be; I shall not bother her any more," said Scuddy
bitterly, "and you can tell her that for me, if you like."

"No, I won't tell her that, Scuddy," said Larry, "and, Scuddy," he
added, imparting a bit of worldly wisdom, "campaigns are not won in a
single battle, and, Scuddy, remember too that the whistling fisherman
catches the fish. So cheer up, old boy." But Scuddy only glowered at
him.

Larry found Helen awaiting him, and quietly they slipped out together.
"This is splendid of you, Larry," she said, taking his arm and giving
him a little squeeze.

"I don't know about that, Helen. I left Scuddy raging upstairs there.
You girls are the very devil for cruelty sometimes. You get men serious
with you, then you flirt and flutter about till the unhappy wretches
don't know where they are at. Here's our car."

"Car!" exclaimed Helen. "With this moonlight, Larry? And you going away
to-morrow? Not if I know it."

"It is fearfully unromantic, Helen, I know. But I must hurry. I have to
take Jane home."

"Oh, Jane! It's always Jane, Jane!"

"Well, why not?" said Larry. "For years Jane has been my greatest pal,
my best friend."

"Nothing more?" said Helen earnestly. "Cross your heart, Larry."

"Nothing more, cross my heart and all the rest of it," replied Larry.
"Why! here's another car, Helen."

"Oh, Larry, you are horrid, perfectly heartless! We may never walk
together again. Here I am throwing myself at you and you only think
of getting away back." Under her chaffing words there sounded a deeper
note.

"So I see," said Larry, laughing and refusing to hear the deeper
undertone. "But I see something else as well."

"What?" challenged Helen.

"I see Scuddy leading out from Trinity some day the loveliest girl in
Winnipeg."

"Oh, I won't talk about Scuddy," said Helen impatiently. "I want to talk
about you. Tell me about this Chicago business."

For the rest of the way home she led Larry to talk of his plans for the
future. At her door Helen held out her hand. "You won't come in, Larry,
I know, so we will say good-bye here." Her voice was gentle and earnest.
The gay, proud, saucy air which she had ever worn and which had been one
of her chief charms, was gone. The moonlight revealed a lovely wistful
face from which misty eyes looked into his. "This is the end of our good
times together, Larry. And we have had good times. You are going to be a
great man some day. I wish you all the best in life."

"Thank you, Hele