But with his enthronement as the sovereign of Tim's universe there
came to Van a very disquieting experience. Tim thought his big
friend knew everything, and in consequence whenever he became
puzzled about facts that were being read to him or that he heard he
would instantly appeal to Van, whom he was sure could right every
sort of dilemma that might arise. But too often the unlucky Van was
forced to blush and falter that he would have to look it up; and
when he did so he frequently learned something himself. For Tim
never forgot. No sooner would Van be inside the gate than the shrill
little voice would pipe: "And did you find out how far away Mars is,
Mr. Blake?"
Poor Van, it kept him scrambling to satisfy Tim McGrew's
intellectual curiosity, yet there was a tang in the game that
rendered it very interesting. He found, too, ample reward in seeing
the wee invalid's face brighten when the query was answered.
So the spring sped on.
In the meantime Van had heard only irregularly from his parents. In
a long letter to his father he had sent all the facts of his
disgrace at school and had added that he was truly sorry; the reply
he received had been terse and rather stern but not unkind. Mr.
Blake expressed much regret for his son's conduct and closed his
epistle with the caustic comment that he should look for a proof of
Van's desire to make good. That was all. Van knew that Dr. Maitland
had also written; but what he did not know was that with the
fearlessness so characteristic of him Bob Carlton had taken the time
and trouble to pen a long note to Colorado as a plea for his chum.
It was a remarkable composition from a boy so young--a letter full
of affection and earnestness and voicing a surprising insight into
his friend's character and disposition. Mr. Blake read it over three
times, and when he finished sat in a reverie with it still between
his fingers. The tone of it was so like the man he had known long
ago, that friend from whom a misunderstanding that now seemed
pitiably trivial had separated him. It had been his fault; Mr. Blake
could see that now. He had been both hasty and unjust. Over him
surged a great wave of regret. Well, it was too late to mend the
matter at this late day. One chance was, however, left him--to make
up to the son for the injustice done the father.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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