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+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 77384 ***
+
+
+
+
+
+
+[Frontispiece: A scene from the Radio Picture, "The Vagabond Lover,"
+starring RUDY VALLEE.]
+
+
+
+  THE
+  VAGABOND LOVER
+
+
+  Novelized by
+  CHARLESON GRAY
+
+  _from the Scenario_
+  _by_
+  JAMES A. CREELMAN
+
+
+
+  _Illustrated with scenes_
+  _from the_
+  RADIO PICTURE
+  _starring_
+  RUDY VALLEE
+
+
+
+  A. L. BURT COMPANY
+  Publishers New York
+
+  Printed in the U. S. A.
+
+
+
+
+  Copyright, 1929
+  By A. L. BURT COMPANY
+
+  THE VAGABOND LOVER
+
+
+
+
+  CONTENTS
+
+  CHAPTER
+
+  I  The Unrewarded Quest
+  II  Roadhouse
+  III  Bravado
+  IV  Revelry
+  V  Conflict
+  VI  Celebration
+  VII  Homegoing
+  VIII  The Old Home Town
+  IX  Flight
+  X  Engagement
+  XI  A Decision
+  XII  Portrait of a Celebrity
+  XIII  False Colors
+  XIV  A Personal Appearance
+  XV  The Wings of Song
+  XVI  Delay
+  XVII  Escape
+  XVIII  For The Benefit of All Concerned
+  XIX  Dénouement
+
+
+
+
+THE VAGABOND LOVER
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+THE UNREWARDED QUEST
+
+A failure!
+
+Rudy Bronson sat looking down at the puncture pattern on the tips of
+his shoes, his mouth twisted in a grim, unhappy line.  He was a slim,
+apparently sensitive boy, with a crest of waving blond hair and eyes
+in which the spirit of the dreamer was fused with that of the
+romantic.  With the late afternoon sun profiling his head and
+shoulders, casting a nimbus of warm light about his tousled hair and
+lighting up the clean lines of his features, a stranger might have
+found difficulty in understanding the phrase that came so harshly
+from his tense lips: "A failure!"
+
+And what else was he?  A whole year here at the State University,
+enjoying its every detail in his own quiet way, and then what?  He
+kicked at a crumpled slip of paper on the worn carpet of the
+dormitory floor.  He knew every brief line of its message, its
+succinct and banishing message: _The Registrar wishes to inform you
+that, due to an insufficiency of passing grades, it will not be
+permissible for you to register in the University for the fall
+semester._
+
+Flunked out!  Like a dumb athlete.  And for what?  His eyes traveled
+mechanically across the room to where a tarnished and battered
+saxophone rested on a small table.  Just because he had spent so much
+time practicing in an effort to make the school band that his studies
+naturally had suffered.
+
+Nor was that all.  The bandmaster had listened sourly to his try-out,
+and then dismissed him with the curt information that his playing was
+"just a little worse than rotten."  He closed his eyes, as if seeking
+by the physical gesture to shut out a mental image which but stood
+clearer in the darkness.
+
+It all returned with a rush.  The full muster of the University's
+musically inclined had met on the bare stage of the auditorium.
+Brasses, woodwinds, string instruments, drums--each had been called
+in turn.  Detained by a late class, Rudy had appeared at the end of
+the rehearsal, and been forced to make his attempt under the critical
+eyes of the other aspirants.
+
+But despite them, relieved that their own trials were over and ready
+to laugh at the first false note, he had taken his place and started
+on his best piece...  His hands clenched at the memory of the ensuing
+fiasco.  Of course something had been wrong with his instrument.  But
+no one was prepared for explanations or excuses.  Their laughter had
+drowned him out before he had played two cracked bars, and the
+director had waved him down with the same condescending manner he
+might have used toward a half-wit.
+
+It had all been terrible and humiliating past the understanding of
+one not so sensitive as Rudy Bronson.  Yet it was but the next to the
+last failure of a collegiate career filled with failures.  He kicked
+again at the paper on the floor.  There was the last failure.
+
+How different it all had turned out from his great expectations!
+Back home, with all the longing for distant places encouraged by life
+in a small town, he had looked forward to the State University as the
+end of the rainbow, a sort of dwelling place of dreams come true.  He
+knew that his father had embarrassed himself financially in order to
+get him even this one year of higher schooling--and he had repaid the
+old gentleman by failing at everything he had attempted.
+
+Too slender for football, not fast enough for baseball or basketball,
+he had been dropped from the freshman squads of those sports within a
+week of their inception.  Distressed by his lack of athletic prowess,
+his natural shyness had deepened, and he had been overlooked in the
+rush for fraternity material.  And with that failure to be pledged
+(he had felt) had departed his best chance of meeting Jean Whitehall.
+
+As always, his heart quavered at the mere thought of her name.  Jean
+Whitehall, the acknowledged queen of the campus, whose casual passing
+was enough to fill an unnoticed freshman's whole day with sunlight!
+How he had thought of her, dreamed of her, hoped to meet her!  Now in
+his hour of defeat he honestly acknowledged to himself that his
+attempts to make the freshman teams had been prompted more by the
+desire to bring himself to Jean's notice than to win athletic glory.
+
+The same wish had encouraged him to try and win recognition in the
+musical circles of the school.  Seeing that he was not destined for a
+sporting career, he had turned a natural inclination toward music
+into a devout study of the instrument that might win him a welcome on
+Sorority Row--the saxophone.
+
+Everyone knew that a good saxophonist was always in demand at the
+University dances.  And if he couldn't be invited as a guest to
+Jean's exclusive organization--well, he might appear in the humble
+but willing role of musician.  Being near her, having the chance to
+rest his eyes on her youthful loveliness was all he asked...  And he
+had been denied even that.
+
+"Just a little worse than rotten," the band-master had said--and put
+the mark of disapproval on his last, and therefore most desperately
+hoped for, attempt to bring himself above the level of the school's
+colorless and characterless nonentities.  He had failed.  Failed!
+
+A brisk rap on the door punctuated his mental tirade.  He looked up
+in surprise.  He had few callers, and these ordinarily failed to
+knock.  "Come in," he called.
+
+The door opened immediately, and around it peered a fresh, roguish
+face decorated by an enormous pair of horn-rimmed glasses.  For a
+moment Rudy had difficulty in recognizing Sport O'Malley.  "Ah,
+there," greeted the newcomer.  "Saw you sitting in the window and
+thought I would run up to ask how the saxophone lessons were
+progressing?"
+
+Rudy smiled.  He was fond of Sport O'Malley.  The careless laughing
+youth was his one contact with the gayer side of the University; and
+though Rudy did not now see as much of him as he had when they had
+been together in high school back home, he nevertheless considered
+Sport to be his best friend in the institution.
+
+"Not so good, Sport.  The course calls for twenty lessons, and I've
+only got to the seventh.  I was only on the fourth when I had my
+try-out for the school band.  That's why I didn't do better.  Why, I
+bet even Ted Grant couldn't have gotten by with only three lessons!"
+
+"Probably not.  But don't forget that musicians are born and not
+made.  There's the chance that Ted Grant didn't take a lesson in his
+life.  You've got to have something besides practice to become the
+greatest saxophonist in the world."
+
+"I'll say you do," Rudy admitted.  He said the words readily enough,
+but his tone was spiritless and disheartened.  Sport was quick to
+change his manner.
+
+"Don't take it that way!  Gee, we can't all be Ted Grants--or else
+look how many orchestras would be cutting each other's throats!  And
+look how many of us hopefuls would be blowing fish-horns instead of
+brasses."
+
+"Oh, I don't mean to seem down, Sport.  But it's tough.  I put every
+possible hour into studying that sax, trying to get a break, trying
+to win a place on the band with the rest of you fellows--and all I
+got was the razzberry."
+
+"That wasn't given you by the regulars," Sport was quick to say.  "It
+was just those mutts who think that if they give the other guy the
+bird, they'll have a better chance themselves."
+
+"It's all right," Rudy said wearily.  "Whoever it was, I deserved it.
+I was rotten.  I missed my chance.  And now look."  He pointed at the
+offending notice on the floor.
+
+Sport whistled.  It was apparent that from both experience and the
+color of the paper, he knew the significance of that communication.
+"Flunk?"
+
+Rudy nodded.  "Flat!  No make-ups.  No chance to register next year.
+No nothing!"
+
+"Wam--that's tough!  But I won't feel too sorry for you just yet a
+while.  I haven't been over to my own diggings yet.  I forgot that
+those little pals were coming out to-day.  And there'll probably be
+one there to make me wish I'd not been reminded."
+
+"Well, if there is," Rudy laughed, "we can hold each others heads on
+the train going home.  What are you doing this summer, Sport?"
+
+"Going to try and get up an orchestra and play at some of the hotels.
+You know, travel around like a special attraction.  Those fellows
+with the puppet show from Yale have been cleaning up for several
+summers.  People fall for that 'college' line in your billing.  I
+think a hot band ought to go good."
+
+"It should," Rudy agreed enthusiastically.  "And if you should want a
+good saxophonist, you needn't look any farther than here."
+
+Sport looked away, uncomfortable before the other's eagerness.  "Gee,
+Rudy; you put me in sort of a tough spot.  I know you're practicing
+hard on your instrument, and all--but you've only got to the seventh
+lesson, and I don't imagine that Ted Grant himself was much of a
+saxophonist at his seventh lesson."
+
+"But you forget--great musicians are born, not made."  Rudy laughed
+to cover the discomfort which they both felt; but he was stung by the
+abrupt dismissal of his offer to help.  Was it going to be that way
+all his life--no chance to prove that he really had the stuff, just
+simply ticketed as incompetent and given no consideration at all?
+Why was it?  Why was it?
+
+He crossed the room, holding his head slightly averted so that Sport
+could not see his face.  But Sport, with the keen perception granted
+to warm-hearted people, saw that he had hurt the shy, reserved boy
+whom he had known for years without really knowing him at all.  He
+instantly sought some means of assuaging Rudy's injured pride.
+
+"But why worry about all that?  It isn't time to start fretting over
+summer jobs just yet a while--what concerns us just now are these
+failure slips.  I think they deserve a party.  And by the great god
+Whoopee, that's what they're going to have.  A party in honor of the
+fact that the quietest boy in the whole University got shipped!
+That's a record that ought to stand for lo! these many years."
+
+"What kind of a party?" Rudy asked.  "Do you mean here, or up at your
+place?"
+
+"Neither!" Sport cried.  "We'll get the gang and go out to The Magic
+Lantern."
+
+"The Magic Lantern!"  How often Rudy had heard this rendezvous of the
+campus' more ardent spirits mentioned in jocular tones.  Sport looked
+at him curiously.  "Never been out there, Rudy?"  He paused, smiling.
+"Say, I guess you haven't had a very good time here, all in all.
+Well, this is going to be one time that you'll have a good time!"
+
+"That's mighty nice of you, Sport.  No, I haven't had a particularly
+good time, socially.  I've--been so busy with other things.  Trying
+to make the teams, and practising on Ted Grant's correspondence
+course for the saxophone----"
+
+"And you've gone to no dances?  Parties?  Had no heavy dates with the
+campus hot numbers?"  As Rudy shook his head, Sport whistled shrilly.
+"My hat!  You are a strange one, Rudy.  But that's enough of that!
+I'll fix you up a party that they'll remember as long as one of the
+old school's stones stands upon another."
+
+"How," said Rudy thoughtfully, "about girls?  I'm not very well
+acquainted down on Sorority Row."
+
+"Easily fixed," Sport assured him expansively.  "The girls will all
+be crazy to come to _this_ affair.  Is there any baby that you'd like
+particularly?  Just name her and she's yours!"
+
+"I'd like Jean Whitehall," Rudy told him quietly.
+
+Sport's jaw dropped.  "I said you were strange," he gasped.  "Boy,
+you're nuts!  Why, she's the classiest number on the campus.  She
+only goes out with varsity captains, when she isn't with the student
+body president or the manager of the welfare board!"
+
+Rudy shrugged.  "You asked me who I wanted," Rudy answered, "and I
+told you.  And if you can't fix it, nobody else will do.  I accept no
+substitutes."
+
+"What a man!" Sport breathed.  "Here I had you tagged as aching to
+step out with the janes--and you calmly tell me that if you can't
+have the best looker in the University for a partner, you won't have
+any.  Why, Rudy," he added, "much as I hate to admit that being a
+sophomore keeps me from anything in this noble institution, I've got
+to break down and confess that the high and mighty Miss Jean
+Whitehall, girl-friend of our more ritzy seniors, doesn't even know
+I'm on earth."
+
+"Then," said Rudy decisively, "our party will be a stag."
+
+Sport touched him lightly on the arm.  "You're too subtle for a
+roughneck like me, Rudy Bronson.  But you're there.  And I like you;
+damn it, I like you!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+ROADHOUSE
+
+There is a Magic Lantern near every American coeducational
+university.  Sometimes its placard reads _Paradise Pavilion_,
+sometimes _The Royal Palms_, or _The Moonlight Gardens_.  But usually
+the wording is _The Magic Lantern_.  Dancing.  Refreshments.
+
+Even though there chances to be some slight variation in this legend,
+the place itself is unvaryingly the same.  A plain, barn-like
+structure on the outskirts of town.  A "hot" orchestra, a good dance
+floor, a number of tables, and a great many small booths.  The menu
+is composed almost exclusively of startling combinations of the
+sandwich theme, and the rather dingy waiters seem to take for granted
+that you will want ginger ale--as a beverage, or a vehicle.
+
+But herein the policy of this particular Magic Lantern differed from
+its fellows to so marked a degree that it might have been named
+something like _The Coffee Pot_.  It was generally insisted that the
+ginger ale which its waiters dispensed was supposed to be for
+thirst-quenching purposes only.  The menu bore a line: "Kindly do not
+embarrass the management by bringing intoxicating liquors to this
+establishment," and the floor-man had instructions to whisper
+politely but firmly in the ear of any young man who appeared to have
+enlargement of the hip.  Thus was kept a tolerant attitude on the
+part of the University officials.
+
+The "no drinking" edict was, of course, rather a startling position
+for a roadhouse to assume--especially a collegiate roadhouse.  It
+seemed impossible that business could continue in the face of such
+strictness.  But business did.  The proprietor, asked for a reason,
+would point to the excellent sandwiches, the superlative floor, and
+the fact that his orchestra leader had come to his establishment by
+way of Paul Whiteman with stops for tutelage under Vincent Lopez and
+Roger Wolfe Kahn.  Sport O'Malley, however, would have given a
+different answer.
+
+Boys like Sport--whoopee-makers, the careless, riotous playboys of
+the university playgrounds--aside from knowing all the newest,
+smartest chatter and the freshest dance steps, customarily also know
+where liquor may be obtained.  And Sport O'Malley knew that despite
+the advertised status of The Magic Lantern toward electrifying
+beverages, those beverages were to be had by anyone who had three
+dollars for a fifth of gin, or seven for a quart of whisky.
+
+The proprietor of The Magic Lantern had seen them come--and go--these
+Sport O'Malleys.  Each semester, sooner or later, every type of the
+whole collegiate world drifted into his place--looking for fun or for
+trouble, in curiosity or boredom, or merely in search of
+companionship.  He liked them all from the grinds to the rowdies, and
+some he even respected.  Others he did not.  Others--like Rudy
+Bronson's friend.
+
+Sport O'Malley knew of his rating with old Bland, and, oddly enough,
+it worried him.  Oddly, because it is a self-evident fact that the
+Sport O'Malleys of American universities do not worry about
+anything--much less the esteem of roadhouse proprietors.  Their one
+anxiety traditionally is maintained for those forbidding men, the
+deans; their only fear that they will fail to continue to escape
+official notice.
+
+Of course they are well-known to everyone else on the campus, both
+for their personalities and their aims--which are modest,
+concentrated, and founded on logic.  Their ambition solely is to have
+fun for a few of their best years, and they pursue that desire with
+the caution of a good cause.  Wisely, theirs is never an active part
+among the noisy, conspicuous projects of the college; for, prefacing
+a distaste for labor, is the knowledge that the life of an "active"
+man is only one or two years.  An attempt to tarry longer in the
+spotlight invariably leads to the discovery of clay feet--whereas
+there is no limit save that of inclination on the time a playboy may
+spend in school.
+
+In fact, such is the usual Sport O'Malley's aptitude for glittering
+the social life of the institution, his stay is encouraged.  No foes
+are bred among office-seekers to complain about the length of his
+record; no attention is focused by having rival coaches wail "That
+guy just _can't_ be eligible again this year!"  He avoids the dating
+evidence of program committees, centers his escapades far enough from
+the campus to escape unwanted official attention, and semester after
+semester glides gaily along.
+
+Old Bland had seen them come and go, these Sport O'Malleys.
+Consequently, knowing both the attraction and the dangers of the type
+for impressionable young women, he was careful that his daughter
+should have as little to do with them as possible.
+
+Molly Bland was that most delectable of creatures, a cute blonde.
+She had an impertinent small nose always quivering just a little
+because of the merriment which seemed always to be bubbling within
+her, and an impertinent small mouth always parted just a little as if
+in an instant she expected to receive a most delightful kiss.  Sport
+O'Malley truthfully thought her one of the most engaging members of
+the opposing sex that he ever had encountered; and watching her in
+her role of hostess to the customers of The Magic Lantern, he now was
+plunged more deeply than ever in a conviction of injustice concerning
+the elder Bland's forbidding attitude.
+
+Wasn't it fierce?  Here was the old man always insinuating that he,
+Sport O'Malley, could balance a chair on his chin and walk under a
+worm, while all the while the proprietor was pouring his cheap, cut
+alcohol into the undergraduates of a university which had not banned
+his place only because it was supposed to be straight.  Most of the
+fellows knew that all you had to do was drop a hint to one of the
+waiters, and after a bit a bottle would be slid into your lap!  As a
+consequence of these ruminations, the opinion of customer for owner
+was even less than that of owner for customer.  Old Bland thought
+Sport O'Malley worthless; but Sport thought of Molly's father as a
+two-faced crook.
+
+"It gets me!" he burst out to Rudy.  "In fact it gets me down!"
+
+"What does?" Rudy inquired.  He was looking about the long, table
+strewn room, drinking in his first contact with that stimulating
+atmosphere peculiarly associated with night resorts.  "It all looks
+pretty swell to me."
+
+"I'm talking about old Bland, who owns this place.  I've got a crush
+on his daughter--see her over there?  The little blonde?  What a
+grand kid she is!  I love her, Rudy, but her old man won't let me
+come near her.  Treats me as if I were a leper or something."
+
+"She's a very pretty girl," Rudy admitted.  "What does he seem to
+object to about you--in particular, I mean?"
+
+Sport grinned.  "Oh, just the fact that I don't take life as
+seriously as--well, you do.  He'd love you, Rudy.  You're just the
+kind of young man that older people trust.  Why wasn't I born with an
+appealing pan?"
+
+"It hasn't seemed to bother you much so far," Rudy reminded him.
+
+"Not in some places.  But with fathers, for instance, it isn't so
+good.  They trust eggs like you, who look honest and sincere and all
+that sort of thing."  Suddenly his eyes lighted.  "Say, I've a grand
+idea!  I'll introduce you as my brother from home.  He'll take a look
+at you--and then maybe he'll think that there's some good in the
+O'Malley family after all."
+
+"But----"
+
+"No buts!  I need your help in this, and I'm going to get it or
+straighten the curl out of your hair with a table leg."  He stood
+hurriedly.  "Come on.  The other fellows will be here any minute.
+With that gang around to crab our act, deception will be about as
+easy for us as skating is on one leg!"
+
+Reluctantly, Rudy got to his feet and followed Sport across the dance
+floor.  He was painfully embarrassed, not only because he felt that
+he lacked the necessary acting ability to carry out the masquerade,
+but because he hated deception of any kind.  Too, he was rather
+worried about lending his so-called honest face to any project which
+Sport, with his eccentric notions of right and wrong, might introduce.
+
+Rudy was no prude, but back of him was a line of New England
+forebears who had taken the truth as a serious business, who had
+asked honesty and straightforwardness before all things.  Their
+shades restrained him now, and wending his way through the press of
+the dance, he was in a turmoil of indecision.  He hated to let Sport
+down--but he hated more to lie.
+
+Yet there seemed little he could do about the matter without causing
+the sort of scene from which his sensitive nature characteristically
+rebelled.  And when Sport touched a short fat man upon the shoulder
+and said, "Mr. Bland, just to prove to you that we O'Malleys are not
+thoroughly a bad lot, I want you to meet my brother," there was
+little that Rudy could do but put out his hand and mutter, "Pleased
+to meet you."
+
+"Rudy is just down from home.  He's going to take me back in his
+flivver."  Suddenly the good points of his improvisation struck him.
+He turned to Rudy.  "You are going to take me back home in your
+flivver, aren't you, Rudy."
+
+"Why, certainly," Rudy said.  "If you want me to."
+
+"Want you to!" snorted Mr. Bland.  "Well, what else did you come down
+here for?"
+
+"Oh," said Sport hastily, "coming down for me was only part of it.
+You see, Rudy is very anxious to be a good saxophone player.  He's
+been taking a correspondence course from Ted Grant, the greatest
+saxophonist in the world.  And he heard about your remarkable leader
+over there, and decided that the logical thing to do was come down
+and meet him.  You know, one fine musician paying his respects to
+another."
+
+It was evident that the canny Irishman had played on a sensitive
+chord in the proprietor's make-up.  "Well, that's right nice of you,
+Mr. O'Malley," he said to Rudy.  "I rather pride myself on having the
+best band in the state, insofar as regards places like this.  And
+I've always thought that Bennie needn't take his hat off to any of
+them.  Come on over and meet him."
+
+"Sure," said Sport, "Bennie'll be happy to meet one of his admirers."
+
+"Why, I--," Rudy began.
+
+"Go along with him, Rudy.  I'll follow in a minute.  I've just seen a
+fellow over here that I've got to speak to."
+
+With few doubts as to the sex of the "fellow" whom Sport had to talk
+to, Rudy allowed himself to be led over for an introduction to Mr.
+Bland's greasy little orchestra leader.  That devil Sport!  Making
+him lie in order that he might snatch a few minutes with his current
+flame!  He was more than a little minded to tell Mr. Bland of the
+trick that had been played upon his credulity; but the old fellow was
+so obviously tickled that someone should have wished to compliment
+the music of his establishment that Rudy could not find it in his
+heart to disappoint him.
+
+Bennie bowed condescendingly when the little proprietor made the
+introduction.  "Oh, yes," he said, "I have a great many fans who I
+never have seen.  It has become noised about that I played with
+Whiteman and Lopez, and--" as he talked on with the insufferable
+conceit of a small mind, Rudy began desperately to seek some way of
+escape.
+
+But Sport was gone, and though the other members of their party by
+this time had arrived, he was unacquainted with them, and therefore
+to approach their table alone would have been an impossibility for
+one of his reserved temperament.
+
+"You see," Bennie was going on patronizingly, while plump Mr. Bland
+beamed his pride, "after my experience with the leading orchestras of
+the country, I find it difficult to keep musicians in out-of-the-way
+places up to concert pitch.  Most small town orchestras are recruited
+locally, and you boys, while undoubtedly willing----"
+
+Rudy's face flamed.  The gentlest and most inoffensive of young men,
+the oily leader's rambling barrage of self-praise at last had touched
+a point which he was unable to pass in silence.
+
+"Perhaps you underestimate some of us, Mr. Harris," he said curtly.
+"It is true that I come from a small town.  But it also happens that
+I am a pupil under the direct instruction of Ted Grant."
+
+"Ted Grant!"  Bennie's arrogance fell away like a dropped mantle.
+"You're studying under Ted Grant, the greatest saxophonist in the
+world?"
+
+"None other," Rudy answered with a touch of pride.  "Not only that,
+but the last time I heard from him he said that he was very pleased
+with my progress.  He said that I showed the makings of a great
+musician."
+
+Instantly Bennie stepped down from the slightly raised platform on
+which he stood.  "Then," he said, "you must play for us!  All my life
+I have been envious--and respectful--of Ted Grant.  Many times I have
+tried to get into his band, to study his methods.  And now you, one
+of his prize pupils, are right here where I can watch you play."
+
+Rudy gulped.  "But--but I haven't my instrument."
+
+The leader immediately thrust his own saxophone into the boy's
+unwilling hands.  "You will play mine.  It is a genuine Ted Grant
+saxophone, his best model."
+
+"But----"
+
+Mr. Bland clapped him heavily on the shoulder.  "Excellent, my boy!
+What an advertisement for my place to have a Ted Grant pupil play for
+us."  He signaled to the drummer for a roll; and when he had the
+attention of the whole room, he climbed to the platform with
+outstretched arms.
+
+"Ladies and gentlemen.  We are greatly honored by having with us
+to-night the star pupil of Ted Grant, young Mr. O'Malley.  Mr.
+O'Malley kindly has consented to play a number for us."
+
+A great burst of applause rolled across to the trembling figure of
+Ted Grant's star pupil.  But he did not hear it.  Across the room he
+had caught sight of the open mouth and horror-stricken eyes of Sport
+O'Malley.
+
+Sport was signaling frantically, shaking his head and waving his
+arms, giving every sign of protest aside from an actual shout that he
+wanted anything but for Rudy to play.
+
+But his "brother" only grinned, rather painfully, and climbed up on
+the platform.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+BRAVADO
+
+Rudy Bronson was that most astonishing of youths, a sensitive boy
+who, goaded into a hated situation, would go through with the task
+before him with a totally unsuspected power.
+
+Balancing Bennie's saxophone in his hands, he was taken by a sense of
+capability regarding the instrument which heretofore had been totally
+alien to him.  This was a real Ted Grant sax!  How different it was
+from his own clumsy instrument; how delicate and yet how strong it
+felt beneath his touch.
+
+"Just play anything that you like, Mr. O'Malley," he heard the plump
+proprietor of The Magic Lantern say.  "Anything at all will be a
+treat."
+
+Glancing toward Bennie, Rudy thought he noted a shade of malice in
+the orchestra leader's narrowly watching eyes.  It suddenly was borne
+upon him that Bennie's offer to let him play a solo had been prompted
+by no other desire than that which he had stated--the chance to
+observe at close range some of the celebrated Ted Grant technique in
+operation.
+
+Well, there was no backing out now.  A wave of fright passed over
+Rudy at the thought.  He looked over the floor of upturned faces
+beneath him.  Faces waiting to be entertained; and if he failed them
+in that, ready to criticize, to give him the sort of razzing which he
+had received the day of the try-out for the school band.
+
+Oh, why had he acted upon the crazy impulse which had caused Mm to
+fall in with Bland's wishes!  Certainly it was absurd to think that
+he could offer a brand of playing equal to that of the old man's
+regular saxophonist.  Bennie was good; of that there was no doubt.
+But here he was--and there now was nothing to do but play.
+
+The first elements of the Ted Grant technique were a clean, rapid
+tongueing, accompanied by a similar nicety of fingering.  With his
+old saxophone he often had sought for the precision in these
+attributes upon which his lessons had been so insistent.  With this
+marvelous bit of metal within his hand, he felt that such skill would
+not only be possible, but inevitable.
+
+Raising the mouthpiece to his lips, he blew gently and was gratified
+at the clear, melodious tone which ensued.  Emboldened, he began one
+of the newer fox-trots, a lilting, catchy melody which he had been
+practicing for hours in his room without any great degree of success.
+But with the wonderful Ted Grant saxophone within his grasp, he did
+not feel that there could be a piece in the whole literature of
+syncopation beyond his capabilities.  Not one.
+
+As he played, he occasionally heard a note that did not seem to be
+quite all that it should be.  But with closed eyes, deeply engrossed
+in the operation of the instrument he had come to love, he paid no
+heed to the world about him.  He was in a world alone with his
+music--and the thought that beyond all things he wished that Jean
+Whitehall was there to hear him.
+
+And with that wish was born the determination which one day was to
+bear surprising fruit.  Sometime, some place, he vowed, he would play
+for Jean; would sing to her all the love songs which he had been
+keeping for the one girl in all the world for him.
