“Oh, no, hardly that, I guess,” answered Sid, but he smiled gratefully. “Well,” he resumed, “so it went on. I dared not tell, for I had given my word, though I was sorely tempted that day he came for me at the picnic, and nearly disgraced me. But Guy would not release me, and his sister pleaded for just a little longer try at saving him, and I consented. I paid his gambling debts many times, and, often, it left me temporarily without money.
“Things looked very black, Guy would not heed my requests to stop gambling, and I did not care what happened. I even went to Bascome’s dinner, thinking to get away from my troubles. Then, when everything seemed to go by the board, and I had been expelled for being caught out late, when I had gone one night to get Guy away from reckless companions, he suddenly reformed. He met some girl, I believe, who had a hand in it. At any rate he turned over a new leaf, gave up his gambling, and, what relieved me, confessed everything to his mother.
“She was much affected, but she forgave him, and is to take him abroad this week, to straighten him out. That was the end of my thralldom. To-day Guy went with me to Dr. Churchill, made a clean breast of it, told what I had done, and why, and before the assembled members of the faculty, proved my innocence. It was just in time to allow the lifting of the expulsion ban, and permit me to play—only I had a task to get here in time——”
“But you did, old man!” cried Tom, seizing his chum’s hand—only one, however, for, somehow Mabel Harrison had the other. “You were in time to help us bat to win! Sid, can you forgive us?”
“Forgive? There’s nothing to forgive,” declared Sid, and his eyes were moist. “I don’t blame you in the least for thinking I was doing the very things I was trying to save my cousin from. Many a time I went broke on his account, but I didn’t mind, for he was worth saving, for the sake of his mother and sister, if not for himself. He’s all right now, I believe, and thoroughly ashamed of himself.”
“Thanks to you,” put in Madge Tyler.
“Oh, I think you were perfectly splendid, Mr. Henderson!” cried Ruth Clinton, with shining eyes.
Mabel Harrison did not say what she thought, but the look from her blue eyes was enough for Sid. He held her hand, and—Oh, well, what’s the use of telling on a chap, anyhow? You’d have done the same, I guess, if you had been there.
There was a little pause after Sid had finished his story, and all about sounded the victorious yells and songs of the exulting Randallites.
“Well, are you ready for those plates of cream, now?” asked Phil. “Talking is dry work. So that was your secret, Sid?”