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Frank Merriwell's Son; or, A Chip Off the Old Block, a fiction by Burt L. Standish |
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Chapter 21. At Merry Home |
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_ CHAPTER XXI. AT MERRY HOME On arriving in Bloomfield, they found Frank Merriwell at the station with carriages to accommodate them all. Imagine their feelings as they once more greeted their old comrade and leader. Even Buck Badger, the big breezy man of command, seemed to take a second place in the presence of Frank. Many of the Bloomfield citizens had somehow learned that several of Merry's friends were coming on that train, and, as a result, there was a gathering at the station. The curious ones stared at Merriwell's old flock, and it was generally remarked that these friends of Frank were "all right." Eli Given, Uncle Ed Small, and Deacon Elnathan Hewett were there in a triangular group, and they nodded and chuckled and shook hands with each other as Frank shook hands with the members of his old flock. "Purty 'tarnal good-looking people, Eben," said Eli. "Look at that big feller with the wide hat that has the leather band round it. There's a real man for ye." "Yep," nodded Eben, leaning on his crooked cane and looking the party over. "He's a man, the hull of him, but even at that I don't cal'late he quite comes up to our Frank. What do you think, deacon?" "Boys," said Elnathan, "I ain't never yit seen the man that comes up to our Frank. All Bloomfield is proud of him to the bustin' point, and they ought to be." "By jinks!" grinned Eli; "that tall feller jest introduced one of the dark-eyed gals as his wife. Wush! but she's a beaut! He's homelier than a barn door with the paint washed off, but she's a peach. Wonder how he ever ketched her." "She's Spanish, or French, or something ferrun," asserted Uncle Eb. "I heerd her say something in some outlandish language to that other dark-eyed gal." "Speakin' 'bout good-lookers," put in the deacon, "what's the matter with the one the big feller pushed for'ard as his wife? I don't guess Frank needed no introducin' to them, for it seems to me that he's met 'em both before." "But, my jinks," gasped Eben, "look at the sparklers in the ears of that one in brown! S'pose them is real dimints? If they me, I bet they cost much as twenty-five dollars apiece!" "Twenty-five?" said the deacon, with an intonation of contempt. "You ain't no judge of dimints, Eben! I bet they cost thirty!" "Most of them seem to know Frank's nigger, Toots," said Eli. "Look at him show them ivories and nod and bow. By jinks! he'll snap his head off if he keeps that up. See that mouth of his'n stretch! The corners are going to pass each other at the back of his neck in a minute. If he keeps on, he'll lose the whole top of his head. It'll jest naturally crack right off." "Well, well, boys, this makes me feel mighty good, myself," said the deacon. "Never used to be no sech things as this going on here in our town. I tell you if I wasn't a temperance man, I feel so good I'd jest go down to Applesnack's store and open up two or three bottles of ginger ale." "A little hard cider for me," laughed Uncle Eb. "Rufus has it in his storeroom. I know where we kin git at the keg, boys, and I think we better celebrate ourselves." "That's a good idee, Eben," said Eli. "We'll all go over to the grocery and wash the dust out of our throats with Applesnack's cider." "Now, boys," protested the deacon, "I don't think I'd better go. If it should come out, people would talk. I think I'll keep away." "No, ye don't! No, ye don't!" declared Given, as he grasped one of the deacon's arms. "Git hold of his other wing, Eben. We'll lead him up to the keg and pour it into him, if we have to. There won't nobody see us, deacon. We'll be in the back room, and we'll have Rufus shet the door. I guess you kin trust us, can't ye? I guess you ain't afraid we'll go round tellin' folks 'bout it, are ye? You know we're your friends, don't ye?" "Course I know it," retorted the deacon. "But it's some agin' my principles, boys. It ain't jest right." "Oh, fudge!" laughed Uncle Eb. "On a grand occasion like this you'd better set them air principles