Chapter VIII: Part 8

There were lots of little coves about the beach,--the water in them was just as clear as crystal; and as I stepped from rock to rock, bending down to look into the depths, what should I do but slip,--the rocks _are_ slippery,--and land in the middle of a cove, up to my waist in water!

There was nothing to do but to scramble out,--the rocks ran too far out into the ocean to think of walking round them,--and I can assure you it was no easy thing to accomplish with my wet skirts clinging to me. I scratched my hands, and scraped my shoes, and got my sleeves and the whole front of my nice gingham stained with the green slimy moss that covered the rocks.

But at last I got out; then came the walk up the beach to the house,--there was no other way of getting there,--and you may imagine my feelings when, half-way up, I discovered that Mrs. Erveng was seated on the piazza in her invalid's chair. I saw her put her _lorgnette_ to her eyes; I imagined I heard her say to Hilliard, who was arranging a cushion back of her head, "Who _is_ that extraordinary looking creature coming up the beach?" and I _longed_ to just burrow in the sand and get out of her sight.

Hilliard came running to meet me. "You've fallen into the water--you are wet! I hope you're not hurt?" he exclaimed, as he reached me.

It was on the tip of my tongue to answer sharply, "I _have_ fallen into the water; did you expect me to be dry?" It was such a _silly_ speech of his! But I was afraid of Mrs. Erveng, so I just said carelessly,--as if I were in the habit of tumbling into the ocean with all my clothes on every day in the week,--"Oh, I just slipped off one of the rocks; I got my feet wet." And there I was, mind you, wet almost to my waist, and such a figure!

Any one of our boys--even Jack, and he is pretty dense sometimes--would have seen the joke, and we'd have had a hearty laugh, anyway, out of the situation; but not a smile appeared on Hilliard's face. Either he didn't see the fun at all, or else he was too deadly polite to laugh. If he had even said roughly, "Didn't I _tell_ you not to go there!" I wouldn't have minded it as much as his "How unfortunate!" and his helpless look. I was afraid to say anything for fear I'd be rude again, so we walked up to the piazza in solemn silence.

"Good morning!" Mrs. Erveng said pleasantly, as I laboured up the steps. "An accident? I am so glad you are not hurt! Hilliard should have warned you about those slippery rocks--oh, he did--I see. Dillon will help you change your things; ring for her, Hilliard. Too bad, Betty, to spoil that pretty frock."

Well, I changed my wet clothes, and for the rest of that day I was as meek as a lamb. I sat down, and got up, and answered, and talked to the Ervengs as nearly in Nora's manner as I could imitate. Perhaps they liked it, but I didn't; I was having the pokiest kind of a time, and I was so homesick that I cried myself to sleep again that night.

Mind you, I wouldn't have our boys and Nora know this for a kingdom!

The next few days were more agreeable; the people from the other cottages on the beach came to call on Mrs. Erveng, and while she was entertaining them, Hilliard and I went for walks or sat on the sands. As I've told you before, he isn't at all a wonderful sort of boy,--except for queerness,--and he always _will_ be a poke; but sometimes he's rather nice, and he is certainly polite. He knows the beach well,--he ought to, he's been here nearly every summer of his life, and he is eighteen years old,--and he showed me everything there was to see. There were no more accidents under his guidance; and no wonder,--he is caution itself.

There was only one part of the beach that he did not take me, and that was where a tall pointed rock stood, that was separated from the others by a rather wide strip of sand. I thought it looked interesting; I could see what looked in the distance like the arched entrance to a cave in the side of the rock. I would like to have gone to look at it, but every time I proposed it, Hilliard turned the conversation. "Some day we'll investigate it," he said at last; "but don't ever go over there alone,--it is a dangerous place." According to him, the whole beach was dangerous; so I made up my mind that I would "investigate" for myself at the first opportunity that offered.

While we rested on the sands, Hilliard would read aloud to me,--he likes to read aloud. Neither Phil nor I care as much for books as do the others in the family; but to be polite, I did not tell Hilliard that I am not fond of being read to; to me it always seems so slow. At first I used to look at the ocean and make up thoughts about it, so that I hardly heard any of what he was reading; but after a while I began to listen, and then, really, I got quite interested.

We were sitting in the shade of the rocks one very warm afternoon,--Hilliard was reading aloud,--when there came a sudden peal of thunder, and presently a flash of lightning. "Oh, we're going to have a storm!" I exclaimed. "I am so glad! now I can see the ocean in a storm,--you said it was magnificent then. Why, what are you doing?"

"We must get in the house as quickly as possible." Hilliard rose to his feet as he spoke, and began hastily gathering up the books and cushions, and the big sun umbrella.

"But the rain hasn't come yet, and I _do_ want to watch the water,--see, it's beginning to get white-caps," I said. "We can reach the house in a few minutes."

As I spoke there was another flash of lightning and a long roll of thunder, but neither was severe. To my great astonishment Hilliard shrank back against the rock, and shielded his face with the cushion he held in his hand; I could see that he was very pale. "Oh, come, _come_!" he begged; "oh, let us get to the house at once!"

"What!" I flashed out scornfully, "are you _afraid_ of a thunder storm?"

