  Time—A week later. “Hello, Bobs, is that you?” But it was Lena May who had answered an imperative ring at the telephone, and so she replied, “Oh, good morning, Mr. Caldwaller-Cory. No, I am not Roberta. I will call her.” A moment later Ralph knew that he was talking to the girl whom he loved. “I say, Bobety,” he exclaimed, “will you go for a drive with me right away this minute? Please say ‘yes’ (for she had hesitated), I have something of great importance to tell you.” “Honestly, I can’t, Ralph,” was the earnest reply. “I am going to give Lena May a holiday. She and Dean Wiggin are going to take little Tony Wilovich to Bronx Park and spend the day. The little fellow is wild to see the monkeys and Lena May needs a day among the trees.” Her youngest sister was at her elbow whispering, “We can go some other time, dear, if there’s something that you want to do.” But Roberta shook her head. There was a brief silence at the other end of the line, then the lad spoke again. “I say, Bobs, how are they going? On the L! That’s what I thought. Suppose I get Dad’s big car. We can take them out to the park and then on the way back you and I can have the visit I want. In fact I’ve got to see you, Bobs. It’s terribly important to me. I’m all cut up about something that has happened and——” Roberta knew by her friend’s voice that something had occurred to trouble him greatly, and so she said: “Wait a moment, Ralph. I will talk it over with my sister.” Lena May thought the plan a good one and Ralph was told to be at the Pensinger mansion in one-half hour with the car and they would all be ready and waiting for him. Lena May then departed to the rickety tenement to get the wee lad. “Oh, Mrs. Wilovich,” the girl said, as she looked about the small, hot room. “How I do wish that you would go with us today. Don’t you feel strong enough?” “No, dearie, thanks though. The coughin’ spell was harder’n usual this mornin’. ’Twas all as I could do to get Tony’s breakfast. I’ll be that happy knowin’ as the little fellow’s seein’ the monkeys his heart’s been set on ever since the picture posters was up on the fences.” Five minutes later the girl and the little boy were joined by the young bookseller on Seventy-eighth Street. “Dean,” Lena May said sadly, “I don’t believe that Mrs. Wilovich will be with us one month from today.” “Nor do I,” the lad replied; then he added, as he looked at the curly-headed three-year-old, who had darted ahead but who looked back, laughing at them, “What will become of Tony?” “I’m going to keep him, somehow. Gloria has given her permission. I wanted to be sure that Sister thought my plan wise that I might know just what to say to the little mother when she speaks of it to me, as she will in time.” No wonder was it that the lad’s unspoken love for the girl took unto itself the qualities of adoration. “She is too sweet and too good to be loved by a useless man such as I am,” he thought, and how he wished that his muscle-bound arm might be freed that he could work and fight the world for this angel of a girl. A surgeon had once told him that there was really nothing wrong with his arm. It had grown with the passing years, but was stiffened from long disuse. Tony was wildly excited when he saw the big green car in which he was to ride for the first time in his short life, and he entertained them all with his chatter. Roberta, sitting on the front seat with her friend, glanced often at his face and realized that, although he, too, joined in the laughter evoked by the baby’s prattle, his thoughts were of a very serious nature, and she wondered what she was to hear when they two were alone. She little dreamed that Ralph was to say something that would greatly affect her. Dean, carrying the basket which was well filled with picnic refreshments, and Lena May leading the shining eyed three-year-old, waved back at the big car as they entered the side gate of the woodsy Bronx Park. Bobs smiled as the baby voice wafted to them, “Ohee, see funny cow!” They were near the buffalo enclosure. Then Ralph started the engine and slowly the car rolled along the little river and toward the country. Roberta, knowing that something was greatly troubling her friend, reached out a hand and laid it sympathetically upon his arm. Instantly his left hand closed over hers and his eyes turned toward her questioningly. “Bobs,” he said, “you’ve been a trump of a friend to me. I’m not going to try to tell you just now what it means. It’s another friend I want to talk about. Dick—Dick De Laney. You remember that I told you he has become almost as dear to me as a brother, since Desmond died. I was sure Dick would do anything for me. I had such faith in his loyalty, in his devoted friendship, but now he has done something I can’t understand.” Ralph paused and his companion saw that he was greatly affected. “Bobs, I’m taking this awfully hard. I——” Roberta was amazed. What had her old pal, Dick De Laney, done to so hurt her new friend? “Why, Ralph dear,” she said, for he had turned away as though too overcome with emotion for the moment to go on with his story. “What has Dick done? I know that it is nothing disloyal or dishonorable. You don’t know Dick as I do if you can doubt him for one moment. He would do what he believed was right, even if the consequences were to bring real suffering to him. He’s been that way ever since he was a little fellow. You may take my word for it, Ralph, that whatever Dick has done, his motive is of the highest. Now tell me what has hurt you so deeply?” “Well, it’s this way,” the lad began. “I’ve missed Dick terribly, more, of course, before I met you, but I have been looking eagerly forward to the month he was to spend with me in the Orange Hills. I didn’t tell you that I expected him to arrive today. I wanted to surprise you, but instead I received a letter on the early morning mail and it informed me that, although the writer really did love me as though I were his brother, he thought it best not to visit me this summer; instead he had decided to travel abroad indefinitely and that he had engaged passage on a steamer that leaves Hoboken at noon today. What can it mean?” The lad turned and was amazed at the expression in the face of the girl. “Why, Bobs,” he blurted out, “can it be—do you care so much because Dick is going away.” “Oh, Ralph, of course I care. It’s all my fault. I knew Dick loved me. I guess I’ve always known it, and last April, when he was home for the spring vacation, I promised him that—Oh, I don’t remember just what I did promise, but I do know that I haven’t written often of late, and I guess he thinks I don’t care any more; and maybe that’s why he’s going away; but I do care, and, oh, Ralph, I can’t let him go without telling him. I always meant to tell him when he came home from college. I thought we were too young to be really engaged until then. Dick has been so patient, waiting all these years, and loving me so truly and so loyally. Can’t we stop him, or—at least can’t we see him before he sails?” The expression in the fine face of the lad at her side plainly told the struggle that was going on within his heart. So, after all, Dick De Laney had been as loyal as a brother. He was going away to give Ralph a clear field. Well, it was Ralph’s turn now to show the mettle he was made of. In a voice that might have betrayed his emotion if Roberta had not been so concerned with her own anxiety and regrets, he said: “Of course, Bobs, we will try to reach the boat before it sails. We’ll ferry over to the Jersey side and then we’ll break the speed limit.” |
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