Part 18 (1/2)

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. d.i.c.k--d.i.c.k 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 d.i.c.k would do anything for me. I had such faith in his loyalty, in his devoted friends.h.i.+p, 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, d.i.c.k 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 d.i.c.k done? I know that it is nothing disloyal or dishonorable.

You don't know d.i.c.k 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 d.i.c.k 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 d.i.c.k 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 pa.s.sage 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 d.i.c.k is going away.”

”Oh, Ralph, of course I care. It's all my fault. I knew d.i.c.k 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. d.i.c.k 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, d.i.c.k 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.”

CHAPTER XXVI.

A HAPPY REUNION

d.i.c.k De Laney was leaning over the railing of the big liner that was to take him away from the country that was home to him and from the girl he loved, whose happiness meant more to him than did his own, but, as he looked out over the choppy waters of the bay and toward the broad Atlantic he could see ahead of him nothing but years of loneliness.

Then it was that he heard a voice that was eagerly, tremulously calling his name. He whirled and beheld Roberta back of him, her hands outstretched. There were tears in her eyes as she said: ”d.i.c.k, why did you do it? Why did you plan going away without saying good-bye? Even if you have changed your mind, even if you don't care for me any more, it isn't like you to just run away.”

d.i.c.k's face, troubled at first, was radiant when the full meaning of the words reached his consciousness.

”Bobs,” he said, ”why, Bobita, I thought you didn't care; that is, I thought maybe you loved Ralph, and so----”

”And so you were going away to let me have someone else, you dear old stupid! To think that I so nearly lost you just because I was so very sure that you loved me; that I never could lose you, and so I didn't write about it.”

These two were holding each other's hands and looking deep into each other's eyes, entirely oblivious of their surroundings. Roberta continued:

”d.i.c.ky-boy, I've had my lesson, and when we are married, every day the first thing, instead of good morning, I am going to say I love you, which, after all, will mean the same thing.”

”Married, Bobs! When are we to be married?”

The girl laughed at the lad's eagerness, but as many pa.s.sengers were appearing on deck, she replied, demurely, ”Sometime, of course, and live happily ever after.”

It was hard for d.i.c.k not to shout, but, instead, he said: