He must, he would, meet Egerton some day, and then, then he would settle the account that was between them.

So time flew on, and Harry had been two years with Mr and Mrs Blewcome; and these years of "roughing it" had physically done him good. He had grown fast, and happily proportionally strong with his height; and you would not have recognised the Harry of fifteen in his common clothes, as being the same fragile boy of thirteen whom you saw that night in June weeping over his mother's grave in the moonlight.

Still, in spite of his dress, you could see he was a gentleman, every inch his father's son. For it is not to be supposed, as some might hastily and ignorantly suppose, that Alan Campbell was not a gentleman, because he was an engineer.

A chief-engineer on board one of Her Majesty's ships-of-war, and an engine-driver of a locomotive, are two very different personages. This new branch of sea-service is of course to be traced to the change in the Royal Navy from the old sailing vessels to the iron-clad steamships. And the post of chief-engineer, though not necessarily requiring a gentleman by birth, yet often attracted those who, having changed their plans in life, wished to join the service, when it was too late to join as midshipmen.

It was a bright June morning, nearly two years to the very day since Harry had fallen in with Blewcome's Royal Menagerie; and after a long journey through the greater part of the night, the cavalcade was wearily entering a seaport town in the south of England. Mr and Mrs Blewcome were both asleep, snoring in unison within their gorgeously painted caravan, and Harry was sitting astride one of the identical old piebald steeds that had drawn Mr and Mrs B. for the last ten years.

On reaching a turnpike at the outskirts of the town, the proprietor and proprietress of the Royal Menagerie arose from their slumbers. And this was a general signal for a "wake-up." The whips were plied l.u.s.tily over the jaded horses, to give them a lively, not to say frisky appearance. The trumpets rose to the lips of the musicians, and the drumsticks flew into the hands of the energetic drummer, and with an elevating strain of discordant music, Blewcome's Royal Menagerie majestically entered the town.

It did the hearts good of Blewcome and his spouse to see the street-doors flung open, and the gaping faces of the suburban inhabitants; and from the ever-increasing number of dirty little boys who brought up the rear of the cavalcade, Mrs Blewcome began reckoning on an unprecedented harvest of good luck. And the trumpeters trumpeted, and the drummer drummed; but as usual the latter had a long way the best of it.

The morning was spent, as it always was on such occasions, in arranging the caravans in the wonted horse-shoe shape. At the square end of the horse-shoe, so to speak, stretched the imposing canvas screen, painted in a most elaborate style, by the hand of some artist whose name unhappily has not been preserved for the benefit of posterity. There you might see the sheep-like lion, and the pig-like bear; leopards like short-legged zebras, and monkeys most unpleasantly like human beings.

Indeed, ill-natured persons had been heard to declare one picture of a very lean ancient ourang-outang bore a strong resemblance to Mr Blewcome. But, then, some people see such strange likenesses!

And there were painted on the screen sundry other impossible animals, intended to attract the outside spectators, and induce them to enter and behold the wondrous originals within that magic circle of caravans.

And while all these preparations were being hurried on, the yellow chariot and the band paraded the town at various periods of the day.

The first night at a new place was always a sort of refreshment to the jaded show-people. They had not much novelty, in good truth. But on these occasions they had the slight excitement of seeing new faces, and speculating how their arrival would "draw" the populace.

Harry, of course, young as he was to the business of his present life, quite naturally looked forward to the new places and new people.

At eight o'clock the band ascended the platform ranged in front of the painted screen before alluded to, and set about making a great deal of noise, and a goodly a.s.semblage began to flock towards the show, and carried quite away by the life-like pictorial representations of the animals, first hesitated, then put their hands in their pockets, hesitated again, and finally paid their sixpences and went in.

Mrs Blewcome was in high glee at the rapid way in which her exchequer was filling. Mr Blewcome was in the midst of a most instructive harangue upon the nature and habits of that sportive animal, the elephant, and Harry sat on the steps of the platform, where the band was playing, and watched the people whom the show attracted, and those, too, who kept perpetually pa.s.sing to and fro between the centre of the town and the docks. For the menagerie had taken up its position in an open s.p.a.ce close by some wharves adjoining the docks.

By and by there appeared in the distance, coming from the docks, a figure which Harry seemed to know.

Impossible! It could not be! Whom should he be likely to meet with, here, miles and miles away from Wilton. He strained his eyes. The figure came nearer, was just pa.s.sing with a half-careless look at the show. A brave, stern face,--a sad, earnest face--a stout, manly form.

Harry looked again eagerly through the darkening shadows of the summer evening, and then running hastily through the wondering, jostling, bustling crowd, was at his father's side.

"Papa, papa!" he cried, "don't you know me?"

Alan Campbell turned suddenly and looked inquiringly at him, and then putting his arm round his boy's neck, round the poor, common clothes, kissed him with the fondness of one who had found what he had lost and yearned to find; and, in a voice scarcely audible with emotion, murmured repeatedly, "Thank G.o.d! thank G.o.d! found at last!"

