CHAPTER XXVII. REVELATIONS THAT DO NOT REVEAL

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The two lads who were close as brothers rode for some time in silence after having left Roberta at the Pensinger mansion. It took skillful driving to cross the crowded streets at First, Second and Third, but after that the way was open to Central Park and, when at last they were riding down one of the wide, tree-shaded avenues, Ralph turned his gaze from the road and smiled at his friend.

The eyes of Dick were searching.

“And all this means what, to you?” he asked earnestly.

“That I wrote the letter to which you are referring, hastily, on an impulse, before I was really acquainted with Miss Vandergrift. I know now that she isn’t the girl for me, and I also know that she is the girl for you, and I sincerely congratulate you both. Now I say, Dick, you aren’t going to spoil my plans for a house party in the Orange Hills by bolting, are you? Ma Mere will be back tomorrow, and she wrote that I might have my friends for a week as soon as the house has been aired out. You know it has been closed all winter.”

“Indeed, I’m not going anywhere.” Dick felt greatly relieved, for he believed that Ralph was telling him the truth. He knew that his college pal was impulsive and often did things in more of a headlong manner than he would had he given the matter thought. “Of course he admires my Bobs; no one could help that, but I’m glad that he doesn’t really love her,” Dick was thinking. “He’s had sorrow enough as it is.” Aloud he asked, “Who are you going to ask?”

“Well, I did invite all four of the Vandergrift girls, but Bobs is the only one who has accepted. The oldest and youngest sisters are free but a few hours each day; the rest of their time they devote to Settlement work and they feel that they are especially needed now that it is vacation in the schools. Gwendolyn, however, may come, as of course I have invited your sister Phyllis and her guests.”

Dick looked at Ralph with the light of a new inspiration in his eyes. “I say, wouldn’t it be great if you could care for my sister Phyl? Then you would be my brother in very truth.”

Ralph laughed. “Dicky-boy,” he said, “are you turning matchmaker? It’s too late for that, old man. Bobs tells me that Phyllis is engaged to a fine chap from up Boston way. His name is Arden Wentworth.”

“Gee, that’s great news! Arden is a chap after my own heart, but I didn’t think that he ever could win Phyl. She must have changed a lot this last year.”

“Why, how’s that?” Ralph looked around inquiringly. “His father has piled up a few millions. That ought to please any girl.”

“That’s just where the shoe pinches, so to speak,” was the reply. “Arden, being a red-blooded young American, refused to just spend his father’s money and so he put on overalls and began at the bottom in one of his dad’s factories. He said he wanted to prove to himself, even if the world didn’t care, that he had brains enough to make good without help. Phyl wouldn’t speak to him after that, hoping that, for her sake, he would give it up; but he didn’t, and so I thought it was all off between them.”

“Well, something must have happened, for Bobs tells me that they are really engaged, and so, of course I have also invited Arden. By the way, you know Gwendolyn Vandergrift. What kind of a chap ought I to ask for her? Harry Birch is in town. I thought she might like him.” And so the lads talked over the plans for the coming house party, and so successfully did Ralph play his part that his pal did not for one moment suspect that his friend was secretly wishing that he might have sailed away in Dick’s place on the boat which, that noon, had left for distant shores.

But night is darkest before the dawn.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                           

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