+
+With the last note of the number, he lowered the saxophone and bowed
+to an amount of applause quite unbecoming to a star pupil of Ted
+Grant.  In fact, the only applause he received seemed to be that
+supplied by Sport O'Malley and his friends.  Mr. Bland and Bennie
+clapped perfunctorily, and the head-waiter turned away without
+committing himself.
+
+"Perhaps you had some difficulty with the strange instrument?" Bennie
+asked.
+
+"To the contrary," Rudy answered, smiling his pleasure.  "I found it
+the best sax I've ever played."
+
+The leader frowned.  "That's funny," he commented.  "It sounded to me
+as if you were off key about two-thirds of the time."
+
+Rudy bit his lip, flushing painfully.  But before he could open his
+mouth to speak, the smooth voice of Sport O'Malley interposed: "You
+small-town yokels ought to get wise to yourselves," he said tartly.
+"Is that anyway to treat a guest star?  Here my brother is, doing his
+stuff for you for nothing--and just because you don't know that the
+new Ted Grant technique calls for a tone just off key, you have the
+nerve to make a smart crack!  It's an outrage, Mr. Bland!"
+
+But the old proprietor had been listening to syncopation long enough
+not to be fooled by any such facile explanation.  "Run along, Sport.
+I can thank your brother without any help from you."  He turned to
+the unhappy Rudy, evidently taken by the boy's quiet and unassuming
+manner.  "Good or bad, I thank you, Mr. O'Malley.  And whether you're
+a good musician or a rotten one--if you always try as sincerely as
+you were doing up there just now, I don't see how anybody's got a
+right to complain."
+
+"Thank you, Mr. Bland," Rudy answered.  "That was mighty decent of
+you to say, if you thought I was rotten.  Personally, I thought I
+never sounded better.  But that's just an honest difference of
+opinion."
+
+"Sure," interrupted Sport, "and now Rudy, my lad, we will go to yon
+table where await our convivial friends and pledge thee in a beaker
+of--" he glanced suddenly at Mr. Bland--"ginger ale!"
+
+The convivial friends greeted Rudy boisterously.  It was apparent
+that they were illuminated by spirits somewhat stronger than those
+naturally induced by the occasion.  But loud as were their assurances
+that Rudy was the greatest saxophonist in the world, he was unable to
+derive much pleasure from their praise.
+
+So he had been rotten, terrible!  Even with a Ted Grant saxophone, he
+had been unable to play through one simple piece in a manner worthy
+of high recommendation other than that of a lot of half-boiled night
+owls.  Rudy sat unhappily staring at the glass which had been placed
+before them.  But he'd show them!  He'd show them all--this crowd of
+kidders, that smirking little Bennie, Sport, yes, and Jean Whitehall,
+too, that he could bring as sweet a melody out of a saxophone as any
+man that ever lived!
+
+"Drink up, Rudy!" Sport called.  "This is your big night."
+
+Smiling to cover his grim frame of mind, Rudy Bronson lifted his
+glass.  His big night, indeed--though probably not in the manner
+which Sport had meant.  But big nevertheless; because it was the
+night which had fired him with a definite ambition, given him a mark
+at which to shoot, had set for him a goal!
+
+He got to his feet, his face alight with the flame of his newly fired
+purpose.  "To my big night, men!  Here's how!"
+
+Caught by the ringing sincerity of his tone, there was a moment of
+silence as the little ring of young men answered his toast.  Then
+Sport O'Malley shattered the seriousness of the tableau with a
+shouted "Skoal!"  And the party was on.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+REVELRY
+
+College boys on a party are traditionally opposed to quiet, and Sport
+O'Malley's "coming out" party for Rudy Bronson scarcely was an
+exception to the rule.  Within an hour, the booth in which the half
+dozen boys were crowded had become the focus of general attention.
+Within two, their hilarity was such that old Bland replaced his
+frowns and warnings with the even sterner edict that they quit the
+place.
+
+This the whoopee-makers were loath to do.  The evening was nearing
+its height.  Bennie, the orchestra leader, had his men drawn to the
+last possible notch of syncopation.  He was showing well what he had
+learned under Whiteman and Lopez and Ben Bernie.  Showing it so well
+that the floor was packed with dancers.
+
+Around the gliding figures, seeking booth openings, waiters scurried
+like black and white rabbits.  Sound blazed like light.  And over all
+was that tremulous, excited note which comes to a festivity only when
+its participants are very young and very alive.
+
+"Aw, we don't want to go just yet, Mr. Bland!" Sport cried, waving
+his arms at The Magic Lantern's proprietor.  "Gee, things are just
+beginning to get good.  I'll make these guys be quiet."
+
+"Yes, and who's going to make you keep quiet?" Bland demanded.
+"You're the noisiest one of the bunch."
+
+"Why, Mr. Bland, I am surprised!"
+
+"I'll make him quiet down, Mr. Bland," Rudy interposed.  "I guess we
+have been pretty noisy.  But we'll cool off a little bit."
+
+"Sure, we will that," Sport seconded him.  "Fact is, I'll go out and
+cool off now."  He rose majestically, pointing at the others.  "And
+if there is so much as one peep out of you bozos before I get back,
+I'll help Mr. Bland throw you forth upon your ears."
+
+"You and who else?"
+
+"Me and Mr. Bland, of course.  He's all right."
+
+"Who's all right?"
+
+As one voice they answered: "Bland's all right."
+
+Rudy got the uproarious Sport by the arm, and pulled him toward the
+door.  "Lay off that stuff," he cautioned.  "Gosh, I came down here
+and masqueraded as your brother, and gave a solo, just to get you in
+right--and then you try to toss away all that I've done for you by
+yelling like a hoodlum!"
+
+"I know," Sport admitted.  "But that guy burns me up, Rudy.  Why
+can't he have some of the good traits of his daughter?"
+
+"You're pretty fond of this girl, aren't you, Sport?" Rudy asked
+slowly.
+
+"Oh, boy!  You're conservative!  I'm cuh-razy about that baby."
+
+Rudy studied Sport for a moment.  He liked the gay and light-hearted
+sophomore, and he knew that the boy was doing himself anything but
+good by the terrific pace he was hitting.  The thought crossed his
+mind that perhaps this girl Molly, with her influence over Sport,
+might cause him to change some of the habits that eventually must be
+his undoing.
+
+"You wait here a minute, Sport," he said, as they reached a bench
+under a tree outside the long, lighted building.  "I want to go in
+and get some cigarettes.  Stay here, now; I'll be right back."
+
+"Oke," said Sport, relaxing comfortably against the tree trunk.
+"I'll be delighted to wait, old son."
+
+In the doorway of The Magic Lantern, Rudy stood for an agitated
+moment, seeking in all that mad scene to win a glimpse of Molly
+Bland.  A number of hails went up for him from the booth he so
+recently had quitted with Sport in tow, but he paid no more attention
+to them than to the university songs booming out under the baton of
+the orchestra leader.  He frowned.  That girl might be able to do
+Sport incalculable good.
+
+The door to Bland's office gave directly upon the resort's main room,
+and to this door he now saw Molly Bland making her way across the
+dance floor.  He plunged forward.  "Miss Bland!"
+
+The girl turned, acknowledged the hail with a cold glance, but failed
+to pause.  Scowling, Rudy hurried to her side.  "There's something
+I'd like to say to you!" he said, putting out a detaining hand.
+
+Brushing away his hand, the girl stopped.  Her eyes were cold in a
+pink face.  "And there's something I want to say to you!  What kind
+of a brother are you to let Sport drink the way he does?  If you
+think it's smart--or amusing, or anything else--you have far
+different opinions than I do!"
+
+Rudy grinned.  "That's fine!" he cried.  "That's exactly what I
+wanted to hear!  You see," he explained hurriedly, "Sport's
+introduction of me as his brother was just a little joke.  I'm not
+his brother--but I am his friend.  And I hate to see him use liquor
+the way he does almost as much as you do.  He's outside now--I
+wondered if perhaps I might ask you to go out and speak to him about
+it?"
+
+The girl's eyes softened.  "Say, you are nice," she said.  "Where
+have you been?  I wish that Sport had a few more friends like you."
+
+"Never mind that," Rudy returned, his color heightening.  "You just
+go out there and talk to Sport the way you talked to me."
+
+"I will!" Molly assured him decisively, and with a brisk run of steps
+went through the door and out into the night.  Rudy sank into an
+unoccupied booth.  What fools young men were!  How they wasted
+themselves and their opportunities in idle folly.  Here was Sport
+O'Malley, one of the cleverest chaps he knew, burning his candle at
+both ends--and attacking the middle with an acetylene torch!
+
+And to what purpose?  Little that had anything to do with the career
+in modern music upon which he had pinned his rather casual ambitions.
+Well, it would be different in his own case.  He would allow nothing
+to stand in his way.  Nothing!  And there would be no need for any
+girl to go out and berate him for destroying himself.  He smiled
+ironically.  Which was probably a good thing--so long as there was no
+girl who cared enough about him to mind whether or not he drank
+himself blind.
+
+At that moment there was a small burst of newcomers, accompanied by
+an obligato of youthful laughter.  Rudy's pulses quickened as he saw
+that among them was Jean Whitehall.  She was escorted by the very
+attentive captain of the football team, while the president of the
+student body hung on the outskirts of the crowd, glowering with a
+resentment doubtless caused by that fact.  In his official capacity,
+he frowned on The Magic Lantern, and he was there only because Jean
+had insisted upon seeing the place as a sort of prelude to the
+farewell dance her sorority was giving that night.
+
+Rudy sank more deeply into the obscurity of the booth.  For some odd
+reason he did not wish Jean to see him there--in his role of
+inconspicuous freshman.  Rather, a silent voice counseled, let him
+wait until he could bring himself to her notice in a fitting manner.
+And then there would be no recollection in her mind of the poor
+fumbling boy who had failed in everything he had attempted at the
+University.
+
+He found her gorgeously beautiful.  For the moment he could not take
+his eyes from her glittering presence.  When the party had been
+seated, with Jean as the colorful hub around which it revolved, Rudy
+slipped out of the booth and made for the outside door.  When he was
+Rudy Bronson, the famous musician, there would be time to think of
+her.  But until then----
+
+In the sudden transition from the blazing light of the interior of
+The Magic Lantern to the cool dark of the night, Rudy had difficulty
+in adjusting his sight.  He stumbled forward, and was almost upon the
+tree beneath which he had left Sport when he heard Molly's voice
+speaking, quietly and yet with a strange dignity:
+
+"Oh, I know you're not too potted to walk--or to talk, Sport.  But
+you're under the influence of liquor, nevertheless.  And," suddenly
+her voice flared, "I hate it!  You can't know how I hate it!  You
+see," she went on with more calm, "before we came here, Dad used to
+have a saloon.  I was only a very little girl, then; but night after
+night I've listened for him to come home.  I always could tell by his
+step on the walk whether or not he'd been drinking with his
+customers.  That was in the old days, Sport.  You probably don't know
+anything about saloons, but, oh, I do!  I've listened to Dad and
+Mother go over the question time and time again."
+
+Almost against his will Rudy was forced to remain as an eavesdropper
+to the girl's troubled story.  To walk away now might startle her,
+cause her to cease the even flow of words which he was certain Sport
+O'Malley needed as much as he needed anything on earth.
+
+"It went along that way for what seemed ages," Molly continued,
+"until I got to hate anything in any way associated with alcohol, and
+I've never lost my horror of it...  So you see it's hardly because
+you're a drinker that I care for you.  I'm not the kind of person who
+thinks it is smart for you boys to make whoopee.  Fun is fun, of
+course; but I'll bet that quiet friend of yours, the blond, has as
+much fun as any of you."
+
+At this interjection of his name into the discussion, Rudy thought it
+time to make his appearance.  Coughing slightly, he came around the
+trunk of the tree, holding a packet of cigarettes in his hand.
+
+"Ah, there," he said in greeting.
+
+Sport looked up listlessly.  "Hello, Rudy.  Do you know Molly Bland?
+Her father owns the place here.  She's just been telling me that I
+drink too much."
+
+"I guess most of the fellows do quite a bit of that nowadays," Rudy
+answered.  "Prohibition is a swell idea--but when are we going to
+have it?"
+
+"That's just it," Sport said with the air of one who has done much
+thinking on a subject.  "If the stuff were either not forbidden, or
+impossible to get, everything would be all right.  But you're tempted
+both ways as it is now."
+
+For an instant Rudy feared that Sport was about to let slip the fact
+that the liquor which had stimulated him had been purchased in The
+Magic Lantern.  A sudden thought came to Rudy.  He had been supposing
+that it was old Bland who was doing the bootlegging in the resort.
+But it easily might be Nick, the floor man, or one of the waiters.
+Characteristically, he was seeking to think well of a stranger until
+definite and indisputable evidence had been presented to cause him to
+think otherwise.
+
+Glancing at Sport and Molly, Rudy saw in their absorption in one
+another that they wished to be alone.  With a brief "Guess I'll be
+trotting back inside," he turned in the direction of The Magic
+Lantern.  But almost to the lighted doorway he paused.  He suddenly
+knew that he wanted anything except to rejoin the party in Sport's
+booth, busy, as he knew, at their hilarious game of slopping drinks
+surreptitiously together.  Let them carry on without him.
+
+Slipping around a corner of the building, he located a second bench
+and meditatively got out his cigarettes.  Stranger though he was to
+the sort of entertainment that was bubbling inside the building at
+his back, it even lacked the fascination of the unknown.
+
+He looked reflectively at the lighted end of his cigarette.  Imagine
+getting to be like this Bland--lying to your family, holding yourself
+up as a sort of plaster saint to the college authorities, and
+peddling booze while you did it.  Almost against his will he was
+being forced to the conclusion that it was the proprietor himself who
+was doing the bootlegging in the resort.
+
+And if it were Bland, what a chance he was taking!  Running the risk
+that some empty-headed college boy would expose him.  And then what?
+Imagine having to face a break like that!
+
+Naturally, if trouble came, it would mean the end of Molly's chances
+for any sort of success at the University, where she intended
+entering, Sport had said, in the fall.  Why she would have even a
+worse time than he, Rudy Bronson, had had!
+
+Voices sifted out into the night.  "Everything is all fine.  He can
+complain.  Imagine what sort of a reception Bland would get if he
+went running down to the desk with the yelp that somebody had gone
+south with a load of his hooch!  Just imagine, if you can!"
+
+Rudy glanced around.  Behind and above him he saw a pale blotch of
+window.  "You're sure everything's all set down there?"  Against the
+coarse, guttural tones which Rudy recognized as belonging to Nick,
+the head-waiter, a second man's voice scratched weakly.
+
+"Sure, everything's set," the first speaker agreed heartily.  "We'll
+be waiting with the cars by the S.P. bridge.  All you have to do is
+pull up there--and give us a hand unloading the stuff.  I'll have the
+cars there to take it where I want it to go.  Then you turn around
+and come back, and tell Bland that you got hijacked."  He'll steam a
+little, maybe; but don't worry about him cracking to anybody.
+There's nobody that he can crack to.  Who me?  I'll get mine!  And
+you'll get yours, too, when I get it.
+
+"But that ain't all.  It ain't just the dough.  I'm sicka this
+collitch bunch, and I'm sicka Bland.  It was just like him to try and
+beat my time, after finding out what kind of dough I been making
+selling the stuff to these kids.  Well, I'll show him who's going to
+do the peddling here!  I'll give him a jolt that will send him back
+to his soda pop and sandwiches for keeps.  And if he smells a rat and
+gives me the air, all right.  I'm sicka it around here anyway."
+
+Rudy slid along the wall and around a corner of the building,
+laughter bumping his heart against his ribs.  A cross-up!  A frame,
+which, at the prices current for liquor, would cost Bland plenty.
+His face tilted toward the stars.  And how the old fool deserved it!
+Trying to destroy Molly's apparently authentic affection for Sport
+because Sport drank--and all the while making himself rich by
+encouraging other boys like Sport to the same habit!  Yes, he
+deserved to lose every cent that he would lose, and the irony of the
+jest was that he must take that loss without complaint.  For the
+head-waiter was right, there was nobody to whom Bland dared complain.
+
+Then Rudy's laughter halted in mid-career.  Nobody?  But wasn't
+there?  Would the old man take his loss quietly?  Rudy lighted a
+fresh cigarette.  Old Bland was apt to do anything but that!  He had
+a temper--Sport's experiences with him was testimony to that--and
+before he stopped to think it over, he might get hot-headed and spill
+the whole affair to the police.  And then where would he be?  How
+would he explain that he owned any liquor at all--much less a
+truck-load?  And then where would little Molly be?  Gee!
+
+There was only one thing to do.  The old man must be told.  He raced
+up the steps.  Inside the door of The Magic Lantern he paused.  Jean
+and her party had left.  Rudy was glad.  With the evening nearing its
+close, the revelry was at its noisiest pitch.  The room was a
+swirling, trooping mass of figures, and Rudy saw immediately that
+finding the proprietor in the few precious minutes that remained
+before his hired man started out with the truck of liquor was going
+to be impossible unless luck favored him.  His teeth caught fretfully
+on his lower lip.  The old man just had to know!
+
+Then, so close that he could touch him with an outstretched hand, he
+found Bland talking with a tall dark man.  Rudy promptly broke in
+upon their conversation.  "Say, Mr. Bland, there's something very
+important that you should know about!  I'm not fooling!"
+
+The proprietor eyed him coldly.  "I thought I had your promise to
+keep those boys quiet, Mr. O'Malley."  He motioned to the now vacant
+booth.  "But they got even noisier than before--and out they went!  I
+only let them stay because you were with them, and apparently sober,
+but when you walked out like that I saw that you weren't to be
+trusted any more than the rest of them."
+
+"Sure, I know I did," Rudy began; "but listen----"
+
+"I'm not interested!  If you boys can't come here and conduct
+yourselves as you should, I don't want you to come.  Rules are rules,
+and laws are laws.  And that's all there is to it."  He started with
+his companion in the direction of his office.  "And now, excuse me."
+
+"But, Mr. Bland!"
+
+"You heard what I said."  Bland's heavy shoulder shunted him to one
+side.  The office door slammed.  A latch clicked.
+
+Crimsoning, Rudy regarded its solid paneling.  And this was the man
+he was trying to save from a frame-up!  What a pleasure it would be
+to see them get away with every nickel the wretched old hypocrite
+owned! ... But for the sake of Molly, the girl whom he knew to be the
+one person capable of putting Sport O'Malley on his feet, he dared
+not let that frame-up go through.
+
+Rudy whirled, making for the exit.  In the dusk outside he paused,
+searching for Sport.  In an instant his eyes located him, sitting
+dejected and alone, on the bench by the tree.
+
+Grasping him by the wrist, Rudy jerked him to his feet.  "Don't ask
+any questions!" he cried.  "Just come with me!"  And then with the
+dazed Sport in tow, he plunged off down the road in the direction of
+the disappearing tail-light of old Bland's delivery truck.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+CONFLICT
+
+There were two cars parked in the shadow of the S.P. bridge.  Two
+large cars parked in shadows deepened by the dark clothing of the men
+who watched over them.
+
+As a truck lumbered down the highway, one of these dark figures
+climbed out of his car and moved forward, signaling with his
+flashlight.  "All right, Fred.  It's me, Nick!  Right up here."
+
+The truck swung to the side of the road, stopped.
+
+"Say, who's that with----"
+
+On him, and on the second man who had climbed out of his car and
+joined him, an avalanche abruptly descended from the driver's
+seat--an avalanche which immediately separated into two distinct and
+belligerent halves, Rudy Bronson and Sport O'Malley.
+
+[Illustration: A scene from the Radio Picture, "The Vagabond Lover,"
+starring RUDY VALLEE.]
+
+They had caught the truck three miles farther back, following Rudy's
+hasty explanation to Sport, and the driver who had started with it
+from The Magic Lantern now reposed in its bottom, neatly trussed.
+Sport had been in favor of administering a heavy cuffing; but Rudy
+had restrained him with: "Better save yourself.  We might need that
+pep at the bridge."
+
+He now saw the truth of his words realized.  Jumping from the truck,
+he brought his first blow down with a force which, landing true,
+might have slain an ox.  But it did not land true, and the
+head-waiter was a husky man.  Nick reeled, but he came back a moment
+later, and came so fast that Rudy soon knew that Sport must attend to
+the other hijacker as best he could.
+
+"Come on and fight," he snarled ragingly, and Nick obeyed.
+
+It was a grand fight while it lasted, and it lasted a hard, long
+time.  Nick was tough and willing, and not unskilled in the use of
+his fists.  But Rudy, thoroughly aroused by his blows, fought with
+that grim ferocity of which only mild young men seem capable.  He
+fought without much skill or science, but what he lacked of those
+attributes he more than compensated for in a determination that was
+not done even when Nick was stretched in a beaten heap on the highway.
+
+When the head-waiter at last was down, Rudy turned, battered and
+torn, to see how Sport was faring.  But it was apparent immediately
+that he need have no cause for worry in regard to Sport O'Malley.
+Sport's face hadn't been improved, and he was blowing like a porpoise
+as he rested--but it was upon Nick's companion that he rested.  "Nice
+scrap, Rudy," Sport gasped, "I--didn't think--you had it----"
+
+"A very nice scrap indeed!" echoed a voice.
+
+Rudy lifted his throbbing head to face a little group coming forward
+from a touring car that had come to a stop behind the truck.  A group
+headed by Bland himself.  Good, now the old hypocrite could take his
+hooch and jump in the nearest lake.  He was through.  Rudy turned a
+little.  And there was Molly.  And Glen Patterson, the town's
+chief-of-police.
+
+"A very nice scrap, indeed!"
+
+Rudy stared at them for a hideous, suspended moment.  So Bland had
+cracked!  Had lost his head and cracked, just as he had feared!  And
+here was Molly--Sport's girl--present to learn the truth as soon as
+Nick opened his mouth, which would be pretty quick now, for the
+head-waiter had attained his feet and was dizzily eyeing the crowd.
+
+Rudy did not pause to think what he was doing.  Across his mind
+flashed the knowledge that he had flunked out of school, that he was
+going home a failure.  On the other hand, Molly and Sport had all the
+best of their college life still before them.  Still shocked by the
+terrible beating he had taken, he gave no thought to the consequences
+of the gesture which he now made.  Realizing only that Molly and
+Sport loved each other, and in his mind therefore must be protected
+at all cost, he stepped forward and spoke sharply:
+
+"All right, Patterson," he said.  "Let's cut the song and dance.
+There's booze in that truck--and it belongs to _me_!  I guess Mr.
+Bland here heard that I was running it through to-night, and sent
+Nick and these other boys out to stop it.  Well, they did.  And here
+I am."
+
+He stopped, reeling slightly.  There was a silence.  Bland's eyes did
+not move from Rudy's face.  "What's in that truck, my boy?" he asked.
+
+"I guess you know what's in there!" Rudy began angrily.  Then he
+checked himself shortly.  "Booze!  What did you expect--soda-water?"
+
+And then Bland laughed.  Uproariously.  "Yes, just that exactly.  And
+if I don't find it I've spent a useless half-hour loading it!"
+
+Patterson nudged his deputies toward Nick and the other hijacker.
+"You know who we came for.  Do your stuff."
+
+Rudy's head was whirling, but not so giddily that he could not hear
+Molly's voice excitedly explaining to Sport: "I saw you boys run
+after the truck and told Dad.  He didn't know what to make of it
+until he remembered that Rudy had tried to speak to him.  He
+suspected that Rudy had got wind of what Nick was going to do."
+
+Sport caught feebly at the name.  "Nick?"
+
+"Yes, the head-waiter!  Dad knew that he was selling liquor at The
+Magic Lantern.  Of course he could have fired him outright--but you
+know how Dad is, always wanting to do a thing so thoroughly.  He
+wanted to get Nick right.  Naturally, he could have had him arrested
+for selling it at the place; but that would have caused a commotion
+he didn't want.  So he fixed up the truck with this load of
+ginger-ale and had poor old Fred--what did you boys do with
+him?--hint to Nick that it was liquor."
+
+"So that Nick----?"
+
+"Would do just what he tried to do--hijack it."
+
+"Oh," said Sport.  Slowly he turned to look at Rudy.  "And when it
+looked as though the cops had crashed in on our little plan to save
+Mr. Bland," he said slowly, "you stepped in and were going to
+shoulder the whole thing.  Why did you do that, Rudy?"
+
+Rudy turned away, his face blazing.  Not for anything in the world
+would he have told these listening people that to his loveless life,
+love seemed the most precious thing in the world.  He could not tell
+Sport that his quixotic gesture had been made to save a girl he
+scarcely knew--and, indirectly, Sport himself.
+
+But Molly was a wise young woman.  She looked from Sport's face to
+Rudy's.  "I think I know why he did it, Sport.  And if you think a
+moment, you'll realize why he did it, too.  Can't you see that he
+thought by saving Dad he would be saving me--and us?"
+
+Sport's hand shot out quickly, clasping Rudy's in a promise of
+everlasting regard.  "Where have you been keeping yourself all this
+time, fella?  Holy cow, you may be a bum saxophonist--but I'm
+thinking that you're just about the greatest guy in the world!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+CELEBRATION
+
+There was not much conversation on the way back to The Magic Lantern.
+Rudy, riding with Mr. Bland in the front seat, could find little to
+say as the car bucketed over the uncertain roads.  Sport, with her
+father's objections temporarily stayed, was quiet with Molly in the
+back seat.
+
+At the resort, Mr. Bland pulled the car up with a roar of exhaust.
+The long building was darkened, its pale windows contrasting eerily
+with the somber darkness of the surrounding walls.  The parked cars
+were gone, and the night seemed doubly silent because of its present
+variation from the scene which it had presented not long before.
+
+"Well, here we are again," Sport observed in an attempt at lightness.
+"But too late to do anything but go home.  What say, Rudy?"
+
+"It's about time, I guess," Rudy agreed.  He climbed from the car,
+and as Sport assisted Molly down, the girl came to him impulsively.
+"I just want to thank you again, Rudy," she said.  "That was about
+the nicest, craziest thing I ever saw--and I want you to know that I
+appreciate it."
+
+"It wasn't anything," Rudy protested.
+
+"Boy, you're wrong!" Sport cried.  "But let's be on our way.  Mr.
+Bland wants to close up."
+
+In truth, the squat proprietor seemed to wish to make some sort of
+speech of gratitude for what Rudy had attempted to do for him.  But a
+natural inarticulateness hampered him, and he apparently was ready to
+let the praise of the others speak for him, too.  He contented
+himself with, "Come and see us any time you feel like it, Mr.
+O'Malley," and tramped off in the direction of his office.
+
+Sport bid Molly a brief good-night, and the two young men turned
+toward Sport's car.  Thus the incident evidently was brought to a
+close.  But both knew that it was the cornerstone of a friendship
+that was to gain an increasing value as time brought them more
+definitely together.
+
+When the lights of the University lay ahead of them, Sport said: "I
+got my grades after I left you this afternoon, Rudy.  No, I didn't
+roll out--but I came mighty close to it."  He hesitated, as if loath
+to be seen in any but his usual, care-free frame of mind.  "It's sort
+of brought me up short, seeing you flunk.  It doesn't seem fair--you
+being expelled just because you wanted to do something that was
+beyond you--and me staying in when I've given hardly a thought to
+anything but whoopee-making."
+
+Rudy slumped down on the base of his spine, his eyes looking straight
+down the road.  "Maybe it's brought me up short, too, Sport.  It's
+made me see that a chap who wants to succeed has got to work
+hard--harder than he ever thought of doing.  Oh, I put in a lot of
+time on Ted Grant's course.  But I haven't put in enough, that's
+obvious.  I don't know of anything I want in this world quite so much
+as to be a top-notch musician--and I'm going to be one!"
+
+"That's the boy!" Sport exclaimed enthusiastically.  "You keep up
+that spirit, and I don't see how I can keep you off my band at home
+this summer."
+
+"Do you mean that, Sport?  That you'll give me a chance?"
+
+"Give you a chance?  I'll say I will!"  They were trundling rapidly
+down the sacred precincts of Fraternity Row, past house after house
+of the great national organizations.  Some showed splotches of light,
+betokening the studious; others were spectacular with the lights of
+late dances.
+
+By University ruling, The Magic Lantern was forced to close at an
+earlier hour than that designated by the authorities as stopping time
+for the school affairs.  On this last night of the college year, even
+this ban had been removed.  Now, at close to one o'clock, several
+dances still were in progress.
+
+"Want to crash one?" Sport asked carelessly.
+
+Rudy shook his head.  His characteristic shyness alarmed him at the
+idea which came to Sport with such little difficulty.  "I guess I
+better be making for the hay," he said.  "You go ahead, Sport, if you
+want to.  I don't mind walking the rest of the way over to my dorm."
+
+"Say, what do you take me for?  Us separate on your last night in
+school?  I should say not!  I tell you, though," he went on; "so long
+as we're not dressed for any hop, let's go on over to my house and
+see if any of the dear brothers are still about looking for fun."
+
+Rudy smiled.  It was distressingly apparent that trying to curb
+Sport's eager spirit was like trying to put a check on a gushing,
+hilariously youthful waterfall.  For an instant he was prompted to
+insist on going home to bed.  But then he remembered that this was
+his last night as a member of the State University.  With this single
+remaining bit of evening all that was left to him of the happy time
+toward which he had looked for so long, the idea of bed suddenly
+seemed obnoxious.
+
+"A grand idea," he said.  "I guess we've got it coming to us."
+
+"That's talking!"  Sport stepped on the accelerator, and soon they
+were drawing up in front of a large Colonial mansion set among a
+gracious grove of trees.  "Here we are!  Out you go!"
+
+A wry smile twisted Rudy's lips as he followed Sport up the walk to
+the fraternity house.  It struck him as rather cruelly funny that on
+his last night at the University he should be visiting one of its
+envied organizations for the first time.
+
+In the living room they found two young men sitting on a long divan.
+As Sport and Rudy entered they glanced about.  Then one of them once
+more lowered his face into his hands.  The newcomers noted that it
+was reddened and pulpy with weeping.  The second boy patted one of
+his rumpled shoulders.  "'S all right, Mort.  'S all right.  It's got
+to happen sometime--to everyone.  Come on, kid, buck up!"
+
+"What's the matter, Morton?" Sport asked.  "You fellas know Rudy
+Bronson?  Bill Morton, Fenwick Forbes," he introduced them.  "My pal,
+Rudy Bronson."
+
+Morton's handkerchief went to his nose.  He bobbed his head at Rudy.
+"Sorry to be like this," he said with an effort at self-control.
+"But I flunked out today----
+
+"Whoops," said Sport, "that puts you and Rudy here in the same boat."
+
+The other youth on the divan fished a crumpled packet of cigarettes
+from his coat.  "I was just telling him he ought to be yelping with
+joy," he commented.  "No more books, nor teachers' dirty looks.  Hot
+dog!"
+
+"Aw," Morton again used his handkerchief, "that's just the trouble
+with you, Fen.  Nothing means anything to you.  You just live in a
+world of your own, and that satisfies you.  But I'm different.  If I
+like something I stay liking it.  And I've got _attached_," a sob
+broke from him to mingle wretchedly with the ascending cigarette
+smoke, "I've got _attached_ to the fellas and the University and
+everything.  And I don't want to leave them.  Any more than I'll bet
+Bronson there does!"
+
+Sobs shuddered anew from the pillow in which he buried his face.
+Terrible sounds--a boy-man in pain.
+
+"I know how he feels," Rudy said quietly.
+
+Forbes and Sport did their best to console the unhappy Morton, but
+their efforts were of little avail.  He rapidly was working himself
+into something close to hysteria.  Suddenly Sport got to his feet and
+ran up the stairs to the floor above.  In a few minutes he returned,
+a bottle in his hand.
+
+"Up and at 'em, Mort, my son.  Here is relief in a concentrated
+form."  He held the cool glass against Morton's flushed face.
+"Imprisoned laughter of the maidens of Louisville.  Now who's got a
+corkscrew?"
+
+Morton grasped at the bottle.  "How----?"
+
+"Emery's trunk.  Can you imagine it, he left his keys on his
+dresser--and after telephoning to his bootlegger in that bull-fiddle
+voice of his.  He'll howl his head off----"
+
+"Let him howl," Forbes said briefly.  "I spent twenty bucks pledging
+that bimbo.  Got a corkscrew, Mort?"
+
+"No.  Knock it out with the flat of your hand on the bottom of the
+bottle."
+
+"Nothing stirring," said Sport.  "The last time I did that the bottle
+broke and I nearly cut off my hand.  Look at the scar."
+
+"Tough--but come on.  Bite the top off if you can't do anything else.
+If Emery comes in----"
+
+"Let him come!"
+
+Suddenly the cork yielded to the prying of Sport's penknife.  Forbes
+ran out into the kitchen, to return with a quartet of glasses.
+"Why'nt you bring some clean ones?" Sport demanded.  "What'll Rudy
+think of us?"
+
+"Aw, you don't care about a little thing like that, do you, Rudy?
+Don't be an old woman, Sport."
+
+"Say, talk nice to me or I won't play in your backyard!"
+
+"No offence, Mr. O'Malley."
+
+"'Pology accepted, Mr. Forbes."
+
+"Come on, you guys," said Morton thirstily.  It was apparent that the
+clever Sport successfully had diverted the boy's mind from himself
+and his troubles.  Looking at Rudy, Sport wondered if he had been as
+successful there.  But, Rudy, standing quietly with his glass in his
+hand and a slight smile on his handsome face, was as inscrutable and
+difficult for him to judge as ever.  An odd one, this Rudy Bronson.
+But what a boy!
+
+"Well, here's how!" Sport cried.
+
+"Mud in your eye."
+
+They took down their drinks, and exchanged water-dimmed glances,
+their mouths wryly puckered.
+
+"Yow!  Gimme a chaser of nitric acid!"
+
+"You know," said Forbes bitterly.  "I always was sorry I spent that
+twenty bucks on that egg Emery.  Now I'm certain I am.  Imagine
+buying such stuff."
+
+Dubiously Sport inspected the label.  "I wonder if he had another
+bottle of this.  I haven't seen him around to-day, have you?"
+
+"No, and I don't want to!"
+
+"Oh, well----"
+
+"All right, but let's get it down fast."
+
+Rudy refused the second drink.  "I haven't got this one finished
+yet," he protested.
+
+"I don't blame you for hedging," Sport told him.  "This stuff feels
+like a wildcat clawing down your throat.  The only thing to do,
+though, is to get them down fast."
+
+"To the sheepskin, Mr. Bronson," said Morton cheerfully.  "To the
+sacred skin of the sheep for which we fought and bled and died
+countless deaths--only to get gypped and lose them."
+
+"To the skins of our particular sheep, Mr. Morton," Rudy answered his
+toast.
+
+"I stand corrected.  Corrected as I can be.  You know, fellas," he
+said.  "This is just what I needed.  My mind is beginning to expand.
+I quicken to life.  I breathe.  I expand."
+
+They applauded him vigorously.  He looked at them in surprise.  "Do I
+sound silly?  Am I getting tight?"
+
+"Go right ahead," Rudy told him.  "It's just what you needed."
+
+"This is a swell kid, Sport," said Morton.  "Where'd you get him?
+He's a philosopher.  I like philosophers.  The blinders are beginning
+to drop from my eyes.  I see that before us lies--not the end--but
+the beginning.  Do you see that, too, Rudy?"
+
+"Yes," Rudy answered, "I see that, too.  If you want a thing badly
+enough, there never is any end.  You just keep going on, seeking,
+until you get it.  And then you go on some more."
+
+Suddenly Morton collapsed.  "That's what I think, all right," he
+muttered.  "Good egg, Rudy----"
+
+Sport and Forbes lifted him, half carrying him, toward the stairs.
+"Poor kid's had a tough day, Rudy.  We better take him up to bed."
+
+"Fair enough," Rudy said.  "I've got to get my things together if I'm
+leaving in the morning.  You coming with me, Sport?"
+
+"I'll say I am.  I'll be ready when you come around.  'Night."
+
+"'Night, Sport," Rudy said.  "'Night, Forbes."
+
+He went down the steps and out the walk.  When he reached the
+sidewalk it behaved strangely.  Objects passed in a blur.  The little
+he had had to drink, coupled with his fatigue and excitement from the
+fight, had been enough to affect him.
+
+Down the street he passed.  He heard sounds of life going on about
+him, but was unable to attribute them to any definite source.  It was
+all rather peculiar, and he paused to rid himself of the odd
+sensation.
+
+Painfully his mental processes retraced their giddy path.  The
+fraternity house, with its warm spirit of comradeship, the fight, The
+Magic Lantern, seeing Jean Whitehall----
+
+Jean Whitehall.  At thought of that magic name a sudden consciousness
+was borne to Rudy of the major reason why he had attempted to prevent
+any injury to the love of Molly and Sport.  It was because he
+mentally had replaced Molly with Jean, and Sport with himself; and
+the idea of any danger coming to an event for which he wished so
+devoutly had been nothing short of insupportable.
+
+A delicate tendril of music came to him, and looking about he saw
+that he was standing near the corner which held the local chapter
+house of one of the oldest and finest of national sororities.  Jean's
+house!
+
+Inside a dance was in progress.  Across the lighted windows figures
+drifted as if under the influence of some deeply potent spell.  He
+saw Jean pass by in the arms of the captain of the varsity.  And as
+she did so, he caught a familiar melody from the orchestra.
+
+Tempted by the curious aptness of the lyric, he waited until he
+thought Jean must be near the window again.  Then, in a voice of
+gentle and persuasive loveliness, he began to sing:
+
+  "I love you, believe me, I love you,
+  This theme is the dream of my heart.
+  I need you, believe me, I need you,
+  I'll be blue when we two are apart--
+  You'll be my one inspiration,
+  You've changed my whole life from the start.
+  I love you, believe me, I love you,--
+  This theme is the dream of my heart!"
+
+
+Then, not pausing to discover if he had been heard, Rudy broke into a
+run in the direction of his dormitory.  His heart was high with a
+fierce and almost overwhelming delight.  He had sung a love song to
+Jean--even though she had not heard!
+
+But she had heard.  Yet when she reached the window, there was no one
+in the street below.
+
+"Just some punk freshman," the football captain told her.
+
+Jean shook her head slowly.  "Don't say that, Larry.  I thought it
+was beautiful."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+HOMEGOING
+
+At ten o'clock the next morning Rudy had his belongings stacked in
+the middle of a denuded room.  The walls were bare, the window seat
+had been shorn of its pillows, and the study table looked strange and
+forlorn minus its customary cargo of books and papers.
+
+So this was the end of his college life!  A far less spectacular
+departure than he had imagined.  Those old dreams came back
+momentarily to haunt him--the Rudy Bronson he had pictured before
+entering the University, leaving in a blaze of glory on the shoulders
+of admiring classmates.  Bells ringing, whistles shrilling,
+cheer-leaders leaping about with writhing arms as they cried: "Three
+big ones for the greatest hero the school has ever known.  All right
+now--Bronson!  Bronson!  Bronson!"
+
+He sighed.  Quite different, this.  With a last glance about the bare
+walls, he loaded himself with his meager possessions and went out the
+door and down the stairs.
+
+The landlord appeared from his subterranean retreat as he was dumping
+his bags in the back of his flivver.  "Sorry to see you go, Mr.
+Bronson.  Heaven knows you've been a lot better tenant than most of
+the boys I get here.  You've been quiet, and haven't broken a thing."
+
+Rudy's mouth bent in a small smile.  "Pretty model sort, eh?  And yet
+the University says I better get out and stay out."
+
+"You wouldn't have flunked if you had paid more attention to your
+studies and less to that saxophone," the old man told him.  "Land
+sakes, the way you went at that thing a body would think you intended
+to take it up professionally."
+
+"And that," Rudy answered coolly, "is just what I intend to do."
+
+"But I thought you couldn't even make the school band!"
+
+"That's true.  But that was because I wasn't ready yet.  I'm taking a
+course of lessons from Ted Grant, the greatest saxophonist in the
+world, and--" his hands clenched--"some time I'll show all these guys
+here that I'm a real musician!  I haven't got very far along in my
+course yet--but when I've finished it, I bet there isn't an orchestra
+in the country but will be glad to have me in it!"
+
+The landlord shook his head rather dolefully.  "Well, ambition is a
+good thing, I guess.  But never let it run away with you, says I.
+That's a rule I've always followed."
+
+"Apparently," Rudy answered with a smile.  He climbed beneath the
+wheel and tramped on the starter.  "Good-by, Mr. Justin.  Watch for
+my name in the papers."
+
+The old man moved back into his house without a reply.  But it was
+apparent what he was thinking.
+
+Spinning in the direction of Sport O'Malley's fraternity house,
+Rudy's face was grim.  Why was it that none of them were willing to
+credit him with any skill?  Had he been so rotten that they thought
+he never could be any better?  But he'd show them!  He'd stick at his
+practise until one and all would be forced to admit they had been
+wrong about his natural ability.  He would make good if he had to
+blow his heart out to do so!
+
+Sport was, strangely enough, ready to leave when Rudy pulled up
+before the colonial front of his fraternity home.  He came down the
+walk with two bulging suit cases.  These he dropped unceremoniously
+in the tonneau with Rudy's things.  "Waterville next stop," he said
+briefly.
+
+Rudy pressed down the clutch and with a roar of ancient mechanism the
+little car put off in the direction of the small Connecticut town
+which the two boys called home.
+
+"Like to stop at Bland's before we hit the highway?" Rudy asked.
+
+Sport shook his head.  "I said good-by on the telephone," he said.
+"Thanks to you, the old man's got a pretty good opinion of me now.
+If I went over there I might get sentimental, saying fond farewells
+to Molly, and get tossed out on my ear."
+
+He spoke with his usual lightness, but there was a troubled and
+unhappy note in his voice which told Rudy that his casualness was
+mere pretense.  "You'll be back next semester, Sport," he said
+comfortingly.  "Don't take it so hard.  You look as if you'd been
+drawn through a knot-hole."
+
+Sport grinned.  "Oh, I hate to leave all right.  But that's only part
+of the reason I look tough.  It's those examinations.  I let
+everything go until the last minute, and then tried to crowd all my
+studying into a few nights.  Gee! cramming like that is enough to
+sour you on the whole of college.  And then you're not sure until the
+last minute whether or not you sopped up enough facts to get you
+through."
+
+They rode for a few minutes in silence.  Then Rudy suddenly asked.
+"Do you really think college is worth while, Sport?"
+
+Sport shrugged.  "Who can tell?"
+
+"You can, of course!"
+
+Sport did not answer for a time.  "Really," he said at length, "I
+can't say.  I like it, that's true enough.  But if I should quit and
+go to work, whether I'd eventually be a better business man or barber
+or something else--well, that's something else.  And as I see it
+that's not the important thing.  College doesn't seem to me to fit
+you for the particular thing you want to do, but to, well, grease you
+so that you'll slip a little more readily through all of life."
+
+"But what has it done for you thus far, Sport?  Here you've been
+dashing about for two years, making whoopee, having a good time.  And
+you'll probably do the same for two more, unless Molly takes you in
+hand.  What if you'd stop now--or get stopped, like I did.  Don't you
+think that you'd get a two years earlier start?"
+
+"I guess that would be so if you're meaning the ordinary business
+routine, with the automatic method of advancing employees--one goes
+out and one goes up.  But even if I did want to enter that kind of a
+business--which I don't!--what if some other industrious lad had
+hopped onto the adding machine sooner than I?  Ye gods, you only work
+eight hours out of the twenty-four--what about the rest of the time?"
+
+Rudy thought of his saxophone.  "He might know that he was missing
+something, and study all the harder in his spare time."
+
+But Sport's mind was fixed firmly on a different type of livelihood
+than that in Rudy's.  "Maybe," he admitted, "but the chances are that
+while the boy who went to work was associating with his fellow clerks
+and salesmen, the one who didn't would be associating with people who
+happily didn't know an invoice from a bank messenger.  On the other
+hand, they do know, perhaps, a great deal concerning the art of
+living."
+
+"But are those people real?  And is what they have to teach of any
+real value to you?"
+
+Sport moved his shoulders negligently.  "Outside of one or two or
+three, it will make little difference--either to them or to me--if
+our paths never cross again.  But here's the point: we did learn from
+each other.  Forbes and Morton and I, for instance, have traded
+contacts.  If we never see each other again in all our lives, we will
+have gained that.  We've taught each other to sharpen our social
+senses.  And believe you me, that's no little thing!"
+
+Rudy looked down the road.  "That's pretty unsentimental talk from a
+fellow who has just walked out of his fraternity house."
+
+"You're a nice kid, Rudy," Sport laughed, "but you take things too
+seriously.  This fraternity brotherhood chatter is a lot of bunk.
+We're in fraternities because that's the nicest way to live while
+we're in college.  But we don't join them because of any great and
+over-powering desire to become banded with a lot of men who, a week
+before we enter the University, we've never seen!"
+
+"Maybe you'll think differently when September rolls around.  But
+about this summer.  Are you going to hit the ball?  I should think
+you'd be a little tired of resting."
+
+"Resting my eye!  A fine lot of resting I've done in this past year!
+I don't know where all my time went--but I don't recall that much of
+it was spent in resting.  Or studying or meditating or exercising,
+either, so far as that goes."
+
+"Still, you're not sorry you went through it."
+
+"Not in the least.  There's plenty of time for me to do the things I
+should do.  Maybe I'll do them next year."  He stretched expansively.
+"College is a little bit of all right, Rudy.  I'll be back next year,
+you can bet."
+
+"Surely you will," Rudy agreed.  "Everybody does--who can.  A college
+career is sort of a modern need, like food.  But I've been doing a
+lot of thinking since I rolled out.  And I'm not so sorry as I was
+that I'm going to get started on my life's work sooner than I would
+have otherwise.  Just think, Sport--can you put your finger on any
+actual good that you've gained during these past two years?"
+
+"One of the James boys," Sport said, squinting at the sun, "I think
+it was William, cracked wise to the effect that college teaches you
+to know a good man when you see one.  I think it did that for me; I
+think I can tell one.  I think I can see through the sham and
+hocus-pocus of most characters pretty well now.  Maybe I would have
+gained that anyway.  I don't know.  But somehow, somewhere during
+these two years at the University, I've gained an idea of what the
+word 'genuine' means.  I sensed it in Molly Bland."
+
+He hesitated momentarily.  "And I might add, Rudy, my boy, that said
+qualification was the one which caused me to be attracted to you."
+
+Immediately, however, as if fearful lest he be open to that most
+dreaded charge, sentiment, he burst into a shout of laugher.  "But
+you wanted something definite, concrete, that I've gained.  Very
+well!  I'll tell you the one definite thing I've learned, my
+cross-examining friend!  And the only thing of importance that I can
+admit having gained without seeming a rummy.  And that is this--that
+youth is a time to be lived, and life a time to be loved!  And with
+that the sage of Waterville craves to cease talking generalities and
+get down to the more actual business of wondering if the old home
+town has enough good musicians to form a first rate band?"
+
+Rudy frowned--but not because he was worried over any lack on the
+part of Waterville in regard to prospective members of Sport's
+orchestra.  To the contrary, he knew that the summer before, during
+the time Sport had spent in session at the University, there had been
+organized a small but very good jazz orchestra which had failed to
+continue only because of poor management.
+
+Sport would not be long in learning of this defunct organization and
+reassembling it.  Under his dynamic leadership there was little
+question of its success, and chance of attracting other good
+musicians.  Musicians so good, in fact, that there would be no place
+in its personnel for Rudy Bronson.
+
+But even with this knowledge, his sense of honesty compelled him to
+impart the information to Sport.  This he did, hesitantly, but as
+fully as he was able.
+
+Sport whistled gleefully.  "Holy cow, the makings of a band all set
+up and ready to go!  Can you imagine a break like that?  But who are
+some of the boys, Rudy?"
+
+"Oh, Sam McMahon, Swiftie Clarke, Al Monroe, Pete Heflin.  They'll be
+able to tell you the others.  They were strangers to me."
+
+"But you forgot one who isn't a stranger to you."
+
+"I did?" Rudy asked.  "Who's that?"
+
+"None other than Rudy Bronson."
+
+"Sport!  Do you mean--do you mean you'll give me a chance with your
+outfit?"
+
+"Sure as my name is O'Malley," Sport informed him, "the first
+saxophonist who goes down on the list is thyself.  Of course," he
+said more slowly, "whether or not you stay there depends on you.
+But----"
+
+"That's all I want!" Rudy interrupted hastily.  "Give me a break--and
+I'll show you that when Ted Grant teaches them, they stay taught!"
+
+"Well, now that that's settled, how about the rest of the gang.  I
+remember that Sam and Al and Pete used to be pretty clever when we
+were kids.  But I don't remember any of them being able to sing for
+sour apples.  And nowadays that's just about as important as the rest
+of the orchestra combined."
+
+"Don't you remember that I used to sing in the choir?" Rudy asked.
+"I've been studying singing with syncopated music in sort of a new
+way.  And I think it's pretty good."
+
+Sport laughed.  "Gee, Rudy, I don't know whether I should be afraid
+of you in that band or not.  If you turn out to be as good as you
+seem to think you are, it's liable to be your band before long!"
+
+"That," said Rudy sagely, "is the risk any orchestra leader takes
+when he hires a first-class performer."
+
+"Bull's-eye!" Sport cried.  "Let's go!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+THE OLD HOME TOWN
+
+The Bronson family lived on one of Waterville's less pretentious
+residential streets, in a house which was known to have passed its
+zenith of liveability.  But the salary which the elder Bronson
+commanded as town clerk was scarcely sufficient to allow the two
+elderly people to move to one of the newer and finer districts.
+
+This fact, however, was to them little reason for distress.  They had
+lived in the old neighborhood for years, and they liked it.  People
+of simple needs, they considered what had been good enough for them
+last year was good enough this, and therefore they made no attempt to
+pull up the roots put down by time.
+
+But Rudy was of another generation--younger, desirous of the best
+that life had to offer, determined to achieve that which America
+always has held out to the ambitious and the strong.  That which
+satisfied his parents was not satisfactory to him.  He saw in their
+genteel poverty but an added spur to the ambition which now
+constantly was with him.
+
+Mr. and Mrs. Bronson had taken his academic failure at the University
+with the good humor of fond parents.  "Well, I never had a college
+education," said his father, "and I can't say that I've suffered
+greatly from the fact."
+
+"Perhaps it is just as well," Mrs. Bronson added.  "Rudy didn't know
+definitely what he wanted to do in the University.  Probably it's a
+good thing that he's out.  Now he can look around and find what he
+wants to do with himself."
+
+"But I do know what I want, Mother!" Rudy exclaimed.  "And that's why
+I'm not particularly cut up about having to leave the U.  I want to
+go in for music!"
+
+"Music?" they said in chorus.
+
+"Yes, modern music--syncopation.  Like Paul Whiteman, and Ted Lewis,
+and Ted Grant!  When I was in school I started a correspondence
+course with Grant.  You only have to pay a little down and a little a
+month," he explained hastily.  "And I'm getting along fine.  He
+writes that I'm one of his best pupils.  I've decided to keep on with
+it."
+
+"But where are you going to use it?" Mr. Bronson demanded.  "We
+haven't any jazz bands here in Waterville."
+
+"But you're going to have!  Sport O'Malley is going to organize one."
+
+"Sport O'Malley!"  Mrs. Bronson raised her hands despairingly.  "When
+there's any wild ideas hereabouts it seems that Sport O'Malley is
+responsible for them."
+
+"But this isn't a wild idea!" Rudy protested.  "It's a darned good
+one.  The country is mad over syncopation.  The old styles of
+orchestration have been routed completely.  If we get in on the
+ground floor with a good band before there is too much competition,
+we'll make a name for ourselves that'll be a knockout.  And say!  If
+we do get there, don't fool yourself about the money that we'll make.
+Why, good bands make so much money nowadays that they're thinking of
+starting a new mint--just to print money for musicians alone!"
+
+"Well, go to it," Mr. Bronson counseled.  "You seem to have your
+heart set on it, and I've always figured that a real wish to do a
+thing had that thing already half accomplished.  But in case you
+don't start making all this money right at the start, old Hesper was
+telling me this afternoon that he wanted a smart young man to run his
+soda fountain."
+
+Rudy grinned.  Hesper's drug store was the meeting place of most of
+the musically inclined youths of Waterville.  He often had sat at the
+marble counter with a group of them, lending his soft sweet tenor to
+renditions of popular numbers of the hour.  Nothing would please him
+more than to be close to this atmosphere of song and good fellowship
+for hours a day.
+
+Hurrying down the shaded streets in the direction of Hesper's place
+of business, Rudy congratulated himself upon the fact that the old
+man always had seemed to like him.  If another soda dispenser had not
+already been hired, he had small doubts but that Hesper would favor
+him.  Several times he had helped out flurried workers behind the
+counter during an unusual rush of business, and he knew that his
+proficiency with the syrups and creams of the trade now should stand
+him in good stead.
+
+Nor was he mistaken.  "I was thinking about you, Rudy," old Hesper
+answered his inquiry concerning the job.  "You always pitched in and
+helped the other boys when they needed it, and I was wondering if you
+might not be a good boy for the job when I asked your father if you
+were coming home.  Sure, I'll try you.  You'll find an apron in the
+closet and the salary is fifteen dollars a week."
+
+Fifteen dollars a week!  Rudy almost laughed aloud at the sum.  But a
+moment of thought checked his desire for mirth.  He was well aware
+that summer jobs were distressingly scarce in Waterville.  The good
+ones doubtless had already been taken.  Except for the smallness of
+the salary old Hesper offered to pay, Rudy could not list the job as
+unpromising.
+
+"You've hired me, Mr. Hesper," he said.  "When shall I go to work?"
+
+"Right away, if you can.  I'm shorthanded here, and that counter is
+driving me crazy.  Why, it seems as though a pharmacist these days
+also has to be a master sandwich maker!"
+
+Rudy laughed, going behind the counter.  Hesper, with his salty
+observations on the town's people and affairs, long had been one of
+his interests.  He felt that employment under the old fellow would be
+as palatable as would any that had nothing to do with music.  The
+fifteen dollars, too, upon consideration, took on a friendlier
+aspect.  He knew that his father had certain rigid ideas about being
+the head of the house.  The elder Bronson felt himself capable of
+supporting his small family, and therefore no part of Rudy's wages
+would be asked for room and board.
+
+Why, with that money coming in steadily every week, he soon would
+have enough to buy a Ted Grant saxophone, one of those beautiful
+instruments such as had been possessed by the orchestra leader at The
+Magic Lantern!  His heart swelled with anticipation.  With an
+instrument such as that, and steady application to his lessons and
+his singing, the end of the summer might see him well on the way to
+the top of the musical ladder.
+
+In quest of a cool drink, Sport O'Malley drifted into the store late
+in the afternoon.  His face shone with enthusiasm, and after
+congratulating Rudy on so promptly finding a job, he launched into a
+happy explanation of his smiles:
+
+"Boy, you sure were right about that band.  I've hunted up Sam and
+Swiftie Clarke and Al Monroe, and they're all keen about the idea.
+It seems that all they needed was an organizer, somebody with the
+executive ability for which I am justly celebrated.  They fell for
+the idea of an orchestra like a ton of bricks.  We're going to get
+together to-night to talk more about it."
+
+He finished his drink and flipped a coin on the marble counter.
+"Over at my place 'bout nine, Rudy.  Bring your sax, because we might
+want to go through a couple of numbers just to sort of get acquainted
+with each other."
+
+"Sure."  Rudy expertly removed the ring left by Sport's glass on the
+counter and rang up the coin.  "I'll be there with bells on."
+
+"O.K."  Sport went on his leisurely way, leaving Rudy, despite his
+attempt at calm, the prey to an overwhelming fear.  What if he should
+prove a bust?  These chaps would be fully as critical of his ability
+as had been those of the University.  Perhaps more so, for there was
+the added fact of his year away at school.  They were just town boys,
+and ever eager to discover assumptions of superiority on the part of
+those with educational advantages greater than their own.
