“Yes, my lad,” said C. B. kindly, “what can I do for you?”
“Father’s better now,” responded the youth, “but he’s in a terrible takin’ about your not comin’ to our house, we don’t know how t’ pacify him. The only thing would do was for me to come off at once and bring you along.”
C. B. immediately decided to go of course, but bade the youth wait while he informed his friends. Having done so and excused himself till dinner, he announced to the lad that he was ready, and in two minutes they were on their way to sweet Fairhaven. As they drove along, the youth, getting better of his shyness, asked question after question, the principal point of which was “How did you save my father’s life? he says he owes his life to you, and talks as if we’d pushed you off our doorstep.” This last in a somewhat aggrieved tone.
C. B. was hard put to it to explain to this keen lad all the circumstances of the case, but he did his best, and by the time they reached the captain’s modest home the lad knew nearly as much as he did himself about the matter.
As they pulled up at the porch they heard the captain’s voice within crying, “Run, Delia, see if that’s him; Lord, do make haste, do.” And Mrs. Taber came rushing out on the veranda with her face flushed, but as she saw C. B. she extended her hand saying—
“If I’d only known, but you didn’t let on a word; to think that in the first hour of that poor dear’s home-coming we should nearly quarrel over a stranger. Forgive me, won’t ye, I didn’t know.” And she literally dragged him into the room where, spread out to best advantage, the most valued possessions of the family were displayed. And in the midst of it all lay Captain Taber, in an easy chair, a high flush upon his cheeks and a glitter in his eyes that made C. B. look very serious as he came towards him.
As he stooped over his friend, the skipper made a feeble grab at him with one hand and at his wife with the other, and in a voice broken with tears he exclaimed—
“Here, Delia, look at him! but for him you’d never seen me again, I know it. He’s borne with me with such overflowing, never-failing love from the other side of the world—I can’t ever tell you what this beloved fellow has been to me. An’ then to think that he should be left standin’ at the station like a hired man, it’s just heart-breakin’, that’s what it is.”
“Now, dear friend,” broke in the gentle voice of C. B., “you’re doing yourself harm and giving us all pain for nothing. Nobody was to blame. You were unconscious, your wife didn’t know me, we were all anxious that you should be got home as soon as ever it could be done, and of course I couldn’t stop to explain. Besides, I set out to bring you back to your wife and children, and once you were there what better thing could I do than step aside and let them rejoice over you?”