He didn't answer; he just stood there flattening himself against the rock, his face deadly white, his eyes almost closed, and his lips set tight together.

I got _so_ angry! I _despise_ a coward! Had Jack done that, I thought to myself, I'd have been tempted to thrash him to put some spirit and pluck into him; and here was this great big overgrown boy--! "Why don't you run away to the house?" I broke out sharply. "I can take care of myself; _I'm_ not afraid of a little thunder."

He put up his hand in a deprecating way, as if asking me to hush. Then, as a nearer peal reverberated among the rocks, and another flash lighted up the now leaden-coloured sky, he sprang forward and caught hold of my arm, with a sharp cry of "_Come! come!_" Wheeling me round suddenly, he ran toward the house, carrying me along with him with such force and swiftness--though I resisted--that in a few minutes we were on the piazza, and then in the hall, with the heavy outer door swung shut. We were barely under cover when the rain pelted down, and the thunder and lightning grew more loud and vivid.

Hilliard leaned breathlessly against the hat-rack table,--I could see that he was trembling. I stood and looked at him,--I suppose it was rude, but I couldn't help it; you see I had never met such a kind of boy before.

Mrs. Erveng had spent part of the day on the beach, and had come to the house about an hour before to take her afternoon nap. Now we heard her voice from the floor above us. "Hilliard! Hilliard, my son!" she called; there was something in her voice--a sort of tenderness--that I had never noticed before. "Come here to me; come!"

And he went, without a glance at me, lifting his feet heavily from step to step, with drooping head and a shamed, miserable expression on his pale face.

In about an hour's time the storm was all over, and that afternoon we had a gorgeous sunset; but Mr. Erveng and I were the only ones who sat on the piazza to enjoy it. Neither Mrs. Erveng nor Hilliard appeared again that day. Mr. Erveng took me for a walk along the beach, and did his best to entertain me: but I had a feeling that I was in the way--that he would rather have been upstairs with his wife and son, or that perhaps if I had not been there they would have come down.

I thought of them all at home,--Phil and Fee with their fun and merry speeches, and Jack, and the little ones, and Nora; there is always something or other going on, and I would have given almost anything to be back once more among them. I was so unhappy this afternoon that I actually deliberated whether I had the courage to do something desperate,--make faces at Mr. Erveng, or race upstairs and interview Mrs. Erveng, or call Hilliard names out loud,--_anything_, so that they would send me home.

But after a while I concluded I wouldn't try any of these desperate remedies; not that I minded what they'd say at home (teasing, I mean), but papa would want to know the whole affair,--he has got to think a good deal of Mr. Erveng,--and besides, somehow, though she's so gentle and refined, Mrs. Erveng isn't at all the sort of person that one could do those things to. So I said nothing, though I thought a great deal; and I went to bed before nine o'clock thoroughly disgusted with the Ervengs.

Hilliard was at breakfast the next morning, just as stiff and prim and proper as ever,--it almost seemed as if what had happened in the storm must be a dream. But later on, when we were on the piazza, he spoke of it to me.

"I feel that I should explain to you that I have a nervous dread of a thunder storm," he said, in that proper, grown-up way in which he speaks, but getting very red. "It completely upsets me at the time; I am afraid you think me a coward--" He broke off abruptly.

"If it is nervousness, why don't you do something for it?--go to a physician and get cured?" I answered shortly; it seemed to me so silly--"so girlie," as Jack says--to try to turn his behaviour off on _nervousness_.

"I _am_ under a physician's care," he said eagerly; "and he says if I could only once--"

But just then the carriage that had taken Mr. Erveng to the train drove up to the door, and with an exclamation of pleasure Hilliard started forward to meet the lady and young girl who were getting out of it.

They were Mrs. Endicott and her daughter Alice, relatives of the Ervengs, and they had come to stay with them while some repairs were being made to their own house, which was farther along the beach.

It was _such_ a relief to see a girl again; and she turned out to be just as nice as she could be. She and Hilliard are cousins, but she isn't at all like him in any way. In the first place, she is splendid looking,--tall and strong, and the picture of health, with the most beautiful colour in her cheeks; and she is so jolly and full of fun that we got on famously together.

Alice is a little over sixteen,--just one year older than I am,--and she has travelled almost everywhere with her parents (she's the only child, you see), all over America and in Europe. But she doesn't put on any airs about it; in fact, instead of talking of her travels, as I would ask her to do, she'd beg, actually coax me to tell her about my brothers and sisters, and the times we have at home,--it seems Hilliard has written her about us. She said she had never known such a large family, and she wanted me to describe each one, from Phil down to Alan.

On warm mornings we would sit on the beach in the shade of the rocks, and when Hilliard wasn't reading to us, somehow the conversation always got round to the family. Hilliard thinks a good deal of our boys, and he talked to Alice about them; he told her of our entertainment on Nora's birthday, and our "performances," and she seemed to enjoy hearing of it all. She asked questions, too, and said she felt as if she really knew us all.

