# Left to Themselves/Chapter 4

Published by Hunt & Eaton, in New York.
CHAPTER IV.
UNDER SAILING ORDERS.
THEY had just finished dressing next morning. Philip was asking himself whether, after all the fun of the last few days, the idea of adding up columns of figures in the office was a pleasant one.
"Come in," was Gerald's reply to a knock.
"Good-morning," said Mr. Marcy. In his hand was the letter.
"Gerald," he began, walking up to the lounge, "your father wants you."
"Papa!" exclaimed the boy, starting up as Mr. Marcy sat down. "Where is he? When did he come? Isn't that just like him!"
"No, sit down," laughed Mr. Marcy, holding up the letter. He isn't down-stairs. He's just where he was, in Nova Scotia. Listen to this and tell me what you think of it."
He read, while Philip listened from across the room:
"Camp Half-Dozen, September, 188–.
"Dear Marcy: Please send Gerald up to me at this place, via Halifax, as soon as possible. When he arrives he can go to the Waverly Hotel. Somebody in our party, or myself, will meet him. We have not roughed it so much as I expected. We shall stay here; the hot weather seems to hold on too long down your way. Of course, Gerald cannot make such a journey alone. Put him in charge of an experienced servant used to traveling, or make some arrangement of the kind convenient. I inclose check. Supply whatever extra is needed.
"We are having a first-class time—lots of fishing and shooting. Our nearest civilization is miles off. Hope the Ossokosee is doing well these closing weeks. It's a late season everywhere, isn't it? Yours, etc.,
"Gerald B. Saxton.
"P. S.—Give my love to Gerald. Tell him to write me immediately what day he starts. Tell him to be a good boy, and not let the whales have any excuse to eat him on the way."
"There!" exclaimed Mr. Marcy, as he handed Gerald this business-like letter from any ​father summoning his son on such a journey. "That's your father all over! Not a word to spare. Disposes of you and every body else just as if you were a package of goods to be forwarded by express."
"Yes," returned Gerald, with a queer tone in his voice, "that is papa to the life. But he never took me quite so much by surprise. Of course, I've wanted to go up. I was dreadfully disappointed when he said I couldn't. But it's too bad to have to break up here and leave before the rest of you do." He glanced at Philip, who sat in a surprise not particularly pleasant looking over the letter Gerald had handed him.
"Well, I think myself you will face the hardship better if I let Philip go along to take charge of you," said Mr. Marcy, quizzically. "How does that idea strike you?"
"O, Mr. Marcy!" exclaimed Gerald, with a look of intense pleasure; "do you really mean that?"
"I surely do," returned the proprietor of the Ossokosee. "I thought of it the moment I read your father's letter. I haven't at hand just now any servant that I could spare, or, in fact, be willing to commit you to, and I have ​no time to write to find out if friends can arrange to look after you on the steamer. Philip needs a change. Last year," he continued, turning to Touchtone, "you had no rest at all, from Mrs. Ingraham and me." He smiled as he spoke. "So I made up my mind last night that the nicest thing I can do for both of you, and for that harum-scarum father of yours, Gerald, will be to pack you off in Philip's care. What do you say to it, Philip?"
"I'd rather do it than any thing else in the world," replied Touchtone, "if you can spare me."
"O, this rush may end any day now. Then I shall close the hotel at once. Sit down here again—and be sober. To-day is Saturday. Your father wants you to set out, Gerald, as soon as you can. I will write him to-day, with you, and say that you and Philip will leave here for New York next Tuesday to catch the Wednesday's steamer. You will get to New York on Tuesday night, and you can either go to the Windsor to spend it, and the morning of the following day (the Old Province usually sails at one in the afternoon), or else you can adopt another plan."
​"What is that?" asked both at once.
"Why, as it will be rather lonely for you in that big hotel, I thought I would drop a line to a friend at his bachelor apartments on Madison Avenue and ask him to let you put up with him instead of at the Windsor. He has plenty of room, and he will be delighted to entertain you. Don't you think you would enjoy that arrangement? His name is Hilliard. He has been in London for a year or two, or Philip there would know him better than by hearsay."
Gerald and Philip declared that great enjoyment was promised by this arrangement.
