ING THE LION

Luke Shepard went back to Grantham with Cecile in a mood that caused his
sympathetic sister to speak upon mere commonplace subjects and scarcely
mention the friends with whom they had spent the week. She knew Luke was
plowing deep waters, and whether his judgment was wise or not, she
respected his trouble.

The young man believed he had no right to present his case to Ruth
Kenway if he had no brighter prospects for a future living than what he
could make by his own exertions. Necessarily for some years after
leaving college this would be meager. Without his elderly friend's
promised aid how could he ask the oldest Corner House girl to share his
fortunes?

As for tying her to a long engagement--the most heart-breaking of all
human possibilities--the young man would not do it. He told himself half
a hundred times an hour that the thought could merely be born into his
mind of his own selfishness.

The Kenways had suffered enough in poverty in the past. He knew all
about their hard life after Mr. Kenway had died, for Ruth had told him
of it herself. Until Luke could get into business after his college days
were ended and make good, he would have little to offer Ruth Kenway of
either luxuries or comforts.

So, the young fellow told himself, it all depended upon Neighbor
Northrup, who had promised to do so much for him, provided Luke gave no
sign of desiring the company of a wife through life.

"He's just a ridiculous, crabbed old man," Luke told himself. "I never
paid much attention to Neighbor's crotchets before I met Ruth. Didn't
suppose I'd ever really care enough about a girl to risk displeasing
him.

"Of course, he's been awfully kind to me--and promises to be kinder. I
believe I am named in his will. Yet, I wonder if it's much to brag of
for a fellow with all his limbs sound, presumably his share of brains,
and all that, to be expecting a lift-up in the world. Maybe I'm rather
leaning back on the old gentleman's promises instead of looking ahead to
paddling my own canoe. Anyway I'm not going to spoil my whole life just
because of such nonsense."

Luke Shepard felt immensely superior at this time to Mr. Northrup with
his crotchets and foibles. The latter's rooted objection to women seemed
to the young collegian the height of folly.

Aunt Lorena's was quite a little house beside Mr. Henry Northrup's
abode. Whereas the flower-beds, and hedge, and the climbing roses about
the spinster's cottage