CHAPTER XVII.
A SOUL IN NEED.
Two days after Walter’s fall in the night, he had leave of absence extending from sunrise to sunset. He did not care to take it, his time at the station was so brief, and especially as he was anxious to prove his purpose to be loyal to all obligations resting upon him.
“It is your turn to be off, Walter,” said the keeper. “You are fairly entitled to it, and I want you to have what is yours. Be on hand at sunset. You may learn something in your favor, and you had better improve your chance.”
With the keeper’s apparent kindness went an insinuation that Walter’s course had not entirely been swept clean of every shadow of suspicion, and if he could find a broom to do this sweeping, it was plainly suggested that he had better secure it. That remark decided Walter in his course. He left the station in no pleasant mood of mind, and the keeper’s words had occasioned it. “If I can, I will get that help,” thought Walter, walking off rapidly, “but—where?”
He was puzzled. One memory came to him, however. It was what his father said once: “Walter, if things go wrong, if people say we are wrong and yet we know we are right, but can’t somehow show it and prove it, then wait and let God do the proving. He is as much interested in good character as we, more so even, and He will bring things round right. Tie up to that post.”
“I will tie up to that post,” declared Walter.
He did not go directly to his uncle’s, but took the road to The Harbor.
“Walter!” said a voice as he was passing the post–office. He turned quickly. A young woman had just left Miss P. Green’s headquarters, and was calling to him. It was May Elliott. She looked at him in her earnest way, her blue eyes brightening as she said, “I only want to say that I hope you won’t care for those stories about you at the station. Your friends have confidence in you, and don’t believe what has been said against you.”