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?"