“These two millions were a million times more than I deserved, though it would leave him but little poorer. This was true, but nevertheless I felt that I was cut off.
“‘Here is thy portion, boy,’ he seemed to have said. ‘Get thee away into a far country, and come not near us again.’
“I was banished. I would keep to my engagement with the French shark-hunter strictly and to the letter. My millions might lie there. I would not draw a cheque even for a dollar. I was proud, and my pride bred bitterness of heart.
“I wrote at least half a dozen letters to Sissie and mother, read them over, and tore them up as soon as penned. For somehow that bitterness of heart breathed all through each one of them.
“Then, when calmer, I wrote one simple, loving letter, bidding all good-bye. And it ended thus: ‘When I am worthy to be my good old father’s son I will return.’”
* * * * *
“Ah, gentlemen,” he continued, after a pause of silence that no one cared to break, “my long banishment to this dreary country, though self-inflicted, has done me good and changed my mind. Before, I could see men but as trees walking, now I can read all my father’s motives. Like all our forbears, he is proud, but he is true, and—well, I must confess I love him. There!
“My adventures since I left home are too numerous to tell you. Our ship was wrecked, and Dumpty and I alone were saved. Then I joined a band of wandering Eskimos—the Yak-Yaks. I did not care what became of me. I felt I was running away from myself, from my evil, prideful nature, and so here I am, a changed and, I trust, a better man.
“One thing, however, I have determined upon. I will not return to my father’s house, until I have done something which shall show him that I possess some of the sand and grit in me, which has descended to us from the old fighting Armstrongs.
“But, I say,” he added comically, “you will get me that serge suit, won’t you? And you will let me and Humpty Dumpty join your ship, and let me have my hair cut, and—well, and just share your adventures, won’t you?”