+
+Rudy had no thought of trying to appear superior with them.  Sam
+McMahon, Swiftie Clarke, Al Monroe and the others were as far from
+receiving any air of condescension from him as they would be from the
+most ardent democrat.  But Rudy was, nevertheless, quick to
+appreciate that any slip on his part would be the signal for a never
+very deeply hidden dislike.
+
+He squared his shoulders defiantly.  Let them razz him, if they
+could!  He might not as yet have attained top form, true enough.  But
+he rapidly was doing so.  Why, Ted Grant, in his last letter, had
+remarked on his gratifying progress!  It would not be long before
+there would be nothing but general acclaim for his skill.  And
+then--well, the sky was the limit.
+
+It was after nine o'clock when he hurried up the front steps of
+Sport's home.  He had been detained by a late rush of the thirsty at
+the fountain, but he hoped that, due to late-comers and the natural
+tendency of new projects to be slow in getting started, he had not
+missed much of the meeting.
+
+This he found to be the case.  Sport answered his ring and led him
+into the living room where the prospective band lounged.  He
+apparently was the last member to arrive, for they greeted him with
+the usual sarcastic remarks which are the portion of the late-comer.
+Then, as if prompted by some latent sense of good manners, they
+clustered around him to tell him that they were glad he was back from
+the University.
+
+They were a promising-looking bunch.  With scarcely an exception,
+they could have been set down on the campus Rudy so recently had
+quitted, and attracted no more notice than that usually bestowed on
+the customary undergraduate.  With movies, the radio, good roads and
+the automobile, the young, small-town yokel largely has become a
+thing of the past on the American scene.  These boys were fully aware
+and in touch with that which was transpiring beyond the horizon of
+their particular community.  This became evident by the serious
+manner in which they now settled to the business of organizing their
+band.
+
+"Sport's right, fellows," said Swiftie Clarke.  "The jazz orchestra
+of to-day has about the best chance to lift young men into the big
+dough of any racket there is.  If we work hard, and figure out a
+campaign carefully, I don't see any reason why we shouldn't make the
+grade inside of a year!"
+
+"First we've got to have a name," Sport said.  "How about calling
+ourself 'Sport O'Malley and his Playboys'?"
+
+There was an immediate dissension to this.  "I guess there's no
+argument about you being the best musician of us all, Sport," said Al
+Monroe, "but I can't see why the orchestra should take your name,
+just because of that.  Oh, you'll be the manager, all right.  But I
+think it would be better if we just used the last part of that
+name--called ourselves The Playboys."
+
+As a chorus of assent greeted this suggestion, Sport yielded
+gracefully.  "Sure," he agreed.  "I just thought it would label us a
+little more definitely.  But whatever you guys say is all right with
+me."  He paused.  "You say I'm manager.  That's O.K., too.  And the
+first thing I'll do is to call a practise--right now.  I told you all
+to bring your instruments.  So break them out, laddies, and let's go!"
+
+The young men promptly obeyed, and after a few minutes of adjustment
+were seated in a semicircle facing Sport at the piano.  He passed out
+a wad of single sheets, professional copies of some of the latest
+numbers such as are used by musicians the musical world over.
+"Suppose we run through 'Texas Moon,'" he suggested.  "It will give
+us sort of a warming-up exercise, and let us know a little of what we
+can expect from one another."
+
+With a signal he led the way into the fox-trot and the others
+followed with a surprising agility.  Even Rudy, who ordinarily had
+difficulty with strange pieces, acquitted himself without mishap.
+Sport's expression was pleased as the number closed.  "That's fine!"
+he exclaimed.  "What I mean, of course, is that it was bum.  But for
+a gang who've never played together before, it wasn't bad at all."
+
+"It would have been better if we'd had the chorus taken up vocally,"
+Sam observed.  "We've got to get a good voice, Sport.  That's half
+the battle in an orchestra nowadays."
+
+"Sure is," Sport said.  "But I don't remember any of you guys having
+much in the way of voices.  And I know darned well I haven't."  He
+looked at Rudy.  "I guess you're our best bet there, Rudy."
+
+"I hope he's good at something," Al Monroe said surprisingly.
+"'Cause he sure can find a lot of flat notes on that sax of his."
+
+"Who?" Rudy asked.  "Me?"
+
+"Yes," said Al, "you.  You remind me of Fritz Kreisler."
+
+"But Kreisler's no saxophone player!"
+
+"Well, it doesn't sound to me like you are either."
+
+Rudy reddened darkly at the thrust.  To his own ears he had stayed on
+pitch with an unaccustomed fidelity, and the criticism therefore cut
+all the more deeply.  Sport saw his chagrin and leaped quickly to his
+defense:
+
+"Quit your kidding, Al.  Rudy hasn't been playing as long as we have,
+but the way he's going I'll bet he shows us all up in the long run."
+He turned to Rudy.  "I wouldn't pay any attention to a hyena like Al,
+Rudy.  He wouldn't know a grace note if he heard one....  And say, do
+you know the vocalization on this number?"
+
+Rudy nodded.  "I'll sing the chorus.  Take it through from the start
+and then all of you cork off except the piano.  I can't sing against
+a whole orchestra."
+
+With a flash of his hand, Sport once more started the piece.  The
+band moved through the verse, and at the refrain Rudy dropped the
+saxophone from his lips and began to sing.  He did not sing at all in
+the manner which from previous experience with orchestra singers, his
+companions expected.  Rather, in a plaintive, persuasive manner, he
+crooned rather than sang.  His voice was not very strong, but it was
+surpassingly pleasant and sweet, and when the number was done they
+all knew that that portion of their problem was settled.
+
+"Great stuff, Rudy," Sport cried.  "I bet when the dames hear you
+singing like that they won't know if they're afoot or horseback!"
+
+"Yeah," said Al Monroe, "what a pity it is he can't handle the high
+notes on a saxophone the same way.  Gee, on some of those passages it
+sounded as if we were passing through a vinegar mill."
+
+"Don't you worry about that, big boy," Rudy told him with a trace of
+grimness.  "I'm improving all the time--and I'll get there.  I'm
+studying under Ted Grant, and if you know anything at all you know
+that he's the man who taught Ben Bernie and Ted Lewis.  Just wait!
+One of these days people will be adding that he taught Rudy Bronson,
+too!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+FLIGHT
+
+The weeks passed swiftly.  Days of pleasant labor behind Hesper's
+soda fountain, nights of practise with The Playboys.  Rudy knew it to
+be the most profitable summer of his life, and he devoted himself to
+study with an increasing zeal.
+
+He had been correct in assuming that his father would ask for no part
+of his small wages, and carefully saved, these now resulted in the
+arrival of a package for which he had hoped and of which he had
+dreamed since the night of his visit to The Magic Lantern.  One
+afternoon the local expressman delivered to his home a long box
+bearing the conspicuous label _Ted Grant Saxophone Company, New York_.
+
+Rudy ate no dinner that evening.  His full hour off duty he devoted
+to a careful and most prayerful unpacking and inspection of the
+shining instrument.  It was a beautiful saxophone, glittering with a
+virginal freshness, and he gazed upon it as upon a miracle.
+
+The customers of Hesper's fountain received rather haphazard service
+when eventually he returned to duty.  At occasional moments Rudy
+would run to the back of the shop and feast his eyes upon the lovely
+lines of the new sax, then hurry back to fill an impatient order.  A
+real Ted Grant saxophone--his!
+
+It sent him to the night's practise session on winged feet.  He ran
+up the steps of Sport's home and entered the house with the air of
+one who has a stunning message to deliver.  But the other members of
+the orchestra did not appear to share his excitement over the new
+possession.  In fact, Al Monroe merely remarked that he was later
+than usual.
+
+"I'd see that you were docked, if we were being paid salaries," he
+added.
+
+"Yeah," said Sam, "_if_ we were being paid salaries!"
+
+"But look, gang!" Rudy exclaimed.  "It's a beautiful new De Luxe,
+Silver Plated, Super Toned, Ted Grant Saxophone.  Listen to these low
+notes."
+
+As he played a few notes, Swiftie Clarke commented: "Giving himself
+the bird."
+
+"Good enough, Rudy," Al admitted.  "But what's interesting us just
+now is bank notes.  And those don't seen to be exactly plentiful
+around here.  And when Sport shows up we're going to tell him so."
+
+"Sure," said Sam.  "What's the use of blowing our lungs out, and
+never get any jobs?"
+
+"Leave it to Sport," Rudy assured him.  "He'll get us a job.  Why,
+we've only been going in a decent manner for about a week."
+
+"Well, that's a week, ain't it?  What's the sense of going over stuff
+that you're already good at?"
+
+Any answer to his question was forestalled by the appearance of Sport
+himself.  He looked unusually jaunty, and seated himself at the piano
+after a greeting in which laughter mingled with self-assurance.
+"Sorry to be late, boys.  But you know how it is with us executives.
+Now let's run through 'Lovable and Sweet.'"
+
+When the number had run its more or less tuneful way, Sport sat back
+from his keyboard, frowning.  "That was terrible!  Say, Sam, keep
+your mind on your work, will you?"
+
+"Aw, what's the matter now?" Sam demanded truculently.
+
+"Nothing much," Sport informed him.  "Except that the entire band is
+out of tune, except you."
+
+Sam scowled.  "Yeah?  What you always picking on me for, Sport?
+Especially when you know that I can outplay anyone in the band."
+
+"That's just the trouble, you not only can--but you do.  Come on,
+now," he added, rapping on the keys, "let's see if we can all start
+and finish together, just once."
+
+"Aw, what's the use?" Swiftie Clarke demanded.  "There's no use
+getting too good."
+
+"There's not much danger of that with you guys," Sport said shortly.
+
+Al Monroe looked at the huge and indolent clarinetist.  "Say, that
+guy'd make Sitting Bull look like a man of action."
+
+Swiftie protested sleepily: "Aw, I can play it in my sleep."
+
+"Come on," Sport said impatiently, "let's go."
+
+"Go where," Al asked.  "Doesn't look to me like we're going any
+place.  Here we've been practising like a lot of galley slaves--and
+all we've got is the chance to hear our own music.  For a manager you
+seem to be a washout, Sport."
+
+Sport looked at them coolly.  "So you bozos are dissatisfied with me,
+is that it?  Think I have been falling down getting us jobs?"
+
+"Don't worry about that, Sport," Rudy interposed.  "Rome wasn't built
+in a day, you know."
+
+"Aw nuts, Rudy!" Sam exclaimed.  "Can that patience noise.  What we
+want is a job--and soon!"
+
+Sport hesitated.  "Well, I guess I might as well tell you," he said,
+as if speaking to himself.  "We've got a chance to fill an engagement
+at the new Laconia Hotel in New Hampshire."  As a cheer started to
+break from their suddenly delighted faces, he held up his hand,
+frowning.
+
+"Wait a minute.  Maybe you won't be so tickled when you've heard the
+details.  It's only a fill-in engagement until their regular
+orchestra gets loose from a contract in New York.  Two or three weeks
+at most--and not at much money.  If you fellows with jobs can't get
+vacations, you'll have to quit them; and it's a pretty long way up
+there, and back.  Now what do you say?"
+
+But to the orchestra members, fretting over the wait for work, the
+name of the hotel was a talisman of good fortune.  "It's a start,"
+cried Bud Dwight, and the words of the usually silent trombone player
+were immediately taken up by the others.
+
+"Sure it is," Swiftie cried.  "We'll go up there and knock them cold,
+and somebody'll give us a permanent job.  Maybe they'll tell that New
+York bunch to go hop in the river, after they hear us!"
+
+"But the salary naturally starts up there," Sport said.  "How about
+transportation?"
+
+"I've got a car," Rudy said quickly.  "And so has Harry Ables.  We'll
+just--vagabond over."
+
+"Swell!" Sam McMahon cried.  "That's what we'll call ourselves, too.
+If they think it's funny we arrive in flivvers we can say that's
+simply part of our atmosphere--The Vagabonds!"
+
+And so it was settled.
+
+In the morning Sport wired the manager of the New Hampshire hotel
+that The Vagabonds would be pleased to accept the short-term
+engagement offered them; and by evening most of the members had shorn
+themselves of what they now considered wholly superfluous jobs.  One
+or two of the more cautious ones, like Bud Dwight, asked for leaves
+of absence.  But the majority were so certain of an impending success
+that they cut loose in a frank and abrupt manner which left several
+employers in a state poised between bewilderment and rage.
+
+Such, strangely enough, was the attitude taken by old Hesper when
+Rudy informed him of his approaching trip.  Prompted by much the same
+feeling as the others regarding a certain success, he had
+nevertheless no wish to offend the proprietor of the drug store.  But
+to his request for a vacation, the old man answered testily.
+
+"You only been working a few weeks," he stormed, "and here you are
+wanting to lay off already.  No, sir!  If you go you don't come
+back--and that's final!"
+
+"All right," Rudy said.  "Then you better be getting some one for my
+place."
+
+Hesper looked at him in dismay.  "Do you really mean it?" he gasped.
+"Are you going to give up a good job here just to go galivanting
+around with that--that----"
+
+"Vagabond Orchestra," Rudy prompted him.
+
+"Vagabond is right!  And that's just what you'll end up--vagabonds!
+Tramps!  Well, when you do, you needn't come to me for any sympathy.
+A good steady fellow like you," he added in a more kindly tone,
+"hasn't any right going around with a rapscallion like that Sport
+O'Malley.  I hate to see him leading you, Rudy."
+
+Rudy smiled.  "I hate to see him leading me, too, Mr. Hesper--though
+probably in a different way than you.  I hate to see anyone leading
+an orchestra that I'm in--except Rudy Bronson!"
+
+"Get out!" said his erstwhile employer.  "Get out and stay out!"
+
+Walking thoughtfully in the direction of his home, Rudy mused: "Well,
+that settles that."  Although he had some disagreement with old
+Hesper as to the "goodness" of the job he had quitted, it had been,
+after all, a job.  Now he was just a vagabond musician.
+
+"Nothing venture, nothing gain," he said aloud.  "Why, at one time
+even Ted Grant himself was no better off than I am!"
+
+Cheering as he found the thought, however, when two days later he
+trundled his little car out of the garage and parked it in the street
+until he had said good-by to his mother, some misgivings troubled
+him.  If the Hotel Laconia job was a failure, it would be awful to
+come back and be forced to accept the jeers of townspeople minded
+like old Hesper!
+
+For the most part, the citizenry of Waterville took pride in the
+venture.  The Clarion had run a story captioned _Local Boys Make
+Good_, which had brought no little satisfaction to all concerned.
+But there was also the ever-present group of scoffers, and these
+would welcome the chance to exercise their alleged wit.
+
+"Good-by, son," said Mrs. Bronson, "and good luck."
+
+"Thanks, Mother," Rudy answered.  "And tell Dad 'so long' for me
+again."  He smiled.  "Maybe I'll be back pretty quick, you can't
+tell."
+
+"If you do," Mrs. Bronson said, "you'll always find your home here
+waiting for you."
+
+Rudy went down the walk to his flivver with something close to tears
+in his eyes.  With such sustaining love and faith it was up to him to
+do anything but fail--and fail he would not.  He couldn't, now.
+
+At Sport's home, he found the rest of the organization gathered.
+Their silence told him that they must suddenly have found this
+leave-taking as serious as had he.  Looking at the two over-loaded
+cars, Rudy realized that they truthfully had been named The Vagabonds.
+
+Sport quickly stowed luggage and passengers in the yawning tonneau,
+and climbed in beside Rudy.
+
+"Fame, next stop," he grinned, "let's go."
+
+Rudy meshed the gears, and they swept down the narrow, tree-shaded
+street to the brighter light of the broad highway.  As they rode
+Sport continually re-read a much thumbed letter.  Rudy suspected that
+it was from Molly Bland, but he did not inquire.  He merely hoped
+that some day he would be receiving such notes from Jean Whitehall.
+
+His ruminations were checked by Sport's voice.
+
+"Did you see that piece in the paper about the Whitehalls?"
+
+Rudy's heart leaped.  "No, what?"
+
+"They're going to spend the summer in New England," Sport answered
+calmly.  "Maybe they'll show up at the Laconia.  I understand most
+society people do, sooner or later.  And if so, you'll have a chance
+to feast thine eyes upon the girl friend!"
+
+Sport grabbed at the wheel, as under the influence of the news on the
+driver, the old car headed for the ditch at the roadside.
+
+"Of course that's just a guess on my part," Sport said with telling
+sarcasm.  "Don't kill yourself until you know it's a fact!"
+
+Rudy did not attempt to answer with words.  But his foot went down on
+the accelerator until it touched the floorboards.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+ENGAGEMENT
+
+The Hotel Laconia was one of those New Hampshire hostelries which do
+their best business in the summer.  Snow-locked and forbidding during
+the winter months, it found economy necessary during the paying
+portion of the year; and it was due to this economy policy that the
+management had found itself without a dance orchestra at the height
+of its season.
+
+The manager himself greeted the Vagabonds.  He was a plump, rosy man
+with eyes like faded marbles appearing incongruously in the freshness
+of his face.  Calling a bellboy to show them to their quarters, he
+asked Sport to visit his office later to complete the financial
+arrangements.  When he left them, his hard eyes made them all
+extremely conscious of the fact that they had arrived in two very
+worn Fords.
+
+"Just a pal," remarked Al Monroe, when the door had closed upon his
+well-tailored back.  "And all I got to say is that we better deliver
+for this baby right from the opening note, or it'll be back to
+Waterville for little us."
+
+"That's right," Sport agreed, "except that if we flop, I'll be
+willing to go most any place except back to Waterville.  We can't
+muff this, gang!  The way I talked us up, he'll be expecting nothing
+less than music like Whiteman's.  So let's try and get off to a good
+start.  Get your tuxes out and send them down to be pressed.  You
+take care of mine, will you, Rudy?" he asked.  "I'll chase down and
+talk money with our genial host."
+
+Thus ten tuxedos made a double descent in the elevator of the Hotel
+Laconia that afternoon.  Creased and wrinkled from packing, they
+first went down to the valet service in the basement; and carefully
+draped on the somewhat apprehensive frames of ten young men, the
+second time they stopped off at the main floor.
+
+The manager met them at the desk and ushered them with their
+instruments to the orchestral platform in one corner of the long
+dining room.  "We don't have any dancing during the dinner hour," he
+explained in answer to their mystified looks.  "Tables are set on the
+floor in the middle of the room.  Later those will be removed and the
+dancing will take place there."
+
+As The Vagabonds arranged themselves, he added: "Of course that means
+that during the dinner hour we won't want the usual syncopation.
+Give us something quieter--a little more highbrow."  He left them
+without another word.
+
+The orchestra exchanged mutual glances of chagrin.  "Holy cow!"
+ejaculated Sport, "and us without even a semi-classical number in our
+repertoire!"
+
+"This is a swell time to be thinking of that!" Al Monroe growled.
+"If we break out in a red-hot-mama number some of these old crows are
+liable to choke on their bird-seed."
+
+"Don't worry, gang," Rudy Bronson said quietly.  "We can play the hot
+numbers softly--and I won't sing any of the choruses except the
+ballads.  So far as that goes, Sport can play the piano, and I'll
+piece out with some solos until the dance hour."
+
+In their moment of extremity they were willing to jump at any
+solution of the unexpected problem.  "Atta boy, Rudy!" Sport cried.
+"And for the love of great crying catfish, try and come through!"
+
+"Yeah," said Swiftie Clarke, "because we're just about anything but
+anxious to go home."
+
+"O.K., gang!  We'll start with 'Loveable and Sweet.'  For the chorus,
+instead of having Rudy sing, I'll do a piano solo.  I'll dress it all
+up until they'll think they're hearing Beethoven."
+
+Somehow the dinner hour was passed.  Although an occasional diner was
+seen to cast curious glances in the direction of the orchestra, the
+majority apparently were able to consume their meals without the
+indigestion said inevitably to accompany modern music.
+
+[Illustration: A scene from the Radio Picture, "The Vagabond Lover,"
+starring RUDY VALLEE.]
+
+Rudy did a yeoman's service.  As the band ran out of pieces which it
+could play in a manner that disguised a frankly jazz origin, he
+stepped into the breech with a long array of ballads.  Most of these
+were popular, true enough, but by singing softly he was able to
+concentrate upon the sweetness of the music without calling much
+attention to the lyrics.  When at last the floor was cleared for
+dancing, he sighed relievedly.  Apparently they had come through the
+dangerous situation without difficulty.
+
+He noted that the manager had been watching them closely, but the
+fellow's ever-present smile disguised whether he was pleased or
+inwardly raging.  As the peppy music to which the boys were more
+accustomed allowed them to get on familiar ground, there seemed less
+room for worry.  But the manner in which the manager kept his eye on
+them proved disconcerting to Sport.
+
+"We haven't any more privacy than a lot of goldfish," he complained.
+"Take this next one big, boys.  He's still watching."
+
+"Let Rudy sing again," Sam suggested.  "If he doesn't like that he
+wouldn't like his mother-in-law's life insurance."
+
+Such assurances of good opinion are heartening to one's self-respect,
+and as the evening wore on Rudy gained in confidence.  Knowing that
+his voice was not remarkably strong, he had hoped that its purity of
+tone would carry him over the shoal waters of criticism.  This wish,
+to judge from the reaction of his fellow musicians, was being carried
+out in a manner that left nothing to be desired.
+
+When the last number had been played, the orchestra gave a collective
+sigh of relief.  "Well, at least that's over," said Sport.  "And I
+don't think we were so rotten.  But what a rehearsal we're going to
+have in the morning on semi-classical numbers!"
+
+He was about to say more, when the appearance of the manager stopped
+him.  "Ah, Mr. Loughboro, I hope you liked our music."
+
+"Not bad," said the manager.  "Not good--but not bad.  Give the blond
+kid more numbers to sing.  The women like him.  I'd be sending for a
+new band to-night if it weren't for the fact that you had him with
+you."  And with this cheering message he departed as abruptly as he
+had come.
+
+Sport mopped his brow.  "And just to think," he said, "that once I
+had some doubt about letting you play with us."  He grinned at Rudy.
+"And now you save us our job."
+
+"Such as it is," Rudy said coolly.  "Don't worry, Sport.  We're
+slated for bigger things than any country hotel.  When we hit our
+stride there isn't a night club in New York that won't be busting its
+neck to get us."
+
+"Well, I must say you've got confidence," commented Al Monroe.
+
+"And," said Swiftie Clarke, "a voice that the ladies like.  Which is
+more than I can say for nine other guys not very far from here."
+
+"I'll say!" Sport agreed.  "And it looks to me like its up to you to
+carry us through that dinner hour for the rest of the engagement,
+Rudy."
+
+It was a truthful prophecy.  With diligent morning practice, The
+Vagabonds were able to counterfeit a fair knowledge of semi-classical
+numbers for the dinner hour.  But during this hour and those of the
+dancing period which followed, it was soon evident that Rudy's mellow
+voice was the cardinal point in their favor.
+
+The two-week engagement closed on Saturday night.  Sunday, no music
+was played, except that of a string quartet especially imported for
+the afternoon tea hour.  On Monday the New York orchestra would
+arrive.  As early as the middle of the first week, all hope had been
+abandoned that Mr. Loughboro would not bring the other band up from
+the city, and it was an unhappy group of young men who prepared for
+their last evening at the Hotel Laconia.
+
+"It isn't that I hate leaving here so very much," Sport complained.
+"It's just that I hate having nowhere else to go--except home."
+
+Rudy put two letters in his pocket, and straightened his tie.  Both
+were from Waterville, one from his mother, the other from Ted
+Grant--the last letter he ever would receive from Grant as a pupil,
+for it signalized the completion of the course.
+
+He was anything but happy.  The hotel job had not led to the
+hoped-for future engagement, and return to Waterville seemed an
+impossibility.  Both his mother's disappointment and the cackling of
+such tongues as old Hesper's would be equally unbearable.  But what
+else was there to do?
+
+The dinner hour passed uneventfully.  With the two weeks of
+experience, the orchestra was able to put forth a nice medley of
+music suitable to the occasion, and Rudy appeared to be in even
+better voice than ever before.  He had several encores, but refused
+to take a bow.  "I'm just a part of the band," he said.  "Let it go."
+
+When the dance floor was cleared and the major business of the
+evening actually began, he strangely began to grow nervous.  It was
+as if some secret voice were attempting to whisper of a coming event
+of peculiar significance.  But shrugging off the premonition, he
+applied himself to the work prepared for him, refusing attention to
+anything save the immediate problem of making the Vagabonds seem a
+good orchestra.
+
+With the evening nearing its close without anything of a startling
+nature having occurred, Rudy was tempted to wonder at the odd fancy
+which had affected him.  And yet, it was at precisely the moment when
+he was scoffing the strongest at his strange hunch that he looked up
+to see Jean Whitehall entering the room with a party of friends.
+
+His pulse quickened and his lips set tightly.  So Sport had been
+right!  Rudy found her more lovely than ever.  She was so utterly
+desirable that he had to look determinedly to another section of the
+room.  He remembered with what eagerness he had dreamed of finding
+her here at the Laconia.  Now, in a flash, he wanted only to escape
+her notice.  He had dreamed of success for the Vagabonds.  They were
+not successes, however, as the fact that this was their last night
+testified.  He had no wish to be seen in the ignominious role of
+saxophonist in a country town band that was not good enough to stay
+in even a summer hotel.
+
+When he saw her party take a table out of a direct line of vision
+with the orchestra, Rudy's breath escaped in a little sigh of relief.
+She would not see him from her present position.  Then he heard Sport
+say:
+
+"You catch the chorus on this, Rudy."
+
+Rudy mechanically set the music on his stand.  To sing would surely
+be to draw Jean's attention.  He shook his head as he silently made
+his decision.  No, he couldn't do it--not if he wanted to, his throat
+was that constricted.
+
+"No go, Sport," he said to that surprised individual.
+
+"What's wrong?" Sport demanded.
+
+"Throat's raw as a beefsteak.  Let's stick to the music.  It sounded
+good enough to-night."
+
+Sport did not insist.  Al Monroe, however, refused to let the moment
+pass without a word.  "What's the matter?  Afraid you'll crack and
+disappoint the ladies?"
+
+"I'll say I'm afraid," Rudy grinned mirthlessly.
+
+Jean danced several times.  Once or twice she glanced in the
+direction of the orchestra platform; but he knew that from her
+distance its members were nothing more than an impersonal blur.  And
+for this he was as thankful as that Sport had failed to notice her in
+the crowd.
+
+Without appearing to do so, Rudy watched her party closely.  They
+were older people, suggesting the thought that she must be visiting
+in the district.  He was grateful for the pronounced age of one of
+the men in her party who apparently wished to leave.  Evidently this
+gentleman had the authority to cause his wishes to be respected, for
+presently they gathered their forces and went toward the doorway.
+
+Rudy was relieved, but saddened, too.  There went Jean again!  Must
+she always be going away from him?  Going away!  Would there ever be
+a time when he could meet her on the footing which he hoped for--when
+she must recognize him as a social equal?  His hands clenched.  That
+time _must_ come!
+
+Subconsciously he heard the orchestra launch into "I Love You,
+Believe Me, I Love You."  His mind traveled back to the night when he
+had stood on Sorority Row, singing to the girl whom he believed had
+not heard him.
+
+"I'll take the next chorus," he called to Sport.
+
+Jean already had left the room.  Rudy saw her crossing the verandah
+to a waiting motor.  The elderly gentleman saw her into the ear and
+then entered with her.  Slowly the motor moved away.  Rudy closed his
+eyes and opened his lips.  A limpid flow of golden notes that only
+emphasized the sincerity of his words filled the room:
+
+  "You'll be my one inspiration,
+  You've changed my whole life from the start,
+  I love you, believe me, I love you,
+  This theme is the dream of my heart."
+
+
+The last words of the song drifted away.  The Vagabonds were through.
+It took but a moment to gather up their instruments and scores.  They
+were gone and the big room quite deserted when a girl rushed back
+from the verandah.  It was Jean.  Her car had been delayed by a
+traffic snarl; Rudy's song had reached her ears as clearly as it had
+reached them the night of the dance.
+
+"The orchestra has left," she said in evident disappointment to her
+escort.