aside a little while. Frank is gittin' them into the carriages now. We'll see them off, and then we'll stroll over to Applesnack's and have jest one little taste of that cider." "Let's start a cheer for Frank Merriwell and his friends as they go," suggested the deacon. The others caught at this eagerly, and, as a result, when the carriages started away from the station, the villagers on the platform, led by the three "old boys," gave an irregular but hearty cheer for Frank Merriwell and his friends. Frank turned a laughing face toward them and waved his hand. "The people around here seem a-plenty stuck on you, Merry," observed Badger, who was in the carriage with him. "Oh, I have lots of friends in Bloomfield," answered Frank. "I had enemies enough at the start, but my worst enemies--the most of them--have turned into friends." "Same old story," said the Kansan. "It was that way at college. You always made your strongest friends out of your bitterest enemies. Browning, for instance, was an enemy at the start, and I certain didn't cotton to you any at all. We had some hot old times in those days, Merry. That's whatever!" "Hot old times! Grand old times!" came from Frank's lips. "I often think of them. You'll find Browning, Diamond, Hodge, and Carson at the house. And away back in the days at Fardale, long before I met you, Buck, Bart Hodge was a bitter enemy. Browning and Diamond are two of my instructors in the A. S. of A. D. Hodge is my overseer at the mines. Bruce and Jack have had their hands full this afternoon rushing the boys through the regular work in order that they might get off for the afternoon. Hodge and Carson have been helping. I've kept Carson at work during the last week or so. It was necessary. Certain unpleasant affairs of his put him in a bad way, and the only thing was to take up his mind by work. I haven't given him much time to think and brood." "I opine we've got a brooder with us in the carriage behind," said Badger, in a low tone. "Carker shows it in his face and eyes." "Oh, he's still suffering mentally over the troubles of the masses, I suppose," said Frank. "There's something beyond that--something that has affected him still worse," explained Buck. "You noticed Winnie's chum, Mrs. Morton?" "Of course I noticed her," smiled Frank. "Didn't you introduce me? She's rather pretty." "Well, to the surprise of both Winnie and myself, we discovered on the train when Madge and Greg met that there had been some sort of an old love affair between them. I reckon that's two-thirds the trouble with Carker." Over the bridge rumbled the carriages. As they rolled past Applesnack's store the grocer and several of his friends stood on the steps and waved a salute at them. All these villagers were smiling as if the reunion gave them almost as much enjoyment as it gave Frank and his old flock. After leaving the village they soon came in sight of the buildings of Farnham Hall. These structures, located on a splendid site, brought exclamations of astonishment and pleasure from all who had not seen them before. Then they saw Merry Home setting back amid the tall trees which surrounded it. The old Colonial house seemed to open its arms to them in welcome. And on the veranda were Inza, Elsie, Jack Diamond, Bruce Browning, Bart Hodge, and Berlin Carson. It's impossible to describe adequately the meeting as the newcomers left the carriages and were greeted by those waiting for them. The chatter and laughter of the girls made merry music, but for the most part the young men shook hands in silence, looking deep into one another's eyes and letting the grasp of their fingers express the emotions their lips could not speak. The two colored men, Toots and Jumbo, together with the young Irish man of all work, who had also acted as a driver, took the turnouts round to the stables, where the three of them joined hands and did a crazy dance. "Bah golly, Jumbo, you big stiff," cried Toots, as he struck the huge darky a resounding blow on the back, "Ah'ze the happiest nigger in dis hull unumverse! Wasn't dat de finest-looking bunch ob people yo' eber set yo' homely eyes on, Jumbo? Bah golly! dat's de kind ob folks Marsa Frank trains round wid. Ain't dem gals jes' de slappinest good-lookers