Mrs. Endicott was almost as nice as Alice, and so _kind_! Why, almost every day she got up some amusement for us,--driving, or walking, or a picnic, or something. I really began to enjoy myself very much,--only that I didn't hear often enough from home. Nora's notes were very short,--just scraps; she said she was too busy to write more; and Jack never has shone as a letter writer. He'd say, "Nora had a circus with the 'kids' to-day,--will tell you about it when you come home;" or, "Something splendid has happened for Fee,--you shall have full particulars when you get back," and other things like that. Provoking boy! when I was longing to hear everything.

After the Endicotts came, I enjoyed myself so well that the time flew by, and almost before I knew it the last day but one of my visit at the beach had come. That afternoon, instead of going with Mrs. Endicott, Alice, and Hilliard, to see how the repairs were getting on at their cottage, I decided to remain at home. Thinking it over afterward, I could not have explained why I did not care to go; I didn't even remember the excuse I made. It could not have been the heat,--though it was extremely warm,--for a little while after they had gone I dressed for dinner, and started for a stroll along the beach.

I walked slowly on and on, enjoying the beauty of the scenery, until I suddenly discovered that I was directly opposite the large rock which Hilliard and I were to have "investigated" some day, but to which he had never taken me. I knew we could not do it the next day, for Mr. Endicott had invited us to spend it on his steam yacht, and the day after that I was to leave for home; so I made up my mind that that afternoon was my opportunity.

Carefully gathering up my skirts,--I had on my best white gown,--I picked my way over the rocks and stepped down on the wide strip of sand which divided this rock from the others. I noticed that the beach sloped downward to the rock; but in my heedlessness I did not notice that the sand was slightly damp.

On reaching the rock, I found that what had looked at a distance like an arched entrance to a cave was really some irregular steps cut out of its surface, and which led to a narrow shelf, or ledge, a little more than half-way up the tall, solid-looking mass of stone. I knew that the view from that height must be fine, and I _love_ to climb; so I determined to get up to that ledge.

It was not very easy,--the steps were slippery and rather far apart, and then, too, my dress bothered me, I was so afraid I would soil or tear it,--so I was a little tired and warm by the time I reached the top. But the view from there was _beautiful!_ One had a clear sweep of the beach, except that smaller portion which lay behind the big rock. The shelf on which I sat, with my feet resting on the step below, was a little rounded, something of a horseshoe shape, and with the rock to lean back against I was quite comfortable. I wondered again and again why Hilliard had avoided showing me this place, and enjoyed every detail of the view to my heart's content,--the grand, rugged outline of the beach, the exquisite colours of the sky and water, and the crafts that went sailing and purring past. I wondered where they were all going, and made up destinations for them. Then I began counting them, so as to tell Alice at dinner; I got up to twenty-eight, and then--I must have fallen asleep.

How long I slept I don't know, but I woke with a great start, conscious of some loud, unusual noise, and that something cool had fallen on my face; and for a moment what I saw turned my heart sick with terror.

Everything was changed since last I had looked at it. The sky, so blue and clear then, was now covered with heavy black clouds, across which shot vivid flashes of lightning, and there were deep, fierce growls of thunder. The shining sands that I had crossed so easily but a while before had disappeared; the ocean, which had then been so far away, now covered them, and was on a level with the step on which my feet rested. The blueness of the water had gone,--it was lead-coloured, to match the sky,--and great angry, white-crested, curling waves came rolling in, tumbling over and over each other in a mad race to dash themselves against the rock on which I sat, throwing up each time a heavy shower of white, foamy spray. It was the touch of this spray on my face that had wakened me; and to my horror, the water was dancing and gurgling at my very feet!

In a flash I realised that I was in great danger,--entirely cut off from the land, and on a rock that was under water at high tide!

"Oh, it can't be! it _can't_ be!" I cried aloud, standing up and looking wildly around; and as I did so, a big wave broke over my feet.

With a scream I scrambled back on the ledge, and stood there, clinging to the jagged points of the rock, while I called for help at the top of my voice. I shouted, and shrieked, and yelled, until I was hoarse, and the cries were driven back into my throat by the wind; but all that answered me was the roar of the storm and the screams of the sea gulls as they flew by.

As the wind lulled for a minute or two, I managed to drag off the skirt of my gown and wave it, hoping to attract the attention of some passing vessel,--a long range of rocks cut off any view of the cottages on the beach,--but the next wild gust tore it out of my grasp.

The water kept rising,--it was bubbling and foaming over my ankles; the waves were lashing themselves higher and higher, the rain coming down in sheets, the wind howling and raging,--I was afraid it would blow me off the ledge! and never in all my life have I heard or seen such thunder and lightning!

