Hurrah for Allen

The young man stared for a moment longer.  Then the humor of the situation seemed to strike him too, and he smiled pleasantly.

“It surely is a pleasure to be as welcome as all that,” he said pleasantly, and the girls noticed that he was a well set up young fellow and that he wore his uniform easily, as if he had been used to wearing it for a long, long time.  “I am Wesley Travers,” he went on.  “I live in a cottage down the road and I came over this way to see if the old professor had come back yet.  I saw the door open—­ came in—­ and found you.”

He smiled again pleasantly and looked as though he considered that he had fallen into rather good luck.  But at his mention of the professor Betty had sobered instantly.

“Oh, then you know something about Professor Dempsey?” she questioned eagerly.

“Please tell us what happened to him,” added Amy breathlessly.

“Did he do this?” asked Mollie, with a comprehensive sweep of her hand about the cluttered room.

“I’m afraid he did,” answered the young fellow, sobering instantly.  “You see, I just returned from overseas about a week ago and a couple of days later my dad read in the paper about the death of this queer old man’s two sons.  The pater had always been interested in the lonely old boy, so he sent me over to see if I could do anything for him.  I found the place like this and—­ the bird had flown.  Went dopy I suppose about the bad news and tore things up a bit.”

Though the boy’s words were slangy, there was real sympathy in his tone and the girls liked him the better for it.

“And you haven’t heard anything from him since?” asked Betty softly.

“Not a word or a sign,” answered the boy, with a shake of his head.  “Just clean cleared out, that’s all.  Pretty hard luck, I call it.  Just at the end of things too—­ when he had a right to expect the fellows home.  Pretty tough luck.  I wish I could find the poor old duffer and do something for him.”

The girls heartily echoed the wish.  Before leaving the place for good, they looked about the rooms once more for some sign or message that might give them a clue to the whereabouts of the professor.  They found nothing, however, and finally were forced to give up the search.

As the young people stepped outside once more and closed the door after them upon the desolate house a great wave of pity swept over Betty.  Somehow it did not seem right to go off like this as though they were abandoning the old man to his fate.  Yet what could they do more than they had done?

“Girls,” she said, a little quiver in her voice, “I would give almost everything I own to find the poor old professor and help him back to happiness.  If I only could,” she added after a pause.

“Well,” said Wesley Travers, as he looked admiringly at Betty’s flushed, sympathetic little face, “I imagine if any one could find him and bring him happiness, you would be that one.”