“Hurrah! If Pye were worth a dump, he’d give us a holiday!” echoed bold Bywater.
CHAPTER LIX. — READY.
The glorious surprise of Charley’s safety greeted Hamish on his return home to dinner. In fact, he was just in time, having come in somewhat before one o’clock, to witness Charley’s arrival from the college schoolroom, escorted by the whole tribe, from the first to the last. Even Gerald Yorke made one, as did Mr. William Simms. Gerald, the smart over, thought it best to put a light, careless face upon his punishment, disgraceful though it was considered to be for a senior. To give Gerald his due, his own share in the day’s exploits faded into insignificance, compared with the shock of mortification which shook him, when he heard the avowal of his mother, respecting Roland. He and Tod had been the most eager of all the school to cast Arthur’s guilt in Tom Channing’s cheek; they had proclaimed it as particularly objectionable to their feelings that the robbery should have taken place in an office where their brother was a pupil; and now they found that Tom’s brother had been innocent, and their own brother guilty! It was well that Gerald’s brow should burn. “But she’d no cause to come here and blurt it out to the lot, right in one’s face!” soliloquized Gerald, alluding to Lady Augusta. “They’d have heard it soon enough, without that.”
Mr. William Simms, I have said, also attended Charles. Mr. William was hoping that the return of Charley would put him upon a better footing with the school. He need not have hoped it: his offence had been one that the college boys never forgave. Whether Charley returned dead or alive, or had never returned at all, Simms would always remain a sneak in their estimation. “Sneak Simms,” he had been called since the occurrence: and he had come to the resolution, in his own mind, of writing word home to his friends that the studies in Helstonleigh college school were too much for him, and asking to be removed to a private one. I think he would have to do so still.
Hamish lifted Charley to him with an eager, fond movement. A weight was taken from his mind. Although really irresponsible for the disappearance of Charles, he had always felt that his father and mother might inwardly attach some blame to him—might think him to have been wanting in care. Now, all was sunshine.
Dinner over, Mr. Channing walked with Hamish to the office. They were some time in getting there. Every other person they met, stopped Mr. Channing to congratulate him. It seemed that the congratulations were never to end. It was not only Mr. Channing’s renewed health that people had to speak of. Helstonleigh, from one end to the other, was ringing with the news of Arthur’s innocence; and Charley’s return was getting wind.
They reached Guild Street at last. Mr. Channing entered and shook hands with his clerks, and then took his own place in his private room. “Where are we to put you, now, Hamish?” he said, looking at his son with a smile. “There’s no room for you here. You will not like to take your place with the clerks again.”
“Perhaps I had better follow Roland Yorke’s plan, and emigrate,” replied Hamish, demurely.