“How was I to know who wrote this?” asked his uncle with twinkling eyes, “you will have to sign your name if you want money from me.”
“I do not see how I came to do anything like that,” said Austin, abashed at his mistake.
“We never suspected you, and after talking it over at the supper-table we all came to the conclusion that the card was from Wilbur, and that he had gotten into some trouble and wanted help. He is so trifling that I decided to let him fight his own battles, so paid no more attention to the matter,” explained his uncle.
“I felt sorry for the poor fellow so after a week or more wrote the letter you received,” said Frank, laughing.
“Then your answer came back to us all signed as it should be, but I thought it was Will trying to trick me further, so still did nothing. In fact, I had about forgotten the incident when a letter came from Amy telling us you had left home. Then we knew the S. O. S. was your call and waked immediately. That is why there was the long silence then the ticket by telegram. We were afraid you had given up hearing from us and left that place.”
When Uncle John had finished his explanation, all that had been dark to Austin cleared away, and he laughed with the rest at the queer mix-up. It relieved him to know that after all his uncle had not purposely neglected him.
And that dinner! Was there ever another feast as good as this one? It was indeed a table to tempt an appetite under any circumstances, and to Austin, who had absolute peace of mind for the first time in weeks, it seemed more delicious than could be expressed.
But before he had finished his dinner, thoughts of the little ones at home and the Christmas dinner cooked by inexperienced hands came into his view, and his own good fortune almost choked him. If only they, too, could have eaten with Aunt Tillie! And he remembered, also, that only last Christmas Mother was with them, and tears sprang to his eyes. How much had happened in that year!
When the others had gone about their own affairs, John Moore took his young nephew and had a long talk with him. Austin was free to tell him all that had happened and why he had left home. Mr. Moore could understand how Henry Hill had treated the boy, for he too had received evil for good at his hands. He was sorry for the little ones, but hoped the sight of their needs would waken the chords of real manhood which once stirred the heart of his brother-in-law.
“Austin, I am pained at all you tell me and am sorry that it is going so ill with dear Elizabeth’s children, but I can not see it our duty to bear your father’s burdens. You are welcome here with us. To me you are like one of my own sons, and I want you to feel as the weeks go by that you are at home. I shall do by you just as I do by them.”