Father George Keenan, while Clarence slept, was an unusually busy man. He telephoned, he wrote letters, he sent telegrams. All the machinery1 of communication was put into requisition. Within an hour the work of dragging the water near Pictured Rocks was discontinued; by noontime a telegram arrived saying that Mr. and Mrs. Esmond were still missing and were in all probability drowned or burned to death; and early in the afternoon the proprietor2 of a hotel in McGregor arrived in person. The Esmonds had been at his place and had gone, leaving as their address “The Metropole,” Los Angeles, California. But alas3, they had not reached their proposed destination.
The hotel man was conducted by the Rector into the infirmary and brought to the side of the sleeping boy. He was breathing softly, the roses had returned to his cheeks and his head was pillowed in his right hand.
“That’s him, all right,” said the hotel keeper after a brief survey. “I’d know him anywheres. There ain’t many boys around here got such rosy4 cheeks and such fair complexions5. There ain’t many boys who’ve got such bright, fluffy6 hair, and I don’t know a single one who’s got his hair bobbed the way he has.”
On returning to his room, Father Keenan opened a special drawer in his desk and sorted out from a bundle of papers an envelope with a post-mark indicating that it had reached him several days before. He took out the letter and read it again.
“Dear Father Keenan: Probably you don’t remember me. I was a boy with you at St. Maure’s College—and a very poor boy at that. Other fellows had pocket money; I had none—most of the time. I hadn’t been there long when you ‘caught on,’ as we used to say. During the five months we were together you seemed to know when I needed a nickel or a dime7, and, in a way that was yours, you managed to keep me supplied. I say it was your way, for you got me to take the money as though I were doing you a favor. The amount you gave me must have been six or seven dollars, all told; and I really don’t think I had sense enough at the time to understand how really kind you were. Many years have passed, and the older I get, the more grateful I feel. Up to a few years ago, I had lost track of you completely. I didn’t know even that you had become a Jesuit. Well, Father George, I happened to see in our Catholic paper last week that you were Rector of Campion College, a boarding school. If you are one-tenth as kind to the boys under your care as you were to me, you’ll be just the sort of President needed in such a place. The memory of our days in St. Maure’s has helped me to live a good life and to practice my faith, surrounded though I be with enemies of the Church. There are three Catholic families here in a population of three thousand. God has blessed me in my business. I have my own home, a loving wife and five of the nicest children in the State of Missouri. Also, to speak of things more material, a grain store and a comfortable bank account.
“I am sending you with this a check for one hundred dollars, payment on your loans of pocket money with compound interest, and then some. Of course, you may do with the money as you please. But if I may make a suggestion—don’t think me sentimental—it would please me if you were to put aside forty or fifty dollars of it to help out some poor boy in the way of clothes, books, and pocket money.
“In sending you this I do not wish you to consider our account closed. So long as God continues to bless and prosper8 me, I intend sending you from time to time—every quarter, I trust—a like donation. May the money I send do as much good as you did me.
“I still remember the old boys of our day affectionately. Nearly all of them were kind to me. One in particular, a black-haired, dark-complexioned, mischievous9 little fellow, who was full of heart, I can never forget. I never met him but he sent me off supplied with candy. His name was Tom Playfair. What’s become of him?
“Pray for me, dear Father George, and especially for my wife, who is an angel, and our children, who promise to be worthy10 of their mother. My love and my gratitude11 go with this letter.
“Sincerely and gratefully,
“John S. Wilcox.”
“Strange!” meditated13 the Rector. “I just remember Wilcox; but I do not remember ever having given him a cent. Anyhow, I see my way to spend that fifty dollars as he suggests. Poor Esmond is an orphan14, I fear. Well, the money goes to him.”
On getting word at half-past five o’clock that Master Esmond was awake and calling for food, Father Keenan hastened to the infirmary.
Clarence, fully12 dressed in a “purloined” set of clothes, was seated at a table and vigorously attacking a large slab15 of cornbread, a dish of hash, and a plate of pancakes. In the attack, executed with neatness and dispatch, and in which the youth played no favorites, Clarence had already aroused the amused admiration16 of the Brother Infirmarian.
“How do you do, Father Rector?” cried the boy, rising and bowing. “I feel able now to tell you that I’m grateful to you beyond words for your kindness. Your breakfast was the best breakfast ever served, that bed I slept on the softest, this supper the finest I could get, and the Brother, who’s been waiting on me as though I were the Prodigal17 Son is as kind and hospitable18 as though he took me for an angel.”
“Nobody would take you for an angel who saw you eating,” said the big Brother with a chuckle19.
“How do you feel, my boy?” asked the Rector, as, catching20 Clarence by the shoulders, he forced him back into his seat.
“Feel? I feel like a morning star. I feel like a fighting-cock.”
“Ready, I suppose, for any sort of adventure?”
Clarence laid down his knife and fork once more.
“Adventure! Excuse me. I’ve got over that period of my life for good. No more adventures for me. Only a few days ago I came down the street of McGregor just crazy for adventure. I called her the bright-eyed goddess. I actually invoked21 her. I begged her to get out her finest assortment22 of adventures and show me. Well, she did. She got hold of me, and she didn’t let go till I got to bed here this morning. Oh, no. No more bright-eyed goddess for me. If I were to see her coming along the street, I’d duck into a back alley23. I’m through with her ladyship for the rest of my natural life.”
“Indeed?” said the Rector.
Clarence was mistaken. The bright-eyed goddess was not done with him yet.
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1
machinery
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| n.(总称)机械，机器；机构 | |
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proprietor
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| n.所有人；业主；经营者 | |
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3
alas
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| int.唉(表示悲伤、忧愁、恐惧等) | |
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rosy
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| adj.美好的，乐观的，玫瑰色的 | |
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complexions
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| 肤色( complexion的名词复数 )； 面色； 局面； 性质 | |
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fluffy
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| adj.有绒毛的，空洞的 | |
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7
dime
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| n.（指美国、加拿大的钱币）一角 | |
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prosper
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| v.成功，兴隆，昌盛；使成功，使昌隆，繁荣 | |
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mischievous
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| adj.调皮的，恶作剧的，有害的，伤人的 | |
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worthy
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| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
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11
gratitude
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| adj.感激，感谢 | |
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12
fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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13
meditated
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| 深思，沉思，冥想( meditate的过去式和过去分词 )； 内心策划，考虑 | |
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14
orphan
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| n.孤儿；adj.无父母的 | |
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15
slab
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| n.平板，厚的切片；v.切成厚板，以平板盖上 | |
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16
admiration
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| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
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17
prodigal
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| adj.浪费的，挥霍的，放荡的 | |
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18
hospitable
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| adj.好客的；宽容的；有利的，适宜的 | |
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19
chuckle
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| vi.／n.轻声笑，咯咯笑 | |
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20
catching
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| adj.易传染的，有魅力的，迷人的，接住 | |
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21
invoked
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| v.援引( invoke的过去式和过去分词 )；行使（权利等）；祈求救助；恳求 | |
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22
assortment
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| n.分类，各色俱备之物，聚集 | |
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alley
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| n.小巷，胡同；小径，小路 | |
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