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diff --git a/77384-h/77384-h.htm b/77384-h/77384-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..dbd04d6 --- /dev/null +++ b/77384-h/77384-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,10367 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html> +<html lang="en"> + +<head> + +<meta name="viewport" content="width=device-width, initial-scale=1"> + +<link rel="icon" href="images/img-cover.jpg" type="image/x-cover"> + +<meta charset="utf-8"> + +<title> +The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Vagabond Lover, by Charleson Gray +</title> + +<style> +body { color: black; + background: white; + margin-right: 10%; + margin-left: 10%; + font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; + text-align: justify } + +p {text-indent: 1.5em } + +p.noindent {text-indent: 0% } + +p.t1 {text-indent: 0% ; + font-size: 200%; + text-align: center } + +p.t2 {text-indent: 0% ; + font-size: 150%; + text-align: center } + +p.t2b {text-indent: 0% ; + font-size: 150%; + font-weight: bold; + text-align: center } + +p.t3 {text-indent: 0% ; + font-size: 100%; + text-align: center } + +p.t3b {text-indent: 0% ; + font-size: 100%; + font-weight: bold; + text-align: center } + +p.t4 {text-indent: 0% ; + font-size: 80%; + text-align: center } + +p.t4b {text-indent: 0% ; + font-size: 80%; + font-weight: bold; + text-align: center } + +p.t5 {text-indent: 0% ; + font-size: 60%; + text-align: center } + +h1 { text-align: center } +h2 { text-align: center } +h3 { text-align: center } +h4 { text-align: center } +h5 { text-align: center } + +.smcap { font-variant: small-caps } + +p.poem {text-indent: 0%; + margin-left: 10%; } + +p.thought {text-indent: 0% ; + letter-spacing: 2em ; + text-align: center } + +p.letter {text-indent: 0%; + margin-left: 5% ; + margin-right: 5% } + +p.transnote {text-indent: 0% ; + margin-left: 10% ; + margin-right: 10% } + +p.quote {text-indent: 4% ; + margin-left: 0% ; + margin-right: 0% } + +p.finis { font-size: larger ; + text-align: center ; + text-indent: 0% ; + margin-left: 0% ; + margin-right: 0% } + +p.capcenter { margin-left: 0; + margin-right: 0 ; + margin-bottom: .5% ; + margin-top: 0; + font-weight: normal; + float: none ; + clear: both ; + text-indent: 0%; + text-align: center } + +img.imgcenter { margin-left: auto; + margin-bottom: 0; + margin-top: 1%; + margin-right: auto; } + +</style> + +</head> + +<body> +<div style='text-align:center'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 77384 ***</div> + +<p><br><br></p> + +<p class="capcenter"> +<a id="img-front"></a> +<br> +<img class="imgcenter" src="images/img-front.jpg" alt="A scene from the Radio Picture, "The Vagabond Lover," starring RUDY VALLEE."> +<br> +A scene from the Radio Picture, "The Vagabond Lover," <br> +starring RUDY VALLEE. +</p> + +<h1> +<br><br> + THE<br> + VAGABOND LOVER<br> +</h1> + +<p><br></p> + +<p class="t3"> + Novelized by<br> + CHARLESON GRAY<br> +</p> + +<p class="t3"> + <i>from the Scenario</i><br> + <i>by</i><br> + JAMES A. CREELMAN<br> +</p> + +<p><br><br></p> + +<p class="t3"> + <i>Illustrated with scenes</i><br> + <i>from the</i><br> + RADIO PICTURE<br> + <i>starring</i><br> + RUDY VALLEE<br> +</p> + +<p><br><br></p> + +<p class="t3"> + A. L. BURT COMPANY<br> + Publishers New York<br> +</p> + +<p class="t4"> + Printed in the U. S. A.<br> +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p class="t4"> + Copyright, 1929<br> + By A. L. BURT COMPANY<br> +</p> + +<p class="t4"> + THE VAGABOND LOVER<br> +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p class="t3b"> + CONTENTS<br> +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> + CHAPTER<br> +</p> + +<p class="noindent smcap"> + I <a href="#chap01">The Unrewarded Quest</a><br> + II <a href="#chap02">Roadhouse</a><br> + III <a href="#chap03">Bravado</a><br> + IV <a href="#chap04">Revelry</a><br> + V <a href="#chap05">Conflict</a><br> + VI <a href="#chap06">Celebration</a><br> + VII <a href="#chap07">Homegoing</a><br> + VIII <a href="#chap08">The Old Home Town</a><br> + IX <a href="#chap09">Flight</a><br> + X <a href="#chap10">Engagement</a><br> + XI <a href="#chap11">A Decision</a><br> + XII <a href="#chap12">Portrait of a Celebrity</a><br> + XIII <a href="#chap13">False Colors</a><br> + XIV <a href="#chap14">A Personal Appearance</a><br> + XV <a href="#chap15">The Wings of Song</a><br> + XVI <a href="#chap16">Delay</a><br> + XVII <a href="#chap17">Escape</a><br> + XVIII <a href="#chap18">For The Benefit of All Concerned</a><br> + XIX <a href="#chap19">Dénouement</a><br> +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p><a id="chap01"></a></p> + +<p class="t2"> +THE VAGABOND LOVER +</p> + +<p><br><br></p> + +<h3> +CHAPTER I +<br><br> +THE UNREWARDED QUEST +</h3> + +<p> +A failure! +</p> + +<p> +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!" +</p> + +<p> +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: <i>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.</i> +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +"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! +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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?" +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +"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!" +</p> + +<p> +"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." +</p> + +<p> +"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. +</p> + +<p> +"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." +</p> + +<p> +"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." +</p> + +<p> +"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." +</p> + +<p> +"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. +</p> + +<p> +Sport whistled. It was apparent that from +both experience and the color of the paper, he +knew the significance of that communication. +"Flunk?" +</p> + +<p> +Rudy nodded. "Flat! No make-ups. No +chance to register next year. No nothing!" +</p> + +<p> +"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." +</p> + +<p> +"Well, if there is," Rudy laughed, "we can +hold each others heads on the train going +home. What are you doing this summer, Sport?" +</p> + +<p> +"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." +</p> + +<p> +"It should," Rudy agreed enthusiastically. +"And if you should want a good saxophonist, +you needn't look any farther than here." +</p> + +<p> +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." +</p> + +<p> +"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? +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +"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." +</p> + +<p> +"What kind of a party?" Rudy asked. "Do +you mean here, or up at your place?" +</p> + +<p> +"Neither!" Sport cried. "We'll get the +gang and go out to The Magic Lantern." +</p> + +<p> +"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!" +</p> + +<p> +"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——" +</p> + +<p> +"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." +</p> + +<p> +"How," said Rudy thoughtfully, "about +girls? I'm not very well acquainted down on +Sorority Row." +</p> + +<p> +"Easily fixed," Sport assured him +expansively. "The girls will all be crazy to come to +<i>this</i> affair. Is there any baby that you'd +like particularly? Just name her and she's +yours!" +</p> + +<p> +"I'd like Jean Whitehall," Rudy told him +quietly. +</p> + +<p> +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!" +</p> + +<p> +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." +</p> + +<p> +"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." +</p> + +<p> +"Then," said Rudy decisively, "our party +will be a stag." +</p> + +<p> +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!" +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p><a id="chap02"></a></p> + +<h3> +CHAPTER II +<br><br> +ROADHOUSE +</h3> + +<p> +There is a Magic Lantern near every American +coeducational university. Sometimes its +placard reads <i>Paradise Pavilion</i>, sometimes +<i>The Royal Palms</i>, or <i>The Moonlight Gardens</i>. +But usually the wording is <i>The Magic +Lantern</i>. Dancing. Refreshments. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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 <i>The Coffee Pot</i>. 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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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 <i>can't</i> 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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +"It gets me!" he burst out to Rudy. "In +fact it gets me down!" +</p> + +<p> +"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." +</p> + +<p> +"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." +</p> + +<p> +"She's a very pretty girl," Rudy admitted. +"What does he seem to object to about you—in +particular, I mean?" +</p> + +<p> +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?" +</p> + +<p> +"It hasn't seemed to bother you much so +far," Rudy reminded him. +</p> + +<p> +"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." +</p> + +<p> +"But——" +</p> + +<p> +"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!" +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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." +</p> + +<p> +"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." +</p> + +<p> +"Why, certainly," Rudy said. "If you +want me to." +</p> + +<p> +"Want you to!" snorted Mr. Bland. "Well, +what else did you come down here for?" +</p> + +<p> +"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." +</p> + +<p> +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." +</p> + +<p> +"Sure," said Sport, "Bennie'll be happy to +meet one of his admirers." +</p> + +<p> +"Why, I—," Rudy began. +</p> + +<p> +"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." +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +"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——" +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +"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." +</p> + +<p> +"Ted Grant!" Bennie's arrogance fell +away like a dropped mantle. "You're studying +under Ted Grant, the greatest saxophonist +in the world?" +</p> + +<p> +"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." +</p> + +<p> +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." +</p> + +<p> +Rudy gulped. "But—but I haven't my instrument." +</p> + +<p> +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." +</p> + +<p> +"But——" +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +"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." +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +But his "brother" only grinned, rather +painfully, and climbed up on the platform. +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p><a id="chap03"></a></p> + +<h3> +CHAPTER III +<br><br> +BRAVADO +</h3> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +"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." +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +"Perhaps you had some difficulty with the +strange instrument?" Bennie asked. +</p> + +<p> +"To the contrary," Rudy answered, smiling +his pleasure. "I found it the best sax I've +ever played." +</p> + +<p> +The leader frowned. "That's funny," he +commented. "It sounded to me as if you were +off key about two-thirds of the time." +</p> + +<p> +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!" +</p> + +<p> +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." +</p> + +<p> +"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." +</p> + +<p> +"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!" +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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! +</p> + +<p> +"Drink up, Rudy!" Sport called. "This is +your big night." +</p> + +<p> +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! +</p> + +<p> +He got to his feet, his face alight with the +flame of his newly fired purpose. "To my big +night, men! Here's how!" +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p><a id="chap04"></a></p> + +<h3> +CHAPTER IV +<br><br> +REVELRY +</h3> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +"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." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, and who's going to make you keep +quiet?" Bland demanded. "You're the noisiest +one of the bunch." +</p> + +<p> +"Why, Mr. Bland, I am surprised!" +</p> + +<p> +"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." +</p> + +<p> +"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." +</p> + +<p> +"You and who else?" +</p> + +<p> +"Me and Mr. Bland, of course. He's all +right." +</p> + +<p> +"Who's all right?" +</p> + +<p> +As one voice they answered: "Bland's all +right." +</p> + +<p> +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!" +</p> + +<p> +"I know," Sport admitted. "But that guy +burns me up, Rudy. Why can't he have some +of the good traits of his daughter?" +</p> + +<p> +"You're pretty fond of this girl, aren't you, +Sport?" Rudy asked slowly. