Briefly, while we ate, I related some of my adventures to my old friend. Particularly those that had to do with Philly and the Hindoo.
“It beats all—it sure does!” Ham kept repeating, and could scarcely keep his eyes off the turbanned servant.
When we drove through the wide gateway to the grounds surrounding Darringford House, I saw the flutter of a light dress upon the verandah. When we rounded the turn in the drive and the shrubbery was past, I knew my mother was standing there. But I certainly was amazed to see Chester Downes sitting in one of the arm chairs. No matter what happened, he never owned up beat! I had to hand it to him there.
But I saw what he was up to immediately. He had hurried ahead to break the news of my coming to my mother, and to lay plans for his continued influence in the house. My mother and the estate were practically his bread and butter. I knew that well enough.
But nothing then could spoil the joy of my home-coming. I tore open the door of the hack before it stopped and leaped out. Mother rushed into my arms as I came up the step and I swung her up off the ground—she was such a little, dainty woman!—and I knew that she had never ceased to love me.
“Clint! Clint!” she sobbed. “My dear, dear boy!”
“Hug me again, mother!” I returned, trying to laugh, but making a poor mess of it. “This is the happiest minute I’ve seen for two years.”
“And how you’ve grown!” she gasped, pushing me off a bit so that she could look me over better.
“And you haven’t grown a bit!” I laughed, and swung her again until she was breathless.
“And I hope you have got enough of the awful sea and sea-going!” she cried. “Oh, Clint! You will stay at home now?”