“What will it cost?” asked the sailor.
“Not more than two thousand dollars,” responded Mr. Coke; “that would finish the whole thing in first-class style.”
“It’s a go!” shouted the sailor, jumping up; “get the thing up in good shape, and get it up as quickly as possible.”
Then and there specifications were drawn up, advertisements given out and the draft of a communication made to city councils. Within thirty days the whole thing had been completed and was ready for dedication. On the morning fixed for the celebration it slowly dawned on Herbert’s mind that the sailor and the lawyer had a fixed purpose in all that they had done, and this purpose was only now beginning to unfold itself. He got his first inkling of this when he noticed the little silver plate on the side of the fountain, saying that it been erected by Captain Thomas Janson to the memory of his lifelong friend, David Harkins.
Mrs. Harkins wept a great deal when she saw this plate, which was a very good thing for her, because it relieved her pent up feelings and enabled her to recall memories of the dead without doing her any serious injury. Herbert, on the other hand, was flushed with conscious pride. A committee of the city councils had the affair in charge, and they made Mrs. Harkins, Herbert and Captain Janson the guests of honor. The Mayor of the city made the speech accepting the fountain, and then Captain Janson, as the closest friend of David Harkins, was called on for a few remarks.
The speech that he made that day was one of the most remarkable that had ever been delivered in the town. It told the story of the life of David Harkins, and how he had once befriended the speaker during what he firmly believed was the crisis of his life. He then related in great detail how he had come to Cleverly late that night and forced his old friend to accept the ten $100 bills. Thus, without making any direct reference to the ancient rumors that had flourished in the town, the stain attached to the memory of David Harkins was removed in the most effective manner possible. John Black and his daughter were present at the ceremonies, and at the conclusion of the set speeches Mr. Black arose and paid a fervent tribute to the integrity of David Harkins. Altogether everything was done in the most complete manner, and the affair was a great success and a red letter day in the history of Cleverly.
The story of the event was told in a full page report in the current issue of the Banner. To the delight of Mr. Brooks, Herbert had volunteered to write the report, and it proved to be one of the best pieces of reporting that had ever been done for the local paper. Captain Janson was the hero of the occasion. He remained in Cleverly for about a week, and he spent his money so lavishly and with such utter unconcern that he came to be looked upon as a modern Monte Cristo.
During his stay he formed quite an intimacy with Noah Brooks, and it was not very long before the whole-hearted sailor and the eccentric editor were almost indispensable to each other. Sitting in the Banner office one day Janson said:
“See here, Brooks, Cleverly looks to me like a good port in a storm. It strikes me that it would be a pretty good place for an old worn out hulk like Captain Janson. I’ve got a great notion to gather my stores and anchor here for the rest of my life.”
Brooks thought so, too, and said he felt satisfied that the Captain would never have cause to regret making the change in his dwelling place. The sight of the two old men sitting on the porch exchanging stories of the varied experiences they had undergone during their stormy lives was a picture not to be forgotten very quickly. At least Herbert Harkins thought so, and when he finally took the train for his return to New York the pretty little scene remained engraved upon his memory.