Lo, Michael!. Grace Livingston Hill
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you rather do? Or, perhaps you'd prefer to let your decision rest until the time comes."
"I think I'm bound to go back to New York, sir," said Michael lifting his head with that peculiar motion all his own, so like a challenge. "You know, sir, you said I was to be educated so that I might help my friends. I have learned of course that you meant it in a broader sense than just those few boys, for one can help people anywhere; but still I feel as if it wouldn't be right for me not to go back. I'm sure they'll expect me."
Endicott shrugged his shoulders half admiringly.
"Loyal to your old friends still? Well, that's commendable, but still I fancy you'll scarcely find them congenial now. I wouldn't let them hang too closely about you. They might become a nuisance. You have your way to make in the world, you know."
Michael looked at his benefactor with troubled brows. Somehow the tone of the man disturbed him.
"I promised," he said simply. Because there had bean so little in his affections that promise had been cherished through the years, and meant much to Michael. It stood for Principle and Loyalty in general.
"Oh, well, keep your promise, of course," said the man of the world easily.
"I fancy you will find the discharge of it a mere form."
A fellow student came across the campus.
"Endicott," he called, "have you seen Hallowell go toward the village within a few minutes?"
"He just want, out the gate," responded Michael pleasantly.
Mr. Endicott looked up surprised.
"Is that the name by which you are known?"
"Endicott? Yes, sir, Michael Endicott. Was it not by your wish? I supposed they had asked you. I had no other name that I knew."
"Ah! I didn't know," pondered Endicott.
There was silence for a moment.
"Would you,—shall I—do you dislike my having it?" asked the boy delicately sensitive at once.
But the man looked up with something like tenderness in his smile.
"Keep it, son. I like it. I wish I had a boy like you. It is an old name and a proud one. Be worthy of it."
"I will try, sir," said Michael, as if he were registering a vow.
There was an early supper for the guests and then Michael walked through another sunset to the station with Starr. He carried a small box carefully prepared in which reposed a tiny green and blue lizard for a parting gift. She had watched the lizards scuttling away under the board sidewalks at their approach, or coming suddenly to utter stillness, changing their brilliant colors to gray like the fence boards that they might not be observed. She was wonderfully interested in them, and was charmed with her gift. The particular lizard in question was one that Michael had trained to eat crumbs from his hand, and was quite tame.
The two said little as they walked along together. Each was feeling what a happy time they had spent in one another's company.
"I shall write and tell you how the lizard is," said Starr laughing, "and you will tell me all about the funny and interesting things you are doing, won't you?"
"If—I may," said Michael wistfully.
At the station a New York acquaintance of the Endicotts' invited them to ride in his private car which was on the side track waiting for the train to pick them up. Michael helped Starr up the steps, and carried the lizard into the car as well as the great sheaf of flowers she insisted on taking with her.
There were some ladies inside who welcomed Starr effusively; and Michael, suddenly abashed, laid down the flowers, lifted his cap and withdrew. A sudden blank had come upon him. Starr was absorbed by people from another world than his. He would have no opportunity to say good-bye—and she had promised—But then of course he ought not to expect her to do that. She had been very kind to him—
He was going down the steps now. An instant more and he would be on the cinders of the track.
A sudden rush, a soft cry, caused him to pause on the second step of the vestibuled car. It was Starr, standing just above him, and her eyes were shining like her namesake the evening star.
"You were going without good-bye," she reproved, and her cheeks were rosy red, but she stood her ground courageously. Placing a soft hand gently on either cheek as he stood below her, his face almost on a level with hers, she tilted his head toward her and touched his lips with her own red ones, delicately as if a rose had swept them.
Simultaneously came the sound of the distant train.
"Good-bye, you nice, splendid boy!" breathed Starr, and waving her hand darted inside the car.
Mr. Endicott, out on the platform, still talking to the president, heard the oncoming train and looked around for Michael. He saw him coming from the car with his exalted look upon his face, his cap off, and the golden beams of the sun again sending their halo like a nimbus over his hair.
Catching his hand heartily, he said:
"Son, I'm pleased with you. Keep it up, and come to me when you are ready.
I'll give you a start."
Michael gripped his hand and blundered out some words of thanks. Then the train was upon them, and Endicott had to go.
The two younger ladies in the car, meantime, were plying Starr with questions. "Who is that perfectly magnificent young man. Starr Endicott? Why didn't you introduce him to us? I declare I never saw such a beautiful face on any human being before."
A moment more and the private car was fastened to the train, and Starr leaning from the window waved her tiny handkerchief until the train had thundered away among the pines, and there was nothing left but the echo of its sound. The sun was going down but it mattered not. There was sunshine in the boy's heart. She was gone, his little Starr, but she had left the memory of her soft kiss and her bright eyes; and some day, some day, when he was done with college, he would see her again. Meantime he was content.
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