CHAPTER XXXVIII
MRS. DEPEW HOLDS THE REINS
At the farm bells jangled. The usual harmony was not prevailing.
No one struck the right key in conversation. After the manner ofmothers, Mrs. Depew sympathized with her daughter, with a result thatthings were not running smoothly with the farmer.
A wife has facilities for disturbing a husband's tranquillity.
Apart from the displeasure of his wife and daughter, George Depew wasnot that pleased with himself.
Gerald's behavior when leaving had certainly not been that of a guiltyman. And when the farmer came to think things over quietly, he came tothe conclusion that he had been a large sized fool to lose his temper ashe had done.
He realized Gerald's story must have been true--what would have been thesense of trying to pass off that folded piece of newspaper as banknotes? The trick would necessarily be found out at once.
The midday meal was under way, and was being disposed of in unusualsilence.
Mrs. Depew did not like the red eyed appearance of her daughter, and herhusband did not like the glances his wife occasionally favored him withas a result thereof.
A messenger came to the door with a letter for the farmer. He took itand tried to read it, but could only make out a word here and there.
"Here, Tess, just read this out, will you?"
His daughter took it and read.
The farmer said "Jerusalem!" His wife--after the manner of wives--said,"There! I told you so," and the daughter said tearfully, "And you calledhim a thief, father!"
"Yes," said Mrs. Depew, rubbing it in, after the manner of her sex, "analmost stranger goes out of his way to bring you more money than youhave ever dreamed of, and you call him a thief! I've no patience withthe man."
"No, old woman, you haven't," replied the farmer. "Mebbe it would bebetter for all of us if you had. Give me my store coat and hat. I'mgoing right away to N'York by the next train."
"And what good's that, I should like to know? Sakes alive! Can't the manunderstand that the money's to his credit here in Oakville?"
"Yes, the man's got gumption enough for that," answered the farmergrimly. "Just now, it ain't the money that's agitating me--that's allright."
"Then, what on earth do you want to go to N'York for?"
"To make about the most humble apology lips ever vented. I'm going tofind Gerald Danvers, and tell him that a bigger old fool don't prowlabout this airth than I am; and I'm going to beg him--d'ye hear--beg himto forgive me for insulting him."
"Dear father!"
"That's it, Tess. Because your old dad's a bit of a fool, you don't wantto rub it in, do you? You leave that to your mother. Come here, girlie,and gimme a kiss."
"Lawd sakes, now! Just listen to the man! As if I'd said anything!"
"No, mother," said the farmer, over Tessie's shoulder--he was holdingher to him--"it wouldn't be you to say anything. Silence is the kind ofthing you shine in. Now, Tessie, gimme your sweetheart's address, andI'll get there slick away."
"Father, I don't know it."
"You--don't--know--it?"
"No, father. He will come back here now the money is found."
"Not if I know him, he won't," interposed the farmer's wife. "Peoplethat are turned out of doors and called 'thief' and threatened withwhips ain't likely to come groveling around."
"Mother!"
"Oh, yes, 'mother.' But 'mother' won't find that boy, will it? Lawdsakes! When I was a gal, sweethearts didn't behave like that. When yourfather was courting me, I should ha' liked to see him stalk away toN'York without telling me where he was going to put up. My--yes!"
"Hullo!" said the farmer, "here's a special delivery letter!"
"Perhaps it's from Gerald, father.
"More likely," snorted Mrs. Depew, "from the county lunatic asylum, tosay they've a vacancy for a permanency if your father likes to call."
"Here, Tess, girlie, read this. See who it's from, and what it's about."
The girl took the letter and read.
"That makes the nineteen thousand pounds," said Tessie, as she finishedreading the letter. "I wondered what eighteen meant."
"There's time to catch the train;" he walked to the window as he spoke,and called out, "You, Sam, just hitch the mare on to the buggy----"
"And what's the buggy for?" interrupted his wife.
"To drive to the station, of course."
"Well, the buggy won't hold four people, will it?"
"Four?"
"Yes. Sam'll have to go to bring it back. Do you expect me and Tessie tohang on to that axle?"
"What? Are you going?"