At first I was all confused,--I was so startled that I could think of nothing but that I was going to be drowned; but after a while I quieted down, and then I remembered that I could swim. Many a swimming match had Jack and I had at the Cottage,--I should have said that I was a very good swimmer; but that was in still water, not in this terrible, cruel ocean. I made up my mind to throw myself off the ledge and strike out for the shore,--three times I thought I would, and each time shrank back and clung the closer to the rock. At last I had to admit to myself that I was _afraid!_ I, Betty Rose, who had always boasted that I was not afraid of anything, had to own to myself that I had not the courage to even attempt to struggle with those waves! My courage seemed all gone. I was afraid--_deadly_ afraid--of the waves; I screamed as each one struck me higher and higher, and I hid my face from the lightning. Oh, it was awful! _awful!_

By and by I began to think; I still felt the rain and waves, and shrunk from the lightning, but not as I had at first, for I was thinking thoughts that had never come to me before in all my life. I could see right before me the faces of papa, and my dear brothers and sisters,--oh, how I loved them! and I should never be with them again! How they would miss me! and yet how many, _many_ times had I been disagreeable, and commanding, and unkind! I loved them, but I had spoken sharply, and teased, and grumbled when I had had little services to do for them; now there would be no more opportunities. I wished that I had done differently!

Then my thoughts flew off to Mrs. Erveng,--how surly and disagreeable I had behaved to her! Not once had I offered her the slightest attention; instead, I had got out of her way at every chance. I had called this being very sincere, honest, above deceit; but it did not seem like that to me now. And there was Hilliard,--I had laughed at him, been rude to him, despised him for being a coward, I was _so_ sure of my own courage; and what was I _now?_ I was ashamed--_ashamed!_ Oh, how my heart ached!

Then I began saying my prayers. The water was up to my waist now; it came with such force that it swayed me from side to side, and beat me against the rock to which I still clung. My fingers were cramped by my tight grip; the next wave, or perhaps the next to that, would sweep me off--away--to death!

I prayed from my very heart, with all my strength and soul, and it seemed as if the other things--the waves, the storm, the terrible death--grew fainter; a feeling came to me that I was speaking right into God's ear--that He was very near to me.

Somewhere out of the roar and awfulness of the storm came a human voice,--a cry: "_Betty! Betty! hold on! hold on! I can save you--only hold on!_" And when I opened my eyes, there was a boat coming nearer and nearer, dancing on the top of the waves like a cockle shell, and in it was Hilliard!

"I can't--come--too--close," he shouted. "Jump--with--the--next--wave."

I understood; and with the next receding wave I leaped into the water,--a wild plunge, scarcely seeing where I was going.

But Hilliard's hands caught me and hauled me into the boat, where I sank down, and lay huddled up, confused, and trembling so that I couldn't speak. Hilliard threw something over me,--the rain was coming down in torrents,--and then he pulled with all his might for the shore.

Presently my senses began to come back; I knew what a terrible strain it must be to row in such a storm,--though fortunately the tide was with us,--and he had come out in it for me. I felt I ought to take my share of the work. "I--can--row. Let--me--take--an--oar," I said slowly, sitting up.

"Not an oar,--I need both," Hilliard answered decidedly; then he added persuasively, "Be a good girl, Betty, and just keep in the bottom of the boat."

I saw that he was rowing in his shirt sleeves,--his coat was over me,--and his hat was gone; the rain was pouring down on his bare head. His face was very pale and set,--stern looking,--and the veins in his forehead were standing out like cords as he strained every nerve at the oars.

"I'm going for one of the coves," he shouted to me presently, "where I can run her aground."

Again and again we were tossed back by the receding waves; but at last we shot into the cove, and I heard the keel grating on the rocky beach. In an instant Hilliard was overboard, and had pulled the boat up on the sand, out of reach of the highest wave. As he helped me on to the beach, I looked up in his white face, and such a sense of what he had endured for me rushed over me that I couldn't get the words out fast enough.

I threw my hands out and caught hold of his shoulders: "Oh, Hilliard Erveng, you _are_ a brave boy!" I cried out, choking up. "You are no coward; you are brave--_brave!_ and I have been a mean, contemptible, conceited, stuck-up girl." I think I shook him a little; I was in such earnest that I hardly knew what I was doing.

The rain had plastered Hilliard's hair flat to his head, and washed it into funny little points on his forehead, and there were raindrops pouring down his face; but his mouth was smiling, and his eyes were wide open and shining. He laid his hands over mine as they rested on his shoulders. "Thank God for to-day, Betty, _thank_ God!" he said, in a glad, excited way. "He has saved your life, and I am no longer a coward; I am no longer afraid--see!" As the lightning flashed over us he lifted his head and faced it, with lips that quivered a little, but also with unflinching eyes. "Doctor Emmons always said that I would be cured of my dread could I but face one thunder storm throughout," he added, still with that joyous ring in his voice. "And now I've done it! I've done it; I am _free!_"

"Oh! I am so _glad!_ so _very_ thankful!" I began, and then broke down and burst into a violent fit of crying.

I couldn't stop crying, though I _did_ try hard to control my tears; and my knees shook so that I could hardly walk. Hilliard almost carried me along until we met Jim the coachman and Mr. Erveng on the beach. Mr. Erveng had just got home, and heard that Hilliard and I were out in the storm. Then between them they got me to the house, where Mrs. Erveng and Alice and her mother were anxiously waiting for us.

How glad they were to see us! and how they all kissed and hugged me! Mrs. Erveng took me right into her arms.

