CHAPTER XXII

ROY AND HIS FATHER

When, in four or five days, the grief in the household had subsided sufficiently to lose some of its poignancy, Mr. Henning called his son to his study for the purpose of having a long talk with him concerning his prospects and the affairs at St. Cuthbert's. He was still under the impression that the extraordinary test to which he had submitted his son was a wise one.

The two sat opposite each other in large, leather-covered reading-chairs in a very wealthy man's private "den." Roy waited respectfully for his father to begin. Full of the thoughts of Ethel, he began to speak of his recent loss.

"So the poor child is gone, gone! I never thought she would last very long; she was too frail and delicate. If she had grown up I am sure she would have become a nun. Ah, that reminds me! Do you still hold to the notion you mentioned to me last summer?"

"Of the priesthood? Most assuredly, sir."

"Humph!"

The white whiskers looked whiter as the florid face became more florid.

"H--um! So! I thought then that it was a mere passing fancy of yours, and that it would soon go. As you have asked for no more money than the small--yes, very small--allowance I settled on, I began to think--yes, I began to believe, that you had more of the Henning family spirit--yes, more of the real family spirit--than at first I gave you credit for. So far, so good. So you are determined, if possible, to become a priest?"

"Yes, sir," said the young man firmly.

"Now tell me, my boy, how you have passed through the tests I set."

Roy was silent. He thought of the many times he had experienced more or less bitterly rebellious thoughts against these tests.

"Don't be afraid, Roy. Speak plainly. Have you failed?"

"No, father," he answered emphatically; "I have not."

"That is good. I am very glad to hear that."

"I confess that it was very hard. Frequently I felt like writing to you about the prohibition of sports and of my--my shortness of cash."

"So most of your troubles came from lack of cash, eh?"

"Oh, no! Really the greatest test of obedience I have ever had was to follow your instruction strictly when you declared that I should engage in no sports except enough to keep a sound mind in a sound body."

"Yes, I remember to have said that."

"That, sir, was a hard blow to me. All the unpleasantness of the year has arisen from trying to be faithful to your command."

"How so? Explain."

"As you know, I am an enthusiastic and pretty good ball-player."

"Yes, I have heard enough about that to be well acquainted with the fact."

"And I am a good all-round athlete as well. As a consequence, I stood high in the councils of the college athletic circles. When I announced my intention of retiring from the football eleven, and the baseball nine there was a good deal of disagreeable talk. I must confess, father, this was the hardest thing I ever had to do in my whole life."

"So?"

"Yes, and the worst of it was I was made miserable by insinuations and innuendos that I had betrayed the college teams. I was disloyal. I was acting out of pique or spite. This was all very hard to bear because I was actuated by the very best intentions. I wanted to prove to you that I was a dutiful and obedient son."

"I never doubted that, my boy, never for a moment doubted that!"

"I thank you, sir."

"Poor lad! all this is too bad; but tell me about the robbery. By the way, you never sent for that check; but tell me all about it, that is, as far as it concerns yourself."

"I will, sir. Not being allowed to engage in any sports by your orders, I did not see why I could not make myself useful in some other way. Late in the fall there was much talk about the following season's games. In order to keep the team in practice it was decided to take up a collection among the boys and purchase a pitcher's cage, to be placed in the playroom, where indoor practice could be had all the winter. The boys appointed me solicitor and treasurer. I kept the money in the table-drawer in the committee-room off the playroom. From that drawer the money was stolen. What made my chagrin the deeper was that I had been warned by a close friend to place the money with the college treasurer for safer keeping. This I intended to do, but during the Christmas holidays it escaped my memory."

"I do not see why you could not have written for that check. As far as I can see there is nothing in all this story to prevent you from replacing the money. Surely you and your cousin Andrew did everything in your power to trace the thief and get the money back?"

