“Who?” said Larry. Then glancing at his face, he added, “Yes, Scuddy, I am taking Helen home. She is apparently in a great hurry.” “She need not 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, Helen,” said Larry, touched by the tones of her voice and the look in her eyes. “We have been good friends. We shall never be anything else. With my heart I wish you--oh, just everything that is good, Helen dear. Good-bye,” he said, leaning toward her. “How lovely you are!” he murmured. “Good-bye, dear Larry,” she whispered, lifting up her face. “Good-bye, you dear girl,” he said, and kissed her.