A SUDDEN DEPARTURE
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."