"Am I? I reckon. If you think, George Depew, that you are going tocareer around the streets of N'York, bulging money at every pocket, withnary a sensible soul to look after you, let me tell you, you make amistake."
"But, mother dear," said Tessie; "you will never be ready. The traingoes in twenty minutes, and you will never have time to change yourdress."
"Won't I? Sakes alive! You've known me for nigh on nineteen years, andyou don't know your mother yet."
She had thrown off her apron and was rolling down her sleeves as shespoke. Then she called out to the hired girl:
"You, Liz, my boots, the ones I wore last time I was in Oakville. Won'tbe ready, won't I?" she continued, as she bustled up-stairs to changeher dress; "I guess I shall be ready before you are."
Her husband changed the order, and the horse was harnessed to a fourwheeled trap. By the time the farmer had changed into fresh boots andcoat, Mrs. Depew was heard descending the stairs.
"On time, I reckon, ain't I?" she inquired as she tied her bonnetstrings. "Where's that gal? Now, you, Tessie, jump about; never mindyour hair, clap your hat on, and come right down at once. We don't needto miss that train."
She was outside getting into her seat, and had taken the reins in handbefore she had finished speaking.
Tessie ran down, jumped up, and presently they were driving rapidly inthe direction of the station.
The train was caught, and during the journey the situation was discussedwith much spirit.
The fact that the hero had appealed to Mrs. Depew, when her husband hadturned him out, was not forgotten by that lady. Her "I told you so" songshe sang for all it was worth, and kept her foot on the low pedal, too.
"I know a man, I do hope, when I see one," she said, "and at fiveo'clock this afternoon I hope to put my arms round the neck of one, andgive him a good sounding kiss. I'm just real anxious to fill a greatgaping hole in our midst. I'm wanting to extend a welcoming hand to ason-in-law that'll fill it, and supply the common sense we're so hard upfor with our men folk."
CHAPTER XXXIX
MRS. DEPEW HAS THINGS HER OWN WAY
Before five o'clock the three Depews--father, mother, and daughter--werein the New York lawyer's office, and punctually at the hour Geraldentered.
The lawyer, who had guessed something of what had happened, judiciouslyleft them together for a few minutes.
Mrs. Depew carried out her threat; she walked straight over to Gerald,and gave him what she called a "smack."
"You, Gerald," she said, "I'm as real pleased to see you as I am to seethe snow go away in winter. I believed in you, my lad, from the first,and if I've got an old fool for a husband, remember that he is only anold fool, and there's no scrap of real bad in him--that he's as good ahusband, and as good a father as ever stepped in shoes."
"I want to say right here, Gerald," interposed the farmer, "that I'm asreal sorry as any man can be for what I----"
"There's no need for you to say anything to me just now, farmer,"interrupted Gerald stiffly; "you said enough last time we met to last mefor many a day."
"I know, lad, I know, lad--don't I know it? You're not going to playheavy on a man old enough to be your father?"
"You were heavy enough on me--young enough to be your son! I have madeup my mind"--he sat down with an air of determination as he spoke "totalk to you; to talk to you freely
, when the whole of your nineteenthousand pounds is found.
"I've got hold on the balance that's missing, and it only wants thelawyer to put things in trim for it to be recovered. When it is--whenthe whole nineteen thousand pounds is in your possession--I shall wantyou to eat the word 'thief' you applied to me."
"Ain't I just eating it, Gerald?" said the old man humbly. "Is there aman here in N'York with as much humble pie in his mouth as I've got? Itake back all I said----"
"Maybe, but I----"
And then Gerald paused.
Two soft, warm hands passed over the back of his chair, passed his face,came round his neck; warm lips touched his ear, and a voice he lovedbetter than any other whispered:
"Gerald!--he is my father."
That did it. Gerald jumped up and took the farmer by the hand.
All his anger had evaporated under the touch of those soft, warm lips.
"Well, farmer, let bygones be bygones. We'll forget all that's been saidthat ought not to have been said. Here comes the lawyer. Let's get alongwith the declaration."
"I have it all ready," said the lawyer. "It is a joint declaration." Heread it, and then said, "Come along with me to the justice's office; andit can be declared right off."
The justice before whom they presented themselves glanced at thedocument he was signing.
