Just David Part 29

At the jingle of the coins Simeon Holly and his wife lifted their heads abruptly. A half-uttered sob died on the woman's lips. A quick cry came from the man's. He reached forth an eager hand and had almost clutched the gold when a sudden change came to his face. With a stern e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.o.n he drew back.

"Boy, where did that money come from?" he challenged.

David sighed in a discouraged way. It seemed that, always, the showing of this gold mean't questioning--eternal questioning.

"Surely," continued Simeon Holly, "you did not--" With the boy's frank gaze upturned to his, the man could not finish his sentence.

Before David could answer came the voice of Perry Larson from the kitchen doorway.

"No, sir, he didn't, Mr. Holly; an' it's all straight, I'm thinkin'--though I'm free ter confess it does sound nutty. His dad give it to him."

"His--father! But where--where has it been ever since?"

"In the chimney cupboard in his room, he says, sir."

Simeon Holly turned in frowning amazement.

"David, what does this mean? Why have you kept this gold in a place like that?"

"Why, there wasn't anything else to do with it," answered the boy perplexedly. "I hadn't any use for it, you know, and father said to keep it till I needed it."

"'Hadn't any use for it'!" bl.u.s.tered Larson from the doorway. "Jiminy!

Now, ain't that jest like that boy?"

But David hurried on with his explanation.

"We never used to use them--father and I--except to buy things to eat and wear; and down here YOU give me those, you know."

"Gorry!" interjected Perry Larson. "Do you reckon, boy, that Mr. Holly himself was give them things he gives ter you?"

The boy turned sharply, a startled question in his eyes.

"What do you mean? Do you mean that--" His face changed suddenly. His cheeks turned a shamed red. "Why, he did--he did have to buy them, of course, just as father did. And I never even thought of it before!

Then, it's yours, anyway--it belongs to you," he argued, turning to Farmer Holly, and shoving the gold nearer to his hands. "There isn't enough, maybe--but 't will help!"

"They're ten-dollar gold pieces, sir," spoke up Larson importantly; "an' there's a hundred an' six of them. That's jest one thousand an'

sixty dollars, as I make it."

Simeon Holly, self-controlled man that he was, almost leaped from his chair.

"One thousand and sixty dollars!" he gasped. Then, to David: "Boy, in Heaven's name, who are you?"

"I don't know--only David." The boy spoke wearily, with a grieved sob in his voice. He was very tired, a good deal perplexed, and a little angry. He wished, if no one wanted this gold, that he could take it upstairs again to the chimney cupboard; or, if they objected to that, that they would at least give it to him, and let him go away now to that beautiful music he was to hear, and to those kind people who were always to understand what he said when he played.

"Of course," ventured Perry Larson diffidently, "I ain't professin' ter know any great shakes about the hand of the Lord, Mr. Holly, but it do strike me that this 'ere gold comes mighty near bein'

proverdential--fur you."

Simeon Holly fell back in his seat. His eyes clung to the gold, but his lips set into rigid lines.

"That money is the boy's, Larson. It isn't mine," he said.

"He's give it to ye."

Simeon Holly shook his head.

"David is nothing but a child, Perry. He doesn't realize at all what he is doing, nor how valuable his gift is."

"I know, sir, but you DID take him in, when there wouldn't n.o.body else do it," argued Larson. "An', anyhow, couldn't you make a kind of an I O U of it, even if he is a kid? Then, some day you could pay him back.

Meanwhile you'd be a-keepin' him, an' a-schoolin' him; an' that's somethin'."

"I know, I know," nodded Simeon Holly thoughtfully, his eyes going from the gold to David's face. Then, aloud, yet as if to himself, he breathed: "Boy, boy, who was your father? How came he by all that gold--and he--a tramp!"

David drew himself suddenly erect. His eyes flashed.

"I don't know, sir. But I do know this: he didn't STEAL it!"

Across the table Mrs. Holly drew a quick breath, but she did not speak--save with her pleading eyes. Mrs. Holly seldom spoke--save with her eyes--when her husband was solving a knotty problem. She was dumfounded now that he should listen so patiently to the man, Larson,--though she was not more surprised than was Larson himself. For both of them, however, there came at this moment a still greater surprise. Simeon Holly leaned forward suddenly, the stern lines quite gone from his lips, and his face working with emotion as he drew David toward him.

"You're a good son, boy,--a good loyal son; and--and I wish you were mine! I believe you. He didn't steal it, and I won't steal it, either.

But I will use it, since you are so good as to offer it. But it shall be a loan, David, and some day, G.o.d helping me, you shall have it back.

Meanwhile, you're my boy, David,--my boy!"

"Oh, thank you, sir," rejoiced David. "And, really, you know, being wanted like that is better than the start would be, isn't it?"

"Better than--what?"

David s.h.i.+fted his position. He had not meant to say just that.

"N--nothing," he stammered, looking about for a means of quick escape.

"I--I was just talking," he finished. And he was immeasurably relieved to find that Mr. Holly did not press the matter further.

CHAPTER XIX

THE UNBEAUTIFUL WORLD

In spite of the exaltation of renunciation, and in spite of the joy of being newly and especially "wanted," those early September days were sometimes hard for David. Not until he had relinquished all hope of his "start" did he fully realize what that hope had meant to him.

There were times, to be sure, when there was nothing but rejoicing within him that he was able thus to aid the Hollys. There were other times when there was nothing but the sore heartache because of the great work out in the beautiful world that could now never be done; and because of the unlovely work at hand that must be done. To tell the truth, indeed, David's entire conception of life had become suddenly a chaos of puzzling contradictions.

To Mr. Jack, one day, David went with his perplexities. Not that he told him of the gold-pieces and of the unexpected use to which they had been put--indeed, no. David had made up his mind never, if he could help himself, to mention those gold-pieces to any one who did not already know of them. They meant questions, and the questions, explanations. And he had had enough of both on that particular subject.

But to Mr. Jack he said one day, when they were alone together:--

"Mr. Jack, how many folks have you got inside of your head?"

"Eh--what, David?"