"Wh-what?" asked Patty faintly. Her heart was playing mad pranks and she put up her hand to steady it. At least, that seemed to be her idea. "What was that you said, Charlie? Oh, Charlie, dear!"

"Bail" and "jail" sound very much alike. They conveyed about the same idea to poor Patty. Under certain circ.u.mstances, they convey about the same idea to the one most intimately concerned.

Charlie did not appear to be affected. "I've got to show up day after to-morrow or forfeit my bail," he continued unfeelingly. "Well," he said doggedly, "I will. I may have to go to jail, but what of it?"

"Oh, Charlie, dear!" Patty cried, more faintly than before. "Oh, Charlie, dear! Whatever have you done that you should talk of going to--to--Charlie, I feel faint. My salts, dear," she said hurriedly.

"They are on the top of my bureau, in that green bottle."

"Charlie dear" obediently got the little green bottle, stifling a smile which would curl the corners of his mouth, in spite of himself, while his back was turned to Patty. When he came back to her he looked properly concerned; but Patty's eyes were closed. He removed the stopper and held the bottle close under her nose, to revive her, which happy event occurred with a suddenness that was a surprise to Patty, at least. She gasped and gave a little choking cry.

"Oh, Charlie! Not so cl-close."

"All right now, Pat?" he asked with a cheerfulness that was evidently a.s.sumed. He removed the bottle and put in the stopper.

"I--I think so," she replied, still faintly. "Now--go--on, Charlie.

Tell me. I think I can bear it. I'll try to."

"Why," said Charlie, "there's nothing to tell. I got bail so that I could come home for my Easter vacation. Time's up day after to-morrow, and I've got to show up or forfeit my bail."

"Who is the--the bailer?" Patty inquired as if it were her last breath.

"One of the other men," Charlie returned glibly. "He isn't really rich either, so he couldn't very well afford to have me jump it."

"Jump it?" Patty repeated. She was getting pretty well dazed.

"Yes," said Charlie impatiently. "Haven't you ever heard that expression? It's the legal expression for failing to show up and forfeiting your bail. If I should jump it, that other man would have to pay the amount of my bail."

"Ho-how much is it?" Patty asked in a trembling voice.

Charlie made a rapid mental calculation. "One thousand dollars," he said.

"One thousand dollars!" repeated poor Patty slowly. "One thou--but, Charlie," for a gleam of light had come to her,--"but, Charlie, what is it for? What ha-have you done? Oh, it is too terrible!"

"I haven't done much of anything, really," Charlie protested; "nothing worth mentioning if we hadn't had an accident."

"An accident!" Patty murmured.

"Yes, an accident. You see there were four of us that thought it would be fun--and no harm, Pat, really, if things hadn't gone wrong--to take a little run in a motor--an automobile. Fostrow has a car of his own at home, and he was to drive. In fact, he did." Charlie chuckled, as though at the recollection. "He did until he had got us arrested twice for speeding. But that was a small matter, only twenty-five dollars a time. Fostrow paid that himself. He said it was worth double the money to see those country-men get out of the way. And we ran over a dog. It turned out to be a very valuable dog. All that is in the day's work, though. We--"

"Oh, Charlie," Patty interrupted, "I _knew_ you would get into trouble if you went in those _horrible_ machines, at any rate, without a _competent_ and _reliable_ driver. I have always thought that Edward would be the driver I should choose; so steady and--"

"Edward!" Charlie exclaimed. He had been about to add something further, in the way of comment, but he thought better of it. "No doubt, Edward would be very steady, but he is too old, to my way of thinking. Well, we had gone about fifty miles and began to think it was time to go back. So we filled up our gasoline tank, got something to eat, and started back. It was dark by that time. We were rather hurrying over the country roads, when something went wrong with the steering-gear and the next thing I knew I was lying on the other side of a stone wall--"

"O-oh!" shuddered Patty.

"--And the machine was completely smashed--crumpled up--with a telephone pole on top of it. Then the gasoline caught fire and the whole thing burned up, pole and all. The other men were more or less hurt, but I hadn't a scratch, only some bruises. Fostrow's in a hospital out there, now, with two ribs broken. The owner of the machine got after us. It was a new machine and a beauty; cost five thousand, he said. So that explains the bail."

