An hour after dinner, Dick found Chester and June Arlington chatting on the veranda. Mrs. Arlington had retired to her room.
“Just in time to entertain sis, old fellow,” laughed Chet. “I have a little business that I should look after. Make yourselves sociable.”
He left them together, whistling on his way down the street.
For a time they spoke somewhat constrainedly of commonplace things. Finally June put out a hand and touched Dick’s sleeve lightly.
“Dick,” she murmured, “I have something that I want to say. I want to tell you just what’s in my heart, but I can’t. Perhaps you understand how happy I am. Perhaps you know that I appreciate all you have done for my brother.”
“I never did much for Chester, June. It was impossible; he wouldn’t let me.”
“You did everything for him. He knows it, and he has spoken of it many times. It was you who made him what he is.”
“Hardly that, June. If there had not been the making of a man in him, I could have done nothing. Really, I did nothing but——”
“Many a time you had it in your power to punish him as he justly deserved, and yet you held your hand.”
“For your sake, June, not his,” whispered Dick as his fingers found hers in the soft darkness.