yo' eber see?" "Now don' yo' git familiar talkin' 'bout Marsa Frank's lady friends!" warned Jumbo. "Ah'ze a friend to you, Toots, but dis familumarity don' sot well on mah stomach." "Aw, go on dar, you big brack jollier!" yapped Toots. "Ah'ze known Marsa Frank eber since he was knee high to a grasseshopper. Ah guess Ah knows mah place. He's tol' me more'n once, 'Toots, yo'se a gemman distinctive ob yo' color.' Dar ain't no udder nigger dat could gib Marsa Frank a piece of device de way Ah can. He'd took it off'n me when he'd up and slam any udder brack sassbox right ober de crannyum whack-o! Don' yo' git no notion, Jumbo, jes' beca'se Ah injuiced Marsa Frank to gib yo' a job, dat yo' ken hab de same familiar acquaintance wid him dat Ah has. Now back up an' look arter dem hosses! Git onto yo' job befo' Ah discharges yo'!" "Well, wouldn't dat ar gib a ring-tailed elephant a cramp!" muttered Jumbo warmly, as he went about his work. An hour after the arrival at Merry Home the visitors were ushered into the large, light, airy dining room, where they found seats at a long table. There were servants enough for the occasion, and everything was served promptly. Mrs. Morton sought to secure a seat at Greg Carker's side, but in a clever manner Carker had avoided such proximity to her, without seeming to do so intentionally. Instead of having her at his elbow, it was Juanita who sat there. "Well, senyorita," said Carker, smiling on her, "what do you think of Frank Merriwell's home and his friends?" "Oh, eet ees the most splendeed theeng I evaire see," she murmured. "Eet makes me feel so happy for you all." "Happy?" said Carker, regarding her closely. "Why, I fancied you were looking rather unhappy. To me you seemed downcast. Has anything occurred to make you sad?" "Oh, eet ees that I am so far from home--perhaps," she answered. "Why deed you not seet by the beauteeful lady you meet again one time more on the train?" "Whom do you mean?" "The friend of Senyorita Badgaire. I theenk she ees so veree pretty. She ees marreed, eh?" He shrugged his shoulders. "Yes, she's married," muttered Carker. "You are sorree?" "Sorry?" "Si, senyor. Eef she was not marreed, perhaps you would beside her seet." "I don't think so--at least, knowing her as I do now. Still, I don't blame her. I'm the cause of it all." "You feel veree, veree bad?" "I'll be honest with you, senyorita--I can't tell whether I feel very bad or not. I have felt rather upset, I confess. But, my dear girl, human nature is peculiar. It's a strange thing, but I believe most men and most women take melancholy delight in feeling themselves to be martyrs. We all delight to moan over lost loves. That is the poetry in our natures. Occasionally we spend our time grieving over some lost love that reason and good judgment tells us would have come to naught under any circumstances. I hope Mrs. Morton is happy and satisfied. Perhaps you'll think me fickle, senyorita, but let me confess to you the fact that I'm not feeling as much like grieving as I was--before I met you." For a few moments Juanita did not seem to grasp his meaning, but when she did the soft, warm color mounted to her cheeks, and her confusion was plainly evident. On the opposite side of the table Gallup nudged Teresa, who had been placed at his left. "Hey, Teresa," he whispered, "get onto Carker. Gol rap him! He's making hay in a hurry." "What ees eet you mean to make the hay?" questioned Teresa, puzzled. "To me it seem that he make the love. He talk so verree low that nobody except Juanita hear what he say, and Juanita she blush." "That's right," chuckled Ephraim, "and, by Jim! Mrs. Morton is looking daggers and hoss pistols." Then he lifted his voice and addressed Carker. "Hold on there, Greg!" he called. "You can't eat your soup with your fork! Why don't you use a spoon?" It was Carker's turn to be confused, but he forced a laugh. "I have a lamentable habit of becoming abstracted in pleasant company," he said. "Evidently you find your company extremely pleasant, Mr. Carker," observed Mrs. Morton, with a little toss of her head. "Extremely is not quite the word, madam," he replied, with a bow. "Absorbingly pleasant is far better." _ |
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