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_ CHAPTER XXIV. THE STORY ENDS
Three letters came to me the next morning. I was rather surprised at this, because I did not expect to get letters after I found myself at home; or, at least, with my family. The first of these was handed to me by Rectus. It was from his father. This is the letter:
"MY DEAR BOY:" (This opening seemed a little
curious to me, for I did not suppose the old
gentleman thought of me in that way.) "I shall not
be able to see you again before you leave for
Willisville, so I write this note just to tell you
how entirely I am satisfied with the way in which
you performed the very difficult business I
intrusted to you--that of taking charge of my son
in his recent travels. The trip was not a very
long one, but I am sure it has been of great
service to him; and I also believe that a great
deal of the benefit he has received has been due
to you." (I stopped here, and tried to think what
I had done for the boy. Besides the thrashing I
gave him in Nassau, I could not think of
anything.) "I have been talking a great deal with
Sammy, in the last day or two, about his doings
while he was away, and although I cannot exactly
fix my mind on any particular action, on your
part, which proves what I say" (he was in the same
predicament here in which I was myself), "yet I
feel positively assured that your companionship
and influence have been of the greatest service to
him. Among other things, he really wants to go to
college. I am delighted at this. It was with much
sorrow that I gave up the idea of making him a
scholar: but, though he was a good boy, I saw that
it was useless to keep him at the academy at
Willisville, and so made up my mind to take him
into my office. But I know you put this college
idea into his head, though how, I cannot say, and
I am sure that it does not matter. Sammy tells me
that you never understood that he was to be
entirely in your charge; but since you brought him
out so well without knowing this, it does you more
credit. I am very grateful to you. If I find a
chance to do you a real service, I will do it.
"Yours very truly,
"SAMUEL COLBERT, SR."
The second letter was handed to me by Corny, and was from her mother. I shall not copy that here, for it is much worse than Mr. Colbert's. It praised me for doing a lot of things which I never did at all; but I excused Mrs. Chipperton for a good deal she said, for she had passed through so much anxiety and trouble, and was now going to settle down for good, with Corny at school, that I didn't wonder she felt happy enough to write a little wildly. But there was one queer resemblance between her letter and old Mr. Colbert's. She said two or three times--it was an awfully long letter--that there was not any particular thing that she alluded to when she spoke of my actions. That was the funny part of it. They couldn't put their fingers on anything really worth mentioning, after all.
My third letter had come by mail, and was a little old. My mother gave it to me, and told me that it had come to the post-office at Willisville about a week before, and that she had brought it down to give it to me, but had totally forgotten it until that morning. It was from St. Augustine, and this is an exact copy of it:
"My good friend Big Little Man. I love you. My
name Maiden's Heart. You much pious. You buy
beans. Pay good. Me wants one speckled shirt.
Crowded Owl want one speckled shirt, too. You send
two speckled shirts. You good Big Little Man. You
do that. Good-bye.
"MAIDEN'S HEART, Cheyenne Chief.
"Written by me, James R. Chalott, this seventh day
of March, 187-, at the dictation of the
above-mentioned Maiden's Heart. He has requested
me to add that he wants the speckles to be red,
and as large as you can get them."
During the morning, most of our party met to bid each other good-bye. Corny, Rectus and I were standing together, having our little winding-up talk, when Rectus asked Corny if she had kept her gray bean, the insignia of our society.
"To be sure I have," she said, pulling it out from under her cloak. "I have it on this little chain which I wear around my neck. I've worn it ever since I got it. And I see you each have kept yours on your watch-guards."
"Yes," I said, "and they're the only things of the kind we saved from the burning 'Tigris.' Going to keep yours?"
"Yes, indeed," said Corny, warmly.
"So shall I," said I.
"And I, too," said Rectus.
And then we shook hands, and parted.
[THE END]
Frank R Stockton's Book: Jolly Fellowship
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