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, boy! You're conservative! I'm cuh-razy +about that baby." +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +"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." +</p> + +<p> +"Oke," said Sport, relaxing comfortably +against the tree trunk. "I'll be delighted to +wait, old son." +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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!" +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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!" +</p> + +<p> +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?" +</p> + +<p> +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." +</p> + +<p> +"Never mind that," Rudy returned, his +color heightening. "You just go out there and +talk to Sport the way you talked to me." +</p> + +<p> +"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! +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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—— +</p> + +<p> +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: +</p> + +<p> +"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." +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +"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." +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +"Ah, there," he said in greeting. +</p> + +<p> +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." +</p> + +<p> +"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?" +</p> + +<p> +"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." +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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! +</p> + +<p> +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! +</p> + +<p> +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!" +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +"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. +</p> + +<p> +"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." +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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! +</p> + +<p> +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! +</p> + +<p> +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!" +</p> + +<p> +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." +</p> + +<p> +"Sure, I know I did," Rudy began; "but +listen——" +</p> + +<p> +"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." +</p> + +<p> +"But, Mr. Bland!" +</p> + +<p> +"You heard what I said." Bland's heavy +shoulder shunted him to one side. The office +door slammed. A latch clicked. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p><a id="chap05"></a></p> + +<h3> +CHAPTER V +<br><br> +CONFLICT +</h3> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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." +</p> + +<p> +The truck swung to the side of the road, +stopped. +</p> + +<p> +"Say, who's that with——" +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p class="capcenter"> +<a id="img-056"></a> +<br> +<img class="imgcenter" src="images/img-056.jpg" alt="A scene from the Radio Picture, "The Vagabond Lover," starring RUDY VALLEE."> +<br> +A scene from the Radio Picture, "The Vagabond Lover," starring RUDY VALLEE. +</p> + +<p> +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." +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +"Come on and fight," he snarled ragingly, +and Nick obeyed. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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——" +</p> + +<p> +"A very nice scrap indeed!" echoed a +voice. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +"A very nice scrap, indeed!" +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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: +</p> + +<p> +"All right, Patterson," he said. "Let's cut +the song and dance. There's booze in that +truck—and it belongs to <i>me</i>! 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." +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +"I guess you know what's in there!" Rudy +began angrily. Then he checked himself +shortly. "Booze! What did you +expect—soda-water?" +</p> + +<p> +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!" +</p> + +<p> +Patterson nudged his deputies toward Nick +and the other hijacker. "You know who we +came for. Do your stuff." +</p> + +<p> +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." +</p> + +<p> +Sport caught feebly at the name. "Nick?" +</p> + +<p> +"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." +</p> + +<p> +"So that Nick——?" +</p> + +<p> +"Would do just what he tried to do—hijack it." +</p> + +<p> +"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?" +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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?" +</p> + +<p> +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!" +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p><a id="chap06"></a></p> + +<h3> +CHAPTER VI +<br><br> +CELEBRATION +</h3> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +"Well, here we are again," Sport observed +in an attempt at lightness. "But too late to +do anything but go home. What say, Rudy?" +</p> + +<p> +"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." +</p> + +<p> +"It wasn't anything," Rudy protested. +</p> + +<p> +"Boy, you're wrong!" Sport cried. "But +let's be on our way. Mr. Bland wants to +close up." +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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." +</p> + +<p> +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!" +</p> + +<p> +"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." +</p> + +<p> +"Do you mean that, Sport? That you'll +give me a chance?" +</p> + +<p> +"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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +"Want to crash one?" Sport asked carelessly. +</p> + +<p> +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." +</p> + +<p> +"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." +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +"A grand idea," he said. "I guess we've +got it coming to us." +</p> + +<p> +"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!" +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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!" +</p> + +<p> +"What's the matter, Morton?" Sport asked. +"You fellas know Rudy Bronson? Bill Morton, +Fenwick Forbes," he introduced them. +"My pal, Rudy Bronson." +</p> + +<p> +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—— +</p> + +<p> +"Whoops," said Sport, "that puts you and +Rudy here in the same boat." +</p> + +<p> +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!" +</p> + +<p> +"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 <i>attached</i>," a sob broke +from him to mingle wretchedly with the +ascending cigarette smoke, "I've got <i>attached</i> +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!" +</p> + +<p> +Sobs shuddered anew from the pillow in +which he buried his face. Terrible sounds—a +boy-man in pain. +</p> + +<p> +"I know how he feels," Rudy said quietly. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +"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?" +</p> + +<p> +Morton grasped at the bottle. "How——?" +</p> + +<p> +"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——" +</p> + +<p> +"Let him howl," Forbes said briefly. "I +spent twenty bucks pledging that bimbo. Got +a corkscrew, Mort?" +</p> + +<p> +"No. Knock it out with the flat of your +hand on the bottom of the bottle." +</p> + +<p> +"Nothing stirring," said Sport. "The last +time I did that the bottle broke and I nearly +cut off my hand. Look at the scar." +</p> + +<p> +"Tough—but come on. Bite the top off if +you can't do anything else. If Emery comes +in——" +</p> + +<p> +"Let him come!" +</p> + +<p> +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?" +</p> + +<p> +"Aw, you don't care about a little thing like +that, do you, Rudy? Don't be an old woman, +Sport." +</p> + +<p> +"Say, talk nice to me or I won't play in +your backyard!" +</p> + +<p> +"No offence, Mr. O'Malley." +</p> + +<p> +"'Pology accepted, Mr. Forbes." +</p> + +<p> +"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! +</p> + +<p> +"Well, here's how!" Sport cried. +</p> + +<p> +"Mud in your eye." +</p> + +<p> +They took down their drinks, and exchanged +water-dimmed glances, their mouths wryly +puckered. +</p> + +<p> +"Yow! Gimme a chaser of nitric acid!" +</p> + +<p> +"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." +</p> + +<p> +Dubiously Sport inspected the label. "I +wonder if he had another bottle of this. I +haven't seen him around to-day, have you?" +</p> + +<p> +"No, and I don't want to!" +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, well——" +</p> + +<p> +"All right, but let's get it down fast." +</p> + +<p> +Rudy refused the second drink. "I haven't +got this one finished yet," he protested. +</p> + +<p> +"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." +</p> + +<p> +"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." +</p> + +<p> +"To the skins of our particular sheep, +Mr. Morton," Rudy answered his toast. +</p> + +<p> +"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." +</p> + +<p> +They applauded him vigorously. He looked +at them in surprise. "Do I sound silly? Am +I getting tight?" +</p> + +<p> +"Go right ahead," Rudy told him. "It's +just what you needed." +</p> + +<p> +"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?" +</p> + +<p> +"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." +</p> + +<p> +Suddenly Morton collapsed. "That's what +I think, all right," he muttered. "Good egg, +Rudy——" +</p> + +<p> +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." +</p> + +<p> +"Fair enough," Rudy said. "I've got to +get my things together if I'm leaving in the +morning. You coming with me, Sport?" +</p> + +<p> +"I'll say I am. I'll be ready when you come +around. 'Night." +</p> + +<p> +"'Night, Sport," Rudy said. "'Night, +Forbes." +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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—— +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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! +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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: +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + "I love you, believe me, I love you,<br> + This theme is the dream of my heart.<br> + I need you, believe me, I need you,<br> + I'll be blue when we two are apart—<br> + You'll be my one inspiration,<br> + You've changed my whole life from the start.<br> + I love you, believe me, I love you,—<br> + This theme is the dream of my heart!"<br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +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! +</p> + +<p> +But she had heard. Yet when she reached +the window, there was no one in the street +below. +</p> + +<p> +"Just some punk freshman," the football +captain told her. +</p> + +<p> +Jean shook her head slowly. "Don't say +that, Larry. I thought it was beautiful." +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p><a id="chap07"></a></p> + +<h3> +CHAPTER VII +<br><br> +HOMEGOING +</h3> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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!" +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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." +</p> + +<p> +Rudy's mouth bent in a small smile. +"Pretty model sort, eh? And yet the +University says I better get out and stay out." +</p> + +<p> +"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." +</p> + +<p> +"And that," Rudy answered coolly, "is just +what I intend to do." +</p> + +<p> +"But I thought you couldn't even make the +school band!" +</p> + +<p> +"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!" +</p> + +<p> +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." +</p> + +<p> +"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." +</p> + +<p> +The old man moved back into his house +without a reply. But it was apparent what +he was thinking. +</p> + +<p> +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! +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +"Like to stop at Bland's before we hit the +highway?" Rudy asked. +</p> + +<p> +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." +</p> + +<p> +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." +</p> + +<p> +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." +</p> + +<p> +They rode for a few minutes in silence. +Then Rudy suddenly asked. "Do you really +think college is worth while, Sport?" +</p> + +<p> +Sport shrugged. "Who can tell?" +</p> + +<p> +"You can, of course!" +</p> + +<p> +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." +</p> + +<p> +"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?" +</p> + +<p> +"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?" +</p> + +<p> +Rudy thought of his saxophone. "He might +know that he was missing something, and +study all the harder in his spare time." +</p> + +<p> +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." +</p> + +<p> +"But are those people real? And is what +they have to teach of any real value to you?" +</p> + +<p> +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!" +</p> + +<p> +Rudy looked down the road. "That's pretty +unsentimental talk from a fellow who has just +walked out of his fraternity house." +</p> + +<p> +"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!" +</p> + +<p> +"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." +</p> + +<p> +"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." +</p> + +<p> +"Still, you're not sorry you went through it." +</p> + +<p> +"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." +</p> + +<p> +"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?" +</p> + +<p> +"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." +</p> + +<p> +He hesitated momentarily. "And I might +add, Rudy, my boy, that said qualification was +the one which caused me to be attracted to +you." +</p> + +<p> +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?" +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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?" +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, Sam McMahon, Swiftie Clarke, Al +Monroe, Pete Heflin. They'll