CHAPTER XVII.
IN WHICH A COUNCIL IS HELD.
The next morning, when Chap Webster came over to Hyson Hall, he brought his sister Helen with him. Phœnix Poole was already there, for he was determined to make the best of the period of slack work on his father’s farm, and he arrived very early in the day.
“Mother sent me,” said Helen to Philip, “to see if you are getting on comfortably here, and if you needed anything we could do for you. She would have come herself, but she could not do so to-day because she had things to attend to which she could not very well leave.”
Mrs. Webster was a good lady, who never went away from her home except on Sunday, because she always had things to attend to which she could not very well leave.
“Mother thinks that men can’t get along in a house by themselves,” said Chap. “I don’t agree with her; but, if you want anything done in the way of buttons, or casting a general eye over dusty corners, Helen is just as good as she is.”
“Oh, I don’t need anything of that kind!” said Phil, laughing. “Susan attends to me first-rate. But it’s comfortable to have neighbors like your mother, who are kind enough to send to see how a fellow is getting along.”
“Another thing mother wants to know,” said Helen, “and that is if you really do want Chap to come and stay with you. He has been going on at a great rate, trying to make us think that something like a band of Indians was coming to attack the house, and that he ought to stay here to help you keep them from climbing in at the doors and windows.”
“People don’t climb in at doors,” said Chap.
“Well, they get in somehow,” said Helen.
“But do you really want him, Phil?”
“Not for that kind of thing,” said Phil; “but I should be very glad to have him come and stay with me till uncle comes back. And Phœnix, too,” he added.
“There’s no use talking about that,” said Phœnix. “It’s hard enough for me to get off in the daytime.”
“There’s only one difficulty in the way,” said Phil, coloring a little. “I don’t know that I’ll be able to feed any visitors. The money uncle left with Mr. Welford to keep this castle in running order has about given out——”
“Oh, pshaw!” said Chap, interrupting, “there’s always plenty of flour and butter and eggs and vegetables on a place like this; and if we want butcher’s meat and groceries, mother can send them over from our house, and call them my rations.”
“Uncle wouldn’t like that,” said Phil, “and we never run up any bills with the people in town.”
“At any rate,” said Chap, “if one fellow can get along here, two can. If that’s the only objection you have to my staying here, I’m going to stay. I don’t think you ought to be left alone.”
“Nor I, either,” said Phil; “and if I starve you, you can go home to your meals.”
“Well, then, I suppose everything is going on all right,” said Helen, “except the money, of course, and I’m sure there will be no trouble about that. Your uncle will remember that he didn’t leave you enough, and will send you some, if he doesn’t intend to come back soon.”
“I don’t know about that,” said Phil; “but everything else isn’t all right. I would like you all to hear a letter I got this morning, and then to tell me whether you think that it is all right or not. I suppose Chap has told you, Helen, about that Touron fellow that was here?”
“I believe Chap has told me everything that has happened here, and everything he knew about everything, and I hope he hasn’t told me more than he ought to.”
“Not if he didn’t draw too much on his imagination,” said Phil. “I knew he always told you everything, and I don’t mind a bit your knowing what is going on here. Now just listen, all of you, to this letter from Mr. Welford.”
Helen Webster, who had a very practical and business-like side to her character, sat straight up in the wicker chair which Phil had brought out on the porch for her, and prepared to give her earnest attention to all the details of Mr. Welford’s communication.
Chap stood up straight, with his hands in his pockets and a cloud on his brow. He had always had his doubts of that Welford, and was prepared to criticise whatever he might hear. Phœnix, who was a good hand at paying attention, but a poor one to talk, sat on a bench, with his elbows on his knees and his chin in his hands, and gazed steadfastly at Phil.
Mr. Welford’s letter read as follows:
“Master Philip Berkeley,—Sir——”
“He begins as stiff as a poker,” said Chap.
“And he stirred me up like a poker, too,” said Phil.