"Coincidence," he said, "or is it the same? Loide's--an Englishlawyer--death was reported at the police station this afternoon."
Death! Gerald started. Had he then killed the man he had struggled with?He said:
"You mean Richard Loide." And he mentioned the hotel.
"That's where the accident occurred. Lift accident--there is thecertificate just brought in."
"Will you loan this to me?" inquired the lawyer, after perusing it; "Ithink it will save some trouble."
"Yes," answered the justice; "if you return it within two hours. It hasto go to the coroner by then."
This was promised. Outside the office the lawyer hailed a hackman.
"Get in," he said to his companions; "we will drive straight to themoney changer's."
They did. The hackman waited. They entered the office.
"You remember me, Mr. Wolff?" queried the lawyer.
It was evident the banker did--from his obsequious manner in receivinghis visitor. Doubtless the lawyer knew something of him.
"You have a thousand pound English note in your possession belonging tomy client here."
"I hope you not tink, Meestair Denison, dat I intends----"
"Oh, I know you only want to give it up to the right owner. He'shere--this gentleman. Mr. Loide left it with you--Loide's dead. Here'sthe police certificate of his death."
"Det, eh?"
"He was acting in England as a lawyer for this client of mine, and paidover eighteen out of nineteen thousand pounds. The other thousand poundnote was missing. This declaration sworn to before Justice ColonelGeorge F. Vanderwood to-day proves the ownership."
"So."
It was evident that the mention of the justice had impressed the banker.
"You will give up the note, I suppose, without any trouble?"
"Sairtenly, Meestair Denison, if you say so. I suppose I haf someeendemnity, eh?"
"I have prepared one. Here it is. Mr. Depew, will you sign it?"
Mr. Depew did so, and in exchange got the missing thousand pound note.
"Now, back to my office," said the lawyer, "where the ladies arewaiting."
They returned there. The farmer flourished his note, and then threw itinto his wife's lap.
"All's well, old girl," he said; "got him. It's all settled."
"And now you have only to settle with me," said the lawyer, with asmile, "and the whole thing will be ended."
"Not much, it isn't," interposed Mrs. Depew. "There's a marriagesettlement for you to draw up. My old man is settling nine thousandpounds on our daughter, Tessie, who is to be married to Mr. GeraldDanvers here."
"No need for a settlement, madam. Give her the money now before they aremarried, and it's hers as firmly as any deed could make it so."
"Is that so? Then, George, you'd better give it right away--here."
"Plenty of time, old girl, when we get back----"
"Get back! There's no putting back from here with a couple of singlepeople around. Those two is going to be made one before we step out ofN'York again."
"Mother!"
"That's me, Tess--you hear me say it.
"You really mean that, Mrs. Depew," inquired Gerald, with sparklingeyes.
"Young man," she answered, "you've evidently got to learn that when yourmother-in-law that is to be says a thing, she means it."
"Mrs. Depew, you're the finest mother-in-law the world holds! You're abrick! a regular brick!"
"But, mother," said the blushing Tessie, "I haven't got anythingready----"
"Lawd sakes! Listen to that now! And here are we in N'York with a bankfull of money, too! Can't you buy what you want?"
"Of course she can," interrupted Gerald eagerly. "Mrs. Depew, you're themost sensible woman I've ever met."
"None of your soft soap now!"
"It's a fact. It's a capital idea. Couldn't be better. Don't you thinkso, farmer?"
Of course the farmer thought so. He valued his domestic peace, andassured it by acquiescence in most of his wife's ideas.
He even went so far as to say that he had thought a similar idea out asthey drove along.
Tessie made another--must it be confessed, very faint-hearted?--protest.
"Why should you be in such a hurry, mother?"
"Because I don't believe in long engagements--that's why. Because thisboy was promised his reward--that's why. Because you know perfectly wellthat you are just as anxious to get married as he is to marryyou--that's why. Because I'm getting an old woman, and the sooner youget married, the longer I shall have on earth to play with mygrandchildren--that's why."
"Mother!"
Of course it was settled that way. When they left New York shortlyafter, Gerald and Tessie were man and wife.
Mrs. Depew usually contrived to get her own way. If, of that householdit was true that the husband was the head, she was the neck--she was socapable of turning the head.
THE END
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