"I asked Bert to let me make it good, somehow, but he would n't, Miss
Raymond. He—he just would n't!"
"Of course he would n't," exclaimed the girl sharply. Then, in a softer voice: "Thank you, just the same. But, don't you see? 'T would have done no good. I'd have had to pay you. . . . No, no, don't say any more, please," she begged, in answer to the quick words that leaped to his lips. "You have been kind—very kind. Now, just one kindness more, if you will," she hurried on. "Come tonight. I must leave you now—it's the store, just around the corner. But to-night I 'll have the money. It's in my name, and I can get it without mother's—knowing. You understand? Without—mother's—knowing."
"I understand," he nodded gravely, as he wrung her hand and turned chokingly away.
When Helen reached home that night she found the little flat dominated once again by the big, breezy presence of Herbert's friend.
"I've been telling him more about Herbert," Mrs. Raymond began joyously, as soon as Helen entered the room. "I've been telling him about his letters to me, and the peppermints and the lace tie, you know, and how good Herbert is to me. We've had such a nice visit!"
"Have you? I'm so glad!" returned Helen, a little unsteadily; and only the man knew the meaning of the quick look of relieved gratitude that came to her face.
At the door some minutes later, Carroll found a small packet thrust into his fingers. He caught both the hand and the packet in a firm clasp.
"You're true blue, little girl," he breathed tremulously, "and I'm going to keep tabs on Bert after this. I 'll make him keep straight for her—and for you. He's only a bit weak, after all. And you'll see me again soon—very soon," he finished, as he crushed her hand in a grip that hurt. Then he turned and stumbled away, as if his eyes did not see quite clearly.
"Now, wasn't he nice?" murmured Mrs. Raymond, as the girl closed the hall door. "And—didn't he say that he'd call again sometime?"
"Yes, mother."