Part 13 (1/2)

You recall I prophesied once before--”

”Yes, I recall.”

Armstrong started involuntarily. Another memory had intruded.

”You remember--something else I predicted, do you?”

A slow smile formed on Roberts' lips.

”You said that sometime we'd hate each other, in the same measure that we were friends now.”

”Yes; and it's so. I feel it; why I don't know, can't imagine--yet. But it will come about as surely as to-morrow will come.” He looked at his companion steadily, unsmilingly prophetic. ”Good-bye, friend Darley Roberts. You're going--and you won't return. Good-bye.”

An instant Roberts stood as he was, motionless; then he turned swiftly.

”You're morbid to-night, Armstrong,” he returned slowly. ”In the morning the sun will s.h.i.+ne and the world will look very different. As for my leaving--you'll find another man who'll make a lot better mate than I am.

I'm not a good fellow in the least.”

”I know it,” bluntly. ”That's why you're good for me.” Unconsciously his glance travelled to the mantel, and s.h.i.+fted hurriedly. ”I'm a kind of clinging vine, I guess. To change the figure of speech, I need a stiff rudder to keep me headed straight to windward. I'll--miss you,” simply.

Roberts hesitated a moment, choosing his words carefully.

”We can't very well always be together, though,” he suggested at last slowly.

”No, we can't. I realize it. It's--Pardon an a.s.s and go to bed, old man.”

For perhaps half a minute Roberts stood there, the fire from the open grate lighting his face, his big capable hands loose at his sides. He made no motion to leave, nor for a s.p.a.ce to speak; characteristically abrupt, he turned, facing his companion directly.

”Armstrong,” he said, ”I can't work up to things delicately and have them seemingly happen by chance. Nature didn't endow me with that ability. I have to come out with a broadside shot or not at all. I'm going to do so now. Why don't you get married? Miss Gleason will be a better rudder immeasurably than I am.”

Involuntarily Armstrong flushed, slowly the color faded. He said nothing.

”I know I'm intruding and offending,” went on the other; ”you show that, but you said a bit ago I was your friend and the thing is on my mind.

Believe this at least: I was never more your friend than when I advise the move now. I repeat: why don't you get married, at once?”

”Why? You know why, Darley. It's the old reason--the butcher, the baker, and the candlestick maker. They still hold the fort.”

”No, not for you--unless you let them. Forgive another broadside. If you get pinched temporarily let a friend be of service. I'm not afraid to trust you. Anyway I chance it. We all have to chance something for happiness. Don't delay any longer, man, don't!”

”Don't?” Of a sudden Armstrong glanced up and met the other's look steadily. ”Don't?” he repeated. ”Why do you say that, please?”

A second Roberts met the lifted questioning eyes.

”Because I meant it,” he said. ”Please don't ask me to say more.”

”But I do ask it,” pressed Armstrong, stubbornly. ”You meant something particular by that, something I have the right to know.”

”Won't you consider what I suggested,” asked Roberts in a low tone; ”merely consider it?”

”Perhaps after you tell me what you meant. Why 'don't,' please?”