CHAPTER X.
TOM WALTON EXPRESSES HIS OPINION.
I knew that the mention of my name would bring Tom Walton to me, for he was one of the most devoted fellows in the world. He had a habit of remembering what a friend had done for him, and the manifestation of his gratitude was so profuse as to be rather embarrassing to me, for I did not like to see any one so weighed down by the burden of obligation as he appeared to be. I was in the room adjoining that in which I had put the colonel to bed; for I dared not expose myself where it was possible for Waddie, or any other member of the party except Tom, to see me, when he came to me.
“I didn’t expect to see you here, Wolf,” said he, his face lighted up with the broad grin which usually expressed his satisfaction at passing events. “Why don’t you come in and take some dinner with Waddie and Tommy? I know they will be glad to see you.”
“I should be very sorry to have them see me just now,” I replied.
“Why, what’s the matter? What’s the row? Has anything broke?” he asked, a shade of anxiety overspreading his face.
“In a word, Tom, Colonel Wimpleton is as drunk as a beast, in the next room.”
“Whew!” said, or rather whistled, Tom, his eyes opening till they looked like a couple of saucers.
“Yes; and he came within about a quarter of an inch of being run over and smashed by the train that brought us down.”
“You don’t say so!” exclaimed Tom, with genuine feeling.
“That’s so. I wouldn’t have Waddie or Miss Minnie see him now for all the money that he is worth.”
“But I didn’t know the colonel got so bad. I have heard people say he drank till he was about how-came-you-so: I never knew he got right down boozy.”
“I never saw him so bad before,” I replied; “and I hope I never shall again. It’s really horrible.”
“What are you doing down here with him, if he is so much over the bay?”
“He was not so bad when we started. He has been nursing on brandy ever since we left Centreport, and now he don’t know himself from a bar of yellow soap. He is asleep, and I hope he will come out of it all right. I have emptied the contents of his bottle out the window.”
“Good for you, Wolf!” said Tom, with an expressive grin.
I then told him all that had passed between the colonel and myself since he came into my state-room, on board of the steamer, dwelling particularly on the suspicions which had induced the magnate to visit Grass Springs. Tom smiled significantly as I proceeded, and I judged from his expression that he understood the case perfectly.
“Now, Tom, what does all this mean?” I asked, when I had finished the narrative.
“Well, I reckon the colonel is considerable more than half right,” replied the skipper of the Belle, candidly.
“You really think that Waddie and Miss Grace are interested in each other,” I added, squarely, determined to know the worst, so far as I was personally concerned, at once.
“O, no! no! no!” protested Tom, vehemently, as his chin dropped down; “I don’t mean anything of that sort.”
He was much disturbed to think he had conveyed to me a wrong impression on a subject that so deeply affected me.
“What is it, then?”
“It’s Tommy Toppleton and Miss Minnie;” and he proceeded to relate to me the particulars of the upsetting of the Raven, and of the gallant deed of Tommy.
“There wasn’t the least need of jumping overboard; but Miss Minnie thinks her life was saved by it, and she is as grateful as though she had been pulled out of a burning fiery furnace. It’s none of my business; so I don’t say anything to her about it. I think she likes him, and he likes her. Between you and me, Wolf, she isn’t a bad looking girl, and I don’t blame Tommy.”
“But he has hardly ever met her before to-day,” I suggested.
“I don’t care anything about that. Of course, they don’t say anything, but I can tell by their looks which way the wind blows. I’ll bet the biggest fish in the deepest water off Priam that something will come of it.”
“I don’t exactly understand how I took the idea from the colonel that it was Grace and Waddie who were getting things mixed,” I added, laughing, to assure Tom that I had no feeling about the matter.
“O, no! Not a bit of it,” protested the skipper, earnestly, shaking his head to emphasize his words. “Waddie behaves like a gentleman, of course; but, between us, he knows better than to look sidewise at Miss Grace.”
“Why shouldn’t he, if he is disposed to do so?”
“I reckon he knows a mill-stone from a hogshead of molasses,” replied Tom, with his usual significant grin. “In the first place, he thinks too much of you to try to go to sea in your boat.”
“My boat?”
“O, come, Wolf! What’s the use of beating to windward when you have a fair breeze? You believe in Miss Grace, and she thinks a heap of you.”
“We are very good friends; but she is the daughter of a wealthy man, while I am the son of a mechanic,” I replied, rather gloomily.
“I don’t care for that,” said Tom, with a show of indignation at the vain distinctions of this world. “It will come out all right.”
“I don’t know,” I answered, not caring to discuss the subject at any greater length; “Colonel Wimpleton is very much disturbed about the courting, as he calls it.”
“How should he know anything about it?” demanded Tom, suddenly, as he recalled the circumstances of the day.
“I don’t know.”
“Did that Nick Van Wolter tell him?”
“No; he had not returned with the Raven when we left Centreport.”
“If he did, I should be willing to break his head on my own account.”
“I think the colonel ascertained that the girls had come down with the boys, and imagined all the rest,” I suggested, giving the explanation which I had myself adopted.
“Well, he imagined it about right, then,” said Tom.
“I am not sorry it is as you say; but I am afraid the affair will make a good deal of trouble. When are you going back?”
“Whenever my party says the word.”
“Can’t you hurry them up?” I inquired, anxiously; for I did not like to have Waddie and his sister in the house with their father, under the present circumstances.
“I don’t know but I can. They were going to the Horse Shoe this afternoon,” answered Tom. “I have been looking for another shower to-day, for ‘thunder in the morning bids the sailor take warning.’”
There were as yet no signs of another shower, and the skipper left me to ascertain whether his party intended to visit the Horse Shoe or not. I carefully opened the door, and entered the colonel’s room. He was still sleeping in the stupor of intoxication, and I left him. I wished to be at Centreport in season to take the steamer at half past five, but I was afraid my patient would not be in a condition to go home by the last train. Tom soon returned to me with the intelligence that his party would start in half an hour for the Horse Shoe. I did not feel easy until I was assured by the landlord that they had actually embarked on the Belle.
Perhaps it was useless for me to attempt to conceal the father’s infirmity from the children; but I believed that the colonel’s present excess was exceptional, and I hoped he would not again indulge so deeply. I could not endure the thought of witnessing the shame and mortification of Waddie and Minnie, if compelled to encounter their father in his intoxication. While I was considering this unpleasant subject, I heard my patient in the next room, the door of which I had left open, get out of the bed. I hastened into the apartment. The colonel stood holding on at the bed-post, and looked confused and lost. He glanced at me with a stare, and then a maudlin smile came upon his lips, as though the events of the day had suddenly flashed upon his mind, and he remembered where he was.
“I feel a little better of that pain, Wolf,” said he; “but I haven’t got quite over it.”
“I am glad you feel better, sir,” I replied.
“I’m better, but I am not well,” he continued, grasping his coat, which I had hung on the bed-post.
He wanted his flask again. He had partially recovered from the effect of former drams, but he was not satisfied. He took the bottle from his pocket. Of course he would discover that it was empty. I hoped that his memory would not serve him in regard to the condition of the flask when he last drank from it, for I was afraid he would suspect my agency in emptying it. With some difficulty he unscrewed the stopple, and took a tumbler from the wash-stand. He turned the bottle until it was inverted over the glass, but not a drop came forth. His hands trembled, and his frame quivered. Lowering the flask from the glass, he gazed as steadily at me as his shaky condition would permit. He was angry, and I dreaded his wrath.
“Wolf, I left this flask half full of brandy,” said he, fixing a stern gaze upon me. “It was very choice brandy, which my friend in Ruoara gave me for sickness.”
He paused, and continued to stare at me, with a savage frown on his brow. It was useless for me to say anything, and I did not speak.
“For sickness, Wolf,” repeated he. “I told you I was sick, and I take brandy for it.”
He stopped again, but I made no reply.
“Did you empty this flask, Wolf?” demanded he, sternly.
“I did, sir,” I answered, as gently as I could speak.
“You did!” roared he.
“Yes, sir; I did.”
He dropped into a chair, though he did not for an instant remove his gaze from me. I had no difficulty in coming to the conclusion that I had got into a bad scrape; but I had acted for the best.
“You impudent puppy!” said he, grinding his teeth.
I was silent and motionless.
“Are you my guardian?”
“I have tried to take care of you, sir.”
“What do you mean by that?” he continued, after thinking a moment, probably to determine the meaning of my words.
I think he had sense enough to understand his own condition, though doubtless he did not realize how helpless he had been. The fact that I had emptied his flask assured him that I understood his situation perfectly. He knew I had helped him into the bed. It is reasonable to suppose that he was ashamed of himself, even after he had put in the plea of sickness. But for the magnate of Centreport to be thus humiliated before one whom he regarded as a dependant appeared to be more than he could endure, and the thought stirred his ire.
“I have done what I could for you, sir,” I replied, evasively.
“What did you throw away my brandy--my medicine--for?”
“Because I thought you had taken enough, sir,” I answered, finding that it was useless for me to attempt to dodge the issue.
“You did!”
“Yes, sir. You were very much intoxicated,” I continued, mildly, but firmly.
He sprang to his feet with a celerity of which I had not believed him capable; and I began to think it would be necessary for me to run for life. He halted before me an instant, and then rushed out of the room.