[CHAPTER XVIII.]
EXPLANATIONS; AND MR. JENNISON SENDS A REQUEST.
“Well, it’s ended, at any rate. A most astonishing business it certainly has been! And nobody to blame for part of it.”
Mr. Marcy made this declaration for the five-and-twentieth time at least as they were sitting up-stairs an hour after supper on that eventful day. The four were talking almost as fast as ever, each one interrupting the other with a question or a statement, this explanation or problem jumping out of that one. The subject for their consideration was quite unlikely to be exhausted as soon as themselves. What a hubbub they kept up still!
“I can’t hear myself think, Philip,” Mr. Marcy protested. “Saxton, beg pardon! What’s that you asked? No, Gerald, we didn’t get worried. How could we when we didn’t know there was any thing to worry over? What’s that?” So it had gone on for the two hours they had sat in the summer-house. Then they had adjourned to have dinner by themselves in the boys’ room. All the little hotel, and, for that matter, all the town, was in a buzz of curiosity and interest. As for Mr. Banger, it is proper to say here that he saw that their dinner was handsomely and bountifully served, and that when later he found opportunity for a brief interview with Mr. Marcy and Mr. Saxton he did not do much except apologize and call himself a fool. He did both with a much better grace than might have been expected. He expressed himself in just the same curt fashion to Philip as he shook his hand cordially. The latter could not resist a little revenge.
“O, no,” he laughed, “I don’t think you are a fool at all, Mr. Banger; but I think you had a chance to be one, and—you made something of it.”
Mr. Banger in reply only smiled severely and nodded.
And now the laughter and the loud, earnest hum of conversation reached the mortified landlord as he passed their door.
Gerald sat by his father smiling, but saying less than any of the party. Philip remarked again and again the close likeness between the two. There was the same grace of figure and stature, the same shapely head and clear-cut, regular features. But the dashing, happy-go-lucky manner of the gay young broker and typical man-about-town was gone. Mr. Saxton laughed and talked as loud as Marcy or Philip. But the latter noticed how pale he was, and how deep were the circles of a great and unexpected grief under his fine eyes. He kept his arm along the back of his son’s chair. From that time forth there existed a new understanding between them; and, as Gerald grows up, it has never been lessened.