And then he read on:
“I have put the matter of the mortgage on Hyson Hall into the hands of Mr. John P. Harrison, who will see what can be done. In the mean time, I desire you to make every effort to find out your uncle’s whereabouts, and to acquaint him with the state of affairs. I shall put an advertisement into several newspapers, requesting him to return as soon as possible.”
“Your uncle won’t like that,” cried Chap. “I shouldn’t wonder if he thrashed old Welford as soon as he comes back.”
“Oh, Chap,” said Helen, “he wouldn’t do that!”
“No,” said Phil, “he won’t thrash him, but I know he won’t like it. But the worst part of the letter is to come.”
Phil then read:
“And now, sir, I have to say that I have received very discreditable accounts of you. I have been told, and have been assured that every word of the statements can be proved, that young Touron was shamefully treated at your uncle’s house. You attempted to shoot him with a gun, and he was afterwards dreadfully beaten by one of your comrades. Such conduct, sir, is outrageous and amazing. You are not only acting in an unlawful and ungentlemanly manner, but you are directly working against the most important interests of your uncle by injuring and exasperating the holders of the mortgage on his property, so that they will push their claims to the utmost limit. What action against you personally may be taken by the Tourons I do not know. If you get into trouble you must apply to Mr. Harrison. There is no more money subject to your order in my hands, and I wish to have no further communication with you.
“Henry G. Welford.”
“Upon—my—word!” exclaimed Chap. “A pretty gentleman! No ‘Yours truly,’ or even ‘Yours respectfully!’ I tell you what it is, Phil, I always believed that that Welford ought to have been put down in the beginning. What he wanted was the iron heel. It mightn’t have seemed to work at first, but he’d have crumbled before long. Look at Susan!”
“I think the letter is perfectly shameful,” said Helen, disregarding her brother’s remarks. “What dreadful stories that French boy must have told!”
“Indeed, he did,” said Phil, warmly. “I never tried to shoot him at all. I only took the gun from Susan, and I did not even raise it. If he hadn’t been such a coward he’d have seen that.”
“I wish I hadn’t licked him,” said Phœnix. “I didn’t think he’d cut up as rough as this.”
“Phil,” cried Chap, extending his right arm, as if he were addressing an audience, “if I were you I tell you what I’d do. I’d just go to this Welford and tell him that what Touron said was a lie from beginning to end——”
“But it wasn’t,” interrupted Phœnix.
“I’d tell him,” continued Chap, “that I hadn’t had the slightest idea of shooting him, for the stairs are so long I could easily have popped him before he got to the top if I had wanted to, and that I hadn’t anything to do with beating him, but that he deserved all he got, and that if my friend, Mr. Phœnix Poole, hadn’t thrashed him, I’d have done it myself. And if you don’t like to go and say all that, I’ll go and say it for you.”
“Now, Chap,” cried Helen, “don’t you be putting any such ideas into Phil’s head, and don’t you go near Mr. Welford yourself. You will only make matters worse.”
“And I am not going, either,” said Phil. “I should be sure to say something I ought not to. I think he has treated me outrageously!”
“It is the crudest thing I ever heard of,” said Helen. “He ought not to believe what the French boy said without hearing your side. But you are right in not going to see him now. It would only make a dreadful quarrel.”
“But I shall answer his letter,” said Phil, “and tell him what I think of it.”
“Please don’t,” said Helen, rising up and coming up to Phil,—“not while you are so angry. If Mr. Welford knew just how things were, he’d think very differently. But it won’t do any good to make him madder. Don’t one of you boys do a single thing till I have seen mother and told her all about it. She used to know Mr. Welford very well, and she’ll tell us what ought to be done. And now, if there isn’t anything I can do for you, it is time for me to go. Mother said Chap could stay with you if you really wanted him, and I don’t believe there will be any trouble about your not having things to eat. There’s always lots of things on a place like this, and Chap isn’t particular, and mother will send some pies, and anything else you don’t happen to have.”
“Good!” cried Chap. “Just you tell mother that this garrison is greatly in need of pies, and one of those rolled-up blackberry puddings would make us hold out splendidly. Do you want me to go home with you?”
“No,” said Helen; “I’m going to take the straight path across the fields. Good-by!”