That Stick ...

‘Louey said she would take me home in the puff puff.’

‘Come now with father, my boy.  Only kiss this good lady first, who has been so kind to you.

‘Kiss Tommy too, and Fanny,’ said Michael, struggling down, and beginning a round of embraces that sufficiently proved that his nursery had been a happy one, while his father could see with joy that he was as healthy and fresh-looking as ever, perhaps a little less plump, but with the natural growth of the fourth year, and he was much the biggest of the party, with the healthfulness of country air and wholesome tendance, while most of the others were more or less stunted or undergrown.

Lord Northmoor’s longing was to take his recovered son at once to gladden his mother’s eyes; p. 274but Michael’s little red frock would not exactly suit with the manner of his travels.

So he accepted the Guardian’s invitation to come to his house and let Michael be fitted out there, an invitation all the more warmly given because it would have been a pity to let wife and daughters miss the interest of the sight of the lost child and his father.  So, all formalities being complied with and in true official spirit, the account for the boy’s maintenance having been asked for, a hearty and cordial leave was taken of the Matron, and Michael Kenton Morton was discharged from Liverpool Union.

The lady and her daughters were delighted to have him, and would have made much of him, but the poor little fellow proved that his confidence in womankind had been shaken, by clinging tight to his father, and showing his first inclination to cry when it was proposed to take him into another room to be dressed.  Indeed, his father was as little willing to endure a moment’s separation as he could be, and looked on and assisted to see him made into a little gentleman again in outward costume.

After luncheon there was still time to reach Malvern by a reasonable hour of the evening, and Frank felt as if every moment of sorrow were almost a cruelty to his wife.  The Guardian’s wife owned that she ought not to press him to sleep at her house, and forwarded his departure with strong fellow-feeling for the mother’s hungry bosom.

From the station Frank sent telegrams to Herbert, to Mrs. Morton, and to Rose Rollstone; p. 275besides one to Lady Adela, containing only the reference, Luke xv. 32.

People looked somewhat curiously at the thin, worn-looking, elderly man, with the travelling bag in one hand, and the little boy holding tight by the other, each with a countenance of radiant gladness; and again, to see how, when seated, he allowed himself to be climbed over and clasped by the sturdy being, who seemed almost overwhelming to one so slight.

When the September twilight darkened into night, Michael, who had been asleep, awoke with a scream and flung both arms round his father’s neck, exclaiming—

‘Oh, Louey, I’ll not cry!  Don’t let him throw me out!  Oh, the nasty man!’

And even when convinced that no nasty man was present, and that it was papa, not Louey, whom he was grappling, he still nestled as close as possible, while he was only pacified in recurring frights by listening to a story.  Never good at story-telling, the only one that, for the nonce, his father could put together was that of Joseph, and this elicited various personal comparisons.

‘Mine wasn’t a coat of many colours, it was my blue frock!  Did they dip it in blood, papa?’

‘Not quite, my darling, but it was the same thing.’

Then presently, ‘It wasn’t a camel, but a puff puff, and he was so cross!’

By and by, ‘I didn’t tell anybody’s dreams, papa.  They didn’t make me ride in a cha-rot, but nurse made me monitor, ‘cause I knew all my letters.  I p. 276should like to have a brother Benjamin.  Mayn’t Tommy be my brother?  Wasn’t Joseph’s mamma very glad?’

Michael’s Egypt had not been a very terrible house of bondage, and the darker moments of his abduction did not dwell on his memory; but years later, when first he tasted beer, he put down the glass with a shudder, as the smell and taste brought back a sense of distress, confusion, and horror in a gas-lit, crowded bar, full of loud-voiced, rough figures, and resounding with strange language and fierce threats to make him swallow the draught which, no doubt, had been drugged.

p. 277CHAPTER XL

JOY WELL-NIGH INCREDIBLE

The midday letters were a riddle to the ladies at Malvern.

‘Out all day,’ said Mary, ‘that is well.  He will get strong out boating.’

‘I hope Herbert has come home to take him out,’ said Constance.

‘Or he may be yachting.  I wonder he does not say who is taking him out.  I am glad that he can feel that sense of enjoyment.’

Yet that rejoicing seemed to be almost an effort to the poor mother who craved for a longer letter, and perhaps almost felt as if her Frank were getting out of sympathy with her grief—and what could be the good news?

‘Herbert must have passed!’ said Constance.

‘I hope he has, but the expression is rather strong for that,’ said Lady Adela.