BEARDING THE LION
Luke Shepard went back to Grantham with Cecile in a mood that caused his sympathetic sister to speak upon mere commonplace subjects and scarcely mention the friends with whom they had spent the week. She knew Luke was plowing deep waters, and whether his judgment was wise or not, she respected his trouble.
The young man believed he had no right to present his case to Ruth Kenway if he had no brighter prospects for a future living than what he could make by his own exertions. Necessarily for some years after leaving college this would be meager. Without his elderly friend's promised aid how could he ask the oldest Corner House girl to share his fortunes?
As for tying her to a long engagement—the most heart-breaking of all human possibilities—the young man would not do it. He told himself half a hundred times an hour that the thought could merely be born into his mind of his own selfishness.
The Kenways had suffered enough in poverty in the past. He knew all about their hard life after Mr. Kenway had died, for Ruth had told him of it herself. Until Luke could get into business after his college days were ended and make good, he would have little to offer Ruth Kenway of either luxuries or comforts.
So, the young fellow told himself, it all depended upon Neighbor Northrup, who had promised to do so much for him, provided Luke gave no sign of desiring the company of a wife through life.
"He's just a ridiculous, crabbed old man," Luke told himself. "I never paid much attention to Neighbor's crotchets before I met Ruth. Didn't suppose I'd ever really care enough about a girl to risk displeasing him.
"Of course, he's been awfully kind to me—and promises to be kinder. I believe I am named in his will. Yet, I wonder if it's much to brag of for a fellow with all his limbs sound, presumably his share of brains, and all that, to be expecting a lift-up in the world. Maybe I'm rather leaning back on the old gentleman's promises instead of looking ahead to paddling my own canoe. Anyway I'm not going to spoil my whole life just because of such nonsense."
Luke Shepard felt immensely superior at this time to Mr. Northrup with his crotchets and foibles. The latter's rooted objection to women seemed to the young collegian the height of folly.
Aunt Lorena's was quite a little house beside Mr. Henry Northrup's abode. Whereas the flower-beds, and hedge, and the climbing roses about the spinster's cottage made a pleasant picture, the old Northrup house was somber indeed. The bachelor's dwelling, with its padlocked front gate, did not look cheerful enough to attract even a book agent.
For some years Luke had spent quite as much time on Neighbor's premises as he had with his aunt and Cecile. There were many little things he could do for the old man that the latter could not hire done. Samri, as the Japanese butler was called, could not do everything.
Arriving at Grantham in the late afternoon, Luke stopped only a moment to greet Aunt Lorena before hurrying across the line fence into Neighbor's yard.
"For the good land's sake!" sighed Miss Shepard, who was very precise, if not dictatorial, "it does seem as though that boy might stay with us a minute. Off he has to go at once to Neighbor. You would think they were sweethearts—Luke and that crabbed old fellow."
Cecile winced. "Luke has something on his mind, Auntie—something that he thinks he must tell Neighbor at once," and she, too, sighed. "Oh, dear! how it is all coming out I really don't know. I am almost sorry we went to the Kenways' to visit."
"Why, Cecile! didn't they treat you nicely?"
"Splendidly. They are all dears—especially Ruthie. But it is because of her I am worried."
"Indeed?"
"She and Luke have become very friendly—oh, entirely too friendly, if nothing is to come of it."
Aunt Lorena dearly loved a romance. Her eyes began to sparkle and a faint flush came into her withered cheek.
"You don't mean it, Sissy!" she gasped. "Not our Luke? The dear boy! Think of his having a sweetheart!"
"Oh, but I don't know that he has one! I am afraid he ought not even to think of it!" cried Cecile.
"Nonsense! Why not? Your father was married when he was no older than Luke. And of course the dear boy would wait till he graduates."
"And for a long time after, I fear," said Cecile, shaking her head. She really saw the folly of such an idea much more quickly than Aunt Lorena.
"Is this Ruth Kenway a nice girl?" queried Aunt Lorena eagerly. "And is Luke actually fond of her?"
"As fond as he can be I do believe," admitted the sister, still shaking her head.
"And—and do you suppose Miss Kenway appreciates our Luke?"
"I guess she likes him," said Cecile, smiling a little at the question. "I am sure she does, in fact. But Luke will say nothing to her unless Neighbor agrees."
