_Helen Appeals for Help_
The troubles that had beset Larry Kirkland since first he entered
Cascade College appeared to be departing. The generous action of Jacobs,
the deposed second baseman, in turning to Larry’s support and advocating
his cause among the “sporty” students who had opposed him, appeared to
clear the way to complete understanding. Only Harry Baldwin remained
antagonistic and, since he had lost the support of many of his friends
through his own behavior, his opposition carried little weight.
Larry was in an excellent humor as he dressed to call at St. Gertrude’s
on the Thursday evening following the final game with St. Mary’s. The
team was winning. St. Mary’s, Silver University and Pacific College
teams had fallen before the victorious Cascade club, and only the strong
team of the Golden University remained to be conquered to insure the
championship.
It was small wonder that Larry Kirkland was jubilant. He had received a
letter from Krag, congratulating him and warning him of the danger of
over-confidence, and he had just succeeded, after a struggle that
aroused the entire dormitory, in pinning Winans’ shoulders to the
carpet. That wrestling match had been brooding all term and was renewed
each time Larry prepared to call on Helen Baldwin.
Winans, defeated and all mussed up, was stretched upon the partially
wrecked bed, jeering at his conqueror.
“I was doing it for your good,” he declared. “I was trying to save you
from the wiles of a designing woman. Now you can go to your fate, but
don’t blame me.”
“If you’re just jealous I’ll introduce you some day,” said Larry,
refusing to be teased.
“It’s my fault,” moaned Winans in mock grief, “to let one so young, so
tender, so beautiful, stray into the clutches of a heartless woman.”
“Shut up, or I’ll throw you, hog-tie you and lock you in the closet,”
threatened Larry, still trying to comb down a shock of rebellious red
hair.
“Come on,” bantered Winans. “You can’t throw me again. You took unfair
advantage last time”——
“Aw, you know I can’t wrestle with these clothes on,” protested Larry.
“Wait until I get my ball things on.”
“Come on, I dare you,” taunted Winans. “I ought to tackle you and muss
up your pretty hair anyhow.”
Larry refused to discuss the case, being absorbed in knotting a new and
gorgeous tie.
“That’s no way to treat a pal,” pleaded Winans, changing his tone. “The
idea of running off after a crinoline when you might stay here and have
a nice comfortable game of chess with your old chum.”
Larry grinned and refused to be drawn into argument.
“I’ll have to get a divorce,” wailed Winans. “I’ll report that you have
deserted me—and go room with Paw Lattiser. He’s more company, anyhow.”
But Larry remained obdurate and hastened away toward St. Gertrude’s,
whistling as he went. The whole world seemed good to him then. He was
early and so decided to walk over the hills to the girls’ school.
Students in cap and gown or in flannels, strolling through the
eucalyptus arcades, shouted greetings as he passed.
With no thought of the crisis in his life that awaited him he walked
briskly toward St. Gertrude’s, thinking of the girl he was going to
meet. Helen Baldwin had come to mean much to him and her friendship was
dear. He had idealized her and woven boyish dreams about her, although
he never had considered seriously any plan for the future. She was the
first girl he ever had known as a friend and the attitude of appealing
helplessness she assumed toward him excited his imagination. The fact,
too, that she constantly claimed to have been neglected or ill-treated
by the Baldwins aroused his sympathy. He did not stop to think that his
dislike for the Baldwins blinded him, nor did he imagine that, perhaps,
the girl was using his prejudice against the Baldwins for her own ends.
He entered the reception room at St. Gertrude’s, and as the maid closed
the door, Helen Baldwin rose from her chair. He stepped forward gladly,
both hands outstretched.
“Helen!” he exclaimed.
His tone changed suddenly.
“Helen,” he repeated, this time anxiously, “what has happened? What have
they been doing?”
“Larry! Larry!” she sobbed, clinging to him. “Take me away from this
place, take me away from them all!”
The tears and her pathetic appeal aroused in him the man’s sense of
protectorship. Instinctively his arm slipped around her waist and he
strove to comfort her.