+
+He smiled tolerantly.  "You'll hear it again, Jean."
+
+"It was the singer," she admitted.  "His voice sounded so familiar."
+
+Upstairs in his room, Rudy slumped down into a chair.  Sport looked
+at him inquiringly.  "What's wrong?"
+
+"She was out there to-night--Jean," he muttered unhappily.  "She
+didn't see me, though--fortunately."
+
+"Say!" Sport cried.  "What's the idea?  You almost put us in the
+ditch when I tipped you off that she might blow into this hotel some
+night.  And now you say you didn't want her to see you.  What _is_
+this?"
+
+"You don't understand, Sport.  I was a bust in school, and to-night
+I'm playing the sax in a punk little band that couldn't hold a job in
+a country hotel.  When I meet her, she won't have to apologize for me
+to her friends; she'll be proud of me--proud.  I've got just two
+ideas--and she's one of them.  I've got to amount to something,
+Sport.  And I will!"
+
+Sport looked at him soberly.
+
+"You will," he declared without hesitation.  "And don't ever forget
+that it was Sport O'Malley who discovered you!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+A DECISION
+
+In the morning Sport visited the manager's office, received payment
+for the orchestra's services for the second week, and returned to his
+co-workers with the impression that in the opinion of Mr. Loughboro
+they had better go back to Waterville--and stay there.
+
+The manager in addition had divulged one startling bit of
+information.  "The blond chap who sings can stay, if he wants to.  I
+don't know if the incoming troupe has a singer or not--they probably
+have.  But he's gone over so well with the patrons at the dinner hour
+that I'm willing to keep him on just for that time alone.  Send him
+in if he's interested."
+
+When Sport had divided the money, he nervously cleared his throat and
+gave Rudy Mr. Loughboro's message.  The silence which finished the
+announcement told him that which he already knew--that in the
+estimation of The Vagabonds, Rudy was half the band.  Without Rudy,
+there wouldn't be any orchestra.
+
+Rudy's eyes lighted.  A chance to stay on as a soloist!  He had known
+that he was favorably impressing the Laconia's guests, but he had not
+imagined that he was succeeding so markedly as that!  Then he slowly
+became aware of the depressed expressions of his friends.
+
+"Take it, Rudy," Sport was saying.  "You'd be an awful chump to stick
+with a bum outfit like this when you've got a chance like that."
+
+Rudy grinned.  "What do you mean, a bum outfit?" he demanded.  "Say,
+if you want my opinion, I don't think we've got to take the derbies
+off our trombones to anybody's band!"
+
+"What's the use of kidding ourselves?" Sport asked dully.  "We're a
+pretty good band, true enough; but without you we'd be just another
+ham outfit.  We might as well face it--and go back to Waterville and
+face _that_."
+
+Rudy looked at him.  "Listen, Sport, do I honestly look like the sort
+of a fellow who would leave his friends in the lurch?"
+
+Sport's eyes widened.  "And then you won't leave us?  You'll stick?"
+
+"What made you think I'd do anything else?"
+
+They were upon him in an instant, pounding him affectionately,
+describing his general appearance and capabilities in a manner which
+caused several guests on the same floor to ring the desk and ask for
+the house detective.
+
+"But listen," Rudy said, when they finally had allowed him freedom
+from their expressions of joy, "I'll stay only on one condition."
+
+"Name it and she's yours!" Sport cried.
+
+"Maybe you won't be so sure when I do," Rudy told him.  "I'll stay
+with the orchestra only if we hereafter are known as Rudy Bronson and
+his Vagabonds."
+
+There was a little silence.  But Al Monroe seemed to voice the
+general opinion when he said: "We ought to go a long way with a
+mouth-filling name like that."
+
+"Then it's settled?"
+
+"Sure it's settled," said Sport.  "It's obvious who the big shot of
+this outfit is, and it might as well be named for you.  But listen,"
+he added, "that takes the responsibilities of managership out of my
+hands.  You're it, Rudy.  If we're to take your name it's up to you
+to get us jobs."
+
+"And if you don't do any better than Sport did," Sam McMahon informed
+him, "we won't be named anything for long."
+
+Packing his tuxedo thoughtfully in his suitcase, Rudy was reminded by
+a faint rustle of paper of yesterday's mail.  Drawing the letters
+from the pocket of the coat, he looked again at the one from Ted
+Grant.  "I suppose you fellows know," he said slowly, "that my
+improvement on the saxophone has been due to my study under Ted
+Grant?"
+
+"What improvement?" inquired Al Monroe.
+
+"Sure, we know, Rudy," Sport assured him.  "Don't mind Al."
+
+"Is that that correspondence-course fellow?" Bud Dwight asked.
+
+"Yes," Rudy answered.  "In addition to being the greatest saxophonist
+in the world, he discovered Ben Bernie and Ted Lewis.  I read all
+about it in his ads."
+
+Al Monroe snorted.  "Do you believe everything you read, fella?"
+
+"Never mind.  Ted Grant's a remarkable man.  Why, it was the ideal he
+set for me that made me practise hours every day for months!"
+
+Seeing that the sarcastic Al Monroe was on the verge of another of
+his malicious remarks, Sport broke in hastily with: "He's a great
+guy, all right.  I guess he's got one of the biggest band
+organizations in the country.  If we only could hook up with him--as
+one of his outfits!"
+
+Rudy nodded slowly.  "I was thinking of something like that," he said.
+
+"But, Rudy," said Sam McMahon, "do you think that Ted Grant would be
+interested in a small-time outfit like ours?"
+
+"I don't see why not," Rudy answered.  "He's almost a personal friend
+of mine."  He unfolded the letter.  "Why, just see how he writes to
+me.  Here," as he pushed the letter into Sam's hand, "just read that
+last paragraph!"
+
+Sam took the letter, and after a moment of delay, during which time
+his eyes skipped down the typewritten lines, began to read: "'And in
+concluding this course, let me tell you that at all times I shall
+follow your work, as my pupil, with heartfelt interest and hope that
+you will bring your problems of the future to me as to an old friend.
+Cordially, Ted Grant.'"
+
+Hesitating a moment, Sam added: "There's a P.S.  'Please send the
+names of any acquaintances who would be interested in subscribing to
+this course under my direction.'
+
+He laid the paper down, and looked at the others.  "Say, that's
+pretty good!"
+
+"Imagine it!" exclaimed little Bud Dwight, with biting irony.
+"Following the work of all his pupils like that!"
+
+"And that isn't all," Rudy said expansively, ignoring Bud.  "Here,
+Sam, read this.  It's a clipping my mother sent me yesterday in her
+letter."
+
+McMahon obediently took the printed strip.  "'New blood,'" he began,
+"'is what the jazz band industry of this country needs,' said Ted
+Grant to the interviewer yesterday.  'And it is in the hope of
+finding young talent for my bands that I have instituted the Ted
+Grant Correspondence Course in Music.  The crying need for players
+trained by such competent methods as the Grant Correspondence Method
+is----'"
+
+"That," said Al Monroe, "sounds like another ad for his course."
+
+"Oh, you don't know Ted Grant!" Rudy quickly protested.  "He wouldn't
+stoop to such a thing as that.  Read on further, Sam."
+
+"'Mr. Grant has rented a home in the smart summer resort of Longport,
+L.I., where hereafter he will spend his idle hours scanning the work
+of his pupils, as received by mail, in the hope of finding promising
+material for the many profitable positions awaiting the graduates of
+the Ted Grant Correspondence Method.'"
+
+"Well, that sounds promising enough," Sport O'Malley admitted.  "But
+do you think it means what it says?"
+
+Rudy leaped instantly to the defence of his hero.  "Mean it?  Why, of
+course he means it!  You should see some of the letters he's sent me.
+Believe me, when Ted Grant says something, it goes."
+
+"Talk's cheap," observed Al Monroe.  "But it takes money to buy real
+whisky.  Supposin' you wire this guy Grant and let him know that
+we're at liberty.  And then see whether or not he means what he says."
+
+Rudy flushed hotly at the suspicion thus cast upon the great
+saxophonist.  "Sure, I'll wire," he said suddenly.  "I'll wire him
+that we're coming!"
+
+"What!"
+
+"Just what I said.  I'll send him a wire that we are on our way to
+join his organization; then we'll climb in our flivvers and go to
+Longport.  I know he'll be glad to get a band like ours.  That's the
+only way to do business with a man, go see him personally."
+
+"And personally get thrown out on your ear," opined Al Monroe.
+
+"You just let me handle this," Rudy retorted.  "I'll have you boys
+all wearing diamonds before the snow flies."
+
+Sport nodded thoughtfully.  "Well, it's certain that we haven't
+anything to lose.  And you never can tell, we might have a lot to
+gain."
+
+"O.K.," Rudy said quickly.  "Get your instruments and clothes
+together and go on down to the cars.  I'll go down to the office and
+send the wire."  As the boys moved to obey he hurried them
+cheerfully: "Come on, gang, let's go.  Fame's waiting for us."
+
+In the office he wrote out his message on a telegraph blank, paid the
+fee, and started toward the door.  He was stopped by Mr. Loughboro.
+
+"Did O'Malley tell you about my offer to let you stay and sing with
+the new orchestra?" he asked.
+
+"And did you think that maybe he wouldn't?"
+
+"No need to get huffy, son.  I was not seeking to dispute O'Malley's
+honesty.  It's just that I knew he knew your value to his
+orchestra--and thought he might have, well, forgotten to remember."
+
+Rudy grinned.  "Thanks for the compliment," he said.  "And I'm sorry
+if I was hasty.  Sport's my friend, you see."
+
+"Well, what about the orchestra?"
+
+"The orchestra is my orchestra now, Mr. Loughboro.  It's Rudy Bronson
+and his Vagabonds.  Sorry I can't take up your offer, but I'd have to
+be twins.  We're going over to Longport and join the Ted Grant
+organization."
+
+The manager's eyebrows went up a trifle.  "Say, that's fine!  Well,
+good luck to you."  He held out his hand.  "And if you should ever be
+in need of a job, come around and let me know."
+
+"Thank you."  Rudy went out the door and down the long flight of
+steps to the parkway.  At a discreet distance from the swanky hotel,
+two worn Fords stood waiting.  Surrounded by a group of young men
+loaded with luggage and band instruments, they looked pitiably
+incapable of carrying such a load to the next town, much less to Long
+Island.
+
+Rudy smiled.  With a good break under Ted Grant those old cars soon
+would be replaced by models more in keeping with the estate of
+successful makers of good dance music.  The Vagabonds were good
+musicians; he knew that.  A little raw, but under the eye of such a
+master as Ted Grant--well, there just wasn't any limit to what they
+might hope to accomplish.
+
+"Alley oop!" he said climbing in beside Sport.  "I let Mr. Grant know
+we're soon to be with him."
+
+"I hope he's able to stand the strain of waiting," said Al Monroe.
+
+Rudy's answer was lost as fender to fender the two tin conveyances
+roared down the driveway and again The Vagabonds were on the open
+road.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+PORTRAIT OF A CELEBRITY
+
+Leaving the hopeful young musicians to that uninspired method of
+travel peculiar to small cars, let us flash quickly across country to
+the Long Island home of the gentleman upon whom their aspirations
+centered.
+
+Ted Grant was a short, stout, belligerent, rather pompous little man
+given to a Napoleonic egotism.  Nervous of voice and temperament, his
+face showed the strain of his manner of life coupled with a naturally
+choleric disposition.  Perhaps thirty years old, given to
+well-fitting Timesquarish clothes, he was sharply typical of the
+traditional jazz performer lifted to eminence by the sudden and
+overwhelming popularity of syncopation.
+
+Strutting up and down the floor of his Longport home, belaboring a
+large, heavy-set man, he had the appearance of a particularly
+impudent poodle attacking a bewildered mastiff.  "----and when I say
+you're dumb, Connors, I mean dumb!" he concluded a vituperative
+monologue.  "You're wasting your talents managing me.  You ought to
+be managing a war!"
+
+The big man raised protesting hands.  "Now see here, Ted--you haven't
+any right to talk to me like that.  You don't appreciate the
+management I give you--doubling in two shows, with your radio dates
+and night club work and now the best money-making proposition that
+we've had yet--the correspondence school of music."
+
+"Yes!" Grant cried.  "The correspondence school of music!  And what
+is driving me mad?  The correspondence school of music!  Me, the
+greatest living band leader--me, the man that made America
+jazz-minded--the man that discovered Ben Bernie, Ted Lewis, the Six
+Brown Brothers, and--and----"
+
+"Don't forget Sousa," the manager said wearily.  Ted Grant was a good
+money-maker, and that solely was why Connors allowed himself to be
+the butt of his tremendous egotism.  He had no affection for the
+lofty little man; no one had.  But there was no denying the fact that
+except for a little looseness with the names of people whom he
+claimed to have discovered, he was just about as good as he said he
+was.  As much as any other man, he had, actually, made America
+jazz-minded.
+
+"I'm too tired to think," he answered Connors' rather unsubtle dig.
+"Besides, why should a man of my ability have to remember all the
+musicians he's discovered?"
+
+Connors shrugged, raising his eyes ceilingward.  "No reason at all,"
+he admitted.
+
+But Grant was not to be placated.  "Don't you think an artist needs
+any rest at all?" he demanded petulantly.  "Answer me that!  What do
+you think I moved down here for--the view?"
+
+"I want you to get a rest," the manager insisted.
+
+"Sure!" Grant crowed.  "So you put out a lot of bum newspaper
+publicity about this Longport house that's caused me more annoyance
+in twenty-four hours than I'd get from a whole season in town.  Phone
+calls, telegrams from nut amateurs in every part of the country----"
+
+Connors moved his hands soothingly.  "Yes, but don't you see that's
+advertising the correspondence course of music?  You get ten per cent
+of the returns from it; and I think if we insisted, those people
+would give us more, seeing that it has gone over so well."
+
+"Ten per cent of the money--and one hundred per cent of the
+troubles!" Grant barked.  "I wish I'd never lent my name to it.
+Since I moved in yesterday, I'll bet I answered that phone forty
+times before I had the service cut off.  They even come in person."
+
+"Oh, be reasonable!  So far there's only been one of them showed up
+in person."
+
+"And he's equal to forty himself!"
+
+"Well, just keep on refusing to see him," the manager counseled.
+"He'll soon wear himself out."
+
+"Yeah, either himself or me.  And I think it's liable to be me."  He
+strode gloomily to the window and gave a morose inspection to the
+outlines of the house next door.  "And that Mrs. Whitehall over
+there, I suppose she'll wear herself out, too!"
+
+"She hasn't been around personally, Ted."
+
+"No, but she called up three times and sent two messages.  'Will I
+play at her musicale to-night out of neighborliness?'  Imagine me at
+a hick musical!" he snorted.  "Imagine it!"
+
+Connors again moved his heavy shoulders.  "It might be a lot of
+laughs, at that.  What you ought to have is more relaxation, Ted.
+And I don't mean the kind you get in a speak-easy."  He hitched his
+chair forward insinuatingly.  "I inquired about this Mrs. Whitehall.
+It seems that she's a big bug on celebrities.  She and her niece, who
+is just home from college, are trying to crash the society gates
+around here.  Say, Ted, she nearly went nuts when she heard that you
+had moved in next door to her yesterday."
+
+"She's not the only one who's going nuts around here," Grant informed
+him shortly.  "I can stand just so much, and then----"
+
+His words were cut short by a strident and prolonged ringing of the
+door bell.  "What's that?" Grant demanded.
+
+"Yogi'll get it," the manager said.  "It's probably just that kid
+from the village again."
+
+"Ye gods!  Well, if it is tell him I'm in bed with the smallpox, that
+I don't live here anyway--anything!"
+
+In the hall there was a muffled scuffle.  Yogi, opening the door a
+trifle, had been confronted by a local youth of persistent musical
+ambitions.  The Japanese had attempted to shut the door in his face,
+but the youth had succeeded in pushing past it and into the house.
+
+"I _will_ see him!" he cried.  "You won't keep me from him this time.
+I _will_ see him."
+
+"No, no, no, sir, no," Yogi persisted, ineffectually.  The boy strode
+on into the living room.  As he entered, Connors got quickly to his
+feet, and Ted Grant eyed him nervously.  "Well, what the devil is
+this?"
+
+"You don't know me, sir," the youth informed him, coming a step
+forward.  "I'm----"
+
+"Oh, yes I do," Grant interrupted him.  "You're the guy I've refused
+to see five times already to-day, and right now makes it an even
+dozen!"
+
+"But I want you to listen to me.  I've something of importance to
+bring to your attention.  You see, I----"
+
+Connors shouldered forward.  "Now see here, kid; you can't expect Mr.
+Grant to match his time, which is worth about a thousand bucks an
+hour, against yours, which I judge possibly to be worth about two
+bits a month----"
+
+But the determined youth refused to be put aside.  He brushed past
+the manager's burly form and again confronted the music master
+himself.  "Now, Mr. Grant, as one artist to another----"
+
+Grant's patience had reached the snapping point.  But from some
+unknown source he brought up a kindly attitude and attempted to make
+an explanation of the difficulties which beset him.  "Now listen,
+son, it's no use.  I'm not looking for any more musicians, and I
+wouldn't listen to another amateur performer if he came from Texas
+Guinan herself.  There are thousands of men trying to crash in on me
+all the time, attracted by the big money I get, and I'm getting
+mighty sick of it."
+
+"But you don't understand," the boy protested.  "I'm a graduate of
+the Ted Grant Correspondence School of Music!"
+
+At the mention of the venture which had caused him so much trouble,
+the last vestige of Grant's self-control deserted him.  "Get out!" he
+roared, shaking his hands wildly in front of the boy's amazed face.
+"If I hear that school mentioned again, I'm going nuts!  Get out, I
+say--out!"
+
+But rather than being overwhelmed by the attack, the boy's attitude
+stiffened.  His jaw shot out, and an ugly look of determination came
+into his eyes.  "Now listen, fella!  If you think you can pull
+anything like that on me----"
+
+Grant now was dancing with rage and exasperation.  "Out!" he barked.
+"Throw him out!  Out!"
+
+Connors and Yogi grasped the prospective bandsman roughly by the arms
+and conveyed him, fighting and kicking, to the front door.  Between
+wrenches and twistings, he gasped: "This isn't fair; I'm a graduate
+of the Ted Grant Correspondence School----"
+
+The manager got the door open, and with a last shove the boy went
+through it and rolled down the steps.  "And now that you're out, you
+stay out, hear?" Connors called somewhat breathlessly after him.
+When he returned to the living room he found Grant, purple of face,
+pacing the floor.
+
+"And what a fine exhibition that was!" the little man exclaimed.
+"Here I am, the greatest saxophonist in the world--and have to be
+forced into scenes like that.  Well, I won't stand it!  Do you hear?
+With your dumbness in giving that story to the papers, we're liable
+to have dozens like that running down here, wanting to get into my
+orchestras!"
+
+He peeked carefully through the window.  "And he hasn't gone yet.
+He's down there by the gate, looking at the house.  I tell you,
+fellows like that are dangerous!  Did you see the look in his eye?
+He's bad.  And I'm going back to town--where it's safe!"
+
+"But we've got this place rented!  You're here to take a rest,"
+Connors exclaimed.
+
+"Rest!  And how much resting will I be able to do with savages like
+that popping in on me every time I turn around?"
+
+"Well," Connors pointed out, "that just gives you an idea as to how
+widely read that publicity is.  Why, you ought to be thankful----"
+
+"Thankful?  Thankful that my life is endangered for a measly ten per
+cent of what those grafters are making out of that course?  Thankful,
+my eye!"  He turned to Yogi.  "Get my hat, I'm going back to town
+before one of them rams a trombone down my throat!"
+
+"But, Ted----"
+
+"And if you're wise you'll come with me.  You engineered this thing;
+you better hike back to Times Square where the cops grow thick.  This
+bucolic stuff sounds all right on paper--but it doesn't look so good,
+close up."
+
+Connors grasped his lapels desperately.  "Now be reasonable, Ted.
+Here we've come all this distance, and we no sooner get here than you
+want to turn around and head back.  Be reasonable."
+
+"You bet I'll be reasonable," Grant assured him.  "So reasonable that
+I'm going back to Broadway--where they don't read the other fellow's
+publicity.  If anybody calls, Yogi, tell them I've gone back to the
+city."
+
+"But, Ted--" Connors began a fresh argument.
+
+"Aw shut up, who's running this.  Get your hat."
+
+The manager saw the futility of further protest.  "All right," he
+said, "but I think you're making a mistake."
+
+"Mistake nothing!  We'll drive back where there aren't any amateurs
+or neighbors or musicales or anything like them."  He went rapidly
+out the front door and down the steps to his waiting car.  Climbing
+beneath the wheel, he switched the huge motor into life and roared
+for the front gate.
+
+With Connors holding his hat, they passed through the aperture in the
+surrounding wall at full speed, narrowly escaping the figure of the
+aspiring young musician who had come running forward as soon as they
+appeared from the house.
+
+In a few flashing instants, the large car had disappeared down the
+highway.  Sighing disconsolately, the youth turned back in the
+direction of the village and the steady if somewhat unromantic
+profession of mechanic.  Never again would he believe in advertising
+matter.  He had heeded that of Ted Grant's Correspondence School not
+wisely but too well.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+FALSE COLORS
+
+After inquiring in the village as to the location of Grant's home,
+The Vagabonds lost no time in presenting themselves at its spacious
+entrance.  "Well, here we are, Rudy," Sport said, "all set to fall
+into the welcoming arms of your fond teacher."
+
+"You boys wait here," Rudy answered.  "I'll go up to the house and
+let him know we've arrived.  It might look sort of raw if we all
+barged in right away like a lot of hungry relatives."
+
+Climbing out of the car, he slapped the dust from his clothes and
+went up the walk to the front door with the air of a returning
+prodigal.  His first rings were unanswered; but presently a Japanese
+face presented itself at a crack in the slightly opened door.
+
+"Tell Mr. Grant that Rudy Bronson is here," he said confidently.
+"Rudy Bronson and his Vagabonds."
+
+"Mr. Grant no want to see any tramps," Yogi answered.
+
+Before he could close the door, Rudy laughed.  "You don't
+understand," he said good-naturedly.  "We're not tramps.  That's just
+the name of our orchestra."
+
+"Mr. Grant no here," said the unimpressed servant.
+
+"Not here!  Why, he's expecting us!"
+
+"Solly, Mr. Grant go away."  Yogi opened the door and came out on the
+terrace.  "And I got to go away, too.  You come back when Mr. Grant
+here.  No here now."  And with that he put a small hat on his head
+and started down the walk, obviously bound for the village.
+
+Rudy ran a few steps after him, and caught his arm.  "But listen!
+This is important.  I've got to see Mr. Grant."
+
+It became apparent that Yogi was a well-trained servant.  "I see Mr.
+Grant pretty soon," he said.  "I tell him you're here."  Thereupon he
+resumed his march toward the village--and, had Rudy but known it, the
+city.
+
+Rudy started after him.  Grant not here!  But the fellow had said
+that he would see him soon.  Doubtless the great musician was but in
+the village, perhaps replying to the telegram which he had sent.  At
+all events he would be returning shortly, and there was nothing to do
+but wait.
+
+Going back to the cars, he explained the situation to his friends.
+They seemed concerned about Grant's lack of hospitality.  As Al
+Monroe pointed out, he not only had gone "but didn't tell the Chink
+to let us in."
+
+"Are you sure he'll be as crazy to see us as you think, Rudy?" asked
+Bud Dwight.
+
+"Why, of course he will!" Rudy insisted.  "He's almost a personal
+friend of mine.  He probably had to go to the village for something,
+and forgot to tell the Jap we were coming.  I didn't say when we'd
+arrive, anyhow; so you can hardly expect the man to sit on the
+doorstep watching for us."
+
+"Well, what'll we do now?" Al Monroe demanded.  "Sit out here in this
+heat and wait for him to show up?"
+
+A sudden thought occurred to Rudy.  "Say!" he exclaimed.  "That makes
+me think!  Why not give him a real welcome when he comes back?  We'll
+be all ready to play--and then when he shows up we'll do a number.
+And right off he'll see what a classy outfit we are!"
+
+"Not bad," Sport cried.  "Not bad at all!"
+
+"I wonder if the doors are locked," asked Sam McMahon.  "I don't like
+this idea of busting in places.  Some of these country places are
+strict as all get-out about things like that."
+
+"Aw, that's all right," said Bud Dwight.  "Even if the place is
+locked we can go in.  Rudy's a friend of this guy's.  Anyway, there's
+sure to be a door open."
+
+But he was wrong.  The doors were all securely closed and locked.
+One of the long French windows on the verandah came open beneath
+Swiftie Clarke's tuggings, and they trooped into the large living
+room.
+
+"Some dump!" Harry Ables exclaimed.  "Must have been furnished for a
+queen or something."
+
+"No," said Rudy, "for a king--of syncopation.  But let's get set up
+so that when he comes we'll be ready for him."
+
+"I don't like this much," said Sam McMahon.  "I had a cousin who got
+put away for going into houses where he didn't belong."
+
+"But we belong here," Sport said.  "We'll be working for Grant as
+soon as he hears us."
+
+"That's right," said Rudy.  "So let's give him something good to
+hear.  Let's run over 'You're Nobody's Sweetheart Now.'  That ought
+to knock him dead."
+
+"O.K.," said Sport, "let's go."
+
+They rippled melodiously through the introductory passage, and then
+Rudy took up the chorus:
+
+  "You're nobody's sweetheart now--
+  They don't baby you, somehow--
+  Fancy hose, silken gown,
+  Say, you'd be out of place in your own home town.
+  When you walk down the Avenue,
+  Folks just can't believe that it's you!
+  Painted lips, painted eyes--
+  And wearing a bird of paradise,
+  It seems all wrong somehow--
+  That you're nobody's sweetheart now!"
+
+
+As the number closed there was, in lieu of any applause, a commotion
+at the front door.  The band looked in the direction of the
+disturbance.  "Who's that knocking at my door?" sang Sport O'Malley
+in a falsetto.  "You better go and open, Rudy.  Maybe it's Grant
+back, forgotten his key or something."
+
+Sam McMahon had glanced out the window.  "It's a couple of women
+with--jumping juniper, if he's not a cop I'm a Chinaman!"
+
+"A cop!"
+
+There was a concerted rush to the window.
+
+"It sure looks like one, all right," Sport said.  As the knocking was
+renewed on the door, he added: "Well, we might as well go and see
+what it's all about, Rudy."
+
+Rudy nodded, and together they crossed the room and flung open the
+door.  On the threshold stood a large woman of fifty, fashionably
+dressed, with a frightened face, and a man who undisputably was a
+police officer.  And with them, Rudy was amazed to see Jean
+Whitehall!  Rudy and Sport exchanged an agonized glance.
+
+"Stand where you are!" the officer cried, flourishing a large service
+revolver.  "Do not move, any of you.  Step in, Mrs. Whitehall, I've
+got them covered."
+
+Mrs. Whitehall obeyed, saying: "Those are the men all right, Mr.
+Tuttle."
+
+"Sure you recognize them?" the policeman asked.
+
+"Certainly, I do.  I saw them breaking in the side window not five
+minutes ago.  I was in my room with my niece, and we saw them
+snooping around the house, and finally break in.  After that robbery
+of two weeks ago I wasn't taking any chances.  I called the station
+at once."
+
+The officer moved his gun menacingly.  "Breaking in, huh?  I s'pose
+you know there's a law about house-breaking?"
+
+"Law?" Rudy repeated.
+
+"The last gang I caught got a year," the policeman informed him
+triumphantly.  "Yes, sir!"
+
+"But we weren't house-breaking!"
+
+With Jean so near he was having difficulty keeping his mind on the
+officer.  He knew that with this incident, all his plans for raising
+himself in her eyes had come to nothing.  Yet, such was the effect of
+her lovely presence upon his wits, that no matter how bad was the
+situation, he was unable to summon any ideas as to how to remedy it.
+"We weren't house-breaking," he repeated mechanically.
+
+"No?  Then what are you doing with all this junk?"  The revolver
+waved in the direction of the musical instruments held by the
+frightened clump of youths in the living room.
