this summer. He thinks that your Uncle
Dick shouldn’t have such men about his place as that horrible Ira, as
you call him. He blames that man more than you. He says that farms are
hiding places for good-for-nothing scoundrels who can’t get employment
elsewhere.”
“Ira isn’t a scoundrel,” said Westy.
“Well, he stole a king, and I’m sure a man that steals a king isn’t a
gentleman.”
There seemed no answer to this. But Westy moved closer to his mother and
let her put her arm about him.
“Now, dearie, it’s all over,” she said, “and it was a horrible nightmare
and I’m proud of my boy because he was straightforward and honest—and
I’m sure your father is too. But he’s very queer and we mustn’t cross
him. So now we’ll forget all about it and I’ve something to tell you.
Pee-wee Harris——”
At the very mention of this name Westy laughed.
For Pee-wee Harris, present or absent, spread sunshine in the darkest
places. But never in a darker place than in Westy’s room that night of
his return from his summer’s vacation.
“They’re back from camp, then?” he asked.