"Oh, Charlie!" breathed Patty. "What a mercy you escaped!"

Charlie smiled complacently. He had really done pretty well. That story, he thought, would be a credit to anybody.

"But, Charlie," Patty continued, after a short silence, "why don't you tell Sally the whole story. She'd find some way to get you out of it.

She--she is really very good at managing affairs."

Charlie shivered involuntarily. Sally was very good at managing affairs. He could see her pitying smile as she listened in silence to his string of plausible lies and the look from the gray eyes would be boring straight down into his soul as he talked, and he would be afraid. And his speech would grow more halting, and he would finish in some confusion and Sally would turn away with a quiet "Humph!" or she would say nothing at all, which would be almost worse. And she would not tell him what she was going to do, but she would go and do it, and it--whatever it was--would be most effective, and that was exactly what Charlie did not want. He shivered again as he thought of it.

Sally managed affairs too well; that was the trouble. No, distinctly no; he did not want Sally to have any hand in this affair. He thought that he could manage it very well himself. It was going beautifully, so far.

"No, Pat," he said gently. "I prefer not to tell Sally. I--to tell the truth, Sally and mother don't seem very glad to see me. I think they'd rather I stayed away."

"Oh, you poor boy!" Patty's eyes shone with pity. "You dear boy!

_I'm_ glad to see you, anyway, Charlie, dear. You have one friend who won't desert you."

"Thank you, Pat. I thought I could depend on you."

"I'll undertake the management of this affair." Patty spoke with pride. A faint smile began to curl the corners of Charlie's mouth. He suppressed it. Patty was deep in thought; or she flattered herself that she was.

She might as well have undertaken to add a cubit to her stature by taking thought. She was silent for some minutes, looking more worried with every minute that pa.s.sed. At last she looked up.

"Oh, dear!" she said, sighing, "I can't think of anything. It wouldn't do any good for you to go away, would it?"

Charlie shook his head and looked very solemn. "No. That would mean giving up my college course and jumping my bail. I should become a fugitive from justice." That sounded rather impressive and Charlie repeated it, as impressively as he could. "A fugitive from justice."

"Charlie, don't!" cried Patty wildly. "It sounds as if you were a criminal." Charlie made no reply. "What would you suggest?"

"Nothing," he answered with resignation. "There is nothing to be done but for me to surrender myself to my bondsmen--" That sounded impressive, too. "Surrender myself to my bondsmen," he repeated, "and to the justice of the court."

"Oh, Charlie!" Patty wailed faintly. "Oh, Charlie, dear, isn't there some other way?"

He shook his head again. "No other way that I can see. No other way that wouldn't call for more money than I can possibly raise. For I won't ask you for it, Pat. I simply _won't_."

Patty was lying back in her chair. She seemed to feel faint again, and Charlie hurried to her, the little green bottle once more in his hand.

She waved it aside.

"H-how much," she asked, "must you have, Charlie?"

"Never mind that, Pat. That's settled. It's much more than I should be willing to ask you to lend me, or to accept from you. I'll just surrender myself. It will soon be over." He spoke as cheerfully as though he were going to execution.

Patty looked at him. She thought that she had never seen any one so brave.

"Tell me. How much must you have?"

"I suppose that eight or nine hundred would settle it, since you insist." He swept it all aside with a wave of his hand. "But dismiss the matter from your mind. We'll consider it settled."

"We won't. It isn't settled." Poor Patty was having a last struggle with her conscience. It was really a hard struggle and it took some time. At last she drew a long shuddering breath. "Look in my top bureau drawer, Charlie," she said, raising haggard eyes to his, "in the front. There's a check there somewhere. It's for seven hundred and fifty dollars."

Charlie protested. Nevertheless, he moved with alacrity and rummaged until he found the check. It was signed by Richard Torrington, Executor. He presented it to Patty, folded, as he had found it.

"Is this it, Pat? It is folded, you see, so that it is impossible to know whether it is the one you wanted or not."