"There's one of the breakfast-bells!" Mr. Marcy exclaimed presently, hurriedly rising. "I believe I have talked over every thing with you that is necessary now. You can begin your packing as soon as you like, Gerald, though you have time enough. I never knew you so quiet over any excitement before, Philip. Are you afraid of being seasick?"
"No, he's afraid of the responsibility of looking after me!" exclaimed Gerald, quick as a flash.
Philip smiled. "Nothing of the sort," he said. "Only it's a good deal more to me to ​think of going away on such a long journey so very unexpectedly than it is to you. It makes me your guardian in good earnest," he concluded, with a half smile.
To Touchtone, who nowadays was accustomed to only occasional winter trips to and from New York with Mr. Marcy, and who had known little change from the summer routine of his hotel duties and pleasures, this sudden episode was, truly, a little bewildering. It had all happened in a night—like Aladdin's palace. To Gerald there was only a passing surprise. Orders from that handsome, gay, idle young father of his, who seemed to think of his son very much as he did of his best horse, or brightest diamond, or any other possession that he liked because it was his own and beautiful and pleasant to have near him, or easy to leave in good hands when it was more convenient, why, to Gerald such changes were already a common story. But the boy's delight that Philip was to go with him was so keen that nearly all else was forgotten.
The next few days were rather busy ones. The telegrams and letters to Nova Scotia and New York were duly dispatched. The letters ​might arrive at the forest camp little sooner than the travelers, but the telegram promised more expedition. Moreover, a hospitable reply came back from Mr. Marcy's friend in New York, the aforesaid Mr. Hilliard. He would be happy to entertain the two. He added that he himself might board their train at a certain station toward noon. He expected to be out of the city "visiting a friend over Sunday."
"If I stay up there until Tuesday," he wrote, "coming back, I will hunt the boys out. Then we can travel the rest of the day together."
Bag and trunk were packed before night, and the trunk expressed direct to the steam-ship baggage-room, that it might be "off our minds," as Gerald put it. (Afterward they were not sorry.) They drove over to bid Mrs. Wooden and Miss Beauchamp good-bye in the afternoon, and at the tea-table in the evening a good many of the guests stopped to wish a pleasant journey to the two. After Gerald was in his room and asleep Touchtone came down-stairs, where Mr. Marcy sat awaiting him in the office.
"Two hundred and fifty dollars," he said, handing Philip a roll of bills. "You cannot ​very well want more for your tickets and incidental expenses. You will, of course, stay in Halifax until Saxton sends for Gerald. He is a man who arbitrarily consults his own convenience, especially when he's off with a set of his Wall Street cronies on a summering lark. You may be obliged to remain several days."
"Thank you, sir," said Touchtone, putting the money into his pocket. "It's a wonderfully jolly little spree for me. I needn't say again how I thank you for putting me in the way of it."
"O, pshaw, Philip," returned the hotel proprietor, lightly, as he reclosed the heavy safe door, "that's all right! I don't know how I should accomplish Saxton's wishes without you. I shall miss you. One word more. This journey, as long as it lasts, and until Gerald leaves your hands, commits this little fellow to your care. So far as any one can be responsible for him, of course you are. I have spoken to Gerald and drawn his attention to the fact that he must now really obey you, not merely as his friend, but his 'guardian' in every sense of the word. The boy seems already oddly fond of you. I don't think you will need to use a bit ​of authority. He will hardly attempt to differ with you foolishly. Still, he is in your hands, and he is a valuable handful. Saxton is a careless, rattling fellow in some respects, but he's fond of his boy, after his fashion.
Philip went up-stairs soberly. He was not eighteen. Somehow the tie between himself and this young charge who seemed to stand so in need of his friendship all at once weighed on our hero's heart. He was Gerald's guardian indeed; and, though the journey ahead was not like a trip to Europe or California, there were probably unexpected events to happen in its course where he must act for two. Well, he would try always to "do the best he could;" and Gerald's welfare should be his North Star all the way from the Ossokosee to Halifax.
They were up bright and early next day. They ate their breakfasts hurriedly, and were driven over to the station just before the express came rolling into it. They could not reach New York before six o'clock in the evening.