Bobs, a Girl Detective Part 17

"If I tell Bobs that I care for her, it might queer the whole thing," was one thought suggested to him as he rode home alone one night through the quiet park. Another thought was more encouraging. It suggested, "But a girl's pride won't let her show that she cares. There is only one way to find out, and that is to ask." And still another a.s.sured him, "There is every reason why Roberta Vandergrift should be pleased. You, Ralph, have wealth and position, and can restore to her all that she has lost."

"Lots you know about Bobs," the lad blurted out as though someone really had spoken to him. "My opinion is that Roberta isn't really grown up enough as yet to think of love. She considers her boy friends more as brothers, and that's what they ought to be, first and foremost. I'll bide my time, but if I do lose Bobs, it will be like losing Desmond all over again."

Meanwhile, although no progress had been made in solving the mystery, much progress was being made in other directions.

Gloria, with Bobs and Ralph, had attended a Sunday afternoon meeting of the Boy's Club and Mr. Hardinian had walked home with them and had remained for tea. He was very glad to have an opportunity to talk with a young woman whose interest in welfare work paralleled his own, especially as he had one rather wayward boy whom he believed needed mothering more than all else.

Gloria's heart indeed was touched when she heard the sad story that the young man had to tell, and she gladly offered to do what she could.

She invited the wayward boy to one of her game evenings at the Settlement House, and in teaching him to play honestly she not only won his ardent devotion but also saved him from being sent to the island reformatory for petty thievery.

After that Mr. Hardinian frequently called upon Gloria when he needed advice or help.

The little old book shop, during the eventful two weeks, had started, or so it would seem, on a very successful business career.

Because of the little memorandum that she had made in her note book on the day that Nell Wiggin had first telephoned to her, Mrs. Doran-Ashley did tell the ladies who attended the next model tenement board meeting about the shop, and asked them to visit it, which they did, being sincerely interested in all that pertained to their venture. And not only did they buy books, but they left others to be sold on commission. One glance at the fine face of the lad who was bookseller made them realize that, crippled as he might be, he would not accept charity.

"How's business this hot day?" Bobs asked early one morning, as she poked her head in at the door. She was on her way down to the Fourth Avenue Branch of the Burns Detective Agency, where she went every day to do a few hours' secretarial work for Mr. Jewett.

"We had a splendid trade yesterday," the lad replied, as he looked up from the old book of poetry which he was reading. And yet, since he held a pencil, Bobs concluded that he was also writing verse as the inspiration came.

"How so?" she inquired.

"The shop had a visit from no less a personage than Mr. Van Loon, the millionaire book collector, of whom you told me. He bought several volumes that I hadn't supposed were worth a farthing, and what he paid for them will more than cover our expenses up to date. I wonder how he happened to know about this out-of-the-way shop?"

"Oh, I guess he goes nosing around after old books, sort of ferrets them out, like as not. Well, so long! I'm mighty glad our shop is financially on its feet."

As Bobs went on her way down the crowded First Avenue she smiled to herself, for it was she who had sent Mr. Van Loon a business-like letter announcing the opening of an old book shop, feeling sure that he would not miss an opportunity of seeing it if it held something that he might desire.

Fifteen minutes after her departure, Dean again heard the door open, and this time a dear little boy of three darted in and hid beneath a book-covered counter, peering out to whisper delightedly, "I'se hidin'!

Miss May, her's arter me."

Almost immediately the pursuer, who was Lena May Vandergrift, appeared in the doorway. The young bookseller was on his feet at once and there was a sudden light in the dreamy brown eyes that told its own story.

"Good morning, Dean," the girl said. "Have you seen Antony Wilovich? I told him to wait out in front for me so that he could escort me to the Settlement House this morning."

Dean smiled knowingly and replied, which was his part of the game: "Well, well, has that little scamp run away again somewhere, and hidden? I guess he doesn't love his Miss May or he wouldn't do that."

This always proved too much for the little fellow in hiding, and from under the counter he would dart, his arms extended. Then the girl, stopping, would catch him in a loving embrace. "I do so love Miss May,"

the child would protest. "I loves her next most to my muvver over dere."

A chubby finger would point, or the golden head would nod, in the direction of the rickety tumble-down tenement across the way, the very one which Miss Selenski, the former agent of the model tenement, had called a "fire trap."