Everybody began talking at once. I heard Alice say, "As soon as we missed you, and Dillon said she had seen you walking toward that part of the beach, Hilliard declared you were on the rock,--he seemed to guess it. And he was off for the boat like a flash,--he wouldn't even wait for Jim; he said every minute was precious--"

I lost the rest; a horrid rushing noise came in my ears, everything got black before me, and I fainted, for the very first time in my life.

* * * * *

It is now nearly a week since all this happened, and to-morrow I am going home--to the Cottage. I was so stiff and tired from the beating of the waves that Mrs. Erveng kept me in bed for several days, and telegraphed the family not to expect me until Thursday; otherwise neither Hilliard nor I have suffered from our drenching in that awful storm. Mrs. Endicott and Alice are going as far as New York with me, and there Phil will meet me and take me home.

I shall be _very_ glad to be with my own dear ones again,--it seems an age since I saw them; and I long to talk to Nannie, and tell her everything. Still, _now_, I'm not sorry that I came here. I think that I shall never forget my visit to Endicott Beach.

XIX.

HIS BROTHER'S KEEPER.

TOLD BY JACK.

Nora was playing a sweet, wild Hungarian melody on the piano, the boys were on the stoop talking to Chad,--every now and then the sound of their voices came in through the open windows,--and I sat under the drawing-room chandelier reading. Presently Chad came in, and, leaning on the piano, began talking to Nora in a low tone; and without stopping her music, she talked back, in the same tone of voice.

The story I was reading was A 1, and I'd got to a _very_ thrilling place, where the boy comes face to face with an infuriated tiger, when I heard something said outside that just took all the interest out of my book. Phil was speaking sharply,--I wondered Nora and Chad didn't hear him. "What's the _matter_ with you?" he flared out. "I declare, you're getting as fussy as an old cat! I won't stand the way you're watching me, and you've just got to drop it. I'm not a _baby_, to be tied to anybody's apron-strings! I'll go and come as I please."

I didn't hear what Fee said to this, but Phil's answer to it was quite loud: "Yes, I _am_ going,--to-night, and to-morrow night, and any other night I please. The _idea_ of a fellow of my age not being able to go out for a walk without asking your permission!"

"When you talk like that you are downright silly!" broke in Felix. I could tell by his voice he was trying hard to control his temper. "'Tisn't the going out that anybody objects to; it's the person you're going with. You know very well, Phil, that he isn't the sort of fellow to do you any good. I sized him up the very first time we saw him, and I still hold to my opinion,--he's a _b-a-d_ lot."

"_A-c-h!_ you make me tired!" exclaimed Phil,--that's a favourite expression of his when he's cornered,--and leaning in through the window, he called, "See here, Chad; any time to-night!"

"Yes, A'm coming," Chad called back, and bidding Nora good-night, he went out; a minute after I heard their steps as Phil and he ran down the stoop and passed by the drawing-room windows.

Laying my book down quietly and very quickly, I ran out on the stoop. Fee sat there with his elbows on his knees, and his chin resting on his clasped hands, staring at nothing. Dropping down beside him, I slipped my hand in his arm and squeezed it to me. "I heard Phil," I said. "I'm awfully sorry he _would_ go."

"Yes," Fee answered, but in a way that I knew he wasn't thinking of what he was saying.

We sat quiet for a little while, then Felix turned suddenly and laid his hand on my knee. "Jack," he said earnestly, "I've made up my mind about something that's been bothering me since last night. What I'm going to do may turn out right, it may turn out wrong,--God only knows; but it seems right to me, and I'm going to try it. I dread it, though,--just _dread_ it. If I hadn't promised--" He broke off abruptly, and turned his head away. I wanted to say something to him, but I couldn't think of a _thing_.

In a minute Felix began again. "Tell me honestly, Jack," he said, "do you think that Phil cares as much for me as he used to,--I mean before that fellow Chad came?"

"Why, Fee!" I exclaimed, "_of course_ he loves you just as well; I _know_ he does,--we all love you _dearly_!" Do you know, it just hurt me to have him think Phil could let a person like Chad come between them. Of course, as nurse says, we have our ups and downs; we get mad with one another sometimes, and all that, you know; but still we do love one another dearly, and we'd stand up for the different ones like everything, if need be. We've always been very proud of Fee,--he's so clever, you see; but since that night that I'm going to tell you about, I just think my brother Felix is the noblest, bravest, truest boy in the world! I've always loved Fee very dearly; but now,--well, now I have a feeling that I would be willing to give my life for him. Poor old Fee!

When I said that so positively about Phil's caring, I could see Fee was pleased; his face brightened up. "Well, perhaps he does," he said. "He's been very cranky lately, and sharp to me,--in fact to everybody; but I have a feeling that that's because he isn't really satisfied with the way he's acting. I tell you, Jack, Phil's a good fellow,"--Fee pounded his hand down on his knee as he spoke; "it isn't easy for him to do wrong. And he isn't up to Chad's tricks, or the set he's got him into. They've flattered Phil first, and that has turned his head; and then they've laughed at him for not doing the things they do, and that's nettled him,--until they've got him all their way. I know what they are,--I can see through their cunning; but Phil isn't so sharp. There are people in this world, Jack, so contemptible and wicked that they hate to have anybody better than they are themselves, and Chad and his crowd belong to that class. If I'd been able to go about with Phil as I used to, they'd _never_ have had the chance to get hold of him. And as it is, now that I've found out their game, I'm going to stop the whole business, and bring Phil to his senses. He's too fine a fellow for those rascals to spoil. I'll stop it--I'll stop it, no matter _what_ it costs me!"