be able to tell +you the others. They were strangers to me." +</p> + +<p> +"But you forgot one who isn't a stranger +to you." +</p> + +<p> +"I did?" Rudy asked. "Who's that?" +</p> + +<p> +"None other than Rudy Bronson." +</p> + +<p> +"Sport! Do you mean—do you mean you'll +give me a chance with your outfit?" +</p> + +<p> +"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——" +</p> + +<p> +"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!" +</p> + +<p> +"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." +</p> + +<p> +"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." +</p> + +<p> +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!" +</p> + +<p> +"That," said Rudy sagely, "is the risk any +orchestra leader takes when he hires a +first-class performer." +</p> + +<p> +"Bull's-eye!" Sport cried. "Let's go!" +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p><a id="chap08"></a></p> + +<h3> +CHAPTER VIII +<br><br> +THE OLD HOME TOWN +</h3> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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." +</p> + +<p> +"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." +</p> + +<p> +"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!" +</p> + +<p> +"Music?" they said in chorus. +</p> + +<p> +"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." +</p> + +<p> +"But where are you going to use it?" +Mr. Bronson demanded. "We haven't any jazz +bands here in Waterville." +</p> + +<p> +"But you're going to have! Sport O'Malley +is going to organize one." +</p> + +<p> +"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." +</p> + +<p> +"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!" +</p> + +<p> +"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." +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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." +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +"You've hired me, Mr. Hesper," he said. +"When shall I go to work?" +</p> + +<p> +"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!" +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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: +</p> + +<p> +"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." +</p> + +<p> +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." +</p> + +<p> +"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." +</p> + +<p> +"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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +"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!" +</p> + +<p> +"First we've got to have a name," Sport +said. "How about calling ourself 'Sport +O'Malley and his Playboys'?" +</p> + +<p> +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." +</p> + +<p> +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!" +</p> + +<p> +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." +</p> + +<p> +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." +</p> + +<p> +"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." +</p> + +<p> +"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." +</p> + +<p> +"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." +</p> + +<p> +"Who?" Rudy asked. "Me?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes," said Al, "you. You remind me of +Fritz Kreisler." +</p> + +<p> +"But Kreisler's no saxophone player!" +</p> + +<p> +"Well, it doesn't sound to me like you are +either." +</p> + +<p> +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: +</p> + +<p> +"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?" +</p> + +<p> +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." +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +"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!" +</p> + +<p> +"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." +</p> + +<p> +"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!" +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p><a id="chap09"></a></p> + +<h3> +CHAPTER IX +<br><br> +FLIGHT +</h3> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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 <i>Ted Grant Saxophone Company, New +York</i>. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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! +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +"I'd see that you were docked, if we were +being paid salaries," he added. +</p> + +<p> +"Yeah," said Sam, "<i>if</i> we were being paid +salaries!" +</p> + +<p> +"But look, gang!" Rudy exclaimed. "It's +a beautiful new De Luxe, Silver Plated, Super +Toned, Ted Grant Saxophone. Listen to these +low notes." +</p> + +<p> +As he played a few notes, Swiftie Clarke +commented: "Giving himself the bird." +</p> + +<p> +"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." +</p> + +<p> +"Sure," said Sam. "What's the use of +blowing our lungs out, and never get any +jobs?" +</p> + +<p> +"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." +</p> + +<p> +"Well, that's a week, ain't it? What's the +sense of going over stuff that you're already +good at?" +</p> + +<p> +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.'" +</p> + +<p> +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?" +</p> + +<p> +"Aw, what's the matter now?" Sam +demanded truculently. +</p> + +<p> +"Nothing much," Sport informed him. +"Except that the entire band is out of tune, +except you." +</p> + +<p> +Sam scowled. "Yeah? What you always +picking on me for, Sport? Especially when +you know that I can outplay anyone in the +band." +</p> + +<p> +"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." +</p> + +<p> +"Aw, what's the use?" Swiftie Clarke +demanded. "There's no use getting too good." +</p> + +<p> +"There's not much danger of that with you +guys," Sport said shortly. +</p> + +<p> +Al Monroe looked at the huge and indolent +clarinetist. "Say, that guy'd make Sitting +Bull look like a man of action." +</p> + +<p> +Swiftie protested sleepily: "Aw, I can play +it in my sleep." +</p> + +<p> +"Come on," Sport said impatiently, "let's go." +</p> + +<p> +"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." +</p> + +<p> +Sport looked at them coolly. "So you bozos +are dissatisfied with me, is that it? Think I +have been falling down getting us jobs?" +</p> + +<p> +"Don't worry about that, Sport," Rudy +interposed. "Rome wasn't built in a day, you +know." +</p> + +<p> +"Aw nuts, Rudy!" Sam exclaimed. "Can +that patience noise. What we want is a +job—and soon!" +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +"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?" +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +"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!" +</p> + +<p> +"But the salary naturally starts up there," +Sport said. "How about transportation?" +</p> + +<p> +"I've got a car," Rudy said quickly. "And +so has Harry Ables. We'll just—vagabond +over." +</p> + +<p> +"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!" +</p> + +<p> +And so it was settled. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +"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!" +</p> + +<p> +"All right," Rudy said. "Then you better +be getting some one for my place." +</p> + +<p> +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——" +</p> + +<p> +"Vagabond Orchestra," Rudy prompted him. +</p> + +<p> +"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." +</p> + +<p> +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!" +</p> + +<p> +"Get out!" said his erstwhile employer. +"Get out and stay out!" +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +"Nothing venture, nothing gain," he said +aloud. "Why, at one time even Ted Grant +himself was no better off than I am!" +</p> + +<p> +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! +</p> + +<p> +For the most part, the citizenry of +Waterville took pride in the venture. The Clarion +had run a story captioned <i>Local Boys Make +Good</i>, 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. +</p> + +<p> +"Good-by, son," said Mrs. Bronson, "and +good luck." +</p> + +<p> +"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." +</p> + +<p> +"If you do," Mrs. Bronson said, "you'll +always find your home here waiting for you." +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +Sport quickly stowed luggage and passengers +in the yawning tonneau, and climbed in +beside Rudy. +</p> + +<p> +"Fame, next stop," he grinned, "let's go." +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +His ruminations were checked by Sport's voice. +</p> + +<p> +"Did you see that piece in the paper about +the Whitehalls?" +</p> + +<p> +Rudy's heart leaped. "No, what?" +</p> + +<p> +"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!" +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +"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!" +</p> + +<p> +Rudy did not attempt to answer with words. +But his foot went down on the accelerator +until it touched the floorboards. +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p><a id="chap10"></a></p> + +<h3> +CHAPTER X +<br><br> +ENGAGEMENT +</h3> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +"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." +</p> + +<p> +"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." +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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." +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +The orchestra exchanged mutual glances of +chagrin. "Holy cow!" ejaculated Sport, +"and us without even a semi-classical number +in our repertoire!" +</p> + +<p> +"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." +</p> + +<p> +"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." +</p> + +<p> +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!" +</p> + +<p> +"Yeah," said Swiftie Clarke, "because +we're just about anything but anxious to go +home." +</p> + +<p> +"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." +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p class="capcenter"> +<a id="img-120"></a> +<br> +<img class="imgcenter" src="images/img-120.jpg" alt="A scene from the Radio Picture, "The Vagabond Lover," starring RUDY VALLEE."> +<br> +A scene from the Radio Picture, "The Vagabond Lover," starring RUDY VALLEE. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +"We haven't any more privacy than a lot +of goldfish," he complained. "Take this next +one big, boys. He's still watching." +</p> + +<p> +"Let Rudy sing again," Sam suggested. +"If he doesn't like that he wouldn't like his +mother-in-law's life insurance." +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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!" +</p> + +<p> +He was about to say more, when the +appearance of the manager stopped him. "Ah, +Mr. Loughboro, I hope you liked our music." +</p> + +<p> +"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. +</p> + +<p> +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." +</p> + +<p> +"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." +</p> + +<p> +"Well, I must say you've got confidence," +commented Al Monroe. +</p> + +<p> +"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." +</p> + +<p> +"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." +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +"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." +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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? +</p> + +<p> +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." +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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: +</p> + +<p> +"You catch the chorus on this, Rudy." +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +"No go, Sport," he said to that surprised +individual. +</p> + +<p> +"What's wrong?" Sport demanded. +</p> + +<p> +"Throat's raw as a beefsteak. Let's stick +to the music. It sounded good enough to-night." +</p> + +<p> +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?" +</p> + +<p> +"I'll say I'm afraid," Rudy grinned mirthlessly. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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 <i>must</i> come! +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +"I'll take the next chorus," he called to Sport. +</p> + +<p> +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: +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + "You'll be my one inspiration,<br> + You've changed my whole life from the start,<br> + I love you, believe me, I love you,<br> + This theme is the dream of my heart."<br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +"The orchestra has left," she said in evident +disappointment to her escort. +</p> + +<p> +He smiled tolerantly. "You'll hear it again, +Jean." +</p> + +<p> +"It was the singer," she admitted. "His +voice sounded so familiar." +</p> + +<p> +Upstairs in his room, Rudy slumped down +into a chair. Sport looked at him inquiringly. +"What's wrong?" +</p> + +<p> +"She was out there to-night—Jean," he +muttered unhappily. "She didn't see me, +though—fortunately." +</p> + +<p> +"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 <i>is</i> this?" +</p> + +<p> +"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!" +</p> + +<p> +Sport looked at him soberly. +</p> + +<p> +"You will," he declared without hesitation. +"And don't ever forget that it was Sport +O'Malley who discovered you!" +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p><a id="chap11"></a></p> + +<h3> +CHAPTER XI +<br><br> +A DECISION +</h3> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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." +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +"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." +</p> + +<p> +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!" +</p> + +<p> +"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 +<i>that</i>." +</p> + +<p> +Rudy looked at him. "Listen, Sport, do I +honestly look like the sort of a fellow who +would leave his friends in the lurch?" +</p> + +<p> +Sport's eyes widened. "And then you won't +leave us? You'll stick?" +</p> + +<p> +"What made you think I'd do anything else?" +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +"But listen," Rudy said, when they finally +had allowed him freedom from their expressions +of joy, "I'll stay only on one condition." +</p> + +<p> +"Name it and she's yours!" Sport cried. +</p> + +<p> +"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." +</p> + +<p> +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." +</p> + +<p> +"Then it's settled?" +</p> + +<p> +"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." +</p> + +<p> +"And if you don't do any better than Sport +did," Sam McMahon informed him, "we won't +be named anything for long." +</p> + +<p> +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?" +</p> + +<p> +"What improvement?" inquired Al Monroe. +</p> + +<p> +"Sure, we know, Rudy," Sport assured him. +"Don't mind Al." +</p> + +<p> +"Is that that correspondence-course fellow?" +Bud Dwight asked. +</p> + +<p> +"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." +</p> + +<p> +Al Monroe snorted. "Do you believe everything +you read, fella?" +</p> + +<p> +"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!" +</p> + +<p> +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!" +</p> + +<p> +Rudy nodded slowly. "I was thinking of +something like that," he said. +</p> + +<p> +"But, Rudy," said Sam McMahon, "do you +think that Ted Grant would be interested in +a small-time outfit like ours?" +</p> + +<p> +"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!" +</p> + +<p> +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.'" +</p> + +<p> +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.' +</p> + +<p> +He laid the paper down, and looked at the +others. "Say, that's pretty good!" +</p> + +<p> +"Imagine it!" exclaimed little Bud Dwight, +with biting irony. "Following the work of +all his pupils like that!" +</p> + +<p> +"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." +</p> + +<p> +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——'" +</p> + +<p> +"That," said Al Monroe, "sounds like +another ad for his course." +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, you don't know Ted Grant!" Rudy +quickly protested. "He wouldn't stoop to +such a thing as that. Read on further, Sam." +</p> + +<p> +"'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.'" +</p> + +<p> +"Well, that sounds promising enough," +Sport O'Malley admitted. "But do you think +it means what it says?" +</p> + +<p> +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." +</p> + +<p> +"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." +</p> + +<p> +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!" +</p> + +<p> +"What!" +</p> + +<p> +"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." +</p> + +<p> +"And personally get thrown out on your +ear," opined Al Monroe. +</p> + +<p> +"You just let me handle this," Rudy +retorted. "I'll have you boys all wearing +diamonds before the snow flies." +</p> + +<p> +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." +</p> + +<p> +"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." +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +"Did O'Malley tell you about my offer to +let you stay and sing with the new orchestra?" +he asked. +</p> + +<p> +"And did you think that maybe he wouldn't?" +</p> + +<p> +"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." +</p> + +<p> +Rudy grinned. "Thanks for the compliment," +he said. "And I'm sorry if I was +hasty. Sport's my friend, you see." +</p> + +<p> +"Well, what about the orchestra?" +</p> + +<p> +"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." +</p> + +<p> +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." +</p> + +<p> +"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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +"Alley oop!" he said climbing in beside +Sport. "I let Mr. Grant know we're soon +to be with him." +</p> + +<p> +"I hope he's able to stand the strain of +waiting," said Al Monroe. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p><a id="chap12"></a></p> + +<h3> +CHAPTER XII +<br><br> +PORTRAIT OF A CELEBRITY +</h3> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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!" +</p> + +<p> +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." +</p> + +<p> +"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——" +</p> + +<p> +"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. +</p> + +<p> +"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?" +</p> + +<p> +Connors shrugged, raising his eyes +ceilingward. "No reason at all," he admitted. +</p> + +<p> +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?" +</p> + +<p> +"I want you to get a rest," the manager +insisted. +</p> + +<p> +"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——" +</p> + +<p> +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." +</p> + +<p> +"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." +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, be reasonable! So far there's only +been one of them showed up in person." +</p> + +<p> +"And he's equal to forty himself!" +</p> + +<p> +"Well, just keep on refusing to see him," +the manager counseled. "He'll soon wear +himself out." +</p> + +<p> +"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!" +</p> + +<p> +"She hasn't been around personally, Ted." +</p> + +<p> +"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!" +</p> + +<p> +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." +</p> + +<p> +"She's not the only one who's going nuts +around here," Grant informed him shortly. +"I can stand just so much, and then——" +</p> + +<p> +His words were cut short by a strident and +prolonged ringing of the door bell. "What's +that?" Grant demanded. +</p> + +<p> +"Yogi'll get it," the manager said. "It's +probably just that kid from the village again." +</p> + +<p> +"Ye gods! Well, if it is tell him I'm in bed +with the smallpox, that I don't live here +anyway—anything!" +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +"I <i>will</i> see him!" he cried. "You won't +keep me from him this time. I <i>will</i> see him." +</p> + +<p> +"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?" +</p> + +<p> +"You don't know me, sir," the youth +informed him, coming a step forward. +"I'm——" +</p> + +<p> +"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!" +</p> + +<p> +"But I want you to listen to me. I've something +of importance to bring to your attention. +You see, I——" +</p> + +<p> +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——" +</p> + +<p> +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——" +</p> + +<p> +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." +</p> + +<p> +"But you don't understand," the boy +protested. "I'm a graduate of the Ted Grant +Correspondence School of Music!" +</p> + +<p> +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!" +</p> + +<p> +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——" +</p> + +<p> +Grant now was dancing with rage and +exasperation. "Out!" he barked. "Throw him +out! Out!" +</p> + +<p> +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——" +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +"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!" +</p> + +<p> +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!" +</p> + +<p> +"But we've got this place rented! You're +here to take a rest," Connors exclaimed. +</p> + +<p> +"Rest! And how much resting will I be +able to do with savages like that popping in +on me every time I turn around?" +</p> + +<p> +"Well," Connors pointed out, "that just +gives you an idea as to how widely read that +publicity is. Why, you ought to be thankful——" +</p> + +<p> +"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!" +</p> + +<p> +"But, Ted——" +</p> + +<p> +"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." +</p> + +<p> +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." +</p> + +<p> +"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." +</p> + +<p> +"But, Ted—" Connors began a fresh argument. +</p> + +<p> +"Aw shut up, who's running this. Get your hat." +</p> + +<p> +The manager saw the futility of further +protest. "All right," he said, "but I think +you're making a mistake." +</p> + +<p> +"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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p><a id="chap13"></a></p> + +<h3> +CHAPTER XIII +<br><br> +FALSE COLORS +</h3> + +<p> +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." +</p> + +<p> +"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." +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +"Tell Mr. Grant that Rudy Bronson is +here," he said confidently. "Rudy Bronson +and his Vagabonds." +</p> + +<p> +"Mr. Grant no want to see any tramps," +Yogi answered. +</p> + +<p> +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." +</p> + +<p> +"Mr. Grant no here," said the unimpressed servant. +</p> + +<p> +"Not here! Why, he's expecting us!" +</p> + +<p> +"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. +</p> + +<p> +Rudy ran a few steps after him, and caught +his arm. "But listen! This is important. +I've got to see Mr. Grant." +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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." +</p> + +<p> +"Are you sure he'll be as crazy to see us as +you think, Rudy?" asked Bud Dwight. +</p> + +<p> +"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." +</p> + +<p> +"Well, what'll we do now?" Al Monroe +demanded. "Sit out here in this heat and wait +for him to show up?" +</p> + +<p> +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!" +</p> + +<p> +"Not bad," Sport cried. "Not bad at all!" +</p> + +<p> +"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." +</p> + +<p> +"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." +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +"Some dump!" Harry Ables exclaimed. +"Must have been furnished for a queen or +something." +</p> + +<p> +"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." +</p> + +<p> +"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." +</p> + +<p> +"But we belong here," Sport said. "We'll +be working for Grant as soon as he hears us." +</p> + +<p> +"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." +</p> + +<p> +"O.K.," said Sport, "let's go." +</p> + +<p> +They rippled melodiously through the +introductory passage, and then Rudy took up +the chorus: +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + "You're nobody's sweetheart now—<br> + They don't baby you, somehow—<br> + Fancy hose, silken gown,<br> + Say, you'd be out of place in your own home town.<br> + When you walk down the Avenue,<br> + Folks just can't believe that it's you!<br> + Painted lips, painted eyes—<br> + And wearing a bird of paradise,<br> + It seems all wrong somehow—<br> + That you're nobody's sweetheart now!"<br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +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." +</p> + +<p> +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!" +</p> + +<p> +"A cop!" +</p> + +<p> +There was a concerted rush to the window. +</p> + +<p> +"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." +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +"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." +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Whitehall obeyed, saying: "Those +are the men all right, Mr. Tuttle." +</p> + +<p> +"Sure you recognize them?" the policeman +asked. +</p> + +<p> +"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." +</p> + +<p> +The officer moved his gun menacingly. +"Breaking in, huh? I s'pose you know there's +a law about house-breaking?" +</p> + +<p> +"Law?" Rudy repeated. +</p> + +<p> +"The last gang I caught got a year," the +policeman informed him triumphantly. "Yes, +sir!" +</p> + +<p> +"But we weren't house-breaking!" +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +"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. +</p> + +<p> +"That isn't junk," Rudy said. "Those are +band instruments." +</p> + +<p> +"I know what they are, young fellow," the +officer said testily. "What I want to know is +what you are doing with them." +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +"Well?" the officer said. +</p> + +<p> +"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." +</p> + +<p> +"Leader, huh? Well, you better get ready +to lead this bunch to jail!" +</p> + +<p> +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!" +</p> + +<p> +But Mrs. Whitehall was unimpressed. +"Ho! Ho! What nonsense! Do you mean +to say that Mr. Grant would break into his +own house?" +</p> + +<p> +Suddenly Sport O'Malley came into the +conversation with a demonstration of the quick +wit for which he was noted. +</p> + +<p> +"That's it exactly," he said. "Forgot his +keys. That's right, isn't it, Mr. Grant?" +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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?" +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +"Why, yes," he said. "I—I—forgot my key." +</p> + +<p> +As an eager babble of confirmation broke +from the rest of the young men, the officer +looked at Rudy suspiciously. +</p> + +<p> +"Yeah? Well, I must say that you don't +look like any saxophony wizard to me." +</p> + +<p> +"But he is!" Sport exclaimed. "He's a +wonderful saxophone player, isn't he, boys?" +</p> + +<p> +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." +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +"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." +</p> + +<p> +Rudy agreed in relief, and the boys quickly +assembled for work. "What'll it be, +Mr. Grant?" asked Al Monroe. +</p> + +<p> +Rudy felt Jean Whitehall's eyes upon him. +Without looking in her direction he answered: +"'I Love You, Believe Me, I Love You.'" +</p> + +<p> +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: +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + "I love you, believe me, I love you.