"Mercy! He's not gone to tell that old man about the girl?"
"Well! Of all things! The ridiculous boy!" ejaculated Aunt Lorena. "He might know that Mr. Northrup will be greatly vexed. Why, he hates women!"
"Yes, I am afraid Luke will have a bad time with Neighbor," said Cecile, anxiously.
She was quite right in her supposition. Luke Shepard appeared before the grim old man as the latter sat in his study and, being a perfectly candid youth, he blurted out his news without much preparation. Immediately after shaking hands, and asking after Mr. Northrup's health, he said:
"Neighbor, I've got a great secret to tell you."
"Heh? A secret? What is it? Broke somebody's window, have you?" for his elderly friend often seemed to think Luke still a small boy.
"That wouldn't be a great secret," the young man said quietly. "No. It is the greatest thing that's ever come into my life."
The old man, who could look very sternly indeed from under his heavy brows, gazed now with apprehension at his young friend.
"You don't mean you think you've changed your mind about your college work?"
"No, sir. But there is one thing I want to do after I get through college that I never thought of doing before."
"What's the matter with you, boy?" demanded Mr. Northrup, exasperated.
"You know I have been away with Cecile to see some friends of ours. And one of them, Miss Kenway—Ruth—is the nicest girl I ever met."
"A girl!" literally snorted Neighbor.
"Ruth Kenway is splendid," said Luke firmly. "She is lovely. And—and I think very, very much of her."
"What do you mean, boy?" the old man demanded, his deep-set eyes fairly flashing. "Why do you tell me about any silly girl? Don't you know that it offends me? I can, and do, endure your speaking of your sister. It is not your fault you have a sister. But it will be your fault if you ever allow yourself to become entangled with any other woman."
"But, Neighbor," said the young man desperately, "I couldn't help it. I tell you I admire Ruth Kenway immensely—immensely! I want to make her care for me, too. I want— I want—"
"The moon!" roared Mr. Northrup. "That's what you are crying for—like any baby. And you'll not get it—neither the moon nor the girl. What have I always told you? If you are fool enough to get mixed up with any girl, I wash my hands of you. Understand?"
"Yes," said Luke, flushing deeply during this tirade but holding his own temper admirably in check. "Yes, I understand. But I'd like to talk with you about it—"
"You can't talk to me about any girl!"
"But I must," insisted Luke. "You see, I—I love her. And if I can possibly do it, I am going to win her for a wife—some day."
The old gentleman arose in anger.
"Do you mean to stand there and deliberately defy me?"
"I am not defying you, Neighbor; I'm only telling you," Luke said, rather doggedly, it must be confessed. But his own eyes were glowing.
"After my declaration to you that I will have nothing more to do with you if you fool with any girls—"
"I'm not!" snapped Luke. "It is only one girl. The best girl in the world. I wish you'd go to Milton to see her."
"Go to Milton? Indeed! I wouldn't go there—"
He stopped and glowered at Luke for a moment without speaking. Then he asked harshly:
"So this girl lives in Milton?"
"Yes, sir. At the old Corner House. And she is lovely—"
"Be still!" commanded the old man. "Young calf! Do you suppose I am interested in your protestations of silliness about a girl! I want to hear nothing more about it. You understand my wishes well enough. I will never do a thing for you after you graduate— I will strike you out of my will— I'll close my door against you, if you entangle yourself in any way with this girl."
"Oh, Neighbor!" murmured Luke sadly, stepping back from the old man's wildly gesturing arm.
"I mean it. I always mean what I say," declared Mr. Northrup. "You should know me well enough by this time. A girl—faugh! You trouble me any more about this girl—or any other—and I'll have nothing more to do with you."
"Very well, Mr. Northrup. Good-bye," said Luke, and turned toward the door.
"Where are you going, you young whippersnapper!" roared the old man.
"I have made up my mind. I will win Ruth if I can—though with my poor prospects I have no right to speak to her now. But it would not be right, when you feel as you do, for me to accept any further favors from you when I am determined in my heart to get Ruth in spite of you."
The door closed quietly behind him before the old man could utter another word. He stared at the door, then sat down slowly and his face lost its angry color.
Mr. Henry Northrup was apparently both pained and amazed. Perhaps he was mostly confused because Luke Shepard had taken him quite at his word.