Part 30 (2/2)
David Dunne knew, when he heard the knock, to whom he would open the door, and he was glad the strain of suspense was ended. But when he looked into the familiar face a host of old memories crowded in upon his recollection, and obliterated the significance of the call.
”Uncle Barnabas!” he said, extending a cordial hand to the visitor, while his stern, strong face softened under his slow, sweet smile.
Then he turned to his secretary.
”Admit no one else, Major.”
David took the telescope from his guest and set it on the table, wondering if it contained the ”doc.u.ments in evidence.”
”Take off your coat, Uncle Barnabas. They keep it pretty warm in here!”
”I callate they do--in more ways than one,” chuckled Barnabas, removing his coat. ”I hed to start purty early this mornin', when it was cool-like. Wal, Dave, times has changed! To think of little Dave Dunne bein' guvner! I never seemed to take it in till I come up them front steps.”
The governor laughed.
”Sometimes I don't seem to take it in myself, but _you_ ought to, Uncle Barnabas. You put me here!”
As he spoke he unlocked a little cabinet and produced a bottle and a couple of gla.s.ses.
”Wal, I do declar, ef you don't hev things as handy as a pocket in a s.h.i.+rt! Good stuff, Dave! More warmin' than my old coat, I reckon, but say, Dave, what do you s'pose I hev got in that air telescope?”
David winced. In olden times the old man ever came straight to the point, as he was doing now.
”Why, what is it, Uncle Barnabas?”
”Open it!” directed the old man laconically.
With the feeling that he was opening his coffin, David unstrapped the telescope and lifted the cover. A little exclamation of pleasure escaped him. The telescope held big red apples, and it held nothing more. David quickly bit into one.
”I know from just which particular tree these come,” he said, ”from that humped, old one in the corner of the orchard nearest the house.”
”Yes,” allowed Barnabas, ”that's jest the one--the one under which you and her allers set and purtended you were studyin' your lessons.”
David's eyes grew luminous in reminiscence.
”I haven't forgotten the tree--or her--or the old days, Uncle Barnabas.”
”I knowed you hadn't, Dave!”
Again David's heart sank at the confidence in the tone which betokened the faith reposed, but he would give the old man a good time anyway before he took his destiny by the throat.
”Wouldn't you like to go through the capitol?” he asked.
”I be goin'. The feller that brung me up here sed he'd show me through.”
”I'll show you through,” said David decisively, and together they went through the places of interest in the building, the governor as proud as a newly domiciled man showing off his possessions. At last they came to the room where in gla.s.s cases reposed the old, unfurled battle flags. The old man stopped before one case and looked long and reverently within.
”Which was your regiment, Uncle Barnabas?”
<script>