Part 20 (1/2)

”Och, she has a way with her, and she can get anything she wants. It would be through Alfred Wilbur--the poor lad the boys will be calling such a foolish name.”

”Yes, Afternoon Tea Willie. What's he after now?”

”Indeed I think he will be after Miss Murray,” said the old man, his eyes twinkling. ”He seems to be always following her about. And he managed to get young Fred Hamilton to take Billy up to the camp. Fred is going up to his father's shanties with a gang of men in about a week.”

Roderick's heart sank. Here was a lost opportunity indeed. He had failed to help his father, and had missed such a splendid chance to help her.

”If you've got anybody else who needs a job, Dad, I'll try to do better next time,” he said humbly.

”Oh, indeed, there will always be some one needing help,” his father said radiantly. ”Eh, eh, it will be a fine thing for me to know you are helping to care for the poor folk on the Jericho Road. Jist being neighbour to them. It's a great business, the law, for helping a man to be neighbour.” The old man sat and gazed happily into the fire.

Roderick fidgeted. He was thinking that some of the work of a lawyer did not consist so much in rescuing the man who had fallen among thieves as falling upon him and stripping him of his raiment.

”Law is a complicated business, Dad,” he said, with a sigh.

There were prayers after that, and a tender farewell and benediction from the old people, and Roderick went away, his heart strangely heavy.

He was to be absent only a short time, perhaps not over two weeks, but he had a feeling that he was bidding his father a lifelong farewell--that he was taking a road that led away from that path in which the man had so carefully guided his young feet.

It was not entirely by accident that Roderick should be walking into Algonquin just as Helen Murray was coming out of the Hurd home. He had been very wily, for such an innocent young man. A shadow on the blind, showing the outline of a trim little hat and fluffy hair, had sent him back into the shadows of the Pine Road to stand and s.h.i.+ver until the shadow left the window and the substance came out through the lighted doorway. Gladys came to the gate, her arm about her teacher's waist.

They were talking softly. Gladys's voice was not so loud nor her look so bold as it once was. She ran back calling good-night, and the little figure of the teacher went on swiftly up the shaky frosty sidewalk. A few strides and Roderick was at her side. She was right under the electric light at the corner when he reached her and she turned swiftly with such a look of annoyance that he stopped aghast.

”Oh, I beg your pardon--” he stammered, but was immensely relieved when she interrupted smiling.

”Oh, is it you, Mr. McRae? I--didn't know--I thought it was--some one else,” she stammered.

Roderick looked puzzled, but the next moment he understood. Just within the rays of the electric light, across the street, was Afternoon Tea Willie, waiting faithfully with chattering teeth and benumbed toes.

He stood and stared at Roderick as they pa.s.sed, and then slowly followed at a distance, the picture of abject desolation. Roderick found it almost impossible to keep from laughing, until he began to consider his own case. He had plunged headlong into her presence, and now he felt he ought to apologise. He tried to, but she stopped him charmingly.

”Oh, indeed, I wanted to see you, before you go away,” she said, and Roderick felt immensely flattered that she knew so much about his affairs as to be aware that he was going away.

”Yes? What can I do for you?” he asked shyly.

”I wanted to ask about poor Billy Perkins. Mr. Wilbur got work for him, you know.”

”Indeed, my father tells me it was you did the good deed,” declared Roderick warmly.

”No, no, I only helped. But I am anxious about Billy.” She spoke as though Roderick were as interested in the Perkins family as his father.

”Is there any one up at Mr. Hamilton's camp, I wonder, who would keep an eye on him. He is all right if he's only watched, so that he can't get whiskey. There's young Mr. Hamilton, he's going, isn't he?”

”Yes.” Roderick felt that if the young man mentioned watched Fred Hamilton and kept him from drink it was all that could be expected of him. However, he might try. ”I'll speak to him,” he said cordially, ”and see if he can do anything for Billy. I see you've taken some of my father's family under your care,” he added admiringly.

”Oh no. I'm just helping a little. I'm afraid I'm not prompted by such unselfish motives as your father is. I visit down here just for something to do and to keep from being lonely.”

It was the first time she had made any reference to herself. Roderick seized the opportunity.

”You don't go out among the young people enough,” he suggested. She did not answer for a moment. She could not tell him that she was very seldom invited in the circles where he moved. She had been doomed to disappointment in Miss Graham's friends.h.i.+p, for after her first generous outburst the young lady seemed to have forgotten all about her.

”I like to come here,” she said at last. ”I think it's more worth while. But don't talk any more about my affairs. Tell me something about yours. Are you going to be long in the woods?”

It was a delightful walk all the way up to Rosemount, for Roderick managed to get up courage to ask if he might go all the way, and even kept her at the gate a few minutes before he said good-bye, and he promised, quite of his own accord, to visit Camp Hamilton if it was not far from Beaver Landing, his headquarters, and when he returned he would report to her Billy's progress.

CHAPTER X