CHAPTER XXV DEMONSTRATING THE TRUTH OF THE SAYING THAT ALL’S WELL THAT

ENDS WELL

Christmas morning dawned cold and clear and crisp with a nipping eagerness in the atmosphere that brought the roses to the cheeks and warmed the hearts of the multitudes who made their abode on Manhattan Island. The spirit of the day seemed to take hold of everybody and manifested itself in the homes of the lowly as well as in those of the great. Herbert attended early morning Mass, and as he knelt before the crib of the Infant Saviour of the world, his heart swelled with a feeling of profound gratefulness for all the graces and favors that had been showered upon him. Nowhere did the meaning of the day seem more apparent than in the little apartment which had been occupied so long by Herbert Harkins and his friend Tomlin.

At ten o’clock that morning Tomlin turned to Herbert and said:

“See here, old man, if you don’t hurry to the railroad station you are likely to miss your mother.”

“Why, what’s the matter with you, Tomlin? You’re as nervous and fidgety as an old cat. The train doesn’t come in for an hour yet.”

“Yes, yes, I know,” said Tomlin in hurried tones. “But you can’t depend on these New York trains. They’re always ahead of time. Suppose your mother got in and was waiting there now.”

“Why,” exclaimed the other, with a skeptical look in his face, “I thought the trains were generally behind time.”

“No, no,” responded the other in his nervous, jerky way. “Ahead of time; ahead of time, always! But see here, don’t you stand there trying to get into an argument with me. You go and fetch your mother. She has never been in New York. Suppose she should start to come here herself and get lost--and lost on Christmas morning, too. Why, the idea is too terrible to contemplate.”

Herbert departed in a few minutes, much to the satisfaction of his friend. The understanding was that he should bring his mother to their little abode, and then after the arrangement of some preliminaries, that the three should go to a well known restaurant for their holiday dinner. The moment Herbert disappeared, however, there were strange doings in that neighborhood. Tomlin stepped to the front door and gave a low whistle. Immediately two men stepped from within the shadows of friendly doorways and joined him. One was Horace Coke and the other Noah Brooks, who had hurried up from Cleverly in order to join in the conspiracy that had been laid by Francis Tomlin.

“Now, boys!” shouted the youth to the two elderly men; “get down to work as soon as you can.”

And they did. A bag filled with holly and evergreen appeared as if by magic. Each of them grabbed a handful, and in an incredibly short space of time the doorways and windows and the gas fixtures were artistically draped. After this the little extension table was drawn out and filled with all the additional leaves that it would hold. Then a long tablecloth that had been engaged for the occasion was thrown over the table. It was as white and as pure as the driven snow, and even without any food was an incentive to good cheer. In the meantime a boy from a neighboring store appeared with eight or ten additional chairs, carrying them one at a time into the little apartment.

“It’s going to be a tight squeeze,” said Tomlin, “but I think we’ll make it.”

“Oh, yes,” exclaimed Brooks, “it’s going to be tight all right; but the more the merrier is always my motto.”

While the three conspirators were talking, John Black and his wife and Mary Black appeared as if by appointment. Mary insisted upon joining in the housework, and her deft little fingers rapidly completed the details that had not already been attended to. John Anderson, the school teacher, who had placed Herbert on the path which led to ultimate success, dropped in a little later, and to cap the climax, who should hove into view but Captain Thomas Janson, bluff and hearty and loud-mouthed as ever. He sailed into the room like a whiff of salt air, and his mere presence was refreshing and invigorating. He was handsomely attired for the occasion. He had discarded his ordinary clothing, and wore a handsome blue suit, with brass buttons and gilt stripes on the sleeves, giving him, as one of the other guests slyly remarked, the appearance of a Rear Admiral of the United States Navy. A nautical cap sat jauntily on the Captain’s shock of bushy red hair. He puffed like a porpoise, for he was quite stout now and beginning to feel the effects of age. When he had finally settled himself comfortably in a large chair which had been placed for him at the head of the table, he turned around to the others and cried out in his loudest voice:

“Does the boy know which way the wind blows?”

“No!” came a chorus in reply.

“Good!” he exclaimed; “then it will fall to the lot of old Captain Janson to tell him something about the voyage of life.”

Tomlin looked at his watch at this period. It pointed to high noon. He turned to the Captain:

“Herbert will be here in fifteen or twenty minutes. I guess we had better start. What do you say?”

“Sure,” snorted the old salt.

Without waiting for any further remarks, Tomlin charged out of the front door, and in a few minutes returned, followed by two white aproned and white capped fellows, carrying waiters which contained plates filled with eatables that were smoking hot. When the covers were removed the air was impregnated with an appetizing odor. The two mates, as the Captain insisted upon calling the two waiters, made five or six trips before they finally completed their work to their satisfaction and declared everything all right.

And indeed it was all right. The table presented a beautiful sight, charming to the eye and tempting to the palate. An enormous turkey, browned to a crisp, occupied the center of the table; mounds of mashed white potatoes and roasted sweet potatoes, and dishes of cranberries moulded into the most incomprehensible shapes--all looked so clean and sweet that they must have tempted the most jaded appetite. A row of mince pies flanked on either side by delicious looking pumpkin pies, suggested that the diners were expected to do some very serious work before their day’s labor was finished.

“Now all hands be seated,” cried the Captain; “but don’t dare to eat a mouthful until I give the signal.”

He had scarcely finished this caution when the door opened, and Herbert entered, accompanied by his mother; and then there were such cheers and shouts and such laughter and such crying as had never been heard before in this old room since its first walls had been constructed.

Herbert was literally made speechless by amazement. His mother, with feminine instinct, took refuge in tears; but Herbert soon recovered his voice and his mother soon dried her tears, and very quickly the clatter of knives and forks and the din of conversation and the ripple of never-ending laughter set everyone at ease.

Tomlin, in a spirit of mischief, had set Herbert Harkins and Mary Black side by side, and during the dinner the two young people were made the subject of many good natured jests; but Mary’s sweet countenance glowed with happiness, and when Herbert stooped down to speak to her once during the dinner her cheeks crimsoned in the most beautiful manner imaginable.

Some philosopher--if he wasn’t a philosopher he should have been one--has said that it never rains but it pours. So it was on this festive occasion. The first shower came with the announcement that within six months Herbert would be given the coveted post of Washington correspondent of the Argus--that he should join the company of the very aristocracy of American journalism. The next came with the statement that Blakeley--good-hearted, blustering Blakeley--had been made the managing editor of the Argus, and that Tomlin would succeed him in the responsible position of city editor of that journal. At this announcement Herbert seized the hand of his friend and wrung it with such fervor that his old room-mate cried for mercy. After that John Black informed the assembled company of the selection of his son Arthur as the cashier and confidential man of his newly established bank at Cleverly.

Captain Janson was given the floor then, and amid many elaborate sea phrases and involved sentences he proclaimed Herbert Harkins as his adopted son and heir.

Near the close of the dinner, Herbert arose and with trembling lips and swelling heart announced that the noblest girl in the whole world had just promised to become his wife; and although he mentioned no name, every eye turned instinctively towards Mary, who finding herself singled out from all the others, blushed desperately and shrank shyly beneath the united gaze of the company for all the world like a sweet little violet whose hiding place has been discovered by a sudden burst of glaring sunlight.

PRINTED BY BENZIGER BROTHERS, NEW YORK

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Transcriber’s Notes:

Punctuation has been made consistent.

Variations in spelling and hyphenation were retained as they appear in the original publication, except that obvious typographical errors have been corrected.