+
+"That isn't junk," Rudy said.  "Those are band instruments."
+
+"I know what they are, young fellow," the officer said testily.
+"What I want to know is what you are doing with them."
+
+Rudy's color deepened.  How could he ever explain the crazy whim
+which had prompted them to enter a stranger's house?  And with Jean
+present to hear any explanation he might give, there was the best of
+chances that he would forever damage himself in her eyes.  There was
+no way to avoid her inspection, or memory, now.  She was examining
+him straightly.
+
+"Well?" the officer said.
+
+"But we weren't stealing them," Rudy said.  "If you had listened, you
+might have heard us playing them.  I'm--I'm the leader here."
+
+"Leader, huh?  Well, you better get ready to lead this bunch to jail!"
+
+Then Jean Whitehall laughed.  Pure musical laughter, but with an
+underlying note of embarrassment.  "Oh, what a foolish mistake!
+Don't you see, Auntie?" she asked the older woman.  "This is Mr.
+Grant, himself, with his band!"
+
+But Mrs. Whitehall was unimpressed.  "Ho!  Ho!  What nonsense!  Do
+you mean to say that Mr. Grant would break into his own house?"
+
+Suddenly Sport O'Malley came into the conversation with a
+demonstration of the quick wit for which he was noted.
+
+"That's it exactly," he said.  "Forgot his keys.  That's right, isn't
+it, Mr. Grant?"
+
+Rudy groaned inwardly, at once angry for the lie and relieved that
+Sport had made no mention of the fact that they had been at the
+University with Jean.
+
+In a sudden excited movement Sam McMahon burst from the circle of the
+orchestra.  "Why that's it, of course, Officer!  Mr. Grant forgot his
+keys!  Didn't you, Mr. Grant?"
+
+All eyes were upon Rudy.  All of his old hatred of deceit surged up
+within him in an effort to force the truth from his lips.  But he
+beat it down with a realization of what the truth would mean.  Jail,
+disgrace in the eyes of Jean.  Yes, deceit was the lesser of two evil
+choices.
+
+"Why, yes," he said.  "I--I--forgot my key."
+
+As an eager babble of confirmation broke from the rest of the young
+men, the officer looked at Rudy suspiciously.
+
+"Yeah?  Well, I must say that you don't look like any saxophony
+wizard to me."
+
+"But he is!" Sport exclaimed.  "He's a wonderful saxophone player,
+isn't he, boys?"
+
+Once more the chorus of assent went up.  Al Monroe tapped the officer
+on the shoulder.  "He's a great saxophone player," he said, "except
+when he forgets the key."
+
+But Mr. Tuttle apparently had small use for levity.  He continued to
+look suspiciously at Rudy, scratching his chin, at a loss as to what
+he should do.  It was evident that he took his duties seriously; but
+that he also had no wish to arrest innocent men.
+
+"Yeah," he said presently, "maybe you're Ted Grant all right.  But if
+you are, let's hear you and this band play something on those
+instruments."
+
+Rudy agreed in relief, and the boys quickly assembled for work.
+"What'll it be, Mr. Grant?" asked Al Monroe.
+
+Rudy felt Jean Whitehall's eyes upon him.  Without looking in her
+direction he answered: "'I Love You, Believe Me, I Love You.'"
+
+The Vagabonds never had played more earnestly.  Nor, when it came
+time for him to take up the vocal refrain, had Rudy ever sung more
+earnestly than he did in singing:
+
+  "I love you, believe me, I love you.
+  This theme is the dream of my heart.
+  I need you, believe me, I need you,
+  I'll be blue when we two are apart.
+  You'll be my one inspiration,
+  You've changed my whole life from the start.
+  I love you, believe me, I love you--
+  This theme is the dream of my heart!"
+
+
+Their combined sincerity was convincing.  Mrs. Whitehall came forward
+with outstretched hand.  "Oh, Mr. Grant, I am so pleased to meet you!
+How could we make such a silly mistake?"
+
+Jean greeted him, too; but there was that in her glance and the clasp
+of her hand, the almost self-conscious manner in which she spoke,
+which denoted that she had heard something more in the song than had
+the others.  Once more her thoughts were back on Sorority Row--and
+that mysterious voice at the Laconia.
+
+"Thank you, Mr. Grant.  It has been a real pleasure to hear you in
+person."
+
+"Yes," said Sport O'Malley.  "He sounds a little different over the
+radio, but I think he's better this way, don't you?"
+
+"Indeed I do," answered Mrs. Whitehall.  "And I'm so pleased that
+we're to be neighbors.  And this," she added, indicating Jean, "is my
+niece, Jean Whitehall."
+
+"You mustn't mind Auntie, Mr. Grant," Jean said.  "She so wanted to
+meet you.  That's why she was so anxious to protect your property."
+
+"Did _you_ want to meet me, too?" Rudy asked, his voice husky with
+emotion.
+
+"I've always wanted to meet Ted Grant," the girl answered, lowering
+her glance.
+
+"Then," Rudy said decisively, "that's who I am!"
+
+Mrs. Whitehall smiled.  "Then you got my notes about the musicale?"
+
+"Oh, yes," Rudy said, with an agonized glance at Sport.  "Yes--I got
+them all right."
+
+With a smile of impending victory, Mrs. Whitehall nodded her head.
+"And you're coming?  Oh, dear Mr. Grant, please say that you'll come."
+
+"Come?" Rudy asked.  "Where to?"
+
+"Why, to play at the musicale.  You didn't answer me," she went on,
+heedless of his expression of growing alarm.  "But I shan't chastise
+you, for I know you're going to come.  Oh, imagine!" she added
+rapturously.  "Imagine what Mrs. Todhunter will think when she knows
+Ted Grant is going to play for us!"
+
+Jean smiled at Rudy's mystification.  "That's Auntie's hated social
+rival," she explained.  "It does seem silly, but it's so important to
+her."
+
+"Not at all," Mrs. Whitehall cut her short.  "Not at all, my dear!
+It is simply because I resent very much the way she's acting on our
+Benefit Committee meetings, trying to run the whole show and
+everything, just because she knows a lot of opera singers.  Oh, Mr.
+Grant," she turned to Rudy, "she's going to bring them with her to
+our musicale to-night, just to show everybody how important she is.
+Really, really, it's just too annoying."
+
+"It certainly is," Rudy admitted.
+
+Mrs. Whitehall leaped forward like a hound ready for the kill.  "Oh,
+Mr. Grant--if you would come to our little affair and bring your boys
+with you, then we could introduce you as our friends----"
+
+Rudy gulped.  "Well, I tell you, Mrs. Todhunter----"
+
+"Oh!" said Mrs. Whitehall.
+
+Her shocked eyes told him of his mistake.
+
+"--I mean, Mrs. Whitehall, we had originally intended to leave town
+on the six o'clock train----"
+
+The words seemed to shock Tuttle into the need for action.  Suspicion
+came back into his gaze.
+
+"Hey," he demanded, "what's this?"
+
+For a few minutes he had been digesting the contents of a note which
+he had found stuck in the door-panel, apparently left there by the
+departing Yogi.
+
+Rudy was attempting to explain:
+
+"Well, it's just that to-morrow is Sunday and the first train doesn't
+go through until six o'clock.  We thought that maybe----"
+
+"I don't mean that," Tuttle said.  "I mean this note.  It says,
+'Notice to tradesmen.  Mr. Grant away until Tuesday.  Please hold all
+deliveries.'"
+
+"Oh," said Rudy, "that."
+
+"Yes," Tuttle answered, "that!  It says you're away.  But you're not
+away.  You're here.  How do you explain if?"
+
+Rudy tapped him confidentially on the lapel.  "You know, it's getting
+so that you can't believe anything you read."
+
+But the officer was not to be put off from what appeared a fresh clue.
+
+"Trying to kid the country cop, huh?  Well----"
+
+Sport O'Malley stepped easily forward, smiling.
+
+"He means that he was thinking of going, and then changed his mind.
+That's all."
+
+"Oh," Tuttle said disappointedly, "and you left the note on the door,
+huh?"
+
+"Yes," Rudy answered quickly, "that's it.  We were just thinking of
+going."
+
+"But you're not going now?" Tuttle persisted.
+
+Rudy shook his head.  "No, of course not--why should we?"
+
+"Why indeed?" in the voice of Sam McMahon came from the grouped
+orchestra.  "Why indeed?"
+
+Mrs. Whitehall smiled, extending her hand.
+
+"Then you'll be here for our musicale to-night, won't you, Mr. Grant?"
+
+Rudy cast one desperate glance at Sport.
+
+"Why, yes," he said haltingly, "so far as I know, I guess we will."
+
+A look of intense satisfaction came into Mrs. Whitehall's face and
+she looked triumphantly at Jean.
+
+"That's so good of you, Mr. Grant," she said.  "Oh, imagine my
+party--Mr. Grant and his band, too!  Really, I'm eternally grateful!"
+
+Jean looked at Rudy.  "And so am I."
+
+In returning her glance, some of the misery went out of Rudy's face.
+
+"We're delighted, aren't we, boys?" he asked the Vagabonds.  There
+was a slight assent of "Yeah," but with a reassuring smile at Jean,
+he added: "Don't worry, we'll be there."
+
+"I think you're very nice, Mr. Grant," she told him.  "We won't
+forget.  Good-by."
+
+At the door, Mrs. Whitehall turned, making sure of her victory.
+
+"Don't forget, at eight o'clock, Mr. Grant.  Good-by for the moment."
+
+"I won't forget," Rudy said.  "Good-by."
+
+Mrs. Whitehall put forth her hand, her face cordial.
+
+"Jean and I hope to see a great deal of you while you are here, Mr.
+Grant," she said.  "You know I really don't care for opera; I love
+jazz.  It does something to me.  I'm purely American," she explained,
+"just an Indian at heart--just an Indian!"
+
+She laughed.  "So with a great musician like you so close--I'll be
+keeping my eyes on you!"
+
+The police officer followed her out the door.  On the threshold he
+paused, still struggling with his suspicions.
+
+"She won't be the only one keeping an eye on you," he said at last.
+"I'll be keeping one on you, to boot."
+
+"Always glad to have protection," Sport assured him.  "What with all
+the robberies and so on that I hear have been happening around here,
+Mr. Grant will be only too glad to have the knowledge that he is
+being guarded.  Isn't that right, Mr. Grant?" he asked, turning to
+Rudy.
+
+But Rudy's eyes were on the figure of Jean Whitehall, disappearing
+down the walk.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+A PERSONAL APPEARANCE
+
+As if by common consent, the Vagabonds moved into the living room.
+Rudy turned to Sport, his eyes blazing.
+
+"Why did you tell them I was Ted Grant?" he demanded.
+
+Sport shivered.  "I hate jails.  They're so damp."
+
+"That's what my cousin said," interjected McMahon.
+
+"But that was a deliberate deception," Rudy protested.  "A lie.  I
+hate doing a thing like that."
+
+"Don't hand us any of that!" Al Monroe jeered.  "Say, when that girl
+said she was crazy to meet Ted Grant, I bet you looked more like him
+than he looks like himself!"
+
+Rudy nodded.  "I'm as much to blame as anybody.  I entered this thing
+deliberately.  That's why I feel so rotten now.  I don't know why I
+didn't say we were impostors when there was a chance."
+
+"What do you mean?" Sport demanded.
+
+"That we could have told the truth--explained."
+
+"Not to that cop!"
+
+But Rudy refused to yield.  "Yes, we could," he insisted.  "But I
+stood for it because--well, because I wanted to make a hit with that
+girl."
+
+Rudy paused and surveyed them frankly.  "Boys," he went on, "there's
+no sense in keeping the truth from you; Sport knows and the rest of
+you may as well.  I love that girl.  We were at the University
+together," he went on.  "She never heard of me, a scrub freshman.
+Varsity captains were her speed.  When I left school I told Sport I
+was going to make something of myself because of her.  I wanted her
+to be proud to know me."
+
+He stopped, shaking his head.  "Well, I surely made a mess of it.
+You remember that last night at the Laconia?  She was there.  She
+didn't see me.  I was glad.  I wanted to be big--like Ted
+Grant--before she met me."
+
+Sport put his arm around Rudy affectionately.  "Don't worry, son, you
+came through for Molly and me and I'll come through for you.  Whoever
+would have thought she'd be living next door to Ted Grant?"
+
+"He can square everything when he comes," Sam declared in an effort
+to cheer Rudy.  "All we gotta do is wait."
+
+"I'm not so sure about that," Rudy said hopelessly; "but I've got
+only myself to blame.  I know I'm a boob.  She'll never have anything
+to do with me now.  In trying to make a hit with her, I had to let
+her think I was somebody else.  I've made a boob of myself with her
+for life.  I must have been crazy, to try and impress her by thinking
+I was Ted Grant; crazy to try and put myself over under false colors.
+And now I've gone and balled up everything forever."
+
+As he sank down on a chair, Sport placed a reassuring hand on his
+shoulder.
+
+"No you haven't, old boy."  He thought for a moment, then continued
+quickly with:
+
+"I tell you what we'll do.  We'll play at this trick party to-night
+because, because--well, because we have to now.  Then we'll stay here
+until things quiet down, and that sleuth is off guard--and then we'll
+climb in the flivvers and hike!"
+
+Sam McMahon applauded.  "The farther we get away from this guy
+Tuttle, the sooner I'll feel safe."
+
+"Aw, why be scared of a small town dick?" asked Harry Ables.
+"There's nothing to be afraid of."
+
+"Of course not," seconded Al Monroe; "by this time he's probably back
+in the firehouse, fast asleep."
+
+Bud Dwight had been peeking cautiously through the window for some
+time.  Now he called to them.
+
+"Come here, you wise guys, and take a look."
+
+They approached the window, and peered through the draperies into the
+gardens.  Tuttle was still outside, looking thoughtfully at the house.
+
+"Well," said Sport, "at least that washes up the thought of ducking
+out now.  The only thing for us to do is to get our glad rags out of
+the cars, get dressed, and when the time comes to go over to Mrs.
+Whitehall's--to go!"
+
+"Fellows, I can't go through with this ghastly joke," Rudy announced
+with a grim air of finality.
+
+"But you've got to go through with it now," Sam insisted for the
+others.  "You can't give us away!  We'll be arrested if you do!"
+
+"He's right," Sport agreed.  "We'll play at Mrs. Whitehall's--let
+them think we are really Ted Grant and his band--and then beat it!
+When they learn the truth, it will be a laugh, that's all.  Why, it's
+simple as rolling off a log."
+
+"Too simple, if you ask me," said Al Monroe.
+
+"I don't ask you to think of me and what this means
+personally--losing her and all the rest of it--but aside from that,
+we're imposing on Mr. Grant.  He may not think it's a joke."
+
+"But he won't be back until Tuesday--the note says so," Sport flung
+back.  "It will be too late for him to do anything but like it.  But
+you're borrowing trouble.  After all, Rudy," he went on cheerfully,
+"you're a graduate of the Ted Grant Correspondence School--and what a
+graduate!  Why, when he can play a sax like you can, he'll knock them
+all cold!"
+
+Rudy failed to respond to the good-humored raillery of his friends.
+He made an effort not to appear too serious, but his mood grew
+heavier with each moment, a weight which their developing
+light-heartedness increased and which successfully bore down on any
+attempt at anything but misery over the situation.
+
+Nor did he feel much better when, with Tuttle at last gone and the
+suitcases brought into the house, he started dressing for the
+musicale.  The Vagabonds had not been long in making themselves at
+home.
+
+Swiftie Clarke and Al Monroe, much against the earnest advice of Sam
+McMahon, had invaded the kitchen and there plundered the ice box and
+cupboard.  When "dinner" was called, the others descended in various
+stages of undress, to find a table spread with a motley array of
+opened cans, weirdly sliced bread, coffee, a ham, and several glasses
+of jelly.
+
+In proceeding upon it, even the objections of Sam McMahon
+disappeared.  Rudy ate but little, unable to lift himself from the
+thought of his deception.  But even the small amount of food he took
+had something of a cheering effect upon him, and as he finished
+dressing he was able to view the approaching visit to Jean's home
+with something of a freer spirit.
+
+At least, he reflected, under whatever conditions the entry was being
+made, he would be able to spend an evening under the same roof that
+sheltered her--an opportunity that would surely never be his again.
+
+Shortly after eight o'clock, The Vagabonds, dressed in their shining
+best, gathered their instruments and started across the lawn toward
+Mrs. Whitehall's house.
+
+Did they but know it, that lady herself was at that moment
+congratulating herself on the nearness of their appearance.  She was
+sitting with her social enemy, a thin, hawk-faced woman who always
+seemed to be a little cold.  And at every opportunity this Mrs.
+Todhunter was doing her best to make Mrs. Whitehall feel that she,
+Mrs. Whitehall, as a social climber had but ascended the lowest rungs
+of the ladder.
+
+As a plump operatic star finished a particularly gaudy number, Mrs.
+Whitehall leaned forward with a feigned cordiality.
+
+"Dear Mrs. Todhunter," she said, "your friends sing beautifully."
+
+Mrs. Todhunter made a slight and condescending movement of her
+well-groomed head.
+
+"Really, they have made quite an occasion of your little party,
+haven't they, Mrs. Whitehall?"
+
+Mrs. Whitehall flushed.  "I almost feel as if it were your party, my
+dear."
+
+"Well," Mrs. Todhunter admitted, "there is no use in denying that it
+does brighten a soirée if one can count among one's guests a few of
+the people who really amount to something."
+
+"Yourself, for example, my dear Mrs. Todhunter," Mrs. Whitehall
+managed to say.
+
+But the other woman appeared totally unconscious of any intent at
+malice.
+
+"So nice of you to say so, my dear," she murmured.  "By the way, I
+believe the pianist is trying to catch your eye."
+
+Mrs. Whitehall rose.  "Oh, yes, I must announce some other singers."
+
+"Don't tell me that you, too, have some famous artist for us, Mrs.
+Whitehall!" Mrs. Todhunter exclaimed with a mocking lift of the
+eyebrows.
+
+"Oh, no," Mrs. Whitehall said chokingly.  "Just some poor little
+orphans.  I thought if they sang it might help advertise our benefit
+to-morrow."
+
+"Ah, yes," Mrs. Todhunter admitted.  "It is difficult to make a
+program for these little musicales unless one knows the right people."
+
+At that moment, Mrs. Whitehall caught a glimpse of Rudy and his
+musicians on the other side of the room, in Jean's care.  She smiled
+gratefully.  Indeed, to her harassed eyes, after the pointed remarks
+of Mrs. Todhunter, the newcomers seemed to her as more than friends
+in need.  They seemed like saviors.  What would this catty woman have
+to say when she announced that she had secured the great Ted Grant to
+play!
+
+She bowed to Mrs. Todhunter, triumph in her eyes, as there had been
+when Rudy had agreed to appear.
+
+"Precisely, my dear," she said.  "Precisely."
+
+Hurrying across the room, she mounted a small platform and called for
+the attention of the assembled guests.  The drawing-room of Mrs.
+Whitehall's house reflected her social aspirations.  The room itself
+was extremely ornate, with a wide arch opening into the hallway
+leading to the street door.  At the rear another arch was suggested;
+this being to differentiate the drawing-room from a large library
+into which it gave access.
+
+Both these rooms were crowded with people, smartly clothed, and
+rather bored by the entertainment thus far provided.  Mrs. Whitehall
+had noted this, and her feeling of anticipation mounted.  Just wait
+until they heard Ted Grant!  But first the orphans must sing.
+
+"Friends, friends," she called.  "Ladies and gentlemen.  I wish to
+announce as our next number some little girls from the orphans' home.
+As you know, to-morrow sees the opening of our benefit for these
+little children.  A varied program each and every night in the week
+in the garden amphitheater so graciously donated by Mrs. Todhunter."
+
+She paused to allow a little ripple of satisfaction to cross the
+room.  Then she continued with:
+
+"The benefit committee, of which _I_ am chairman, hopes you will buy
+a great many tickets and bring your friends, for it must be a
+complete success or the orphanage cannot continue its work for this
+year."
+
+With a bow she introduced the three rather frightened little girls
+who were to sing.
+
+"The little children----"
+
+The little children were cute, but scarcely musical.  As their
+childish, strident voices rose in a song devoted to the doings of a
+modern Georgie Porgie, there was a noticeable movement in the
+direction of the supper-laden buffet and the punch bowl.
+
+[Illustration: A scene from the Radio Picture, "The Vagabond Lover,"
+starring RUDY VALLEE.]
+
+Here the members of The Vagabonds, having rid themselves of an
+initial nervousness, were attending to a hunger left unsatisfied by
+the sketchy meal in the Grant kitchen.
+
+Only Sport O'Malley seemed unworried by the need of more food.
+Surrounded by a clump of girls, he was explaining the difficulties
+and joys of being a great musician.
+
+"Well, no, girls," he admitted, "I wouldn't say I was marvelous at
+_all_ kinds of music.  Only at love songs.  Sentiment."
+
+"Why is that?" a blond debutante asked him with wide, appealing eyes.
+
+"A musician can only put into his instrument what he has in himself,"
+Sport told her.
+
+"And what's that?" a second girl demanded eagerly.
+
+Al Monroe removed a sandwich from his mouth long enough to say "Wind!"
+
+"Wind!" the girl exclaimed.
+
+Sport took her gently by the arm, drawing her away.
+
+"Let's go some place where there aren't so many annoying people," he
+said.  "Then I'll explain it all to you--with illustrations."
+
+As they moved away, Jean, on a near-by bench with Rudy, smiled.
+
+"They're cute, aren't they!"
+
+Rudy looked at her in surprise.  "You mean Sport?  The boys?"
+
+Jean shook her head, laughing.  "No, those kiddies up there singing.
+I just love children."
+
+"I guess we like about the same things," Rudy told her.  "So do I."
+
+"Oh, I do hope this benefit for the orphanage will be a success, Mr.
+Grant.  I am so afraid that something may happen to spoil it."
+
+"You think a lot of this orphanage fund, don't you?" Rudy inquired.
+
+"It means so much to the children.  So very, very much."
+
+"You know," Rudy said slowly, "I've never met a girl like you before,
+so interested in a thing like a charity benefit."
+
+"And I've never met a man like you before," Jean replied.  "You're
+not at all the way I thought you would be," she confided.  "Not a bit
+like a famous jazz band leader."
+
+"Well," said Rudy, "you're a great deal better than I thought you'd
+be."
+
+Jean's brow wrinkled in perplexity.
+
+"I?" she asked.  "Why you couldn't have thought of me before, you
+didn't even know that I was on earth!"
+
+Realizing his slip, Rudy blushed desperately.  But with a calm voice,
+he explained:
+
+"Oh yes, I did.  I always knew that I was going to meet a girl like
+you some day.  You see----"
+
+At that moment, his glance fell upon the members of The Vagabonds.
+Under the guidance of Mrs. Whitehall they were with their instruments
+being shepherded toward the platform on which they were to play.
+Rudy stood up quickly.
+
+"I wrote a song about that girl," he said.  "We'll play it.  And when
+we get to the chorus, I'll sing."
+
+He hesitated.  "Perhaps when you hear it, you'll understand what I
+mean.  Will you listen?  Will you listen to what I have to say?"
+
+For a long moment, Jean studied his handsome, anxious face.  Then she
+slowly nodded her head.
+
+"I'll listen," she murmured softly.  She paused in hesitation.  "By
+the way, Mr. Grant, I wanted to tell you that there is something
+hauntingly familiar about your voice--your singing, I mean."
+
+Rudy stared at her uncertainly, not knowing what was coming.  "You've
+heard Ted Grant on the radio----"
+
+"I don't mean that.  I mean that your singing reminds me of someone
+else--a boy back at school," she finished.
+
+Rudy's pulse quickened as she continued: "I only heard him once.  It
+was the last night of the year.  We were having a dance at the house.
+He sang as he passed--the very song you sang this afternoon, 'I Love
+You.'"
+
+She looked away.  "There was something so plaintive and sincere about
+it that I shall never forget him."
+
+With his lips sealed against telling her that it was he who sang,
+Rudy contented himself with a small, grim smile.  "I hope you never
+do," he said.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV
+
+THE WINGS OF SONG
+
+Mrs. Whitehall again called for the attention of her assembled guests.
+
+"My dear friends," she said with a glance at Mrs. Todhunter, "I now
+wish to announce the final number on our program.  I take pleasure in
+introducing my very dear friend and neighbor, Mr. Ted Grant, who with
+his band has consented to come here as my guest and play for us!"
+
+At the announcement an excited stir went over the room.  The name of
+the famous radio entertainer was familiar to all, and the knowledge
+that they were about to hear in person the great musician known to
+everyone who possessed a radio had about it the importance of great
+news.
+
+Rudy took his position in front of his orchestra with a set smile on
+his face.  He had no qualms about his ability, either as a
+saxophonist or a singer, for his long hours of study had assured him
+of success there.  For the moment he forgot the barrier to his dream
+of Jean and thought only of the message he was about to send her on
+the wings of melodious song.
+
+"'If You Were the Only Girl,'" he said briefly.
+
+Sport nodded, gave the signal, and the band launched into the number.
+As the chorus was repeated for the second time, Rudy, as was his
+custom, stood up and began to sing.  He sang with closed eyes, and in
+every syllable of the song was a tender message for one girl in his
+audience.
+
+  "If you were the only girl in the world,
+  And I was the only boy,
+  Nothing else would matter in this world to-day;
+  We could go on loving in the same old way.
+  A garden of Eden just made for two,
+  With nothing to mar our joy;
+  I would say such wonderful things to you--
+  There would be such wonderful things to do--
+  If you were the only girl in the world,
+  And I was the only boy."
+
+
+The Vagabonds, to immense applause, played several numbers.  Rudy did
+not sing more than once.  Sport asked why, but Rudy shook his head
+noncommittally.  He was so anxious to hear Jean's reaction that he
+did not feel he could do justice to another number.  So in the next
+piece his role was solely that of saxophonist.
+
+When they had finished and come down from the platform he had his
+answer.  Jean came forward, her lovely face alight.
+
+"That was just beautiful," she said.
+
+Rudy smiled.  "I was singing about something beautiful."
+
+Before either of them could speak again, Mrs. Whitehall came hurrying
+forward.
+
+"Oh, Mr. Grant!" she exclaimed, "you were the hit of the evening."
+She turned to her friendly enemy for confirmation.  "Wasn't he, Mrs.
+Todhunter?"
+
+"It was quite interesting," admitted the social leader.  "So
+different, though, from the trained operatic voices."
+
+But Mrs. Whitehall was not to be checked.
+
+"Wouldn't it be wonderful," she enthused, "if we could persuade Mr.
+Grant to head our benefit program to-morrow night!"
+
+Rudy hastily applied a handkerchief to a suddenly damp brow.
+
+"But we haven't secured our manager's permission!" he protested.
+
+"Suppose we secure the permission?" asked the indefatigable Mrs.
+Whitehall.
+
+Mrs. Todhunter interrupted coldly: "I'm afraid a plain jazz band
+wouldn't be quite suitable on a program with real concert and
+operatic artists," she said.
+
+"Mr. Grant's is hardly a plain jazz band," Mrs. Whitehall bridled.
+
+"Nevertheless," observed Mrs. Todhunter, "I'm sure my operatic
+friends would view it as such.  I know the artistic temperament.
+They would never consent to appear on a program which lacked artistic
+dignity."
+
+"And quite right," said Rudy with a heart-felt earnestness.  "Quite
+right."
+
+Mrs. Todhunter turned to Rudy with a cold smile.
+
+"So good of you to say so, Mr. Grant," she said.  "You understand----"
+
+"Certainly," Rudy assured her as she swept away.  "I understand
+exactly."
+
+"Oh, Mr. Grant, I hope you are not offended," Mrs. Whitehall
+exclaimed nervously.
+
+"Not at all, really," Rudy said.  "I think there is a great deal in
+what she says."
+
+"But you have every right to be offended," Mrs. Whitehall said
+bitterly.  "I shan't let her off so easily.  I'm going to bring the
+matter before the committee and insist that you head the program."
+
+"But----"
+
+"Don't fear, Mr. Grant!  I have some influence with that committee,
+and I shall see that you have a proper courtesy extended to you!"
