Cupid of Campion

  CHAPTER XIII

  _In which Clarence as the guest of Campion College makes an ineffectual effort to bow out the Bright-eyed Goddess of Adventure._

  Father George Keenan, while Clarence slept, was an unusually busy man.He telephoned, he wrote letters, he sent telegrams. All the machinery ofcommunication was put into requisition. Within an hour the work ofdragging the water near Pictured Rocks was discontinued; by noontime atelegram arrived saying that Mr. and Mrs. Esmond were still missing andwere in all probability drowned or burned to death; and early in theafternoon the proprietor of a hotel in McGregor arrived in person. TheEsmonds had been at his place and had gone, leaving as their address“The Metropole,” Los Angeles, California. But alas, they had not reachedtheir proposed destination.

  The hotel man was conducted by the Rector into the infirmary and broughtto the side of the sleeping boy. He was breathing softly, the roses hadreturned 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 rosycheeks and such fair complexions. There ain’t many boys who’ve got suchbright, fluffy hair, and I don’t know a single one who’s got his hairbobbed the way he has.”

  On returning to his room, Father Keenan opened a special drawer in hisdesk and sorted out from a bundle of papers an envelope with a post-markindicating that it had reached him several days before. He took out theletter and read it again.

  “Dear Father Keenan: Probably you don’t remember me. I was a boy withyou at St. Maure’s College—and a very poor boy at that. Other fellowshad pocket money; I had none—most of the time. I hadn’t been there longwhen you ‘caught on,’ as we used to say. During the five months we weretogether you seemed to know when I needed a nickel or a dime, and, in away 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 youa favor. The amount you gave me must have been six or seven dollars, alltold; and I really don’t think I had sense enough at the time tounderstand how really kind you were. Many years have passed, and theolder I get, the more grateful I feel. Up to a few years ago, I had losttrack of you completely. I didn’t know even that you had become aJesuit. Well, Father George, I happened to see in our Catholic paperlast week that you were Rector of Campion College, a boarding school. Ifyou 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 memoryof our days in St. Maure’s has helped me to live a good life and topractice my faith, surrounded though I be with enemies of the Church.There are three Catholic families here in a population of threethousand. God has blessed me in my business. I have my own home, aloving wife and five of the nicest children in the State of Missouri.Also, to speak of things more material, a grain store and a comfortablebank account.

  “I am sending you with this a check for one hundred dollars, payment onyour loans of pocket money with compound interest, and then some. Ofcourse, you may do with the money as you please. But if I may make asuggestion—don’t think me sentimental—it would please me if you wereto put aside forty or fifty dollars of it to help out some poor boy inthe 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 prosper me, I intend sending youfrom time to time—every quarter, I trust—a like donation. May themoney I send do as much good as you did me.

  “I still remember the old boys of our day affectionately. Nearly all ofthem were kind to me. One in particular, a black-haired,dark-complexioned, mischievous little fellow, who was full of heart, Ican never forget. I never met him but he sent me off supplied withcandy. His name was Tom Playfair. What’s become of him?

  “Pray for me, dear Father George, and especially for my wife, who is anangel, and our children, who promise to be worthy of their mother. Mylove and my gratitude go with this letter.

  “Sincerely and gratefully, “JOHN S. WILCOX.”

  “Strange!” meditated the Rector. “I just remember Wilcox; but I do _not_remember ever having given him a cent. Anyhow, I see my way to spendthat fifty dollars as he suggests. Poor Esmond is an orphan, I fear.Well, the money goes to him.”

  On getting word at half-past five o’clock that Master Esmond was awakeand calling for food, Father Keenan hastened to the infirmary.

  Clarence, fully dressed in a “purloined” set of clothes, was seated at atable and vigorously attacking a large slab of cornbread, a dish ofhash, and a plate of pancakes. In the attack, executed with neatness anddispatch, and in which the youth played no favorites, Clarence hadalready aroused the amused admiration of the Brother Infirmarian.

  “How do you do, Father Rector?” cried the boy, rising and bowing. “Ifeel able now to tell you that I’m grateful to you beyond words for yourkindness. Your breakfast was the best breakfast ever served, that bed Islept on the softest, this supper the finest I could get, and theBrother, who’s been waiting on me as though I were the Prodigal Son isas kind and hospitable as though he took me for an angel.”

  “Nobody would take you for an angel who saw you eating,” said the bigBrother with a chuckle.

  “How do you feel, my boy?” asked the Rector, as, catching Clarence bythe 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 ofMcGregor just crazy for adventure. I called her the bright-eyed goddess.I actually invoked her. I begged her to get out her finest assortment ofadventures and show me. Well, she did. She got hold of me, and shedidn’t let go till I got to bed here this morning. Oh, no. No morebright-eyed goddess for me. If I were to see her coming along thestreet, I’d duck into a back alley. I’m through with her ladyship forthe rest of my natural life.”

  “Indeed?” said the Rector.

  Clarence was mistaken. The bright-eyed goddess was not done with himyet.