Part 22 (1/2)
”You did,” cried Jill, pointing to the rug. ”You went to sleep there after the long walk, and talked in your sleep about 'Bob' and 'All right, old boy,' and ever so much gibberish. I didn't think about it then, but when I heard that Bob was up there I thought may be he knew something about it, and last night I wrote and asked him, and that's the answer, and now it _is_ all right, and you are the best boy that ever was, and I'm so glad!”
Here Jill paused, all out of breath, and Frank said, with an approving pat on the head,--
”It won't do to have such a sharp young person round if we are going to have secrets. You'd make a good detective, miss.”
”Catch me taking naps before people again;” and Jack looked rather crestfallen that his own words had set ”Fine Ear” on the track. ”Never mind, I didn't _mean_ to tell, though I just ached to do it all the time, so I haven't broken my word. I'm glad you all know, but you needn't let it get out, for Bob is a good fellow, and it might make trouble for him,” added Jack, anxious lest his gain should be the other's loss.
”I shall tell Mr. Acton myself, and the Captain, also, for I'm not going to have my son suspected of wrong-doing when he has only tried to help a friend, and borne enough for his sake,” said Mamma, much excited by this discovery of generous fidelity in her boy; though when one came to look at it calmly, one saw that it might have been done in a wiser way.
”Now, please, don't make a fuss about it; that would be most as bad as having every one down on me. I can stand your praising me, but I won't be patted on the head by anybody else;” and Jack a.s.sumed a manly air, though his face was full of genuine boyish pleasure at being set right in the eyes of those he loved.
”I'll be discreet, dear, but you owe it to yourself, as well as Bob, to have the truth known. Both have behaved well, and no harm will come to him, I am sure. I'll see to that myself,” said Mrs. Minot, in a tone that set Jack's mind at rest on that point.
”Now do tell all about it,” cried Jill, who was pining to know the whole story, and felt as if she had earned the right to hear it.
”Oh, it wasn't much. We promised Ed to stand by Bob, so I did as well as I knew how;” and Jack seemed to think that was about all there was to say.
”I never saw such a fellow for keeping a promise! You stick to it through thick and thin, no matter how silly or hard it is. You remember, mother, last summer, how you told him not to go in a boat and he promised, the day we went on the picnic. We rode up, but the horse ran off home, so we had to come back by way of the river, all but Jack, and he walked every step of five miles because he wouldn't go near a boat, though Mr. Burton was there to take care of him. I call that rather overdoing the matter;” and Frank looked as if he thought moderation even in virtue a good thing.
”And I call it a fine sample of entire obedience. He obeyed orders, and that is what we all must do, without always seeing why, or daring to use our own judgment. It is a great safeguard to Jack, and a very great comfort to me; for I know that if he promises he will keep his word, no matter what it costs him,” said Mamma warmly, as she tumbled up the quirls with an irrepressible caress, remembering how the boy came wearily in after all the others, without seeming for a moment to think that he could have done anything else.
”Like Casabianca!” cried Jill, much impressed, for obedience was her hardest trial.
”I think he was a fool to burn up,” said Frank, bound not to give in.
”I don't. It's a splendid piece, and every one likes to speak it, and it was true, and it wouldn't be in all the books if he was a fool. Grown people know what is good,” declared Jill, who liked heroic actions, and was always hoping for a chance to distinguish herself in that way.
”You admire 'The Charge of the Light Brigade,' and glow all over as you thunder it out. Yet they went gallantly to their death rather than disobey orders. A mistake, perhaps, but it makes us thrill to hear of it; and the same spirit keeps my Jack true as steel when once his word is pa.s.sed, or he thinks it is his duty. Don't be laughed out of it, my son, for faithfulness in little things fits one for heroism when the great trials come. One's conscience can hardly be too tender when honor and honesty are concerned.”
”You are right, mother, and I am wrong. I beg your pardon, Jack, and you sha'n't get ahead of me next time.”
Frank made his mother a little bow, gave his brother a shake of the hand, and nodded to Jill, as if anxious to show that he was not too proud to own up when he made a mistake.
”Please tell on, Jack. This is very nice, but I do want to know all about the other,” said Jill, after a short pause.
”Let me see. Oh, I saw Bob at church, and he looked rather blue; so, after Sunday School, I asked what the matter was. He said Jerry bothered him for some money he lent him at different times when they were loafing round together, before we took him up. He wouldn't get any wages for some time. The Captain keeps him short on purpose, I guess, and won't let him come down town except on Sundays. He didn't want any one to know about it, for fear he'd lose his place. So I promised I wouldn't tell.
Then I was afraid Jerry would go and make a fuss, and Bob would run off, or do something desperate, being worried, and I said I'd pay it for him, if I could. So he went home pretty jolly, and I scratched 'round for the money. Got it, too, and wasn't I glad?”
Jack paused to rub his hands, and Frank said, with more than usual respect,
”Couldn't you get hold of Jerry in any other place, and out of school time? That did the mischief, thanks to Joe. I thrashed him, Jill--did I mention it?”
”I couldn't get all my money till Friday morning, and I knew Jerry was off at night. I looked for him before school, and at noon, but couldn't find him, so afternoon recess was my last chance. I was bound to do it and I didn't mean to break the rule, but Jerry was just going into the shop, so I pelted after him, and as it was private business we went to the billiard-room. I declare I never was so relieved as when I handed over that money, and made him say it was all right, and he wouldn't go near Bob. He's off, so my mind is easy, and Bob will be so grateful I can keep him steady, perhaps. That will be worth two seventy-five, I think,” said Jack heartily.
”You should have come to me,” began Frank.
”And got laughed at--no, thank you,” interrupted Jack, recollecting several philanthropic little enterprises which were nipped in the bud for want of co-operation.
”To me, then,” said his mother. ”It would have saved so much trouble.”