“However, I don’t think you need worry your mind about our share in the transaction,” the Captain went on, seeing that Kit looked very thoughtful over it. “If they pay us for carrying the oil, we have nothing to do with the use they make of it. We might carry a cargo of cotton to Manchester; and if some dishonest cloth-maker there mixes a lot of it with his wool, that dishonesty cannot be laid on our shoulders.”
“Captain, do you think there is a really honest man in the world?” Kit asked.
“Yes, two,” the Captain laughed; “Christopher Silburn and Captain Griffith.”
The uncertainty about their next destination could not last long, for the cargo was nearly out; and on the same day that Kit was told definitely that he was to go to Marseilles, the Captain induced his charterers to let him have a week in dry-dock first for overhauling the ship. The supercargo, however, could not arrange for more than four days’ leave of absence, there being many things to see to; and that would give him only two full days at home.
Going out by train this time, for greater speed, Kit reached Bridgeport too late for the stage; but without hesitation he set off over the hills on foot, glad of the chance to see so much of the country just as the trees and grass were putting on their new spring suits; and when he stepped without warning into the little house opposite the church, his mother and Vieve were at the supper table.
“You gave me a great start when you came in, Kit,” Mrs. Silburn declared after the first greetings were over. “You walk exactly as your father did; my first thought was that he had come home. And upon my word you are just his size. My, my, what a man you have grown! I have no little Kit any more, but a big grown man.”
“Don’t speak of growing!” Kit retorted. “Where’s the little sister I left at home? What have you done with her? This great big girl can’t be Vieve, can she? And you are looking so much better, too, mother. I’m afraid those little things I got you in London are about four sizes too small.
“I wanted to get you some really good things in England,” he went on, “but those letters you sent me from Bridgeport and Washington made me more careful of my money. If that mysterious man in New Zealand should really prove to be father, we would need all the money we could possibly raise to bring him home comfortably. I don’t feel as if my wages belonged to myself, exactly, till that thing is settled.”
“Oh, it was such a comfort, Kit, the way you managed those letters,” his mother declared. “We did not know what to do at all. I don’t feel so much now as if I had no one to depend upon.”
“Well, the Captain advised me,” Kit modestly answered. “He always knows what ought to be done. You must not set your heart too much upon it, but still there is a chance. Since one man escaped from the wreck of the Flower City, why not another? It will take weeks and weeks, perhaps months, to get an answer from the consul at Wellington; and until it comes, we can do nothing but wait patiently.”