§2
The Wrigley home was four blocks away, and Chester, once out of sight of his own home, became meditative. He stopped, and after looking about to see that he was not observed, drew from his inside pocket an envelope, and for the twelfth time that day counted its contents. Ninety-four dollars! The savings of a lifetime! It had originally been saved for the purchase of a motor-cycle, but that was before Mildred Wrigley had smiled at him one day across the senior study-hall. That seemed but yesterday, and yet it must have been fully seven weeks before! He replaced the money and continued on his way.
Chester paused at the Greek Candy Kitchen on Main Street to buy a box of candy, richly bedight with purple silk, and by carefully gauging his saunter, contrived to arrive at the Wrigley residence at fourteen minutes after eight. He gave his tie a final adjustment, his hair a last frantic smoothing, licked his dry lips—and rang the bell.
"Oh, good evening, Chester."
Mildred Wrigley had a small, birdlike voice. She was looking not so much at Chester as at the beribboned purple box he held. They went into the parlor.
"Oh, Chester," cried Mildred, as she opened the purple box, "how sweet of you to bring me such heavenly candy. I just adore chocolate-covered cherries. I could just DIE eating them."
She popped two of them into her mouth, and sighed ecstatically. They discussed, with great thoroughness, the weather of the day, the weather of the day before and the probable weather of the near future. Then Mildred moved her chair a quarter of an inch nearer Chester's.
"There, now," she said, with her dimpling smile, "let's be real comfy." A glow enveloped Chester.
"I had the most heavenly supper to-night," confided Mildred.
"I hardly ate at all," said Chester.
"Oh, you poor, poor boy," said Mildred. "Do pass me another candy."
They discussed school affairs, and the approaching examinations.
"I'm so worried," confessed Mildred. "Horrid old geometry. Stupid physics. What do I care why apples fall off trees? I'm going to go on the stage. That miserable old wretch, Miss Shufelt, has been writing nasty notes to Dad, saying I don't study enough."
Her lip trembled; she looked so small, so weak. "Look here," said Chester, hoarsely, "we've known each other for a long time now, haven't we?"
"Yes, ever so long," said Mildred, taking another chocolate-covered cherry. "Months and months."
"Do you think one person ought to be frank with another person?"
"Of course I do, Chester, if they know each other well enough."
"I mean very frank."
"Well," said Mildred, "if they know each other very, very well, I think they ought to be very frank."
"How long do you think one person ought to know another person before he, or for that matter she, ought to be very frank with that person."
"Oh, months and months," answered Mildred.
Chester passed his white silk handkerchief over his damp brow.
"When I say very frank, I mean very frank," he said.
"That's what I mean, too." She took another chocolate-covered cherry.
Chester went on, speaking rapidly.
"For example, if one person should tell another person that he liked that person and he didn't really mean like at all but another word like like, only meaning something much more than like—don't you think he ought to tell that person what he really meant? I mean, of course, providing that he had known that person months and months and knew her very well and——"
"I guess he should," she said, taking a sudden keen interest in the toe of her slipper. Chester plunged on.
"But suppose you were the person that another person had said they liked, only they really didn't mean like but another word that begins with 'l,' do you think that person ought to be very frank and tell you that the way he regarded you did not begin 'li' but began 'lo'?"
"I guess so," she said, without abandoning the minute scrutiny of her toe.
"Well," said Chester, "that's how I regard you, not with an 'li' but with an 'lo.'"
Mildred did not look up.
"Oh, Chester," she murmured. He hitched his chair an inch nearer hers, and with a quick, uncertain movement, took hold of her hand. A loud slam of the front door caused them both to start.
"It's Dad," whispered Mildred. "And he's mad about something."
Her father, large and red-faced, entered the room.
"Good evening," he said, nodding briefly at Chester.
"Mildred, come into my study a minute, will you. There's something I want to talk to you about."
The folding doors closed on father and daughter, and Chester was left balancing himself on the edge of a chair.
Mildred's father had a rumbling voice that now and then penetrated the folding doors and Chester caught the words "whippersnapper" and "callow." He heard, too, Mildred's small, high voice, protesting. She was in tears.
Presently Mildred reappeared, lacrimose. "Oh, that nasty, horrid Miss Shufelt," she burst out.
"What has she done?" asked Chester.
"The nasty old cat asked Dad to stop in to see her to-night on his way home from the office, and she told him the awfulest things about me."
"She did?" Chester's voice was rich with loathing. "I just wish I had her here, that's all I wish," he added fiercely.
"She said," went on Mildred, with fresh sobs, "she said—I—was—boy—c-c-crazy. And—I—never—studied—and——"
"Darn that woman!" cried Chester.
"And Dad's—going—to—send—me—to—S-Simpson Hall!"
The idea stunned Chester.
"Simpson Hall? Why, that's a boarding school in Massachusetts, miles and miles from here," he gasped.
"I know it," said Mildred. "I know a girl who went there. It's a nasty, horrid place." A fresh attack of sobs seized her.
"They'll—make—me—do—c-calisthenics, and—they—won't—give—me—anything—to—eat—but—b-beans."
Nothing but beans! Mildred eat beans! It was an outrage, a sacrilege.
"He's already written to Simpson Hall," wailed Mildred. "And I have to go, Monday."
"Monday? Not Monday? Why, to-day's Friday!" Chester's face became resolute; he felt in his inside pocket where his envelope was.
"You sha'n't go," he declared. "You and I will elope to-morrow morning."