Oh, how often I've thought of those words since that dreadful night! And yet, I have a feeling that even if he had known, he would have gone--I tell you, there isn't another boy in all the world like our Felix!

Fee's voice was shaking, and he got on his feet as if he were going to start that very minute; but before I could say anything he began again: "I've got a plan,--not a very good one, I must confess, but it's the best I can think of, and it may work; that is, if Phil has as much of the old feeling for me as you think, Jack: I'm building a good deal on that,--I hope I won't get left. He may turn obstinate,--you know he _can_ be a very donkey sometimes; and I suppose he'll get furiously mad. Well, I'll have to stand that,--if only he doesn't blaze out at me before those cads; _that_ would cut me _awfully_. But that I'll have to risk; he's worth it. Now, Jack, I want you to help me,--to go somewhere with me, I mean. I'm sorry to have to ask this, for it's no place for a youngster like you; but I think you're one of the kind that won't be hurt by such things, Rosebud,"--putting his hand on my arm,--"and I'm so unsteady on my feet that I am afraid I really couldn't get along alone. Get your hat--and my cane."

In a minute I had both, and we went down the stoop together. At the foot of the steps Fee stopped, and taking off his hat, began pushing his hair back off his forehead. I could see he was nervous. "Suppose this _shouldn't_ be the right thing that I'm going to do; suppose it should make matters worse," he said undecidedly, almost irritably. "Now, if Nannie were here--I haven't a creature to advise me!"

"_I_ think you're doing right, Fee," I began. I didn't remember until afterward that I really didn't know what his plan was; but I don't think he heard what I said, for he went on in a low tone, as if he were talking to himself: "Suppose he gets furiously angry, and pitches into me before those low fellows,--you never know what Phil's going to say when he gets mad,--and _will not_ come home with me, what'll I do _then_? It's a risk. And if this plan fails, I don't know what else to do. Had I better just let things drift along as they are until we get in the country, and then speak to him? I _dread_ a row before that crowd; they'd just set him up against me. And yet--a week more of nights to come home as he did last night, and the night before that--_ought_ I to let that go on? What would _she_ say to do?"

He stood with his head bent, thinking,--his hat and cane in one hand, and holding on to the stone newel-post with the other. And as we waited the gay strains of Nora's waltz came to us through the windows; since that night I just hate to hear her play that piece.

Presently Felix looked up at me with the faintest little smile. "I came pretty near asking you to write me down a coward, Jack," he said; "but I'm all right again. Now for your part of this affair: If Phil will come back with me, as I hope, you'll have to make your way home alone, without letting him know of your being there. Try and manage it. If he gets ugly, and will _not_ leave that crowd, why, then we--you and I--'ll have to travel back as we went. You must judge for yourself, Rosebud, whether to go, or to stay for me; I'll have enough to do, you know, to manage Phil. Apart from that, have as little to do in the matter as possible; ask no questions, speak to no one, and see and hear no more than you can help. All right?"

"Yes," I answered quickly, "and I only wish I could do more for you, Fee."

Felix put his hand on my shoulder for a rest, as he usually did when we walked together. "You've been a real comfort to me, Jack, since Nannie went away," he said. I tell you that meant _lots_ from him, and I knew it; I just put up my hand and squeezed Fee's fingers as they rested on my coat; then we started off.

On Fee's account we walked very slowly; but after a while we came to a house with a very low stoop,--just a step or two from the ground. There were handsome glass doors to the vestibule, and the rather small hall was brilliantly lighted up. I fancied that the man who opened the door looked at me as if he thought I had no business there; but Felix marched right by him and stepped into the elevator, and of course I followed.

"Mr. Whitcombe," said Fee; and then I knew that we were in the apartment house where Chad has his "bachelor quarters."

"Turn to your left," said the elevator man, as he let us out. We did so, and just as we got opposite the door with the big silver knob and old bronze knocker that Chad had told us he brought from Europe, it opened, and some one came out. Well, truly, he didn't look any older than fifteen,--two years older than I am, mind you,--but if he didn't have on a long-tailed evening coat, an awfully high stand-up collar, and a tall silk hat! You can't think what a queer figure he was,--like a caricature.

Before he could shut the door, Felix lifted his hat, and then put out his hand quickly. "Allow me," he said politely; and the next moment we were in Chad's hall, with his front door closed behind us.

At the other end of this hall was a room very brightly lighted; the portière was pushed almost entirely aside, and we could see some young fellows seated round a table. Nearly all had cigars or cigarettes in their mouths,--Phil, too; the room was just thick with smoke, and they were playing cards.

"Sit where they can't see you," Fee whispered to me; "and if you find Phil will go home with me, just slide out without letting him know of your being here. Oh, Jack, if I can _only_ succeed!" He gave my hand a little squeeze--though it was a warm evening, his fingers were cold--and then walked up the hall and stood in the doorway of Chad's room.

