A sense of shame for this uncharitable attitude toward his most intimate college chum possessed Joe Smith before he had finished his humorous sarcasm, but he was in an unaccountable mood just then.
"We've told you how you can escape him," urged one of the boys from town as they started for the door. "We've got some visiting to do in the dorm, but will call for you in an hour or so, and if you should decide not to go with us—there is always Reydal."
Joe joined with them in the laughter that followed this sally, and then reentered the room, thrilled with a delightful feeling of anticipated adventure.
"There's no harm," he assured himself as if repeating a lesson. Just then another knock sounded and a cheery voice called, "The lion's share for you tonight Smith," and the evening mail was thrown on the table. The minister's son looked it over carelessly, too excited to take an interest in it, until his eyes caught the sight of a square envelope addressed in round childish letters.
He tore it open with a quick characteristic gesture, and as he did so a small photograph fell out. Two childish faces with eyes equally appealing and lovely gazed up at him. Joe regarded it with the look of tenderness which he always felt for children, and then placed it on a conspicuous place on the mantle. He then directed his attention to the enclosed letter which was written in Periwinkle's now familiar hand. The letter told of their experiences at school, of Pearl's singing in the children's choir, and of his interest in a boys' Bible class which he had joined. He mentioned that Aunt Hetty had given Mrs. Farwell a long extension on the mortgage held against her and that Robert Grey had paid in part already and that the money had been laid aside until he was old enough to go to Joe's college.
"Aunt Hetty is very good to us," the letter continued. "She says we are improving in conduct. But I told her it was because of you, Smith. Pearl says I can't be as good as you. She is right, but that don't keep me from trying. I am afraid, Smith, that Washington Grey would still have a black eye, if I hadn't thought of you just before I was going to hit him. I thought to myself, 'Smith wouldn't do anything that wasn't right, and if I want to be like him I've got to try pretty hard.' Pearl sends her love, Smith, and so do I. She is making you something for Christmas, but it's going to be a surprise. Good-bye for now.
Your friend,
Perry Toddles."
Having finished reading the letter, Joe rose and flung the window wide-open, breathing deeply of the moisture-laden air. Something seemed to be choking him—"Smith wouldn't do anything that wasn't right!" His mind was in a turmoil—how that thought conflicted with the impulse of the previous moment. Below, the city lights, seductive and full of mystery, sent their alluring invitation through the fog. Down there he would find congenial friends and pleasure—as youth desired it. Here—yes, but "Smith wouldn't do anything that wasn't right, and I want to be just like him."
The sound of music, alluring, enticing, came faintly to his ears; the lights signalled frantically and the wily city smiled her invitation more urgently than ever before—and then that compelling voice of a conscience that responded to the inviolable faith of his little hero-worshipper—"Smith wouldn't do anything—"
The door burst open violently. "Ready, old Pal?" Their chorused inquiry brought him to his feet—he hesitated—and then closing the window with a bang the minister's son faced his questioners.