This little game of hide-and-seek took place every morning, for Lena May had promised the "muvver over dere," who was slowly dying of consumption, that she would call for Tony, take him to the Settlement sandpile and return him safely at noon.

If this was a merry moment each day for little Tony, it was to Dean Wiggin much more. The sweet, sympathetic girl, in her pretty muslin dress and flower-wreathed hat, suggested to the lad from the country all that he most loved, the fragrance of blossoms, the song of birds, and the peace of the meadow-pool at noon time. When she was gone, with a friendly backward nod at the crippled bookseller, he would always read poetry or try to write one that would express what Lena May was to him, to little Tony, or to the invalid mother who trusted her with her one treasure.

And so that two weeks had raised the curtain upon three dreams, but one of them was to become a tragedy.

CHAPTER XXV.

A SUDDEN DEPARTURE

Time--A week later.

"h.e.l.lo, Bobs, is that you?" But it was Lena May who had answered an imperative ring at the telephone, and so she replied, "Oh, good morning, Mr. Caldwaller-Cory. No, I am not Roberta. I will call her."

A moment later Ralph knew that he was talking to the girl whom he loved.

"I say, Bobety," he exclaimed, "will you go for a drive with me right away this minute? Please say 'yes' (for she had hesitated), I have something of great importance to tell you."

"Honestly, I can't, Ralph," was the earnest reply. "I am going to give Lena May a holiday. She and Dean Wiggin are going to take little Tony Wilovich to Bronx Park and spend the day. The little fellow is wild to see the monkeys and Lena May needs a day among the trees."

Her youngest sister was at her elbow whispering, "We can go some other time, dear, if there's something that you want to do."

But Roberta shook her head. There was a brief silence at the other end of the line, then the lad spoke again. "I say, Bobs, how are they going? On the L! That's what I thought. Suppose I get Dad's big car. We can take them out to the park and then on the way back you and I can have the visit I want. In fact I've _got_ to see you, Bobs. It's terribly important to me. I'm all cut up about something that has happened and----"

Roberta knew by her friend's voice that something had occurred to trouble him greatly, and so she said: "Wait a moment, Ralph. I will talk it over with my sister."

Lena May thought the plan a good one and Ralph was told to be at the Pensinger mansion in one-half hour with the car and they would all be ready and waiting for him.

Lena May then departed to the rickety tenement to get the wee lad.

"Oh, Mrs. Wilovich," the girl said, as she looked about the small, hot room. "How I do wish that you would go with us today. Don't you feel strong enough?"

"No, dearie, thanks though. The coughin' spell was harder'n usual this mornin'. 'Twas all as I could do to get Tony's breakfast. I'll be that happy knowin' as the little fellow's seein' the monkeys his heart's been set on ever since the picture posters was up on the fences."

Five minutes later the girl and the little boy were joined by the young bookseller on Seventy-eighth Street.

"Dean," Lena May said sadly, "I don't believe that Mrs. Wilovich will be with us one month from today."

"Nor do I," the lad replied; then he added, as he looked at the curly-headed three-year-old, who had darted ahead but who looked back, laughing at them, "What will become of Tony?"

"I'm going to keep him, somehow. Gloria has given her permission. I wanted to be sure that Sister thought my plan wise that I might know just what to say to the little mother when she speaks of it to me, as she will in time."

No wonder was it that the lad's unspoken love for the girl took unto itself the qualities of adoration. "She is too sweet and too good to be loved by a useless man such as I am," he thought, and how he wished that his muscle-bound arm might be freed that he could work and fight the world for this angel of a girl. A surgeon had once told him that there was really nothing wrong with his arm. It had grown with the pa.s.sing years, but was stiffened from long disuse.

Tony was wildly excited when he saw the big green car in which he was to ride for the first time in his short life, and he entertained them all with his chatter.

Roberta, sitting on the front seat with her friend, glanced often at his face and realized that, although he, too, joined in the laughter evoked by the baby's prattle, his thoughts were of a very serious nature, and she wondered what she was to hear when they two were alone.

She little dreamed that Ralph was to say something that would greatly affect her.

Dean, carrying the basket which was well filled with picnic refreshments, and Lena May leading the s.h.i.+ning eyed three-year-old, waved back at the big car as they entered the side gate of the woodsy Bronx Park.

Bobs smiled as the baby voice wafted to them, "Ohee, see funny cow!"