"Hullo! _you!_ Oh--aw--come in--aw--glad to see you! Take a chair," Chad said, in a tone of voice that told he was taken all aback; while Phil was so startled that he dropped his cigarette and called out roughly, "What the mischief are _you_ doing here?"

Of course they all looked at Felix; but he answered carelessly, "Oh, I thought I'd accept a long-standing invitation,"--with a little bow toward Chad,--"and drop in for a while."

"Oh, certainly, certainly--aw--glad to see you!" exclaimed Chad.

"Who's with you?" demanded Phil; but Fee didn't answer him: he just went forward and took the place that one of the fellows made between himself and Phil. And then Chad began introducing Felix to the others.

From where I sat on the hat-rack settle,--it was the most shielded place in the hall, and near the door,--I had a full view of the people sitting on one side of the table, and particularly of Felix and Phil, who were almost directly under the glare of the light. Fee's face was as white as marble, except a red spot on each cheek, and there was a delicate look about his eyes and temples, and round his mouth, that I hadn't noticed before. Somehow his fine, regular features and splendid, broad white forehead made me think of the head of the Young Augustus that the Unsworths have.

But Phil certainly didn't look like any marble statue; his face was very red and cross, and he was scowling until his eyebrows made a thick black line above his eyes. He was disagreeable, too,--rough and quarrelsome, something like that night when he came home so late, and hurt my feelings. When, in reply to an invitation from Chad, Felix said he would join the game, Phil sung out in a kind of ordering tone, "What's the sense of spoiling the fun for everybody? You know nothing about cards; why don't you look on?"

"Because I prefer playing," answered Fee, smiling; "it's the quickest and surest way of learning, I believe,"--with a glance round the company. "What are the stakes?"

He drew a handful of money from his pocket, and laid it before him on the table.

"Don't make an ass of yourself, Felix!" Phil exclaimed angrily, laying a hand right over the little pile of silver. "We're not fooling here; we're playing in dead earnest, and you will lose every cent of your money."

Some of the fellows snickered, and one called out sharply, "Look out what you're saying, Rose."

I saw the red spots on Fee's cheeks grow brighter. "I _am going_ to play," he said quietly, but looking Phil steadily in the eyes; "so please don't interfere."

"Evidently you've never learned that 'consistency is a jewel'!" Phil retorted with a sneer. I suppose he was thinking of what Fee had said that evening on the stoop.

But Felix only answered good-naturedly, "Oh, yes, I have; that used to be one of our copy-book axioms," and then they all began to play.

Well, Phil's face was a study,--it grew blacker and blacker as the game went on, and Fee kept losing; and he got very disagreeable,--trying to chaff Felix, almost as if he wanted to make him mad. But Fee just turned it off as pleasantly as he could. Those fellows made it ever so much harder, though; they got off the _silliest_ speeches, and then roared with laughter over them, as if they were jokes. And, in a sly kind of way, they egged Phil on to quarrel with Fee,--laughing at all his speeches, and pretending that they thought Phil was afraid of Felix. And Chad joined in, I could hear his affected laugh and drawl above all the others; I felt how that must cut Fee!

There were some decanters and glasses on a side table, and every now and then Chad urged his friends to drink, and he would get up and wait on them. Felix refused every time, and Phil did too at first, until those common fellows began to twit him about it,--as much as saying that he was afraid to take anything 'cause Fee would "go home and tell on him." What did Phil do then--the silly fellow! 'twas just what they wanted--but snatch up a glass and swallow down a lot of that vile stuff! Well, I was so _mad_ with Phil! I'd have liked to go right in and punch him. Felix never said a word ('twouldn't have done the least good,--Phil can be like a mule sometimes); he just sat there with his lips pressed tight together, looking down at the cards he held in his hands.

After that Phil's face got awfully red, and how his tongue did run! Real ugly things he said, too, and perfectly regardless who he said them to. And those fellows got _very_ boisterous, and began again trying to tease our boys. I was _so_ afraid there'd be a row; and there surely would have been, if Felix hadn't just worked as he did to prevent it. I tell you now, it was awfully hard to sit out there in that hall and hear those fellows carrying on against my brothers,--you see I was so near I couldn't help it, I just _had_ to hear everything,--and not be able to take their part.

Fee kept getting whiter and whiter, the spots on his cheeks redder and redder; and by and by such a tired look came in his face that I got real worked up. I felt as if I _must_ go in and just pitch right into those fellows. Almost before I knew it, I'd got up and gone a step or two in the hall, when suddenly Phil dashed his cards down on the table, and got on his feet. "I'm going home!" he declared. "Are you coming?" turning to Felix.

"You sha'n't go!" "Oh, _don't_ go!" "You've _got_ to finish the game," several called out. But Phil just repeated doggedly, "I'm going home! Are you coming or not, Felix?"

This was just what Fee wanted,--I knew how glad and thankful he must feel. But all he said was, "Yes, I'll go with you, if our host will excuse us," rising as he spoke and nodding his head toward Chad.

Those unmannerly things burst out laughing, as if this were a great joke; and with a smothered exclamation, Phil started for the door, knocking over a chair as he went.