Here was a critical moment for Roy. Blood is thicker than water with the father as well as the son. Mr. Henning never dreamed but that Andrew would make this a family affair and exert himself with his cousin to recover the stolen money. It was a temptation for Roy. Should he expose Andrew's conduct? Should he permit his father to know that he had a nephew who was selfish and cowardly and mean, and not above trading upon another's reputation? Roy had to think rapidly in making up his mind what to do. His father's keen eyes were upon him. The old gentleman was awaiting an answer. Roy's good angel prevailed. The boy replied:

"Everything, I believe, was done that could be done to detect the thieves by myself and my friends, but without success. Had we found the thief and discovered that the money had been disposed of beyond recovery I should then have written gladly to you to replace it, after your generous offer."

"That's right; that's right."

"But," continued Roy with some hesitation, which his father did not fail to notice, "affairs turned out so differently from what I expected. Whether from natural causes, or from design, I do not know, but there were two or three opinions soon prevalent about the robbery, and there was one party who--who gave it out that they--they suspected me."

"Suspected you!" almost shouted the lawyer. "The scoundrels! Who were they, Roy; who were they?"

"Some whose names are not worth mentioning, and whose reputations are still worse."

"Dear me, dear me! The rascals, to suspect my son!" fumed the old man. He walked excitedly up and down the room. By some occult process he connected these suspicions with his son's stringency of cash, and blamed himself in proportion to his indignation.

"My boy, my boy! this is all too bad, too bad! If I had allowed you your regular amount all this would not have happened. Such a thing could not then have happened."

"I do not see that, father, unless by having plenty of money as usual I should not have undertaken the treasurership. I do not see how this consequence flows from the premises. Indeed I think it more than likely had matters been normal with me I should have been treasurer just the same."

"Well, we must rectify all this. You want to go back to St. Cuthbert's, or do you wish to stay away?"

"I want to go back, sir, of course, and graduate. And please, father," said Roy right loyally, "please do not think these few boys represent St. Cuthbert's. There are not a finer set of fellows in the world. These I spoke of are the exceptions."

This remark thoroughly pleased the father who was himself an alumnus of old St. Cuthbert's.

"And besides," continued the young man, "I want to go back and live down the ugly rumor--for that is all it is--and make somebody eat his words. I know, I feel certain it will come out all right. Matters always do. I want to be there. If I were to stay away now, would it not be, at least for some, a sort of tacit acknowledgment, or at least it might be so construed by some unfriendly to me, who might say I knew more than I chose to tell and so kept away as soon as I had a chance to do so?"

"You are right, my boy; you are right. Go back and fight it down. Suspected of dishonesty! A Henning, too, preposterous! Yes, yes, you must go back, boy. You must go back."

"I am glad you look at it in that light, sir. I think it the best thing to do."

Mr. Henning drew from his pocket a bunch of keys. Opening his desk he took out a roll of bills.

"You must consider your test, your trial, as over. It is over as far as I am concerned, and I am more than satisfied with you. You are free now to take up what sports you like, and spend, in moderation, what money you like, and in fact I leave your course of action entirely to yourself. I am sure I need have no fear for your prudence. Here, take this; you will need it."

Mr. Henning handed over to his son a fair-sized roll of bills. How much he gave we will not state, but leave the amount to the imagination of the reader, merely remarking that Mr. Henning was a very rich man, did few things by halves, and, at the moment, was actuated by the most generous impulse. In giving Roy the money, he remarked: "Give your cousin Andrew twenty-five dollars, with my regards. I suppose schoolboys are never very flush at this time of the year. I never was."

While Roy, with a bounding heart, was thanking his father, a loud ring of the door bell disturbed the quiet of the house. In a moment one of the servants brought in a telegram.

"For Master Roy, sir," she said.

With a bow and a "Permit me" to his father, Roy opened the envelope and read:

"Come at once. Great news! St. C. 8. B. 3. Ambrose."

The mystified boy showed the telegram to his father.

"Perhaps the first part refers to the robbery. You had better go. Can you bid your mother and aunt farewell and be ready at the depot by 7.30?"

"Yes, quite easily."

"Very good. The carriage will be ready for you to catch the 7.30 train."