CHAPTER XVIII.

FATHER AND SON.

Boots' errand--Mutual explanations--Mrs Blewcome--Questioned--Astonished--Overwhelmed--The parting.

Half-an-hour afterwards Harry was sitting with his father in a private room of the best hotel in the town, his heart full of delight, and very much to the astonishment of the waiters, who could not understand why the gentleman had brought in this young ragam.u.f.fin to eat with him, and to be waited on by their dignified hands.

But the father was too reserved to enlighten them, and Harry too bewildered at the strange events of that evening, to say anything at supper which might betray the relationship to the attendant menials.

What was their surprise, however, when Mr Campbell gave directions for word to be sent to the Royal Menagerie that was "exhibiting" in the town, to request the proprietor or his wife, or both, to come at once to the hotel, as he wished to speak with them. There was quite a contention down stairs, as to who should go on the degrading errand.

"A nasty low place," said the head waiter. "He can't be good for much."

"Master had best look sharp after his bill," chimed in the under-waiter; while the bar-maid, who was much more liberally-minded, e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed to both--

"Law, there now, it's no odds to you! The gentleman can do what he likes, can't he? You won't have to go. It's Boots' place!"

So Boots went; and Boots was a very long time, too, for he took care to have a good look round the show before he delivered the message to Mr and Mrs Blewcome. Having done which, he volunteered to escort them to the hotel.

"Go, Jemimar!" said Mr Blewcome, tragically, as usual. "I must not quit my post!" and, with the air of a martyr, he motioned to Jemima to start on her mysterious errand. And so the obedient Mrs Blewcome followed Boots as fast as her breath would suffer her.

Meanwhile Harry had told his long story; incoherently, it is true; but Doctor Palmer in his letter had explained so much, that his father only wanted to know what had befallen him since the night he had run away from school; all of which Harry told him. And then he, in his turn, gladly and proudly related to his boy all that had taken place at school. How that he was proved innocent; how Doctor Palmer praised and spoke highly of him in every way; and how delighted the whole school had been when the guilty one had been detected, and he righted.

And you may be sure Harry's heart was very glad when he heard all this--all this that he might have known two years ago. Two years ago, he could scarcely believe it. Two years is such a long while to the young.

Afterwards, they spoke of what was nearest to their hearts; the death that happened far back on that afternoon in June, far away in the little farm at Wilton by the sea. And Alan made his boy repeat over and over again all he could remember of those last days, and last words uttered by the lips that were so dear to them both, and that never were to touch theirs again. And they had for the time entirely forgotten about the message sent to the good people of the show; so that when there came a rap at the door, and Mrs Blewcome entered, Mr Campbell looked up, and said bluntly--

"Well, ma'am, who are you?"

This was too much for Mrs Blewcome. She had been sent for by "this man!" and he asked her who she was! She drew herself up, and answered with dignity:

"Mrs Blewcome! of Blewcome's Royal Menaggery!" and, catching sight of Harry, she exclaimed--

"So it's you as have taken our boy off, is it?"

"Sit down, my good woman, sit down, and I will explain my reason for sending for you."

Mrs Blewcome deposited the enormous umbrella which she invariably carried in the finest weather, upon the clean white tablecloth, and, seating herself with a b.u.mp upon a chair, clasped two very hot hands upon her lap, and waited.

"When, and where, did you find this little boy?" asked Mr Campbell.

Mrs Blewcome did not like this point-blank questioning. She fidgetted in her chair and said nothing. Mr Campbell repeated his question. Mrs Blewcome repeated her movements, expressive of unwillingness to reply.

"Very well," said Mr Campbell, good-humouredly; "as you won't tell me, I'll tell you. You found him, two years ago, about three miles outside Wilton, a small village on the Bristol Channel. He had run away from school. He told you a long tale about himself, and, among other things, that he had a father at sea. I am his father. I only landed here last night, and, by a mere chance, have thus stumbled across my boy. Had I hunted for him, I dare say I never should have found him."

Mrs Blewcome sat in astonishment. After she had somewhat recovered, she burst out--

"Well, there, to be sure, I am so glad; dear boy; but I don't know what I shall do without 'im. I don't know what I shall do, to be sure; and Blewcome getting that hindolentlike!"

This good-natured, believing speech, touched Alan's heart. There was no indignation at her prize being carried off by one who was a mere stranger to her. There was no doubting or disbelieving his reality as the boy's father, but only unselfish joy that Harry found his own again at last!

"You are a good soul," said Mr Campbell, quite affected. "I cannot thank you enough for all your care of my boy. It's been a strange home for him, but that's no fault of yours. I shall never forget you. Here is a card; and if you are ever in need, write to me, and I will do all I can for you."

"So I s'pose I must say good-bye to 'im, sir," asked Mrs Blewcome, with trembling voice.