Well, if you had seen me scoot down that hall and out of the door! I simply _flew_, and barely got round the corner in the shadow, when Phil and Felix came along. Phil looked like a thundercloud, and instead of leaning on his arm, Fee just had hold of a piece of Phil's sleeve. They marched along in dead silence, and got into the elevator.

I hung around a little, until I was sure they were out of the way, then I went down; the elevator man looked harder than ever at me,--I suppose he wondered why I hadn't gone with Fee,--but I pretended I didn't notice.

I'd never been out very late alone before, and at first it seemed queer; but I hurried, so that I soon forgot all about that. You see I wanted to get home before the boys did, and yet I had to look out that I didn't run across them.

I hadn't thought of the time at Chad's; but we must have been there a good while, for when I got to the house the drawing-room windows were closed, and so was the front door. I don't know what I'd have done if cook hadn't come to close the basement door just as I got to our stoop, and I slipped in that way. "Master _Jack_!" she cried out, holding up her hands in horror; "a little b'y like you out late's this! What'd your pa say to such doin's, an' Miss Marston? An' there's Miss Nora gone to bed, thinkin' it's safe an' aslape ye are."

"Oh, hush, cook! it's _all_ right. Don't say anything; please don't," I said softly; then I let her go upstairs ahead of me.

The drawing-room was all dark, and the light in the hall was turned down low. The house was very quiet,--everybody had gone to bed; and after thinking it over, I made up my mind I'd wait downstairs and let the boys in before they could ring,--I forgot that Phil had taken possession of papa's latch-key, and was using it. I sat on the steps listening, and what d'you think? I must have fallen asleep, for the first thing I knew there were Phil and Felix in the hall, and Phil was closing the front door. "Oh, I see,--as usual, our gentle Rosebud's to the front," exclaimed Phil, still keeping his hand on the knob of the door; "all right, then he can help you upstairs," and he turned as if to go out.

"What!" Fee cried out in a sharp, startled voice, "you are _never_ going back to that crowd!"

"That's just what I _am_ going to do," answered Phil; his voice sounded thick and gruff. "Shall I give your love?"

Felix caught him by the arm. "_Don't_ go, Phil," he pleaded; "_don't_ go back to-night, _please_ don't. We've had enough of them for one evening. Come, let's go upstairs. Won't you? I have a good reason for what I'm asking, and I'll explain to-morrow."

Phil came a step or two forward, shaking Fee's hand off. "Look here!" he said sharply, "this thing might's well be settled right here, and once for all. I'm a man, not a child, I'll have you to understand, and I'm not going to be controlled by you. Just remember that, and don't try any more of your little games on me, as you have to-night, for I _will not_ stand 'em! The idea of your coming up there among those fellows and making such an ass of yourself--"

"The asinine part of this evening's performance belongs to you and your friends, not to me," broke in Felix, hotly,--Phil's tone was _so_ insolent. "And there are a few things that _you_ might as well understand, too," he went on more calmly. "If you continue to go to Chad's, I shall go, too; if you make those fellows your boon companions, they shall be mine as well; if you continue to drink and gamble, as you've been doing lately, and to-night, I will drink and gamble, too. I mean every word I am saying, Phil. It may go against the grain at first to associate with such cads as Chad and his crowd; but perhaps that'll wear away in time, and I may come to enjoy what I now abhor. As these low pleasures have fascinated you, so they may fascinate me."

"If you _ever_ put your foot in Chad Whitcombe's house again, I'll make him turn you out," cried Phil, in a rage, shaking his finger at Felix. "Why, you donkey! less than three months of that sort of life'd use you up completely. I'll fix you, if you ever undertake to try it; I'll go straight to the _pater_,--I swear I will."

"No need to do that, old fellow," Fee said, in _such_ a loving voice! "Just drop that set you've got into, and be your own upright, honourable self again, and you shall never hear another word of such talk out of me. But," he added earnestly, "I _cannot_, I will not stand seeing you, my brother, my chum, our mother's son"--Fee's voice shook--"going all wrong, without lifting a finger to save you. Why, Phil, I'd give my very life, if need be, to keep you from becoming a drunkard and a gambler. _Don't_ go back to those fellows to-night, dear old boy; for--for _her_ sake, _don't_ go!" Felix was pleading with his whole heart in his voice, looking eagerly, entreatingly up at Phil, and holding out his hands to him.

My throat was just filling up as Fee spoke,--I could almost have cried; and I'm sure Phil was touched, too, but he tried not to let us see it. He sort of scuffled his feet on the marble tiling of the hall, and cleared his throat in the most indifferent way, looking up at the gas fixture. "Perhaps I will drop them by and by," he said carelessly, "but I can't just yet,--in fact, I don't want to just yet; I have a reason. And that reminds me--I _must_ go back to-night. Now don't get _silly_ over me, Felix; there's no danger whatever of my becoming a drunkard or a gambler,--nice opinion of me you must have!--and I'm quite equal to taking care of myself. As I've told you several times before, I'm a man now, not a child, and I will _not_ have you or anybody running round after me. Just remember that!" As he spoke, he turned deliberately to go out.