“I am sorry if I consider Mr. Downes just what he was before I went away. Any house would be uncomfortable if both of us remained in it. Can I speak plainer?”
“You don’t need to, boy!” snarled Mr. Downes, his face reddening again.
“Colonel Playfair will probably see you at any time you wish to call on him—either he or Mr. Charles Aborn,” I said, pointedly. “They have my affairs in charge.”
Mother did not hear. She was talking with Phillis. And Mr. Downes, after a brief hesitation, went down the steps and through the shrubbery to the street.
I took the chair upon the other side of Philly and Dao Singh, like a gaily painted life-size statue, stood at a respectable distance. Briefly we told mother the story of the little girl’s adventures; and as I well knew mother received the waif with joy.
“It has been a great sorrow all his life, my child,” mother said, drawing Philly upon her lap, “that Clint had no sister. A boy is a great comfort to a widowed woman; but he cannot take the place of a daughter. Love me, my child, if you can.”
And I knew by the way that the child threw her arms about mother’s neck and sobbed upon her breast, that she had already begun to love my mother. Philly’s heart had been sore for just the sort of protective care my mother could give her. I saw that my scheme was going to be a huge success!
With Chester Downes out of the way my home-coming was all that I could have hoped for. The help around the house welcomed me with delight, too. Even my mother’s French maid, Marie Portent, gave me a wintry smile—and I had never been a favorite with her.
The neighbors came in to see me, too, for the news had spread all over town that I had come back from my wanderings. Mr. Chester Downes had not succeeded in turning everybody against me.
But you may believe I got into some decent clothes before I held any reception. Then I went down town and wired Thankful Polk a hundred dollars and the news that everything was O. K. with me.