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 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, 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:

"Come along, dear, and I'll cancel my pa.s.sage, and then I'll go home with you and tell you what all this means to me. I can't very well here."

Then, as he glanced about, he inquired: "How did you get here, Bobs? Did you come alone?"

"No, Ralph brought me." Her conscience rebuked her, for she had completely forgotten the existence of her other friend. "He was as hurt as I was because you were going away without seeing him," she told d.i.c.k.

"Poor old Ralph," was all he said. "I certainly am sorry for him, but I suppose it can't be helped."

"Sorry for Ralph? Why?" Roberta's expression of surprised inquiry was so frank that the lad knew his pal had never spoken of his love.

d.i.c.k was even more puzzled when, upon reaching the dock, he saw his friend Ralph leap toward them with hands outstretched. Joyfully he exclaimed: "Great. I know by your radiant faces that you've made up. I congratulate you both. I certainly am glad that we made it on time." Then after a hearty hand-shaking: "What put that wild notion of flight into your head, old man? You can't get rid of us that easy, can he, Bobs? My detective-partner here has been telling me that she has been engaged to you ever since she wore pinafores, or was it a little later?"

Roberta laughed. "I believe I had on a riding habit that day, didn't I, d.i.c.k?"

Ralph turned away after a fleeting glance at the girl's face as it was uplifted to his roommate. He had not dreamed that she could be as beautiful as that expression of love had made her.

d.i.c.k was replying, "Oh, it doesn't much matter when it happened, dear.

The big thing is that it did happen at all."

Then, when they were in the big green car (the front seat was wide enough to hold all three of them), d.i.c.k began to ask questions.

"How is Gwen now?" was the first of them. He was pleased to hear that the girl, but a year Roberta's senior, was much better and visiting his sister, Phyllis.

Then it was that Bobs thought of something. "Why, Ralph," she said, "you never did have an opportunity to meet my beautiful sister, Gwendolyn, did you? She hasn't been strong enough to visit with strangers, and now she has gone away for a whole month."

d.i.c.k smiled as he said to the driver: "Bobs is giving herself a compliment when she calls Gwendolyn beautiful, for the family resemblance between the two girls is very striking."

Roberta laughed. "I should say that it must be, d.i.c.k. Did I ever write you about the time a stage manager thought that I _was_ Gwen, and I actually had to do a song and dance? I laugh every time I think of it.

Gloria said afterwards that it was a natural mistake, for though I am not as sylph-like as my sister, we do look very much the same."

Ralph smiled, but he made no response. His thought was commenting: "As though anyone could be like you, Bobs."

It was noon when the Pensinger mansion was reached, and Roberta told the lads that she wasn't going to ask them in just then, as she had to do some writing for Mr. Jewett that must be delivered that afternoon, but she invited them both to supper, if they weren't afraid to eat her cooking. d.i.c.k said he certainly would reappear as soon as she would permit him to come, but Ralph had an engagement with his Dad. As that was not unusual, Bobs did not think that this time it was an excuse to remain away, as indeed it was.

Roberta turned at the house door to wave to the lads in the car that was starting away. Vaguely she wondered what they would talk about. How little she knew of the aching heart that one of them was so bravely trying to hide.

CHAPTER XXVII.

REVELATIONS THAT DO NOT REVEAL

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 d.i.c.k 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, d.i.c.k, 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.