“Tell me about it, Helen,” he urged tenderly. “What is it? Has Harry
been annoying you again?”
“Oh, it is all of them,” she wailed. “They treat me terribly! I cannot
stand it. You must take me away.”
“What have they been doing?” he demanded, trembling with indignation.
“Tell me.”
The boy had become a man, defender of woman, in a few moments, and he
spoke with a sternness in his voice that never had been there before.
“Tell me,” he repeated. “I will not let them harm you.”
The girl ceased sobbing, but still clung to him.
“Harry wrote Uncle Barney the most terrible tales,” she said, drying her
eyes with suspicious suddenness that he did not observe. “He told him
about your coming here and Uncle Barney came this morning. He was
furious and he said if I dared let you call on me again, or take me
driving, he would pack my things and bundle me off home.”
The girl cunningly concealed the fact that her teachers also had
reported to Barney Baldwin that she had been breaking rules and riding
in automobiles with young men, that she had pretended to be riding with
her cousin and when caught had declared that Harry had taken her riding
and introduced her to the young man who brought her back to the school.
“It’s a shame,” declared the boy hotly. “They must be brutes to accuse
you of such things when they know we never have been out of the school
grounds together.”
“It’s because they hate you, Larry,” she persisted. “I told Uncle Barney
you were my friend, and that I would not give you up”——
“You told them that?” The boy seemed bewildered.
“Yes, yes, Larry,” she repeated. “I told them I never would give you up.
Now you must take me away—somewhere. You must marry me and we will go
away and never see these hateful people again.”
Larry stepped back in surprise.
“Marry?” he exclaimed in a bewildered tone.
In all his acquaintance with Helen Baldwin the thought of marriage had
not occurred to him. If it had it had been as a dream in the hazy
future. Some day, of course, he would marry, but he never had thought of
Helen Baldwin as his wife, nor of any girl.
“Yes,” she sobbed, “you must take me away.”
“But, Helen,” he protested, “we cannot do that.”
“We must,” she urged, half hysterically. “We can elope, go into the city
and be married”——
“And what then?” he asked, his calmer common sense coming to the rescue.
“Neither of us has anything—I cannot support a wife.”
“I’ve thought it all out,” she went on hurriedly. “We will be married.
Then we will go and Major Lawrence will forgive us and I need never
endure the hateful treatment I get here.”
“No,” said the boy slowly. “We cannot do that. I cannot treat Major
Lawrence that way. I will ask his permission”——
“You must not do that,” she interrupted quickly. “He would separate us
and we’d never see each other again.”
She buried her face in her handkerchief and sobbed hysterically.
“But I must ask him,” the boy protested, striving to comfort her
awkwardly. “I’ll telegraph him that I am coming home, and when he
understands it he will not refuse.”
“He will. I know he will,” sobbed the girl. “He hates all the Baldwins
and he’ll hate me. He’ll never consent.”
“But he must,” protested the boy. “I’ll tell him how horridly they have
treated you—and he’ll take you, and when we are older”——
“Oh, you’re all against me,” she stormed. “I relied so on you and you’ve
failed me. You don’t love me.”
Again she wept. The boy, his face drawn with anxiety and pain, knelt
beside her.
“I do,” he protested. “But, Helen, can’t you see”——
The bell that marked the end of the calling period rang. They knew that
in a minute or two Miss Tiddings would enter the room, and Larry sprang
to his feet quickly.
[Illustration: “Oh Larry, Take Me Away!”]
“You must dry your eyes,” he whispered. “They must not know. I will
telegraph Mr. Lawrence to-morrow.”
The girl dabbled at her eyes, and a moment later, when Miss Tiddings
entered the room and sniffed politely, she saw no traces of the tempest.
“I’ll wire,” whispered Larry as he held her hands. “Bear it a little
longer.”
“He’ll never consent,” she whispered. “Oh Larry, take me away. I cannot
endure it much longer.”
Larry Kirkland left St. Gertrude’s, his brain surging with new emotions.
He scarcely heard Winans’ raillery as he went to bed and for a long time
remained awake, striving to lay some plans for the future.