"My promise of assistance was an empty one, after all," Huntington said with more bitterness than had ever before crept into his voice. "The alchemy of a woman's heart is past the comprehension of a bachelor like myself. But why settle your problem so hastily? You are here with me now, and what I intend to show you of life will fit you better than anything else to answer that question for yourself. Don't let it overwhelm you. See how far you can enter into what goes on about you, and then draw your conclusions regarding the probabilities of the future."

"Are marriages ever successful when one's heart is made up of burnt ashes?"

"Don't ask me that, my friend!" Huntington begged. "You and I have reached an age where we are entitled to use logic and judgment, and to live the years which remain to us as those two attributes may dictate. For the next few weeks I want you to imagine that you are back in college again, with no responsibilities heavier than that of enjoying yourself better than before because your sense of proportion has been developed by experience. When these weeks are past, we may again consider whether our hearts are made up of burnt ashes or of rich Harvard crimson blood. Until then, my friend, let us steadfastly refuse to be stampeded, and claim the benefit of every doubt."


XXVII


Philip Thatcher responded to the suggestion made by Huntington and his mother with such conspicuous success that within a fortnight Hamlen accepted his leadership from one experience to another with wonderment and devotion. The fact that the boy was his namesake formed the first bond, and with confidence once established intimacy developed rapidly. Boys to Hamlen had been unknown quantities, creatures to be endured if necessary but avoided if possible, and Philip did much to raise the standard of his genus in the older man's mind. Billy's explosive outbursts startled him for a time, but he learned to understand even these, and accepted them at their true value.

The responsibility came to young Thatcher at just the time when he was best prepared to accept it. During the Easter recess his father suddenly discovered that the boy had become a man, and it was with real gratification that he took him into his confidence. To Philip, the statement of present conditions made impending disaster seem conclusive, and it was with difficulty that Thatcher persuaded him that many things might happen to ease the situation before calamity really overtook him. The boy wanted to leave college at once, and to throw himself into some sphere of business activity so that his income might be added to the family exchequer to keep the wolf from the door! His father, strengthened by the youthful loyalty and enthusiasm, pointed out the value, as a personal asset to himself, of actually possessing a college degree, now so nearly secured, and sent the boy back to Cambridge with a determination to make the most of the few remaining months in preparing himself to rush into the breach and save his family from the threatening malignant specters.

The whole experience was a sobering one to Philip, and resulted in putting him nearer on a plane with Hamlen. To the one, the world had already proved its unreliability; to the other, it was now on trial with every presumption of speedy conviction. Each event in the day took on a new significance in the boy's mind, and Hamlen's dependence made him feel that he was already man-grown, taking his place in the front rank of the battle of life.

Huntington watched these developments with a curious sensation of interest and surprise. The most he had hoped was that Philip might take the man far enough into undergraduate activities to give him by assimilation a fresh viewpoint, but he found his guest largely taken off his hands by one who was accomplishing the desired results far better than he himself could do. Day by day he saw Philip winning a deeper hold upon the affections of his older friend, and he marveled at the changes taking place in Hamlen. For himself, he quietly forced him to meet such of their classmates as were in Boston, preparing them by a brief outline of Hamlen's experiences to extend a fitting welcome; but he left it to Philip to show him what the new Harvard really is.