<br> + This theme is the dream of my heart.<br> + I need you, believe me, I need you,<br> + I'll be blue when we two are apart.<br> + You'll be my one inspiration,<br> + You've changed my whole life from the start.<br> + I love you, believe me, I love you—<br> + This theme is the dream of my heart!"<br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +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?" +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +"Thank you, Mr. Grant. It has been a real +pleasure to hear you in person." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes," said Sport O'Malley. "He sounds +a little different over the radio, but I think +he's better this way, don't you?" +</p> + +<p> +"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." +</p> + +<p> +"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." +</p> + +<p> +"Did <i>you</i> want to meet me, too?" Rudy +asked, his voice husky with emotion. +</p> + +<p> +"I've always wanted to meet Ted Grant," +the girl answered, lowering her glance. +</p> + +<p> +"Then," Rudy said decisively, "that's who +I am!" +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Whitehall smiled. "Then you got my +notes about the musicale?" +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, yes," Rudy said, with an agonized +glance at Sport. "Yes—I got them all right." +</p> + +<p> +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." +</p> + +<p> +"Come?" Rudy asked. "Where to?" +</p> + +<p> +"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!" +</p> + +<p> +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." +</p> + +<p> +"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." +</p> + +<p> +"It certainly is," Rudy admitted. +</p> + +<p> +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——" +</p> + +<p> +Rudy gulped. "Well, I tell you, Mrs. Todhunter——" +</p> + +<p> +"Oh!" said Mrs. Whitehall. +</p> + +<p> +Her shocked eyes told him of his mistake. +</p> + +<p> +"—I mean, Mrs. Whitehall, we had originally +intended to leave town on the six o'clock +train——" +</p> + +<p> +The words seemed to shock Tuttle into the +need for action. Suspicion came back into +his gaze. +</p> + +<p> +"Hey," he demanded, "what's this?" +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +Rudy was attempting to explain: +</p> + +<p> +"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——" +</p> + +<p> +"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.'" +</p> + +<p> +"Oh," said Rudy, "that." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes," Tuttle answered, "that! It says +you're away. But you're not away. You're +here. How do you explain if?" +</p> + +<p> +Rudy tapped him confidentially on the lapel. +"You know, it's getting so that you can't +believe anything you read." +</p> + +<p> +But the officer was not to be put off from +what appeared a fresh clue. +</p> + +<p> +"Trying to kid the country cop, huh? Well——" +</p> + +<p> +Sport O'Malley stepped easily forward, smiling. +</p> + +<p> +"He means that he was thinking of going, +and then changed his mind. That's all." +</p> + +<p> +"Oh," Tuttle said disappointedly, "and +you left the note on the door, huh?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes," Rudy answered quickly, "that's it. +We were just thinking of going." +</p> + +<p> +"But you're not going now?" Tuttle persisted. +</p> + +<p> +Rudy shook his head. "No, of course +not—why should we?" +</p> + +<p> +"Why indeed?" in the voice of Sam +McMahon came from the grouped orchestra. +"Why indeed?" +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Whitehall smiled, extending her hand. +</p> + +<p> +"Then you'll be here for our musicale +to-night, won't you, Mr. Grant?" +</p> + +<p> +Rudy cast one desperate glance at Sport. +</p> + +<p> +"Why, yes," he said haltingly, "so far as +I know, I guess we will." +</p> + +<p> +A look of intense satisfaction came into +Mrs. Whitehall's face and she looked +triumphantly at Jean. +</p> + +<p> +"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!" +</p> + +<p> +Jean looked at Rudy. "And so am I." +</p> + +<p> +In returning her glance, some of the misery +went out of Rudy's face. +</p> + +<p> +"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." +</p> + +<p> +"I think you're very nice, Mr. Grant," she +told him. "We won't forget. Good-by." +</p> + +<p> +At the door, Mrs. Whitehall turned, making +sure of her victory. +</p> + +<p> +"Don't forget, at eight o'clock, Mr. Grant. +Good-by for the moment." +</p> + +<p> +"I won't forget," Rudy said. "Good-by." +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Whitehall put forth her hand, her face +cordial. +</p> + +<p> +"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!" +</p> + +<p> +She laughed. "So with a great musician +like you so close—I'll be keeping my eyes on +you!" +</p> + +<p> +The police officer followed her out the door. +On the threshold he paused, still struggling +with his suspicions. +</p> + +<p> +"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." +</p> + +<p> +"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. +</p> + +<p> +But Rudy's eyes were on the figure of Jean +Whitehall, disappearing down the walk. +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p><a id="chap14"></a></p> + +<h3> +CHAPTER XIV +<br><br> +A PERSONAL APPEARANCE +</h3> + +<p> +As if by common consent, the Vagabonds +moved into the living room. Rudy turned to +Sport, his eyes blazing. +</p> + +<p> +"Why did you tell them I was Ted Grant?" +he demanded. +</p> + +<p> +Sport shivered. "I hate jails. They're so +damp." +</p> + +<p> +"That's what my cousin said," interjected +McMahon. +</p> + +<p> +"But that was a deliberate deception," +Rudy protested. "A lie. I hate doing a thing +like that." +</p> + +<p> +"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!" +</p> + +<p> +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." +</p> + +<p> +"What do you mean?" Sport demanded. +</p> + +<p> +"That we could have told the truth—explained." +</p> + +<p> +"Not to that cop!" +</p> + +<p> +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." +</p> + +<p> +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." +</p> + +<p> +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." +</p> + +<p> +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?" +</p> + +<p> +"He can square everything when he comes," +Sam declared in an effort to cheer Rudy. "All +we gotta do is wait." +</p> + +<p> +"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." +</p> + +<p> +As he sank down on a chair, Sport placed +a reassuring hand on his shoulder. +</p> + +<p> +"No you haven't, old boy." He thought for +a moment, then continued quickly with: +</p> + +<p> +"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!" +</p> + +<p> +Sam McMahon applauded. "The farther +we get away from this guy Tuttle, the sooner +I'll feel safe." +</p> + +<p> +"Aw, why be scared of a small town dick?" +asked Harry Ables. "There's nothing to be afraid of." +</p> + +<p> +"Of course not," seconded Al Monroe; "by +this time he's probably back in the firehouse, +fast asleep." +</p> + +<p> +Bud Dwight had been peeking cautiously +through the window for some time. Now he +called to them. +</p> + +<p> +"Come here, you wise guys, and take a look." +</p> + +<p> +They approached the window, and peered +through the draperies into the gardens. Tuttle +was still outside, looking thoughtfully at +the house. +</p> + +<p> +"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!" +</p> + +<p> +"Fellows, I can't go through with this +ghastly joke," Rudy announced with a grim +air of finality. +</p> + +<p> +"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!" +</p> + +<p> +"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." +</p> + +<p> +"Too simple, if you ask me," said Al Monroe. +</p> + +<p> +"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." +</p> + +<p> +"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!" +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +As a plump operatic star finished a +particularly gaudy number, Mrs. Whitehall leaned +forward with a feigned cordiality. +</p> + +<p> +"Dear Mrs. Todhunter," she said, "your +friends sing beautifully." +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Todhunter made a slight and +condescending movement of her well-groomed head. +</p> + +<p> +"Really, they have made quite an occasion +of your little party, haven't they, Mrs. Whitehall?" +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Whitehall flushed. "I almost feel as +if it were your party, my dear." +</p> + +<p> +"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." +</p> + +<p> +"Yourself, for example, my dear Mrs. Todhunter," +Mrs. Whitehall managed to say. +</p> + +<p> +But the other woman appeared totally +unconscious of any intent at malice. +</p> + +<p> +"So nice of you to say so, my dear," she +murmured. "By the way, I believe the +pianist is trying to catch your eye." +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Whitehall rose. "Oh, yes, I must +announce some other singers." +</p> + +<p> +"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. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, no," Mrs. Whitehall said chokingly. +"Just some poor little orphans. I thought if +they sang it might help advertise our benefit +to-morrow." +</p> + +<p> +"Ah, yes," Mrs. Todhunter admitted. "It +is difficult to make a program for these little +musicales unless one knows the right people." +</p> + +<p> +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! +</p> + +<p> +She bowed to Mrs. Todhunter, triumph in +her eyes, as there had been when Rudy had +agreed to appear. +</p> + +<p> +"Precisely, my dear," she said. "Precisely." +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +"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." +</p> + +<p> +She paused to allow a little ripple of +satisfaction to cross the room. Then she continued +with: +</p> + +<p> +"The benefit committee, of which <i>I</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." +</p> + +<p> +With a bow she introduced the three rather +frightened little girls who were to sing. +</p> + +<p> +"The little children——" +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p class="capcenter"> +<a id="img-184"></a> +<br> +<img class="imgcenter" src="images/img-184.jpg" alt="A scene from the Radio Picture, "The Vagabond Lover," starring RUDY VALLEE."> +<br> +A scene from the Radio Picture, "The Vagabond Lover," <br> +starring RUDY VALLEE. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +"Well, no, girls," he admitted, "I wouldn't +say I was marvelous at <i>all</i> kinds of music. +Only at love songs. Sentiment." +</p> + +<p> +"Why is that?" a blond debutante asked +him with wide, appealing eyes. +</p> + +<p> +"A musician can only put into his instrument +what he has in himself," Sport told her. +</p> + +<p> +"And what's that?" a second girl demanded eagerly. +</p> + +<p> +Al Monroe removed a sandwich from his +mouth long enough to say "Wind!" +</p> + +<p> +"Wind!" the girl exclaimed. +</p> + +<p> +Sport took her gently by the arm, drawing +her away. +</p> + +<p> +"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." +</p> + +<p> +As they moved away, Jean, on a near-by +bench with Rudy, smiled. +</p> + +<p> +"They're cute, aren't they!" +</p> + +<p> +Rudy looked at her in surprise. "You mean +Sport? The boys?" +</p> + +<p> +Jean shook her head, laughing. "No, those +kiddies up there singing. I just love children." +</p> + +<p> +"I guess we like about the same things," +Rudy told her. "So do I." +</p> + +<p> +"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." +</p> + +<p> +"You think a lot of this orphanage fund, +don't you?" Rudy inquired. +</p> + +<p> +"It means so much to the children. So +very, very much." +</p> + +<p> +"You know," Rudy said slowly, "I've never +met a girl like you before, so interested in a +thing like a charity benefit." +</p> + +<p> +"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." +</p> + +<p> +"Well," said Rudy, "you're a great deal +better than I thought you'd be." +</p> + +<p> +Jean's brow wrinkled in perplexity. +</p> + +<p> +"I?" she asked. "Why you couldn't have +thought of me before, you didn't even know +that I was on earth!" +</p> + +<p> +Realizing his slip, Rudy blushed desperately. +But with a calm voice, he explained: +</p> + +<p> +"Oh yes, I did. I always knew that I was +going to meet a girl like you some day. You +see——" +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +"I wrote a song about that girl," he said. +"We'll play it. And when we get to the +chorus, I'll sing." +</p> + +<p> +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?" +</p> + +<p> +For a long moment, Jean studied his +handsome, anxious face. Then she slowly nodded +her head. +</p> + +<p> +"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." +</p> + +<p> +Rudy stared at her uncertainly, not knowing +what was coming. "You've heard Ted +Grant on the radio——" +</p> + +<p> +"I don't mean that. I mean that your +singing reminds me of someone else—a boy back +at school," she finished. +</p> + +<p> +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.'" +</p> + +<p> +She looked away. "There was something +so plaintive and sincere about it that I shall +never forget him." +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p><a id="chap15"></a></p> + +<h3> +CHAPTER XV +<br><br> +THE WINGS OF SONG +</h3> + +<p> +Mrs. Whitehall again called for the +attention of her assembled guests. +</p> + +<p> +"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!" +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +"'If You Were the Only Girl,'" he said +briefly. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + "If you were the only girl in the world,<br> + And I was the only boy,<br> + Nothing else would matter in this world to-day;<br> + We could go on loving in the same old way.<br> + A garden of Eden just made for two,<br> + With nothing to mar our joy;<br> + I would say such wonderful things to you—<br> + There would be such wonderful things to do—<br> + If you were the only girl in the world,<br> + And I was the only boy."<br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +When they had finished and come down from +the platform he had his answer. Jean came +forward, her lovely face alight. +</p> + +<p> +"That was just beautiful," she said. +</p> + +<p> +Rudy smiled. "I was singing about +something beautiful." +</p> + +<p> +Before either of them could speak again, +Mrs. Whitehall came hurrying forward. +</p> + +<p> +"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?" +</p> + +<p> +"It was quite interesting," admitted the social +leader. "So different, though, from the +trained operatic voices." +</p> + +<p> +But Mrs. Whitehall was not to be checked. +</p> + +<p> +"Wouldn't it be wonderful," she enthused, +"if we could persuade Mr. Grant to head our +benefit program to-morrow night!" +</p> + +<p> +Rudy hastily applied a handkerchief to a +suddenly damp brow. +</p> + +<p> +"But we haven't secured our manager's +permission!" he protested. +</p> + +<p> +"Suppose we secure the permission?" asked +the indefatigable Mrs. Whitehall. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +"Mr. Grant's is hardly a plain jazz band," +Mrs. Whitehall bridled. +</p> + +<p> +"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." +</p> + +<p> +"And quite right," said Rudy with a heart-felt +earnestness. "Quite right." +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Todhunter turned to Rudy with a cold smile. +</p> + +<p> +"So good of you to say so, Mr. Grant," +she said. "You understand——" +</p> + +<p> +"Certainly," Rudy assured her as she swept +away. "I understand exactly." +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, Mr. Grant, I hope you are not +offended," Mrs. Whitehall exclaimed nervously. +</p> + +<p> +"Not at all, really," Rudy said. "I think +there is a great deal in what she says." +</p> + +<p> +"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." +</p> + +<p> +"But——" +</p> + +<p> +"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!" +</p> + +<p> +And with that she, too, left Jean and Rudy. +</p> + +<p> +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." +</p> + +<p> +"But I don't want her to insist!" Rudy protested. +</p> + +<p> +"Don't worry," Jean assured him. "She +won't let anyone be insulted in her house." +</p> + +<p> +"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. +</p> + +<p> +"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." +</p> + +<p> +"I imagine you are right," Rudy admitted +dismally. +</p> + +<p> +"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!" +</p> + +<p> +"To prison!" Rudy exclaimed with a mounting +alarm. "To prison!" +</p> + +<p> +"If they stand in her way," Jean said. +"Pretense is what Auntie hates." +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +"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!" +</p> + +<p> +She completed her fearsome description +with a little movement of her hands. +</p> + +<p> +"That's why I'm so glad she likes you, for +she really does." +</p> + +<p> +Rudy looked at her desperately. +</p> + +<p> +"And you—do you think—do you like—I +mean——" +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +"What were you saying?" Jean asked softly. +</p> + +<p> +Rudy turned a miserable face. +</p> + +<p> +"I guess I'll have to tell you later," he said. +"Something seems to have happened that +needs my attention just now." +</p> + +<p> +"Something extremely important?" +</p> + +<p> +Rudy looked again at the strained face of +Sport across the room. +</p> + +<p> +"Apparently very important," he said. +"Can you wait a few minutes?" +</p> + +<p> +Jean rose, a slight flush on her face. +</p> + +<p> +"It doesn't matter," she said. "It's late, +anyhow. The guests are going and I should +be helping Auntie say her good-bys." +</p> + +<p> +"But, Jean!" Rudy cried. "I want to talk +to you!" +</p> + +<p> +Jean smiled. "Won't it keep until to-morrow?" +</p> + +<p> +Then, with a graceful, rapid stride, she left +him. +</p> + +<p> +Rudy watched her go with mingled emotions. +To-morrow! Why, by to-morrow they +hoped to be miles away. And—and—— +</p> + +<p> +"Rudy!" +</p> + +<p> +It was Sport, who had crossed the room as +Jean disappeared. He grinned, seeking to +mask his distress. +</p> + +<p> +"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." +</p> + +<p> +"Can't we all pile in mine?" Rudy asked. +</p> + +<p> +"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." +</p> + +<p> +"Well, that's all right. We've enough +money to pay fares home for half the boys." +</p> + +<p> +"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." +</p> + +<p> +Much as he realized the gravity of delay, +Rudy could not force a dour expression over +the news. He smiled. +</p> + +<p> +"Well, we'll go to-morrow then," he said. +"I guess my bus can carry five extra as far +as the station, anyway." +</p> + +<p> +"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?" +</p> + +<p> +"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." +</p> + +<p> +But Sport for this once was inclined to look +on the pessimistic angle of the affair. +</p> + +<p> +"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." +</p> + +<p> +"Don't worry," Rudy repeated. "And now +are you on your way?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yeah. You coming? The gang has gone +already." +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +"Alley oop," he said. "Let's shove off." +</p> + +<p> +At the door, Mrs. Whitehall and Jean were +saying good-by to the last of the guests. +</p> + +<p> +"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." +</p> + +<p> +"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." +</p> + +<p> +"Perhaps Mr. Grant doesn't want to play +for our benefit, Auntie." +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +"No," he said, "Mr. Grant and the band +would like to play for you. But you see——" +</p> + +<p> +"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." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes," Jean repeated with an inscrutable +smile. "We'll see you gentlemen to-morrow. +Good-night." +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p><a id="chap16"></a></p> + +<h3> +CHAPTER XVI +<br><br> +DELAY +</h3> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +"The sooner we get out of here the better +it will please yours truly," said Sam McMahon. +</p> + +<p> +"Here, too," assented Al Monroe. "The +things I could do to a real meal would be +criminal." +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +Evidently he had been observed strolling +restlessly about, for it was not long before +Jean appeared in her doorway. +</p> + +<p> +"Don't you want to come over?" she called. +</p> + +<p> +Obeying with an alacrity which brought a +slight color to the girl's cheeks, Rudy passed +through the hedge and swung up the steps. +</p> + +<p> +"You're out early," she informed him. +</p> + +<p> +"Well, you know what they say about the +early bird," he returned. +</p> + +<p> +Jean studied him with mock severity. +</p> + +<p> +"Are you implying that I'm a worm, young man?" +</p> + +<p> +"Hardly that," Rudy said hastily. "Some +of those sayings sort of backfire." +</p> + +<p> +As they went into the house, Jean asked: +"Are you enjoying your stay?" +</p> + +<p> +"It's been the happiest time of my life," +Rudy said. "I wish I could explain—make +you feel that it has." +</p> + +<p> +Jean bent her head slightly. +</p> + +<p> +"Maybe I understand. It's strange—but I +feel, well, I feel that it's been better than all +other days, too." +</p> + +<p> +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? +</p> + +<p> +"It seems somehow that I've always known +you, Jean." +</p> + +<p> +And then Jean said a surprising thing: +</p> + +<p> +"I wish we had always known one another. +Are—are you a college man, Mr. Grant?" +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, what is that song?" Jean interrupted him. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + "We'll be so happy,<br> + We'll always sing<br> + If we remember, one little thing,<br> + A little kiss each morning, a little kiss each night.<br> +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + "Who cares if hard luck may be ahead,<br> + An empty cupboard,<br> + A crust of bread—<br> + A little kiss each morning, a little kiss each night.<br> +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + "Dreams may disappoint us,<br> + As they often do,<br> + Bring your tears to me, dear,<br> + I'll bring mine to you."<br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +As he finished singing, Jean got nervously +to her feet. She seemed in the grip of some +emotion as powerful as it was puzzling. +</p> + +<p> +"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." +</p> + +<p> +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." +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, I wish you didn't have to go," Jean +exclaimed in a voice of genuine disappointment. +</p> + +<p> +"I wish I didn't, too," Rudy answered. +"You have made me forget all about my music." +</p> + +<p> +"Flatterer! But it's nice to hear you say it, +anyway. I've always wanted to meet a real +musician—an artist with sincerity." +</p> + +<p> +"Sincerity?" +</p> + +<p> +"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." +</p> + +<p> +"Would you be willing to go on with me +forever?" Rudy asked suddenly, bolder than +he had dreamed of being. +</p> + +<p> +"Why, I——" +</p> + +<p> +Before Jean could complete the sentence, +there was an interruption by the butler. He +held a yellow envelope. +</p> + +<p> +"Pardon me, is Mrs. Whitehall here?" he asked. +</p> + +<p> +"No, Adams," Jean answered. +</p> + +<p> +"I have a telegram for her." +</p> + +<p> +"Just leave it on the table." As the man +put down the telegram and left, Jean eyed +it curiously. +</p> + +<p> +"Now I wonder what that's about," she said. +</p> + +<p> +"So do I," Rudy admitted. +</p> + +<p> +"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." +</p> + +<p> +As Jean noted that Rudy's mind was not +upon her Aunt, she guessed the secret of his +inattention. +</p> + +<p> +"Will you be coming back to-morrow?" +she asked. +</p> + +<p> +"If I weren't, would you mind?" Rudy +returned with the same light smile. +</p> + +<p> +"What a silly question," Jean reproved him. +</p> + +<p> +"Maybe not. I might have to stay in town, +for instance." +</p> + +<p> +"Then," Jean said decisively, "I'd come +in to hear you play. From now on I'm going +to be a Ted Grant fan." +</p> + +<p> +For a minute Rudy was silent. Then he said: +</p> + +<p> +"Well, supposing I weren't Ted Grant." +</p> + +<p> +"If you weren't famous? Oh, I'd like you +just the same, no matter who you were." +</p> + +<p> +"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——" +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, oh, Mr. Grant! What a relief to find +you here!" +</p> + +<p> +Rudy and Jean turned. In the doorway, +her face reddened with excitement stood +Mrs. Whitehall. +</p> + +<p> +"Why, Auntie," Jean exclaimed. "What +in the world is the matter?" +</p> + +<p> +"I won," said Mrs. Whitehall with satisfaction. +</p> + +<p> +"At what?" Rudy asked. +</p> + +<p> +"At the committee meeting, of course. +Your band plays to-night!" +</p> + +<p> +"My band——!" +</p> + +<p> +"Do you mean Mrs. Todhunter consented +to let Mr. Grant head the program?" Jean asked. +</p> + +<p> +"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." +</p> + +<p> +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? +</p> + +<p> +"Of course, I did want to help," he said +slowly, "but with the other artists on the +program objecting, perhaps——" +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, but they are not on the program any +more! Oh, no, not at all! They have all +motored back to New York." +</p> + +<p> +"What!" cried Rudy and Jean in chorus. +</p> + +<p> +Then Jean asked: "Do you mean that +Mrs. Todhunter was responsible——" +</p> + +<p> +"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!" +</p> + +<p> +"But, Auntie," Jean said, "without the +operatic stars, we can't make the benefit a success." +</p> + +<p> +"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." +</p> + +<p> +"Do you mean that these men have been +with Ted Grant—with me—personally?" +Rudy asked. +</p> + +<p> +"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?" +</p> + +<p> +Rudy shook his head doggedly, realizing +that the break must be made at last. +</p> + +<p> +"But Mrs. Whitehall, I've told you that it +is impossible. We—we will have to secure +our manager's permission." +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, I've taken care of that," Mrs. Whitehall +said with a bland smile. "I wired to your +manager directly from the committee meeting." +</p> + +<p> +"My manager?" +</p> + +<p> +"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." +</p> + +<p> +"You said—said I was here, and wanted to +play?" Rudy asked. +</p> + +<p> +"Of course," she replied. "You and your +whole band. That was right, wasn't it? The +answer should be here by now," she added. +</p> + +<p> +"Why," Jean began, "that must be——" +</p> + +<p> +"Jean," Rudy said quickly, "please——" +</p> + +<p> +"That must be what?" Mrs. Whitehall demanded. +</p> + +<p> +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: +</p> + +<p> +"Why that must have been why the butler +was trying to find you!" +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +"Why was the butler trying to find me?" +Mrs. Whitehall drove on. "Come, come, +speak up!" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes," said Rudy, and then in a whisper +to Jean he pleaded, "Come, come outside!" +</p> + +<p> +There was no mistaking his wish now, and +Jean, although not understanding, was willing +to assent to it. +</p> + +<p> +"I—I—really have forgotten what Adams +wanted," she told her aunt. +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Whitehall hurried toward the door. +</p> + +<p> +"Well, I will see the butler. It must be the +telegram. Excuse me." +</p> + +<p> +When she had left them, Jean looked +curiously at Rudy. "Why didn't you want +Auntie to read that telegram?" she asked. +</p> + +<p> +Rudy unhappily returned her gaze. +</p> + +<p> +"Jean there was something I wanted to tell +you," he said miserably. "But it's too late +now." +</p> + +<p> +"About the telegram?" +</p> + +<p> +"Read it," he said simply, pointing to the +table on which the yellow slip lay. +</p> + +<p> +"But it's addressed to Auntie." +</p> + +<p> +"It will concern you," he told her. +</p> + +<p> +"Why," said Jean, "how strange you seem." +</p> + +<p> +"Read it," Rudy repeated. +</p> + +<p> +Jean picked up the envelope and ripped it +open with quick fingers. Withdrawing the +enclosure, she flipped open the paper and read +aloud: +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p class="letter"> +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. +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +J. CONNORS, MANAGER. +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +"I was going to tell you," he said. "I was +trying to tell you." +</p> + +<p> +"Then you're not Ted Grant?" +</p> + +<p> +"No." +</p> + +<p> +"You've been lying—imposing on us?" +</p> + +<p> +"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." +</p> + +<p> +Jean turned stiffly away, her back uncompromising. +</p> + +<p> +"You don't understand," Rudy pleaded. +"Let me explain." +</p> + +<p> +"I have no doubt but that you will be able +to explain most glibly, Mr.— Mr.——" +</p> + +<p> +"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. +</p> + +<p> +"You see," he hurried on, "I had seen you +at the University." +</p> + +<p> +"At the University?" It was Jean's turn +to be amazed. +</p> + +<p> +"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!" +</p> + +<p> +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: +</p> + +<p> +"Rudy! Quick!" +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p><a id="chap17"></a></p> + +<h3> +CHAPTER XVII +<br><br> +ESCAPE +</h3> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +"What's the matter?" Rudy asked. "What +happened?" +</p> + +<p> +"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." +</p> + +<p> +"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." +</p> + +<p> +"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." +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +Then he heard Jean say: "Wait a minute, +I'll take you in my car." +</p> + +<p> +"What?" they demanded in unison. +</p> + +<p> +"What a girl!" Sport exclaimed. +</p> + +<p> +"Hurry," Jean said. "We can still get out +the back way." +</p> + +<p> +Rudy attempted to detain her. "I can't let +you do this, Jean." +</p> + +<p> +"And I can't let you be arrested in Auntie's +house," she flared. +</p> + +<p> +"But we can't hide behind a woman's +skirts!" he protested. "Can we, fellows?" +</p> + +<p> +"Try and stop us!" bellowed Al Monroe. +</p> + +<p> +"Come on!" Jean cried. "Let's go!" +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +"How am I ever going to see you again?" +he asked desperately. "If you only knew——" +</p> + +<p> +"You aren't going to see me again," she +said. "Ever." +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, I know I've been to blame, Jean. It's +a terrible mistake that I'd give anything to +undo." +</p> + +<p> +Far down the track there was the faint +sound of a train whistle. +</p> + +<p> +"You had better go," she said. "You'll +miss your train." +</p> + +<p> +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?" +</p> + +<p> +"Never ask a girl why," she told him. +"Maybe it was because I couldn't see you +punished that way." +</p> + +<p> +"We deserved it." +</p> + +<p> +"You don't know Auntie," Jean said. +"She'd never forgive you. She'd make them +give you a prison sentence, at least." +</p> + +<p> +Rudy frowned. "I don't care about her. +I just want you to know how sorry I am." +</p> + +<p> +"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." +</p> + +<p> +"What is that?" +</p> + +<p> +"The orphanage." +</p> + +<p> +"Why," he asked, "what do you mean?" +</p> + +<p> +"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." +</p> + +<p> +"I never thought of that," Rudy admitted. +</p> + +<p> +"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." +</p> + +<p> +"Isn't there something I can do?" Rudy +asked miserably. +</p> + +<p> +"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." +</p> + +<p> +"Jean!" +</p> + +<p> +The girl turned her face away from him, +starting her car. +</p> + +<p> +"I never want to see you again," she choked. +"Never!" +</p> + +<p> +Then with a roar of the mighty engine and +a puff of acrid exhaust, she was gone. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +"Come on, Rudy!" Sport called. "We're +leaving in a minute." +</p> + +<p> +With a curt movement of the head, Rudy +took his stand. +</p> + +<p> +"I'm not going," he said. +</p> + +<p> +Sport approached him, aghast. "What?" +</p> + +<p> +"Jean's right about that benefit. We've +ruined it by our foolishness." +</p> + +<p> +"Well, suppose we have," Sport cried, "are +we going to miss this train?" +</p> + +<p> +Rudy nodded. "I am." +</p> + +<p> +"Have you gone nuts, fella?" +</p> + +<p> +"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." +</p> + +<p> +"Why, you're crazy," Sport insisted. +"They'll jail you!" +</p> + +<p> +"I don't care," Rudy answered doggedly. +"I'm going to take my medicine." +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, come on," said Al Monroe, "we can't +help it now. Let's grab this train." +</p> + +<p> +"You grab it, fellows," Rudy said. "I'll +write you from the rockpile." +</p> + +<p> +Sport O'Malley shrugged, and got out his +cigarettes. +</p> + +<p> +"You won't need to write to me, Rudy. +I'll be right there alongside of you." +</p> + +<p> +"What?" +</p> + +<p> +"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." +</p> + +<p> +"That's right," said little Bud Dwight, +"we're all in on this together. If Rudy's +game, let's stick, too." +</p> + +<p> +"I can't let you do this," Rudy told them. +"Go grab your train—and grab it fast." +</p> + +<p> +Al Monroe thoughtfully fingered his tuba. +</p> + +<p> +"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. +</p> + +<p> +"Oke," said Sport. "Hey, taxi," he called +to the station hack. "Believe it or not, here's +a fare." +</p> + +<p> +"Looks more to me like ten fares," the +driver returned, surveying them with dismay. +</p> + +<p> +"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." +</p> + +<p> +"And," added Sam McMahon, "don't stop +for any cops!" +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p><a id="chap18"></a></p> + +<h3> +CHAPTER XVIII +<br><br> +FOR THE BENEFIT OF ALL CONCERNED +</h3> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +"Tell me," one of them asked her, "who +introduced this impostor to your friends as +Ted Grant?" +</p> + +<p> +"I did," answered the unfortunate woman. +</p> + +<p> +"I see," the man continued, "and when did +you first notice your niece's interest in him." +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Whitehall bowed her head. "When +she ran away with him." +</p> + +<p> +Another reporter introduced himself: +"Clarke of the <i>Herald</i>, Mrs. Whitehall. +Where can we get a photograph of your +niece?" +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Whitehall's lips straightened. +</p> + +<p> +"I don't intend to answer another question," +she said coldly. "Too much has been +said already." +</p> + +<p> +"But you've got to!" Clarke insisted. +"Why, this is front-page stuff." +</p> + +<p> +"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.'" +</p> + +<p> +"'Her Vagabond Lover!'" Clarke cried. +"There's a head for you." +</p> + +<p> +Another member of the group stepped forward. +</p> + +<p> +"Pardon me, Mrs. Whitehall. I met you +at Lathrop's at Palm Beach last winter." +</p> + +<p> +"How nice of you to remember," Mrs. Whitehall +assured him icily. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, I'm nice that way. Now, in the interest +of the <i>Gazette</i>, might I ask if your niece +was ever photographed in a bathing suit?" +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Whitehall got to her feet, her face +blazing with fury. +</p> + +<p> +"Go away; go away, all of you! I don't +intend to answer another question!" +</p> + +<p> +Officer Tuttle stepped forward to her aid. +</p> + +<p> +"Now lookee here, boys—we don't know for +sure that she did run away with these crooks." +</p> + +<p> +"Maybe they ran away with her, eh?" +Clarke asked sarcastically. +</p> + +<p> +"Well," Tuttle admitted, "that's my theory." +</p> + +<p> +"A kidnapping? Hot dog!" +</p> + +<p> +"Do you think that hypnotism was used?" +asked the <i>Gazette</i> representative. +</p> + +<p> +"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." +</p> + +<p> +"You mean an arrest?" Clarke asked hopefully. +</p> + +<p> +Tuttle nodded emphatically, his chin bobbing +in forceful illustration of his meaning. +</p> + +<p> +"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." +</p> + +<p> +"With two t's?" a voice queried. +</p> + +<p> +But Tuttle went on without pause, adding: +</p> + +<p> +"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." +</p> + +<p> +"Well," Clarke observed, "you can't blame +a man for trying." +</p> + +<p> +"Now, madam," the <i>Gazette</i> reporter returned +to Mrs. Whitehall, "about that bathing-suit +picture." +</p> + +<p> +"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." +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +"This is the National Broadcasting Company," +it announced, "operating from the +charity benefit at the Todhunter estate at +Longport, Long Island. Please stand by." +</p> + +<p> +"Wait a minute," Clarke asked of Tuttle. +"What was that?" +</p> + +<p> +"Why," said Mrs. Whitehall, "they're +announcing the charity benefit over the radio!" +</p> + +<p> +"But I thought you said this benefit would +have to be called off," one of the reporters +reminded her. +</p> + +<p> +"Sh," said Clarke as the voice began to +speak again, "let's get this." +</p> + +<p> +"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——" +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Whitehall gave a low moan. "Oh, +dear, oh dear—this is terrible. I'm ruined!" +</p> + +<p> +"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." +</p> + +<p> +The announcement caused an excited stir +in the room. +</p> + +<p> +"That means those Vagabonds are right +there at the benefit!" +</p> + +<p> +"And so's the niece!" +</p> + +<p> +"The nerve of them!" Tuttle cried. "I'll +pinch the whole bunch!" +</p> + +<p> +"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?" +</p> + +<p> +Tuttle nodded. "That's what the radio is +saying." +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Whitehall wheeled upon the butler, crying: +</p> + +<p> +"Adams, my car!" +</p> + +<p> +"Wait!" Clarke said. "Here's comes +something else." +</p> + +<p> +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——" +</p> + +<p> +"Your car is here, Mrs. Whitehall," said +the butler. +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Whitehall turned to Tuttle, her eyes +like flames in the anger of her face. +</p> + +<p> +"Officer, you may come with me, in my car, +and make the arrests." +</p> + +<p> +"I'll say I will," Tuttle agreed with alacrity. +"That young smart aleck will do the rest of +his singing in Sing Sing!" +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +Leaving her car, Mrs. Whitehall at a glance +understood the situation, and she turned to +Tuttle with a renewed malice. +</p> + +<p> +"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!" +</p> + +<p> +"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!" +</p> + +<p> +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? +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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! +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +"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!" +</p> + +<p> +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! +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +"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." +</p> + +<p> +"Why blame us?" Al Monroe demanded. +"I could dance better'n any of that flock of +skinny dames, with both my feet tied." +</p> + +<p> +"Pipe down," Swiftie counseled, "or somebody +around here is liable to tie your big +mouth up with a nice big fist." +</p> + +<p> +"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!" +</p> + +<p> +"Did she come?" Sport asked. +</p> + +<p> +"Who?" demanded Bud Dwight, "the old lady?" +</p> + +<p> +"Sure," Sam repeated, "I knew we should +have taken that train." +</p> + +<p> +"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." +</p> + +<p> +"That's right," Sport agreed. "Do you +think Mrs. Whitehall is apt to press charges +against us, Rudy?" +</p> + +<p> +"I don't know," Rudy answered. "Jean +said that she sent her cook to jail for +falsifying his household accounts." +</p> + +<p> +"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." +</p> + +<p> +"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." +</p> + +<p> +"Well," said Al Monroe, "I think that +Swiftie's been eating too much lately anyway. +He put on ten pounds at the Laconia." +</p> + +<p> +"Yeah," said Swiftie, "and lost them when +I left it!" +</p> + +<p> +"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." +</p> + +<p> +"That sounds good," said Bud Dwight. +</p> + +<p> +"Anything would sound good that would +do some good," said Sam McMahon. "But +what's our best number, 'Lovable and +Sweet'?" +</p> + +<p> +"That's it," said Sport. "And you take up +the chorus, eh, Rudy?" +</p> + +<p> +As they adjusted their instruments, the +brief pause between numbers having been +dissipated, Rudy shook his head. +</p> + +<p> +"No," he said, "not that one." +</p> + +<p> +"Well, what one then?" Sport asked. +"Let's make it snappy." +</p> + +<p> +"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— +</p> + +<p> +"Sure, that's all right," Sport said, "Let's +go, gang." +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +With closed eyes, shutting out all the world +but the mental image of a slim, lovely girl, he +poured forth his song: +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + "I love you, believe me, I love you,<br> + This theme is the dream of my heart.