Part 97

"By the way," he said, turning to the new head of the Upper Quarry, "you brought up a crowd with you this afternoon, didn't you?--mostly my countrymen?"

"No, a mixed lot--about thirty. A few Scotch and English came up on the same train. Have they applied to you?" He addressed the manager of the Company's sheds.

"No. I think they'll be along Monday. I've noticed that those two nationalities generally have relations who house and look out for them when they come. But I had an application from an American just after the train came in; I don't often have that now."

"Did you take him on?" the Colonel asked between two puffs of his Havana.

"Yes; and he went to work in Shed Number Two. I confess he puzzles me."

"What was he like?" asked the head of the Upper Quarry.

"Tall, blue eyes, gray hair, but only thirty-four as the register showed--misfit clothes--"

"That's the one--he came up in the train with me. I noticed him in the car. I don't believe he moved a muscle all the way up. I couldn't make him out, could you?"

"Well, no, I couldn't. By the way, Colonel, I noticed the name he entered was a familiar one in this part of Maine--Googe--"

"Googe!" The Colonel looked at the speaker in amazement; "did he give his first name?"

"Yes, Louis--Louis C. Googe--"

"My God!"

Whether the ejaculation proceeded from one mouth or five, the manager and foreman could not distinguish; but the effect on the Flamsted men was varied and remarkable. The Colonel's cigar dropped from his shaking hand; his face was ashen. Emlie and Wiggins stared at each other as if they had taken leave of their senses. Joel Quimber leaned forward, his hands folded on the head of his cane, and spoke to Octavius who sat rigid on his chair:

"What'd he say, Tave?--Champ to home?"

But Octavius Buzzby was beyond the power of speech. Augustus spoke for him:

"He said a man applied for work in the sheds this afternoon, Uncle Jo, who wrote his name Louis C. Googe."

"Thet's him--thet's Champ--Champ's to home. You help me inter my coat, Tave, I 'm goin' to see ef's true--" He rose with difficulty. Then Octavius spoke; his voice shook:

"No, Uncle Jo, you sit still a while; if it's Champney, we can't none of us see him to-night." He pushed him gently into his chair.

The Colonel was rousing himself. He stepped to the telephone and called up Father Honore.

"Father Honore--

"This is Colonel Caukins. Can you tell me if there is any truth in the report that Champney Googe has returned to-day?

"Thank God."

He put up the receiver, but still remained standing.

"Gentlemen," he said to the manager and the Upper Quarry guest, his voice was thick with emotion and the tears of thankfulness were coursing down his cheeks, "perhaps no greater gift could be bestowed on my sixty-fifth birthday than Champney Googe's return to his home--his mother--his friends--we are all his friends. Perhaps the years are beginning to tell on me, but I feel that I must excuse myself to you and go home--I want to tell my wife. I will explain all to you, as strangers among us, some other time; for the present I must beg your indulgence--joy never kills, but I am experiencing the fact that it can weaken."

"That's all right, Colonel," said the manager; "we understand it perfectly and it's late now."

"I'll go, too, Colonel," said Octavius; "I'm going to take Uncle Jo home in the trap."

Luigi Poggi helped the Colonel into his great coat. When he left the room with his prospective father-in-law, his handsome face had not regained the color it lost upon the first mention of Champney's name.

Emlie and Wiggins remained a few minutes to explain as best they could the situation to the stranger guests, and the cause of the excitement.