+
+And with that she, too, left Jean and Rudy.
+
+Jean smiled at him.  "Well, it looks as if you're going to play.
+Auntie will insist to the committee.  You may be sure of that."
+
+"But I don't want her to insist!" Rudy protested.
+
+"Don't worry," Jean assured him.  "She won't let anyone be insulted
+in her house."
+
+"An orphanage benefit can't have too much dignity," he said after a
+few desperate moments of thought.  But he realized the inanity of the
+words even as he voiced them.
+
+"Nobody can impose on Auntie when she gets her back up," Jean went on
+composedly.  "She won't stop at anything to get even with anyone who
+tries to injure her social prestige."
+
+"I imagine you are right," Rudy admitted dismally.
+
+"Yes, she'll do anything when she's really angry.  She's like one of
+those queens who chopped off the heads of people who opposed her--or
+sent them to prison on very restricted diets!"
+
+"To prison!" Rudy exclaimed with a mounting alarm.  "To prison!"
+
+"If they stand in her way," Jean said.  "Pretense is what Auntie
+hates."
+
+Had Jean deliberately been trying to increase Rudy's feeling of
+discomfiture, she could not have chosen more apt words with which to
+do so.  At each fresh instance of Mrs. Whitehall's manner of handling
+pretenders and those who in any way might damage the fabric of her
+social aspirations, his already tormented consciousness took on added
+realization of the plight into which the masquerade had plunged The
+Vagabonds.
+
+"I tell you," he heard Jean continue, "I wouldn't be the person to
+have her after me for anything in the world.  She had a dressmaker
+fined five thousand dollars once for pretending to sell her imported
+models.  And then there was that cook who swindled her on the
+household accounts.  She had him sent to jail, yes, actually to jail!"
+
+She completed her fearsome description with a little movement of her
+hands.
+
+"That's why I'm so glad she likes you, for she really does."
+
+Rudy looked at her desperately.
+
+"And you--do you think--do you like--I mean----"
+
+Before he could finish his tangled and laborious sentence, he caught
+sight of Sport signaling him from the doorway.  It was apparent from
+the other's frantic gestures that something was wrong.
+
+"What were you saying?" Jean asked softly.
+
+Rudy turned a miserable face.
+
+"I guess I'll have to tell you later," he said.  "Something seems to
+have happened that needs my attention just now."
+
+"Something extremely important?"
+
+Rudy looked again at the strained face of Sport across the room.
+
+"Apparently very important," he said.  "Can you wait a few minutes?"
+
+Jean rose, a slight flush on her face.
+
+"It doesn't matter," she said.  "It's late, anyhow.  The guests are
+going and I should be helping Auntie say her good-bys."
+
+"But, Jean!" Rudy cried.  "I want to talk to you!"
+
+Jean smiled.  "Won't it keep until to-morrow?"
+
+Then, with a graceful, rapid stride, she left him.
+
+Rudy watched her go with mingled emotions.  To-morrow!  Why, by
+to-morrow they hoped to be miles away.  And--and----
+
+"Rudy!"
+
+It was Sport, who had crossed the room as Jean disappeared.  He
+grinned, seeking to mask his distress.
+
+"Boy, we got a tough break," he said.  "The boys went out to load
+some stuff in the cars, and they found two of Harry Ables' tires
+blown.  Overloaded, I guess; but that sure puts his car out of the
+running."
+
+"Can't we all pile in mine?" Rudy asked.
+
+"Ten of us?  Why that bum set of tires of yours would pop before we'd
+gone a block.  Nope, it looks like the train for us."
+
+"Well, that's all right.  We've enough money to pay fares home for
+half the boys."
+
+"Sure, but the train doesn't leave until to-morrow around noon!  We
+wanted to get out to-night.  That cop Tuttle has been hanging around
+again."
+
+Much as he realized the gravity of delay, Rudy could not force a dour
+expression over the news.  He smiled.
+
+"Well, we'll go to-morrow then," he said.  "I guess my bus can carry
+five extra as far as the station, anyway."
+
+"But don't you realize how dangerous it is to stick around here with
+Grant liable to find out at any minute that we've been impersonating
+him?"
+
+"Surely it's dangerous," Rudy admitted.  "But what are you going to
+do, take wings and fly?  You should have thought of things like this
+when you told them that I was Ted Grant.  But don't worry," he added
+in a comforting tone.  "There isn't much can happen before to-morrow
+at noon."
+
+But Sport for this once was inclined to look on the pessimistic angle
+of the affair.
+
+"The boys are scared, Rudy.  That guy Tuttle snooping around has got
+their goats.  But I suppose you're right," he admitted.  "There isn't
+anything we can do but wait for that train."
+
+"Don't worry," Rudy repeated.  "And now are you on your way?"
+
+"Yeah.  You coming?  The gang has gone already."
+
+Rudy hesitated.  He wanted a final word with Jean alone, to tell her
+that now "to-morrow would do."  But he had no wish to appear too
+presumptuous, and concluded that it would be best simply to leave
+with Sport.
+
+"Alley oop," he said.  "Let's shove off."
+
+At the door, Mrs. Whitehall and Jean were saying good-by to the last
+of the guests.
+
+"Good-night, Mr. Grant," she said.  "It was so wonderful of you to
+come to-night.  I do hope that you weren't offended by Mrs.
+Todhunter.  But as you know, there is no explaining the actions of
+some people."
+
+"I wasn't offended," Rudy said in a last attempt to free himself of
+the intolerable situation.  "Really, I think there was a lot in what
+she said."
+
+"Perhaps Mr. Grant doesn't want to play for our benefit, Auntie."
+
+It was Jean who spoke, and looking at her, Rudy saw that the coils
+were tightening about him even more unbreakably than before.  Sport,
+too, appeared to grasp the predicament into which he had been cast,
+and made some murmur of dissent.
+
+"No," he said, "Mr. Grant and the band would like to play for you.
+But you see----"
+
+"Don't you concern yourself, Jean," Mrs. Whitehall interrupted.  "I
+can see by Mr. Grant's face that he isn't the kind of a young man who
+would fail a worthy charity.  We'll see you to-morrow, gentlemen.
+Good-night."
+
+"Yes," Jean repeated with an inscrutable smile.  "We'll see you
+gentlemen to-morrow.  Good-night."
+
+The door closed and Rudy and Sport walked silently across the lawn in
+the direction of the Grant house.  Neither felt like talking.  Nor,
+indeed, was there much to say.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI
+
+DELAY
+
+The second day of their stay in the Grant house found the Vagabonds
+up and about at an unusual hour for musicians.  For the night they
+had disposed themselves about the house in varying attitudes of
+comfort; but as morning deepened, they appeared to question one
+another as to the approach of train time.
+
+"The sooner we get out of here the better it will please yours
+truly," said Sam McMahon.
+
+"Here, too," assented Al Monroe.  "The things I could do to a real
+meal would be criminal."
+
+Another haphazard meal had been assembled in the kitchen; but to
+judge from the number of complaints, Ted Grant's larder had not been
+stocked with an idea of entertaining ten young men.
+
+Rudy moved about nervously, keeping his glance for the most part in
+the direction of the Whitehall home.  When the others had divided the
+morning paper, or set themselves to a practice session with the
+instruments, he went out into the garden.  He did not wish to miss a
+moment of Jean's company should she emerge from her home.
+
+Evidently he had been observed strolling restlessly about, for it was
+not long before Jean appeared in her doorway.
+
+"Don't you want to come over?" she called.
+
+Obeying with an alacrity which brought a slight color to the girl's
+cheeks, Rudy passed through the hedge and swung up the steps.
+
+"You're out early," she informed him.
+
+"Well, you know what they say about the early bird," he returned.
+
+Jean studied him with mock severity.
+
+"Are you implying that I'm a worm, young man?"
+
+"Hardly that," Rudy said hastily.  "Some of those sayings sort of
+backfire."
+
+As they went into the house, Jean asked: "Are you enjoying your stay?"
+
+"It's been the happiest time of my life," Rudy said.  "I wish I could
+explain--make you feel that it has."
+
+Jean bent her head slightly.
+
+"Maybe I understand.  It's strange--but I feel, well, I feel that
+it's been better than all other days, too."
+
+For a moment Rudy digested her meaning.  It scarcely seemed possible
+that she could have spoken those words.  Had they been phantoms, or
+mere figments of some extreme hope?
+
+"It seems somehow that I've always known you, Jean."
+
+And then Jean said a surprising thing:
+
+"I wish we had always known one another.  Are--are you a college man,
+Mr. Grant?"
+
+As Rudy struggled for an answer, a strain of melody was carried
+across the soft morning air.  The Vagabonds apparently were not
+wasting their time in idleness.
+
+"Oh, what is that song?" Jean interrupted him.
+
+Rudy smiled gratefully.  "It's a song that was meant just for you."
+And because he could express himself better in song than in ordinary
+speech, he took up the words of the number softly.
+
+  "We'll be so happy,
+  We'll always sing
+  If we remember, one little thing,
+  A little kiss each morning, a little kiss each night.
+
+  "Who cares if hard luck may be ahead,
+  An empty cupboard,
+  A crust of bread--
+  A little kiss each morning, a little kiss each night.
+
+  "Dreams may disappoint us,
+  As they often do,
+  Bring your tears to me, dear,
+  I'll bring mine to you."
+
+
+As he finished singing, Jean got nervously to her feet.  She seemed
+in the grip of some emotion as powerful as it was puzzling.
+
+"You have a marvelous voice," she said at length.  "It sounds so--so
+sort of familiar to me.  I could listen to it all day."
+
+Rudy frowned.  "Only until noon, I'm afraid.  You see, we have to go
+into town for a rehearsal.  I'm more sorry than I can tell you, but
+we've got to leave."
+
+"Oh, I wish you didn't have to go," Jean exclaimed in a voice of
+genuine disappointment.
+
+"I wish I didn't, too," Rudy answered.  "You have made me forget all
+about my music."
+
+"Flatterer!  But it's nice to hear you say it, anyway.  I've always
+wanted to meet a real musician--an artist with sincerity."
+
+"Sincerity?"
+
+"Yes," the girl returned.  "That's what your music makes me feel
+about you.  You just couldn't be anybody but yourself.  When you sing
+like that, I wish you'd go on forever."
+
+"Would you be willing to go on with me forever?" Rudy asked suddenly,
+bolder than he had dreamed of being.
+
+"Why, I----"
+
+Before Jean could complete the sentence, there was an interruption by
+the butler.  He held a yellow envelope.
+
+"Pardon me, is Mrs. Whitehall here?" he asked.
+
+"No, Adams," Jean answered.
+
+"I have a telegram for her."
+
+"Just leave it on the table."  As the man put down the telegram and
+left, Jean eyed it curiously.
+
+"Now I wonder what that's about," she said.
+
+"So do I," Rudy admitted.
+
+"I wonder if anything has happened.  It's funny that Auntie hasn't
+come home.  She left the house early this morning, before I was up.
+Something must have detained her at her committee meeting."
+
+As Jean noted that Rudy's mind was not upon her Aunt, she guessed the
+secret of his inattention.
+
+"Will you be coming back to-morrow?" she asked.
+
+"If I weren't, would you mind?" Rudy returned with the same light
+smile.
+
+"What a silly question," Jean reproved him.
+
+"Maybe not.  I might have to stay in town, for instance."
+
+"Then," Jean said decisively, "I'd come in to hear you play.  From
+now on I'm going to be a Ted Grant fan."
+
+For a minute Rudy was silent.  Then he said:
+
+"Well, supposing I weren't Ted Grant."
+
+"If you weren't famous?  Oh, I'd like you just the same, no matter
+who you were."
+
+"Jean," Rudy said abruptly, "I've got to tell you something.  Maybe
+I'll make you hate me--but I've got to tell you.  I'm not what you
+think I am--I'm----"
+
+"Oh, oh, Mr. Grant!  What a relief to find you here!"
+
+Rudy and Jean turned.  In the doorway, her face reddened with
+excitement stood Mrs. Whitehall.
+
+"Why, Auntie," Jean exclaimed.  "What in the world is the matter?"
+
+"I won," said Mrs. Whitehall with satisfaction.
+
+"At what?" Rudy asked.
+
+"At the committee meeting, of course.  Your band plays to-night!"
+
+"My band----!"
+
+"Do you mean Mrs. Todhunter consented to let Mr. Grant head the
+program?" Jean asked.
+
+"I should say she didn't!" Mrs. Whitehall exclaimed.  "And what a
+piece of my mind I gave her!  And the committee backed me up,
+especially when I told them how anxious Mr. Grant was to help us."
+
+Rudy scratched his chin in bewilderment.  The situation rapidly was
+getting beyond all attempt at salvage, he saw that.  And yet
+something must be done to escape from it.  But what?
+
+"Of course, I did want to help," he said slowly, "but with the other
+artists on the program objecting, perhaps----"
+
+"Oh, but they are not on the program any more!  Oh, no, not at all!
+They have all motored back to New York."
+
+"What!" cried Rudy and Jean in chorus.
+
+Then Jean asked: "Do you mean that Mrs. Todhunter was responsible----"
+
+"Exactly, my dear!  She said they refused to appear on a program with
+a jazz band, no matter how famous, and as the committee insisted on
+having Mr. Grant, she withdrew their names.  Oh, it was a complete
+triumph for me, I assure you!"
+
+"But, Auntie," Jean said, "without the operatic stars, we can't make
+the benefit a success."
+
+"The broadcasting people say that Mr. Grant is a far greater
+attraction," Mrs. Whitehall replied complacently.  "Some of them have
+assisted in his broadcasts in New York, and they say that nobody on
+the air is as big a favorite."
+
+"Do you mean that these men have been with Ted Grant--with
+me--personally?" Rudy asked.
+
+"Why, yes," Mrs. Whitehall told him, "and I daresay that in the
+audience will be a number of your regular fans.  They're sure to come
+when they learn you are to appear.  Oh, with the debutante numbers,
+we'll have a great success!" she cried happily.  She turned to Rudy.
+"And you will do your best to help us, won't you, Mr. Grant?"
+
+Rudy shook his head doggedly, realizing that the break must be made
+at last.
+
+"But Mrs. Whitehall, I've told you that it is impossible.  We--we
+will have to secure our manager's permission."
+
+"Oh, I've taken care of that," Mrs. Whitehall said with a bland
+smile.  "I wired to your manager directly from the committee meeting."
+
+"My manager?"
+
+"Yes; I got his address from the broadcasting people in New York,
+told him you wanted to play for us, and offered to meet his terms."
+
+"You said--said I was here, and wanted to play?" Rudy asked.
+
+"Of course," she replied.  "You and your whole band.  That was right,
+wasn't it?  The answer should be here by now," she added.
+
+"Why," Jean began, "that must be----"
+
+"Jean," Rudy said quickly, "please----"
+
+"That must be what?" Mrs. Whitehall demanded.
+
+As Jean looked at Rudy he shook his head; but with a slight frown she
+spoke again, having failed to grasp the meaning of his exclamation:
+
+"Why that must have been why the butler was trying to find you!"
+
+Rudy desperately took the girl's arm, drawing her toward the door.
+"What do you say to a little walk in the sunshine?" he asked
+nervously.
+
+"Why was the butler trying to find me?" Mrs. Whitehall drove on.
+"Come, come, speak up!"
+
+"Yes," said Rudy, and then in a whisper to Jean he pleaded, "Come,
+come outside!"
+
+There was no mistaking his wish now, and Jean, although not
+understanding, was willing to assent to it.
+
+"I--I--really have forgotten what Adams wanted," she told her aunt.
+
+Mrs. Whitehall hurried toward the door.
+
+"Well, I will see the butler.  It must be the telegram.  Excuse me."
+
+When she had left them, Jean looked curiously at Rudy.  "Why didn't
+you want Auntie to read that telegram?" she asked.
+
+Rudy unhappily returned her gaze.
+
+"Jean there was something I wanted to tell you," he said miserably.
+"But it's too late now."
+
+"About the telegram?"
+
+"Read it," he said simply, pointing to the table on which the yellow
+slip lay.
+
+"But it's addressed to Auntie."
+
+"It will concern you," he told her.
+
+"Why," said Jean, "how strange you seem."
+
+"Read it," Rudy repeated.
+
+Jean picked up the envelope and ripped it open with quick fingers.
+Withdrawing the enclosure, she flipped open the paper and read aloud:
+
+
+BAND OPERATING IN YOUR NEIGHBORHOOD A FAKE.  HAVE WIRED POLICE TO
+ARREST ALL CONCERNED AND HOLD UNTIL I ARRIVE WITH MR. GRANT.
+IMPOSSIBLE TO PLAY YOUR BENEFIT AS CANNOT ARRIVE UNTIL LATE EVENING.
+
+J. CONNORS, MANAGER.
+
+
+There was a harsh silence.  Rudy could not lift his eyes.  His face
+red with shame, he stood with drooping shoulders, an effigy of
+contrite misery.
+
+"I was going to tell you," he said.  "I was trying to tell you."
+
+"Then you're not Ted Grant?"
+
+"No."
+
+"You've been lying--imposing on us?"
+
+"I didn't mean any harm," he protested.  "It was just that we
+were--sort of caught up by a rolling snowball, and had to go along."
+
+Jean turned stiffly away, her back uncompromising.
+
+"You don't understand," Rudy pleaded.  "Let me explain."
+
+"I have no doubt but that you will be able to explain most glibly,
+Mr.--  Mr.----"
+
+"Bronson--Rudy Bronson!"  At the sound of his own name, and the
+knowledge that at last he was free of the hated masquerade, his heart
+lightened amazingly.
+
+"You see," he hurried on, "I had seen you at the University."
+
+"At the University?"  It was Jean's turn to be amazed.
+
+"I was a freshman there," exclaimed Rudy.  "Oh, this wasn't planned,
+Miss Whitehall, I swear it!  But after it got started, why--why I
+couldn't stop it.  The boys were afraid.  I couldn't tell you the
+truth without giving them away.  And then--I--I wanted to know you,
+to be near you, at any cost."  He turned away disconsolately.  "And
+now I've ruined my chance to do that--forever!"
+
+Jean gazed at him for long seconds.  He was so utterly crushed, so
+thoroughly penitent, that she could not forestall a suspicious
+mistiness that clouded her eyes.  But before Rudy was aware of it,
+there came a tremendous ringing of the doorbell and a call of:
+
+"Rudy!  Quick!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII
+
+ESCAPE
+
+Adams opened the door upon a troupe of excited young men.  They piled
+past him with the heedless haste of a stampede, only pausing when
+they came upon Rudy and Jean.
+
+"What's the matter?" Rudy asked.  "What happened?"
+
+"Police!" Sam McMahon said without hesitation.  "We saw them coming
+up the front walk, and we ducked out the back.  You had the keys to
+your flivver," he admitted, "or we'd have been on our way by now.
+Come on, boy, let's be moving."
+
+"That's right, Rudy," Sport O'Malley said.  "All except about leaving
+you, of course.  Come on, we've got to hike for that train."
+
+"How far is the station?" Rudy demanded.  "Even if we do make a break
+for it, if it's more than a mile, they are sure to overtake us before
+we get there.  Remember that one ancient flivver can't go very fast
+with ten men."
+
+He spoke dully and dispiritedly.  The bottom had completely dropped
+out of his world, and the prospect of a trip to jail had for him none
+of the alarm which it caused the others.  It would, in fact, be quite
+appropriate as a closing incident for the whole fiasco of his attempt
+to impress Jean.
+
+Then he heard Jean say: "Wait a minute, I'll take you in my car."
+
+"What?" they demanded in unison.
+
+"What a girl!" Sport exclaimed.
+
+"Hurry," Jean said.  "We can still get out the back way."
+
+Rudy attempted to detain her.  "I can't let you do this, Jean."
+
+"And I can't let you be arrested in Auntie's house," she flared.
+
+"But we can't hide behind a woman's skirts!" he protested.  "Can we,
+fellows?"
+
+"Try and stop us!" bellowed Al Monroe.
+
+"Come on!" Jean cried.  "Let's go!"
+
+Out the back entrance of the house they scrambled and into a long
+touring car.  As they were making this exit, the officers were
+ringing the front doorbell; but of that they happily were ignorant.
+Only Mrs. Whitehall was left to explain, with the aid of the
+telegram, the catastrophe which had befallen her social ambitions.
+
+In the car Rudy sat in silence, realizing only that he was being
+carried to safety by the girl he loved.  And away from her.  All his
+ancient hatred of pretense rose to mock him, that he should have
+allowed the thing he despised most to ruin his chance for happiness.
+The other members of the orchestra were too impressed by the dramatic
+manner of their escape to have much to say.  With the exception of
+Sport O'Malley, sitting in the front seat with Jean, they were
+unusually quiet.  And even Sport apparently was finding little to say
+to Jean.
+
+The ride was quickly done, and the Vagabonds climbed gratefully out
+of the car.  As they ran to the window to inquire if the hoped-for
+train were on time, Rudy went to Jean.
+
+"How am I ever going to see you again?" he asked desperately.  "If
+you only knew----"
+
+"You aren't going to see me again," she said.  "Ever."
+
+"Oh, I know I've been to blame, Jean.  It's a terrible mistake that
+I'd give anything to undo."
+
+Far down the track there was the faint sound of a train whistle.
+
+"You had better go," she said.  "You'll miss your train."
+
+Rudy shook his head.  "I'm not going until I know that you've
+forgiven me.  Oh, have I hurt you so much?" he asked.  "I don't
+understand.  If you hate me so--then why did you save us from the
+police?"
+
+"Never ask a girl why," she told him.  "Maybe it was because I
+couldn't see you punished that way."
+
+"We deserved it."
+
+"You don't know Auntie," Jean said.  "She'd never forgive you.  She'd
+make them give you a prison sentence, at least."
+
+Rudy frowned.  "I don't care about her.  I just want you to know how
+sorry I am."
+
+"Oh, it isn't myself that counts!" Jean burst out unhappily.  "It
+isn't Auntie's humiliation.  It's something far greater than any of
+us--something you and your friends have forgotten--that's the real
+sufferer."
+
+"What is that?"
+
+"The orphanage."
+
+"Why," he asked, "what do you mean?"
+
+"Can't you see that you've spoiled the whole benefit?  Auntie trusted
+you and counted on you.  The other artists have gone back to New
+York.  Grant won't arrive until much later.  There'll be no time to
+get anyone else to head the program this evening."
+
+"I never thought of that," Rudy admitted.
+
+"We'll have to return the ticket money," she went on.  "What's left
+of the fund must go to the broadcasting people.  It's hardly worth
+while to give the other performances if this one is to be such a
+failure."
+
+"Isn't there something I can do?" Rudy asked miserably.
+
+"It's too late to do anything, I'm afraid," Jean answered.  "You've
+had your joke at the expense of a great charity, the one we've worked
+so hard for--and because of your thoughtlessness, children will
+suffer.  I could never forgive you for that."
+
+"Jean!"
+
+The girl turned her face away from him, starting her car.
+
+"I never want to see you again," she choked.  "Never!"
+
+Then with a roar of the mighty engine and a puff of acrid exhaust,
+she was gone.
+
+Rudy stood looking down the road after her, his mouth in the same
+bitter, twisted line it had been that distant day when he had flunked
+out of the University.  So this, too, was to be another failure.
+This, the loveliest thing that ever had come into his life.
+
+With a screech of brakes, the train slid into the tiny station.  The
+Vagabonds started toward its steps, with their instruments having the
+appearance of mammoth silver-bedecked bugs.
+
+"Come on, Rudy!" Sport called.  "We're leaving in a minute."
+
+With a curt movement of the head, Rudy took his stand.
+
+"I'm not going," he said.
+
+Sport approached him, aghast.  "What?"
+
+"Jean's right about that benefit.  We've ruined it by our
+foolishness."
+
+"Well, suppose we have," Sport cried, "are we going to miss this
+train?"
+
+Rudy nodded.  "I am."
+
+"Have you gone nuts, fella?"
+
+"No, I've just got some sense.  I can't run out on these people like
+this.  I'm going back there and offer to sing, play or do anything
+that will help."
+
+"Why, you're crazy," Sport insisted.  "They'll jail you!"
+
+"I don't care," Rudy answered doggedly.  "I'm going to take my
+medicine."
+
+Several of the others had approached, wondering about the delay.  As
+soon as they gathered the reason for Rudy's stubbornness, they began
+to give, for the first time, a thought to the predicament into which
+they had plunged the charity-benefit committee.
+
+"Oh, come on," said Al Monroe, "we can't help it now.  Let's grab
+this train."
+
+"You grab it, fellows," Rudy said.  "I'll write you from the
+rockpile."
+
+Sport O'Malley shrugged, and got out his cigarettes.
+
+"You won't need to write to me, Rudy.  I'll be right there alongside
+of you."
+
+"What?"
+
+"Say listen!  After the way you stood up for me back at that Magic
+Lantern affair, do you think I'd pull out on you?  Why, we're all in
+on this as much as you are."
+
+"That's right," said little Bud Dwight, "we're all in on this
+together.  If Rudy's game, let's stick, too."
+
+"I can't let you do this," Rudy told them.  "Go grab your train--and
+grab it fast."
+
+Al Monroe thoughtfully fingered his tuba.
+
+"If it'll help them for us to play, we'll play; and I'll bust anybody
+who says he won't!"  He looked around the circle; but with the
+exception of Sam McMahon's alarmed face, it was apparent that they
+were in agreement.
+
+"Oke," said Sport.  "Hey, taxi," he called to the station hack.
+"Believe it or not, here's a fare."
+
+"Looks more to me like ten fares," the driver returned, surveying
+them with dismay.
+
+"That's all right," Sport assured him.  "It isn't every driver who's
+had the chance to have the celebrated Vagabonds draped over his
+chariot.  To the charity benefit, my friend."
+
+"And," added Sam McMahon, "don't stop for any cops!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII
+
+FOR THE BENEFIT OF ALL CONCERNED
+
+In the library of the Whitehall home, Mrs. Whitehall sat surrounded
+by a circle of gentlemen from the press.  Her face was harassed and
+marked with strain, and it was evident that she was making every
+effort to put up a semblance of composure.  But under the eager
+scrutiny of the newspaper reporters, she rapidly was giving way to
+something close to panic.
+
+"Tell me," one of them asked her, "who introduced this impostor to
+your friends as Ted Grant?"
+
+"I did," answered the unfortunate woman.
+
+"I see," the man continued, "and when did you first notice your
+niece's interest in him."
+
+Mrs. Whitehall bowed her head.  "When she ran away with him."
+
+Another reporter introduced himself: "Clarke of the _Herald_, Mrs.
+Whitehall.  Where can we get a photograph of your niece?"
+
+Mrs. Whitehall's lips straightened.
+
+"I don't intend to answer another question," she said coldly.  "Too
+much has been said already."
+
+"But you've got to!" Clarke insisted.  "Why, this is front-page
+stuff."
+
+"Sure," said the first speaker, "we're going to give you a million
+dollars worth of free publicity.  We've learned that this fellow
+Bronson played at the Hotel Laconia, and they called themselves the
+Vagabonds."  He turned to his companions.  "Can't you just see that,
+boys?  'Heiress Elopes with Vagabond.  Aunt Rages.  Secret Love
+Nest.'"
+
+"'Her Vagabond Lover!'" Clarke cried.  "There's a head for you."
+
+Another member of the group stepped forward.
+
+"Pardon me, Mrs. Whitehall.  I met you at Lathrop's at Palm Beach
+last winter."
+
+"How nice of you to remember," Mrs. Whitehall assured him icily.
+
+"Yes, I'm nice that way.  Now, in the interest of the _Gazette_,
+might I ask if your niece was ever photographed in a bathing suit?"
+
+Mrs. Whitehall got to her feet, her face blazing with fury.
+
+"Go away; go away, all of you!  I don't intend to answer another
+question!"
+
+Officer Tuttle stepped forward to her aid.
+
+"Now lookee here, boys--we don't know for sure that she did run away
+with these crooks."
+
+"Maybe they ran away with her, eh?" Clarke asked sarcastically.
+
+"Well," Tuttle admitted, "that's my theory."
+
+"A kidnapping?  Hot dog!"