<br> + I need you, believe me, I need you,<br> + I'll be blue when we two are apart."<br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p><a id="chap19"></a></p> + +<h3> +CHAPTER XIX +<br><br> +DÉNOUEMENT +</h3> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +"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!" +</p> + +<p> +Ted Grant's eyes were fixed beadily on the +distant stage. +</p> + +<p> +"Using the Ted Grant method, is he? Trying +to steal my stuff. I'll—I'll——" +</p> + +<p> +But Connors, with the born manager's eye +for the crowd, had noted the response that +was being given Rudy's number. +</p> + +<p> +"Wait a minute," he said. "Let's get a +load of this guy. He's sure to sing again +after a hand like that!" +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +"He sure went over," Ted Grant admitted. +"Wonder who he is?" +</p> + +<p> +"I'll scout around and find out," Connors +said. "There seems to be real talent in these +hills." +</p> + +<p> +As the two men were about to move on, +several figures approached from the dusk. +</p> + +<p> +"Now I want two of you to sneak around +there and come in behind those fellows. Do +you get me?" +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +"And two of you others go in behind them +from the right. Nail them right there. Does +everybody understand?" +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +Grant whistled. "And what do you make of that?" +</p> + +<p> +"Can't figure it," Connors replied. "Unless +these kids have gotten in bad around here +somehow." +</p> + +<p> +"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!" +</p> + +<p> +"Let's follow around and see what's up," +said Connors. "Maybe we can give them a lift." +</p> + +<p> +A few words came from the loudspeaker: +</p> + +<p> +"The Vagabonds now will offer their final +number, which also will be the closing number +of our performance." +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + "I'll gather some June dreams,<br> + I'll search for some moonbeams,<br> + Then I'll be reminded of you.<br> + I'll walk by the mill stream,<br> + I'll talk to the hill stream<br> + Then I'll be reminded of you.<br> +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + I'll climb to the rainbow and vigor anew,<br> + I'll find Paradise and I'll keep it for you.<br> + I'll spend all my hours, among fragrant flowers,<br> + Then I'll be reminded of you."<br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +Struck by the peculiar aptness of the lyric, +Rudy completed the song in a cloud of +unhappiness. <i>Then I'll be reminded of you</i>. 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.... +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +"Well, here it is, gang," he said, as he saw +that beside her walked Tuttle. +</p> + +<p> +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." +</p> + +<p> +Four policemen, two upon each side of the +stage, appeared from the wings. "Don't try +and leave!" +</p> + +<p> +Tuttle went directly to Rudy Bronson. +</p> + +<p> +"Young man, we want to see you," he said +heavily. +</p> + +<p> +Rudy nodded. "I know. I'll take all the +blame if you'll let the others go." +</p> + +<p> +"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?" +</p> + +<p> +"What do you intend to do with us, lady?" +asked the tremulous voice of Bud Dwight. +</p> + +<p> +"I intend to prosecute you fully for causing +the failure of our benefit." +</p> + +<p> +"The failure!" Sport exclaimed. "Listen, +Mrs. Whitehall, Ted Grant himself couldn't +have gotten a better hand than we did." +</p> + +<p> +"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? +</p> + +<p> +As if summoned by his thoughts, Jean came +from the wings, her hands full of telegrams, +her face alight with excitement. +</p> + +<p> +"Why, Jean," Mrs. Whitehall said, "where +have you been?" +</p> + +<p> +"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." +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Whitehall took a handful of the +yellow envelopes. +</p> + +<p> +"What on earth——?" +</p> + +<p> +"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!" +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Whitehall had opened the first telegram. +</p> + +<p> +"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.'" +</p> + +<p> +Jean ripped open another of the envelopes. +</p> + +<p> +"'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." +</p> + +<p> +But Mrs. Whitehall had pleasant reading +matter of her own. +</p> + +<p> +"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!" +</p> + +<p> +"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.'" +</p> + +<p> +"The Shermans!" Mrs. Whitehall cried. +"Let me see! Oh, dear," she added, examining +the telegram, "this is too much!" +</p> + +<p> +"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." +</p> + +<p> +"Imagine!" was Mrs. Whitehall's only +reply. Or, indeed, the only reply of which +she was capable. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +"Congratulations, Mrs. Whitehall!" +</p> + +<p> +It was the radio announcer, freed of the +press of his duties, coming forward with +outstretched hand. +</p> + +<p> +"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!" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes?" Mrs. Whitehall murmured dazedly. "Yes?" +</p> + +<p> +"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." +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Whitehall had by now regained some +of her customary composure. +</p> + +<p> +"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!" +</p> + +<p> +"I might add on that score that Europe +seems to be following us, Mrs. Whitehall. Our +contemporary music has taken the Continent +by storm." +</p> + +<p> +As all eyes turned to the speaker, he came +more definitely into the group. +</p> + +<p> +"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." +</p> + +<p> +"Ted Grant!" Rudy breathed. "You mean—<i>the</i> +Ted Grant." +</p> + +<p> +"None other," the musician smiled. "And +I want to talk to you, young fellow, as soon as +you have time." +</p> + +<p> +Before he could make his wishes more fully +known, Mrs. Whittington Todhunter, amid a +flurry of elegant skirts, pushed her way +through the crowd. +</p> + +<p> +"Have you arrested him yet?" she demanded. +</p> + +<p> +"Arrested whom?" Mrs. Whitehall asked +innocently. +</p> + +<p> +"Why this young impostor. Just a few +minutes ago you were saying——" +</p> + +<p> +"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." +</p> + +<p> +"That's right," the announcer assured her. +"He'll be set from now on." +</p> + +<p> +"I'll say he will," said Ted Grant. +</p> + +<p> +"Then you aren't going to have him +arrested?" Mrs. Todhunter persisted. +</p> + +<p> +"Why, of course not!" Mrs. Whitehall +replied. "That was just part of my +superb—superb—whatever it was that I should take +up professionally!" +</p> + +<p> +Officer Tuttle had for some time been +attempting to make himself heard. He now +stepped into the circle of discussion. +</p> + +<p> +"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!" +</p> + +<p> +"Why, Officer Pluffle—" Mrs. Whitehall +protested weakly. +</p> + +<p> +"Tuttle," he said snappishly, "Tuttle—with two t's!" +</p> + +<p> +Ted Grant took him by the arm, confidentially. +</p> + +<p> +"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." +</p> + +<p> +"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." +</p> + +<p> +"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." +</p> + +<p> +"And," said Al Monroe, "a personal friend +of Mr. Grant's. With letters and everything." +</p> + +<p> +"You boys keep out of this," Tuttle +advised. "It's Mr. Grant I'm talking to." +</p> + +<p> +"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——" +</p> + +<p> +"Sure," said Connors, "we're going to put +this young fellow's name in our advertising +along with the others." +</p> + +<p> +"You bet we are!" Grant cried enthusiastically. +"Why, he's the biggest find I've made +since Paul Whiteman!" +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Whitehall slowly had been bristling. +Now her indignation came to a head. +</p> + +<p> +"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——" +</p> + +<p> +"Showmanship," the announcer prompted her. +</p> + +<p> +—"and showmanship that this appearance +of Mr. Bronson's was made possible to-night." +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +"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——" +</p> + +<p> +"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——" +</p> + +<p> +"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." +</p> + +<p> +He turned to The Vagabonds, smiling beneficently. +</p> + +<p> +"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?" +</p> + +<p> +"Rudy himself is the manager," Sport +O'Malley told him. +</p> + +<p> +"Well, where did he go?" Grant asked. +"He was here just a minute ago." +</p> + +<p> +"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." +</p> + +<p> +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." +</p> + +<p> +"But look," said Swiftie Clarke, "Sport +here used to be our manager before Rudy. +How about him talking to you?" +</p> + +<p> +"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?" +</p> + +<p> +"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." +</p> + +<p> +"And what Mr. Grant says he'll do," Connors +informed them, "you can bet your life +he'll do!" +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +"You were a great success with the show, +Rudy," Jean said softly. +</p> + +<p> +Rudy smiled. "Thanks—but was I a great +success," he swallowed desperately, "was I a +great success with you, Jean?" +</p> + +<p> +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!" +</p> + +<p> +"In their——?" +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +"I," he said, "I—I—I'm forgiven?" +</p> + +<p> +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: +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + "We'll be so happy, we'll always sing,<br> + If we remember one little thing,<br> + A little kiss each morning, a little kiss each night.<br> + Who cares if hard luck may be ahead ..."<br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +But that was one song Rudy Bronson never +finished. Jean stopped it with her lips. +</p> + +<p> +"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." +</p> + +<p> +"You—it was you, Rudy?" Jean gasped. +</p> + +<p> +He nodded. "And I sang to you after +you'd left at the Laconia." +</p> + +<p> +"I remember," she sighed happily. "I +came back, but you were gone. We seem to +have always missed each other——" +</p> + +<p> +"But never again, dear," Rudy assured +her, "because— +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + "You are my one inspiration,<br> + You've changed my life from the start.<br> + I need you, believe me, I need you,<br> + I'll be blue when we two are apart——"<br> +</p> + +<p><br><br></p> + +<p class="t3"> +THE END +</p> + +<p><br><br><br><br></p> + +<div style='text-align:center'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 77384 ***</div> +</body> + +</html> + diff --git a/77384-h/images/img-056.jpg b/77384-h/images/img-056.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..aae9660 --- /dev/null +++ b/77384-h/images/img-056.jpg diff --git a/77384-h/images/img-120.jpg b/77384-h/images/img-120.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..93a42f9 --- /dev/null +++ b/77384-h/images/img-120.jpg diff --git a/77384-h/images/img-184.jpg b/77384-h/images/img-184.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..13b994d --- /dev/null +++ b/77384-h/images/img-184.jpg diff --git a/77384-h/images/img-cover.jpg b/77384-h/images/img-cover.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..6d9c1eb --- /dev/null +++ b/77384-h/images/img-cover.jpg diff --git a/77384-h/images/img-front.jpg b/77384-h/images/img-front.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..1ae1efa --- /dev/null +++ b/77384-h/images/img-front.jpg |
