Part 42 (1/2)

”You four must pacify the country first,” he added laughing, ”and have the business in good going order.”

My visit was very pleasant, and I could not help feeling proud of the treatment I received at home; but all the same I was glad to start again for Arrowfield and join my uncles in their battle for success.

For there was something very exciting in these struggles with the men, and now I was away all this seemed to be plainer, and the attraction grew so that there was a disposition on my part to make those at home quite at their ease as to the life I was leading down at Arrowfield.

At last the day came for me to start on my return journey, when once more I had a packet to bear.

”I need not tell you that it is of great value, Cob,” said my father.

”b.u.t.ton it up in your pocket, and then forget all about it. That is the safest way. It takes off all the consciousness.”

”I don't suppose I shall meet my friend this time,” I said.

My father shuddered slightly.

”It is not likely,” he said; ”but I should strongly advise you to change carriages if you find yourself being left alone with a stranger.”

Word had been sent down as to the train I should travel by, and in due time I found myself on the Arrowfield platform and back at our new home, where Mrs Stephenson and Tattsey were ready with the most friendly of smiles.

”Everything has been going on splendidly,” was the report given to me.

Piter had been carefully attended to, and the works watched as well as if I had been at Arrowfield.

I felt annoyed, and, I suppose, showed it, for it seemed as if my uncles were bantering me, but the annoyance pa.s.sed off directly under the influence of the warmth displayed by all three.

”I'm beginning to be hopeful now that work will go on steadily, that this watching can be given up, and that we can take to a few country excursions, some fis.h.i.+ng, and the like.”

That was Uncle d.i.c.k's expressed opinion; and I was glad enough to hear it, for though I did not mind the work I liked some play.

Uncle Jack was just as hopeful; but Uncle Bob evidently was not, for he said very little.

This time I had travelled by a day train, and I was quite ready to take my turn at the watching that night. Uncle Jack, whose turn it was, opposed my going, as I had been travelling so far; but I insisted, saying that I had had my regular night's rest ever since I had left them, and was consequently quite fresh.

I wanted to ask Uncle Bob where he had hidden the trap, but I had no opportunity, and as neither Uncle d.i.c.k nor Uncle Jack made any allusion to it I did not start the subject.

Perhaps Uncle Bob had not told them, meaning to have a few words with me first.

It almost seemed like coming home to enter the works again, where Piter was most demonstrative in his affection, and carried it to such an extent that I could hardly get away.

I had a look round the gloomy old place at once, and felt quite a thrill of pride in the faintly glowing furnaces and machinery as I thought of the endless things the place was destined to produce.

”Look here, Cob,” said Uncle Jack, ”I shall lie down for three hours, mind; and at the end of that time you are to wake me. It is only nine o'clock now, and you can get over that time with a book. There will be no need to walk round the place.”

”Would Piter warn us, do you think?” I said.

”Oh, yes! It is getting quite a form our being here. The men are toning down.”

He threw himself on the bed, and I took up a book and read for an hour, after which I had a walk through the gloomy workshops, and in and out of the furnace-houses and smithies, where all was quiet as could be.

After this I felt disposed to go and open the big door and look down into the wheel-pit. I don't know why, only that the place attracted me.

I did not, however, but walked back to the doorway to look at the glow which overhung the town, with the heavy canopy of ruddy smoke, while away behind me the stars were s.h.i.+ning brightly, and all was clear.