David Dunne Part 31

"Forty-seventh Infantry. I kerried that air flag at the Battle of the Wilderness."

David called to a guard and obtained a key to the case. Opening it, he bade the old man take out the flag.

With trembling hands Barnabas took out the flag he had followed when his country went to war. He gazed at it in silence, and then restored it carefully to its place. As they walked away, he brushed his coat sleeve hastily across his dimmed eyes.

David consulted his watch.

"It's luncheon time, Uncle Barnabas. We'll go over to my hotel. The executive mansion is undergoing repairs."

"I want more'n a lunch, Dave! I ain't et nuthin' sence four o'clock this mornin'."

"I'll see that you get enough to eat," laughed David.

In the lobby of the hotel a reporter came quickly up to them.

"How are you, governor?" he asked, with his eyes fastened falcon-like on Barnabas.

David returned the salutation and presented his companion.

"Mr. Brumble from Lafferton?" asked the reporter, with an insinuating emphasis on the name of the town.

"Yes," replied the old man in surprise. "I don't seem to reckleck seein' you before."

"I never met you, but I have heard of you. May I ask what your business in the city is, Mr. Brumble?"

The old man gave him a keen glance from beneath his s.h.a.ggy brows.

"Wal, I don't know as thar's any law agin your askin'! I came to see the guvner."

David, with a laugh of pure delight at the discomfiture of the reporter, led the way to the dining room.

"You're as foxy as ever, Uncle Barnabas. You routed that newspaper man in good shape."

"So that's what he was! I didn't know but he was one of them three-card-monty sharks. Wal, I s'pose it's his trade to ask questions."

Barnabas' loquacity always ceased entirely at meal times, so his silence throughout the luncheon was not surprising to David.

"Wal, Dave," he said as he finished, "ef this is your lunch I'd hate to hev to eat what you'd call dinner. I never et so much before at one settin'!"

"We'll go over to the club now and have a smoke," suggested David.

"Then you can go back to my office with me and see what I have to undergo every afternoon."

At the club they met several of David's friends--not politicians--who met Barnabas with courtesy and composure. When they returned to David's private office Barnabas was ensconced comfortably in an armchair while David listened with patience to the long line of importuners, each receiving due consideration. The last interview was not especially interesting and Barnabas' attention was diverted. His eyes fell on a newspaper, which he picked up carelessly. It was the issue of the night before, and his own name was conspicuous in big type. He read the article through and returned the paper to its place without being observed by David, whose back was turned to him.

"Wal, Dave," he said, when the last of the line had left the room, "I used ter think I'd ruther do enything than be a skule teacher, but I swan ef you don't hev it wuss yet!"

David made no response. The excitement of his boyish pleasure in showing Uncle Barnabas about had died away as he listened to the troubles and demands of his callers, and now the recollection of the old man's errand confronted him in full force.

Barnabas looked at him keenly.

"Dave," he said slowly, "'t ain't no snap you hev got! I never knowed till to-day jest what it meant to you. I'm proud of you, Dave! I wish--I wish you hed been my son!"

The governor arose impetuously and crossed the room.

"I would have been, Uncle Barnabas, if she had not cared for Joe!"

"I know it, Dave, but you hev a sweet little gal who will make you happy."

The governor's face lighted in a look of exquisite happiness.

"I have, Uncle Barnabas. We will go to see her this evening."

"I'd like to see her, sartain. Hain't seen her sence the night you was elected. And, Dave," with a sheepish grin, "I'm a-goin' to git spliced myself."

"What? No! May I guess, Uncle Barnabas--Miss Rhody?"

"Dave, you air a knowin' one. Yes, it's her! Whenever we set down to our full table I got to thinkin' of that poor little woman a-settin'

down alone, and I've never yet knowed a woman livin' alone to feed right. They allers eat bean soup or prunes, and call it a meal."

"I am more glad than I can tell you, Uncle Barnabas, and I shall insist on giving the bride away. But what will Penny think about some one stepping in?"

"Wal, Dave, I'll allow I wuz skeered to tell Penny, and it tuk a hull lot of bracin' to do it, and what do you suppose she sed? She sez, 'I've bin wantin' tew quit these six years, and now, thank the Lord, I've got the chance.'"

"Why, what in the world did she want to leave for?"

"I guess you'll be surprised when I tell you. To marry Larimy Sa.s.ser!"

"Uncle Larimy! She'll scour him out of house and home," laughed David.

"We'll hev both weddin's to the same time. Joe and Janey are a-comin', and we'll hev a grand time. I hain't much on the write, Dave, and I've allers meant to see you here in this great place. Some of the boys sez to me: 'Mebby Dave's got stuck on himself and his job by this time, and you'll hev to send in yer keerd by a n.i.g.g.e.r fust afore you kin see him,' but I sez, 'No! Not David Dunne! He ain't that kind and never will be.' So when I go back I kin tell them how you showed me all over the place, and tuk me to eat at a hotel and to that air stylish place where I wuz treated like a king by yer friends. I've never found you wantin', Dave, and I never expect to!"

"Uncle Barnabas," began David, "I--"

His voice suddenly failed him.

"See here, Dave! I didn't know nuthin' about that," pointing to the newspaper, "until a few minutes ago. I sed tew hum that I wuz a-comin'

to see how Dave run things, and ef them disreptible a.s.sociates of Jud's air a-gittin' up some fool paper, I don't know it! Ef they do send it in, don't you dare sign it! Why, I wouldn't hev that boy outen prison fer nuthin'. He's different from what he used to be, Dave. He got so low he would hev to reach up ter touch bottom. He's ez low ez they git, and he's dangerous. I didn't know an easy minute fer the last two years afore he wuz sent up, so keep him behind them bars fer fear he'll dew somethin' wuss when he gits out. Don't you dare sign no pet.i.tion, Dave!"

Tears of relief sprang into the strong eyes of the governor.

"Why, Dave," said the old man in shocked tones, "you didn't go fer to think fer a minute I'd ask you to let him out cause he wuz my son?

Even ef I hed a wanted him out, and Lord knows I don't, I'd not ask you to do somethin' wrong, no more'n I'd bring dishoner to that old flag I held this mornin'!"

David grasped his hand.

"Uncle Barnabas!"

His voice broke with emotion. Then he murmured: "We'll go to see _her_, now."