Jo shook his head, the reliable Jo who could be counted on to do the right thing. “No, marm, I didn’t tell,” he answered gayly. “That’s your job, not mine. I was only saying that you were all right, and Mrs. Seymour is mighty hard to convince. I had to say that all of you were safe, all of you together, and then each one separately.”
But Mrs. Seymour was not ready to smile, even yet. Her face was pale and her eyes widened as she saw Tom and Charlie slouch handcuffed into the light that spread from the door in a wide semicircle of welcome through the driving rain. As she realized her mother’s anxiety Ann dashed across the intervening space and flung herself into the outstretched arms.
Ben followed, and for an instant no one of the three spoke.
After Fred and Warren Bain had driven away they all sat around the fire to tell the story. Like powwowing Indians in blankets and bathrobes they sat before the snapping black stove, the storm shut outside.
Jo had turned red man with the rest and was bundled in one of Mr. Seymour’s big wool robes, his thick hair on end and his blue eyes dancing with excitement and happiness. The dog lay at his feet.
“And now,” said Mr. Seymour, “what are you children going to do with the wealth that the capture of these men will bring you?”
“I didn’t know there was going to be any,” answered Jo in astonishment, and Ann and Ben, and Helen, too, pricked up their ears. “Gee! Money?” said Ben.
“Bain insists that he never could have got the men if it hadn’t been for the way you two worked on their superstitious fears, and he says that he is going to share the reward. What will you do with it? There’s something practical for you to think about and change your line of thought before we all go to bed.”
Ben put his hand on his father’s knee. “You know what I want more than anything else in the world,” he said, with his fascinated eyes resting on the finished portrait of Jo that Mr. Seymour had set against the wall only a day or two before. “If I could only learn to paint! Would there be enough money for me to do that?”
“I don’t know, Ben. It will be only a few hundred at most, after it is divided, and you understand, of course, that we aren’t going to let Mr. Bain rob himself more than seems absolutely necessary to him. But you’ll go on painting at home for a long time yet and if we put your share away it will have grown before you are ready to use it. It will help a great deal, anyway.”