+
+"Do you think that hypnotism was used?" asked the _Gazette_
+representative.
+
+"Well, I wouldn't say positively," Tuttle said.  "But you might print
+the fact that Chief George C. Tuttle expects startling discoveries
+within twenty-four hours.  Two t's in Tuttle."
+
+"You mean an arrest?" Clarke asked hopefully.
+
+Tuttle nodded emphatically, his chin bobbing in forceful illustration
+of his meaning.
+
+"We're going to arrest these crooks and put them where they belong,
+as sure as my name is George C. Tuttle, attached to the 11th
+precinct."
+
+"With two t's?" a voice queried.
+
+But Tuttle went on without pause, adding:
+
+"We'll show these city gangsters that they can't perpetrate their
+outrages in this town.  I've had my eye on them all the time they
+been here.  I thought they were trying to kid me--kid the country
+cop."
+
+"Well," Clarke observed, "you can't blame a man for trying."
+
+"Now, madam," the _Gazette_ reporter returned to Mrs. Whitehall,
+"about that bathing-suit picture."
+
+"Go away," he was answered.  "I shan't speak to you.  I shan't say
+another word.  Officer Tuttle, I must ask you to clear the house of
+these men."
+
+As Tuttle half-heartedly was about to carry out her instructions, the
+radio gave up the muffled dance music which it had been broadcasting
+in favor of a crisp masculine voice.
+
+"This is the National Broadcasting Company," it announced, "operating
+from the charity benefit at the Todhunter estate at Longport, Long
+Island.  Please stand by."
+
+"Wait a minute," Clarke asked of Tuttle.  "What was that?"
+
+"Why," said Mrs. Whitehall, "they're announcing the charity benefit
+over the radio!"
+
+"But I thought you said this benefit would have to be called off,"
+one of the reporters reminded her.
+
+"Sh," said Clarke as the voice began to speak again, "let's get this."
+
+"This is Phillips Graham speaking," the radio voice commenced.  "In
+behalf of Mrs. Whittington Todhunter, I wish to announce that the
+first performance of this monster benefit for the Orphan's Home will
+be broadcast over this station immediately.  Mrs. Todhunter wishes me
+to explain that due to an unfortunate misunderstanding with Mrs.
+Ethelberta Whitehall, of the committee, the operatic stars expected
+will be unable to appear.  Mrs. Whitehall promised to replace these
+singers with the Ted Grant band, but, again due to another
+unfortunate misunderstanding on the part of Mrs. Whitehall, this also
+will be impossible.  However----"
+
+Mrs. Whitehall gave a low moan.  "Oh, dear, oh dear--this is
+terrible.  I'm ruined!"
+
+"However," the announcer continued, "rather than let the program
+suffer, Rudy Bronson and his Vagabonds, that famous musical
+organization which has just returned from a triumphal tour of the
+fashionable New England resorts, have volunteered to replace the Ted
+Grant band, with whom they were unfortunately confused by Mrs.
+Whitehall."
+
+The announcement caused an excited stir in the room.
+
+"That means those Vagabonds are right there at the benefit!"
+
+"And so's the niece!"
+
+"The nerve of them!" Tuttle cried.  "I'll pinch the whole bunch!"
+
+"Do you mean to tell me," Mrs. Whitehall asked, "that those young
+blackguards have had the impudence to appear at that benefit after
+what has happened?"
+
+Tuttle nodded.  "That's what the radio is saying."
+
+Mrs. Whitehall wheeled upon the butler, crying:
+
+"Adams, my car!"
+
+"Wait!" Clarke said.  "Here's comes something else."
+
+Again the radio voice spoke: "Now folks, the benefit is about to
+begin.  The band is going to play the first number, and then there
+will be specialty acts by various volunteers from the colony.  I wish
+I could make you see this brilliant spectacle as it really is.
+Taking place on one of the most beautiful estates, the immense crowd,
+seated about the natural amphitheater, is probably the smartest
+gathering of the season.  Flowers, new Paris gowns, Chinese lanterns,
+have turned the whole scene into a blaze of color.  Here comes the
+band onto the outdoor stage.  You can hear the crowd applauding----"
+
+"Your car is here, Mrs. Whitehall," said the butler.
+
+Mrs. Whitehall turned to Tuttle, her eyes like flames in the anger of
+her face.
+
+"Officer, you may come with me, in my car, and make the arrests."
+
+"I'll say I will," Tuttle agreed with alacrity.  "That young smart
+aleck will do the rest of his singing in Sing Sing!"
+
+Due to the proximity of the Whitehall and Todhunter estates, not much
+time was required for the hurrying car to bring its occupants to the
+scene of the charity benefit.
+
+In his description of the Todhunter estate, the radio announcer had
+done scant justice to an impressive expenditure of both time and
+money.  One of the more beautiful of the Long Island places, under
+the guidance of especially imported decorators, the house and gardens
+comprised an elaborate panorama of artificial splendor.
+
+Myriad lights had been slung in long vari-colored loops all through
+the amphitheater, their focal point being the richly decorated stage.
+How upon row of cushioned seats faced this raised platform; and these
+were occupied by the type of audience only to be gathered by a leader
+of Mrs. Todhunter's eminence.
+
+Mrs. Todhunter herself moved among her guests, apologizing for the
+"unfortunate misunderstanding" now generally credited to Mrs.
+Whitehall.  There was small question in anyone's mind but that she
+would use this incident to its last implication to settle finally the
+race for social leadership which had been so bitterly contested by
+Mrs. Whitehall.
+
+Leaving her car, Mrs. Whitehall at a glance understood the situation,
+and she turned to Tuttle with a renewed malice.
+
+"Make your arrests just as soon as you possibly can.  That young
+ruffian up there has caused me to lose the dearest thing I own.  And
+I am going to make him regret it, you may count on that!"
+
+"You're right," Tuttle agreed.  "He's made a fool of me, too.  Don't
+worry, Mrs. Whitehall, you'll find me just a little more than ready
+to take the whole bunch of them where they belong!"
+
+On the stage, the Vagabonds were playing their best.  And as they
+played, Rudy knew that they were doing anything but poorly.  Yet he
+could find small comfort in the thought.  After all, what could it
+matter if they played well or badly, now that Jean knew him for what
+he was?
+
+An impostor!  As he knew that he merited the term as fully as anyone
+ever had, chagrin engulfed him in a crashing, unhappy wave.  Nor
+could he find relief in the thought that his deception had been
+without intent toward any gain.  For it hadn't.  He had entered into
+the masquerade in a simple need of safety, true enough; but there
+also had been that wish to bring himself to the attention of Jean
+Whitehall.
+
+Well, he had done that well enough!  After being careful that she did
+not see him at the University as an obscure student, or at the Hotel
+Laconia as a member of the jazz orchestra--he had caused her to
+uncover him in her own home as the pretender to another man's name!
+
+The girls who had volunteered to dance to the music of the orchestra
+made their entrance and went gracefully through a rhythmic pattern of
+steps.  Watching them, Rudy reflected that any one of them might be
+Jean.  They were of her set, her social order.  And he, Rudy Bronson,
+was simply a--a Vagabond.
+
+"What a fool I was, ever to think of her," he thought.  "I must have
+let that Ted Grant complex chase away the few brains that I had!"
+
+But if he only were Ted Grant!  Then he would be able to approach her
+without fear or shame, on the solid assurance of achievement.
+America asked nothing of anyone more than that he be excellent in his
+chosen profession.  Oh, if only he had been able to speak to Jean as
+Rudy Bronson--but with the weight of Ted Grant's skill behind him!
+
+As the girls finished their number, a wave of applause rolled up to
+the stage.  The young ladies ran from the wings for a bow; then, with
+the sudden self-consciousness of amateur performers, hastily
+retreated to the safety of the canvas walls.
+
+"How about a song on this next one, Rudy?" Sport asked.  "We haven't
+seemed to wow them with either of our first two numbers."
+
+"Why blame us?" Al Monroe demanded.  "I could dance better'n any of
+that flock of skinny dames, with both my feet tied."
+
+"Pipe down," Swiftie counseled, "or somebody around here is liable to
+tie your big mouth up with a nice big fist."
+
+"Save that," Sam McMahon put in.  "I saw Mrs. Whitehall coming in
+with that flatfoot cop in the middle of that number.  And that," he
+added, "means that pretty soon you guys will be able to have all the
+fight that your little hearts desire!"
+
+"Did she come?" Sport asked.
+
+"Who?" demanded Bud Dwight, "the old lady?"
+
+"Sure," Sam repeated, "I knew we should have taken that train."
+
+"Aw, be your age," Al Monroe snarled.  "We're in this, ain't we?  And
+if we hadn't come here and played, the charity benefit would have
+been a bust, wouldn't it?  I don't see that they've got any squawk
+coming when we've saved them all their dough."
+
+"That's right," Sport agreed.  "Do you think Mrs. Whitehall is apt to
+press charges against us, Rudy?"
+
+"I don't know," Rudy answered.  "Jean said that she sent her cook to
+jail for falsifying his household accounts."
+
+"But we didn't steal anything from her," Sport protested.  "Ted Grant
+is the man who could cause us trouble if he wanted to.  And I don't
+imagine that he would object to having a pupil of his stay overnight
+in his house."
+
+"That may be all right," Rudy admitted.  "It's just that until we can
+get Grant to speak for us, she is apt to cause Tuttle to put us on a
+bread and water diet."
+
+"Well," said Al Monroe, "I think that Swiftie's been eating too much
+lately anyway.  He put on ten pounds at the Laconia."
+
+"Yeah," said Swiftie, "and lost them when I left it!"
+
+"Tell you what, gang," Sport said.  "Let's give them everything we've
+got.  We'll put over the best number we've got, and make them like
+it.  If we're a hit, maybe even Mrs. Whitehall will feel a little
+more kindly toward us."
+
+"That sounds good," said Bud Dwight.
+
+"Anything would sound good that would do some good," said Sam
+McMahon.  "But what's our best number, 'Lovable and Sweet'?"
+
+"That's it," said Sport.  "And you take up the chorus, eh, Rudy?"
+
+As they adjusted their instruments, the brief pause between numbers
+having been dissipated, Rudy shook his head.
+
+"No," he said, "not that one."
+
+"Well, what one then?" Sport asked.  "Let's make it snappy."
+
+"No, not snappy, either.  I want to sing 'I Love You, Believe Me, I
+Love You.'"  Before there could be any remarks, he added: "That's the
+number that I do best, and if you want the best, why--
+
+"Sure, that's all right," Sport said, "Let's go, gang."
+
+He gave his signal, and the band, now a perfectly organized team,
+swept into the melody.  Below them pale bulbs of faces swam in
+organized lines.  The multi-colored hues of hundreds of dresses,
+offset by the more somber clothing of the gentlemen, lay like a gaudy
+blanket at their feet.  It was a gay, smart crowd, craving amusement
+beyond all things, and Rudy instinctively knew that to please it
+would be to please the whole pleasure-loving world.
+
+But he gave it the minutest part of his thought.  It was not of the
+total assemblage of Mrs. Todhunter's guests that he was thinking--but
+of one.  And it was to that one, Jean, that he stood to sing.
+
+With closed eyes, shutting out all the world but the mental image of
+a slim, lovely girl, he poured forth his song:
+
+  "I love you, believe me, I love you,
+  This theme is the dream of my heart.
+  I need you, believe me, I need you,
+  I'll be blue when we two are apart."
+
+
+And as he sang, he put far more sincerity into those simple words
+than even their author could have hoped for.  It was his love-song,
+yes; but he knew it to be his swan song, too.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX
+
+DÉNOUEMENT
+
+On the outskirts of the crowd stood a short, pompous man with the
+worried eyes of success in his chosen field, and a huge burly man who
+hovered by him protectively.
+
+"Look at that, will you?" Connors demanded.  "Can you beat it?  What
+do you think of that," he demanded with the dull lack of originality
+of his type.  "Can you feature it!"
+
+Ted Grant's eyes were fixed beadily on the distant stage.
+
+"Using the Ted Grant method, is he?  Trying to steal my stuff.
+I'll--I'll----"
+
+But Connors, with the born manager's eye for the crowd, had noted the
+response that was being given Rudy's number.
+
+"Wait a minute," he said.  "Let's get a load of this guy.  He's sure
+to sing again after a hand like that!"
+
+It seemed a just prophecy.  The applause which had greeted the
+conclusion of the "I Love You" number had dwarfed all that preceded
+it.  Rudy was forced to take a bow, and a second one.
+
+"He sure went over," Ted Grant admitted.  "Wonder who he is?"
+
+"I'll scout around and find out," Connors said.  "There seems to be
+real talent in these hills."
+
+As the two men were about to move on, several figures approached from
+the dusk.
+
+"Now I want two of you to sneak around there and come in behind those
+fellows.  Do you get me?"
+
+In the strident, nasal tone peculiar to a certain type of New
+Englander, there was no mistaking the malice behind the words.  Grant
+and Connors looked around, to see Tuttle deploying his men toward the
+orchestra platform.
+
+"And two of you others go in behind them from the right.  Nail them
+right there.  Does everybody understand?"
+
+There was a general assent, and the little group of policemen moved
+off into the night, obviously on their way to put the performers on
+the stage under custody.
+
+Grant whistled.  "And what do you make of that?"
+
+"Can't figure it," Connors replied.  "Unless these kids have gotten
+in bad around here somehow."
+
+"That'd be a shame," Grant exclaimed.  "Why, they've got real stuff.
+I'd hate to see them get nabbed by any yokel cop on some small town
+complaint.  Those boys ought to be in the big town!"
+
+"Let's follow around and see what's up," said Connors.  "Maybe we can
+give them a lift."
+
+A few words came from the loudspeaker:
+
+"The Vagabonds now will offer their final number, which also will be
+the closing number of our performance."
+
+With evident determination to leave a good last impression on their
+audience, the Vagabonds had chosen one of their best pieces, "Then
+I'll Be Reminded of You."  Rudy Bronson was notably good on the vocal
+rendition, and as he took up the chorus, they now saw that the choice
+had been a happy one.  Rudy had never been in better voice.
+
+  "I'll gather some June dreams,
+  I'll search for some moonbeams,
+  Then I'll be reminded of you.
+  I'll walk by the mill stream,
+  I'll talk to the hill stream
+  Then I'll be reminded of you.
+
+  I'll climb to the rainbow and vigor anew,
+  I'll find Paradise and I'll keep it for you.
+  I'll spend all my hours, among fragrant flowers,
+  Then I'll be reminded of you."
+
+
+Struck by the peculiar aptness of the lyric, Rudy completed the song
+in a cloud of unhappiness.  _Then I'll be reminded of you_.  Yes, and
+wouldn't he be reminded of Jean, of the girl he loved, by everything
+beautiful so long as he lived?  Reminded to his everlasting regret
+for having allowed himself to try and win her esteem as a cheat....
+
+The Vagabonds hurriedly were putting away their instruments.  It was
+obvious that none of them was anxious to linger for the generous
+plaudits being given them on all sides.  They had too much to lose by
+delay for even the vainest to wish to stay longer than was absolutely
+necessary on the Todhunter estate.
+
+With his customary sanguineness, Sport O'Malley had convinced himself
+that with such a showing as they had made on the program, even Mrs.
+Whitehall would not be able to entertain much anger with them.  But
+as he saw the dowager approach, her face creased in lines of
+disapproval, his feeling of assurance ebbed abruptly.
+
+"Well, here it is, gang," he said, as he saw that beside her walked
+Tuttle.
+
+Sam McMahon groaned.  "And to think that by now we could be so far
+away from this place they couldn't catch us with a special delivery
+letter."
+
+Four policemen, two upon each side of the stage, appeared from the
+wings.  "Don't try and leave!"
+
+Tuttle went directly to Rudy Bronson.
+
+"Young man, we want to see you," he said heavily.
+
+Rudy nodded.  "I know.  I'll take all the blame if you'll let the
+others go."
+
+"What do you mean, you'll take all the blame?" Sport O'Malley said,
+coming forward.  "Listen, fella, you seem to forget that you came
+through for me in a tight spot.  Molly writes me that if I ever
+forget it, that I'd better forget her, too.  But there's no need to
+worry about that."  He turned to Tuttle.  "Whatever this guy did, I
+did just as much, get that?"
+
+"What do you intend to do with us, lady?" asked the tremulous voice
+of Bud Dwight.
+
+"I intend to prosecute you fully for causing the failure of our
+benefit."
+
+"The failure!" Sport exclaimed.  "Listen, Mrs. Whitehall, Ted Grant
+himself couldn't have gotten a better hand than we did."
+
+"What's the use of arguing, Sport?" Rudy asked.  "I'll go with you,
+officer," he said to Tuttle.  He got to his feet, looking at the
+swaying curtain which had blotted out all the approving hundreds of a
+few minutes ago.  Was Jean out there, unconscious of what was taking
+place behind the lowered velvet?  Or did she know--and approve?
+
+As if summoned by his thoughts, Jean came from the wings, her hands
+full of telegrams, her face alight with excitement.
+
+"Why, Jean," Mrs. Whitehall said, "where have you been?"
+
+"At the radio, receiving telegrams," Jean answered.  "And before you
+say another word to Mr. Bronson and his friends, I want you to look
+at these wires."
+
+Mrs. Whitehall took a handful of the yellow envelopes.
+
+"What on earth----?"
+
+"The radio announcer says they always get a quick response from their
+public," Jean went on.  "But he says they haven't had one so warm as
+this for ever so long!"
+
+Mrs. Whitehall had opened the first telegram.
+
+"Oh, dear," she cried, "just listen to this: 'If charity benefit is
+as delightful as orchestra now playing, count on us every night.  Mr.
+and Mrs. Richmond.'"
+
+Jean ripped open another of the envelopes.
+
+"'All the patients in our hospital enjoyed the charity benefit
+orchestra greatly,'" she read.  "And it is signed by the head nurse
+of the Montclair Hospital."
+
+But Mrs. Whitehall had pleasant reading matter of her own.
+
+"Oh, how sweet," she enthused.  "'Never heard such a soothing voice
+and band.  Am coming to the benefit just to see them.  Mrs. Roger
+Hackett.'"  She turned to Jean.  "Mrs. Roger Hackett!  Can you
+imagine that, my dear!"
+
+"Look here," Jean answered.  "'Hope that Rudy Bronson and his
+Vagabonds will be a permanent feature on the air.  Congratulate
+benefit committee for having secured such a delightful artist.  The
+Sherman family.'"
+
+"The Shermans!" Mrs. Whitehall cried.  "Let me see!  Oh, dear," she
+added, examining the telegram, "this is too much!"
+
+"The radio people say he's a hit,"' Jean told her.  "A sensation.
+They knew it the minute they heard him out there.  Oh, there are tons
+of other telegrams, too!  Can't you see, Auntie," she asked, "he
+hasn't made your benefit a failure.  He's put it over for you."
+
+"Imagine!" was Mrs. Whitehall's only reply.  Or, indeed, the only
+reply of which she was capable.
+
+Rudy looked at Jean.  His senses were in a whirl; things had happened
+so precipitately that he was unable for the moment to grasp the good
+fortune which had attended his efforts.  But one fact stood forth
+with beacon clearness--and that was that Jean, the girl who had
+scorned him, had been the instrument which had delivered them from
+the waiting grasp of Officer Tuttle.
+
+"Congratulations, Mrs. Whitehall!"
+
+It was the radio announcer, freed of the press of his duties, coming
+forward with outstretched hand.
+
+"It isn't everyone who has the genius to make a find like this and
+then exploit it so magnificently.  You certainly showed superb
+showmanship.  In fact I wonder that you don't take up promotion as a
+profession!"
+
+"Yes?" Mrs. Whitehall murmured dazedly.  "Yes?"
+
+"The committee certainly owes a lot to you," the announcer went on.
+"I'm afraid that the operatic singers would have made of this just
+another boresome charity benefit.  But with Mr. Bronson and his band,
+I assure you it has been the most entertaining affair that we have
+had the pleasure to broadcast all year."
+
+Mrs. Whitehall had by now regained some of her customary composure.
+
+"Oh, yes," she admitted, "I recognized the quality of Mr. Bronson and
+his hand the minute I heard them.  I think you are right in saying
+they differ from the usual trained operatic singers.  After all, this
+is a new country--and we should have new and modern ways of
+expressing ourselves.  There is nothing to be gained by following the
+old, worn-out precedents of Europe!"
+
+"I might add on that score that Europe seems to be following us, Mrs.
+Whitehall.  Our contemporary music has taken the Continent by storm."
+
+As all eyes turned to the speaker, he came more definitely into the
+group.
+
+"Permit me to introduce myself.  I am Ted Grant.  And this is my
+manager, Mr. Jack Connors.  We came down here under the impression
+that an imposition was about to be practised.  And very happy I am
+that we came."
+
+"Ted Grant!" Rudy breathed.  "You mean--_the_ Ted Grant."
+
+"None other," the musician smiled.  "And I want to talk to you, young
+fellow, as soon as you have time."
+
+Before he could make his wishes more fully known, Mrs. Whittington
+Todhunter, amid a flurry of elegant skirts, pushed her way through
+the crowd.
+
+"Have you arrested him yet?" she demanded.
+
+"Arrested whom?" Mrs. Whitehall asked innocently.
+
+"Why this young impostor.  Just a few minutes ago you were saying----"
+
+"My dear Mrs. Todhunter," Mrs. Whitehall cut her short.  "This seems
+to be just another instance of your flair for making mistakes.  Mr.
+Bronson is no impostor.  He appeared on our bill under his own
+name--and, I may point out, scored one of the biggest hits that this
+gentleman from the broadcasting station has ever put on the air."
+
+"That's right," the announcer assured her.  "He'll be set from now
+on."
+
+"I'll say he will," said Ted Grant.
+
+"Then you aren't going to have him arrested?" Mrs. Todhunter
+persisted.
+
+"Why, of course not!" Mrs. Whitehall replied.  "That was just part of
+my superb--superb--whatever it was that I should take up
+professionally!"
+
+Officer Tuttle had for some time been attempting to make himself
+heard.  He now stepped into the circle of discussion.
+
+"But lookee here," he said, "it's up to Mr. Grant himself to advise
+us on this charge.  He's the one who made the complaint, and he's the
+injured party.  It was his house that was broken into by these--these
+young vagabonds!"
+
+"Why, Officer Pluffle--" Mrs. Whitehall protested weakly.
+
+"Tuttle," he said snappishly, "Tuttle--with two t's!"
+
+Ted Grant took him by the arm, confidentially.
+
+"There seems to be something of a mistake here, Chief.  I guess the
+best thing to do would be to call it that--and let the matter rest."
+
+"Then you don't care to make a charge against this young fellow?"
+Tuttle asked, pointing to Rudy.  "He's the ringleader of the crowd."
+
+"Make a charge against Rudy?" Sport O'Malley asked.  "Why, I guess
+you don't know that this young man is one of Mr. Grant's pupils--a
+graduate of the Ted Grant Correspondence School in Music."
+
+"And," said Al Monroe, "a personal friend of Mr. Grant's.  With
+letters and everything."
+
+"You boys keep out of this," Tuttle advised.  "It's Mr. Grant I'm
+talking to."
+
+"But the boys are right," Grant returned.  "You don't think I'd care
+to make a charge against one of my pupils.  I tell you, I was never
+prouder of one of my graduates in all my life; and I might add that
+among my graduates have been Ted Lewis, Ben Bernie, and----"
+
+"Sure," said Connors, "we're going to put this young fellow's name in
+our advertising along with the others."
+
+"You bet we are!" Grant cried enthusiastically.  "Why, he's the
+biggest find I've made since Paul Whiteman!"
+
+Mrs. Whitehall slowly had been bristling.  Now her indignation came
+to a head.
+
+"The greatest find you've made, Mr. Grant?" she exclaimed.  "Of
+course, I have no wish to take any credit away from you.  But you
+must admit that it was through my superb courage and--and----"
+
+"Showmanship," the announcer prompted her.
+
+--"and showmanship that this appearance of Mr. Bronson's was made
+possible to-night."
+
+But Ted Grant was paying small heed to any voice that sought to
+detract from the glamour of a new discovery via the roster of the Ted
+Grant Correspondence School.
+
+"If you knew the effort it takes, developing new talent like Bronson,
+you'd appreciate my feelings when I heard this new find of mine----"
+
+"New find of yours!" Mrs. Whitehall exploded.  "Pardon me, Mr. Grant!
+I want to tell you that when I first heard that boy sing at my
+musicale, I knew he was----"
+
+"And the beauty of it all is," Grant continued imperturbably, "is
+that he uses the Ted Grant technique perfectly, the method that has
+made me the greatest saxophone player in the world.  Well, lest you
+think me boastful, I'll just leave any description of my skill to my
+manager here."
+
+He turned to The Vagabonds, smiling beneficently.
+
+"When you young men are ready to talk business," he said.  "I'll be
+ready to talk with you.  I have a spot for a first-class outfit in a
+new supper club just opening in New York, and I think you boys should
+fill the bill, and then some.  Who's your manager?"
+
+"Rudy himself is the manager," Sport O'Malley told him.
+
+"Well, where did he go?" Grant asked.  "He was here just a minute
+ago."
+
+"He beat it with Miss Whitehall," Bud Dwight explained.  "They were
+looking at each other all the time you people were talking, and then
+all at once Rudy got up and followed her out there," he pointed
+toward the wings, "into the garden."
+
+Ted Grant grinned.  "Oh," he said.  "Well, I guess he won't feel like
+talking business any more to-night.  At least not my kind of
+business."
+
+"But look," said Swiftie Clarke, "Sport here used to be our manager
+before Rudy.  How about him talking to you?"
+
+"Nothing doing," Sport said, starting hastily away.  "There's a girl
+I've got to wire to--and tell her that I've gone and got myself a
+real job.  Is that right, Mr. Grant?"
+
+"It sure is," Grant laughed.  "And I guess that we can talk terms
+just as well in the morning as now.  If it'll make any of the rest of
+you sleep better, however," he said to the circle of eager faces
+about him, "I might as well tell you that they'll be good ones."
+
+"And what Mr. Grant says he'll do," Connors informed them, "you can
+bet your life he'll do!"
+
+The shout which followed this statement carried to Rudy and Jean,
+standing in the garden amid a riotous cloud of perfume from the
+thousands of flowers about them.
+
+"You were a great success with the show, Rudy," Jean said softly.
+
+Rudy smiled.  "Thanks--but was I a great success," he swallowed
+desperately, "was I a great success with you, Jean?"
+
+Jean inclined her head.  "You were game.  You came back in spite of
+everything to help our little charity.  And, Rudy!  If you only knew
+how women admire gameness--in their men!"
+
+"In their----?"
+
+Scarcely crediting his ears, Rudy looked at her.  But Jean had turned
+slightly away from him.  Slowly he put out his hands and drew her
+face around to his.  The message he read in her eyes sent the blood
+crashing through his heart like wine.
+
+"I," he said, "I--I--I'm forgiven?"
+
+With this great, hoped-for moment upon him, he knew that he was
+unable to express all the thousand dear and tremulous things that
+stirred within him.  Unable to express them except in one way.  With
+a wistful, whimsical smile, holding Jean close within his arms, he
+began to sing:
+
+  "We'll be so happy, we'll always sing,
+  If we remember one little thing,
+  A little kiss each morning, a little kiss each night.
+  Who cares if hard luck may be ahead ..."
+
+
+But that was one song Rudy Bronson never finished.  Jean stopped it
+with her lips.
+
+"I've loved you from the moment I first saw you," he whispered.
+"That's why I sang to you that night at school.  I was just a
+freshman--hardly even that, for I had flunked--so I just sang and ran
+and never suspected that you had heard."
+
+"You--it was you, Rudy?" Jean gasped.
+
+He nodded.  "And I sang to you after you'd left at the Laconia."
+
+"I remember," she sighed happily.  "I came back, but you were gone.
+We seem to have always missed each other----"
+
+"But never again, dear," Rudy assured her, "because--
+
+  "You are my one inspiration,
+  You've changed my life from the start.
+  I need you, believe me, I need you,
+  I'll be blue when we two are apart----"
+
+
+
+THE END
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 77384 ***