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think of his work； and knowas I happen to
that he's particularly dependent on his right
hand for everything。 He doesn't tell this
generally； and I understand Billy and the family
know nothing of ithow hopeless the case is；
I mean。 Well； naturally； the poor fellow has
been pretty thoroughly discouraged； and to get
away from himself he's gone back to his old
Bohemian habits； spending much of his time with
some of his old cronies that are none too good
for himSeaver； for instance。''
‘‘Bob Seaver？ Yes； I know him。'' Arkwright's
lips snapped together crisply。
‘‘Yes。 He said he knew you。 That's why I'm
counting on your help。''
‘‘What do you mean？''
‘‘I mean I want you to get Henshaw away
from him； and keep him away。''
Arkwright's face darkened with an angry
flush。
‘‘Great Scott； Calderwell！ What are you
talking about？ Henshaw is no kid to be toted
home； and I'm no nursery governess to do the
toting！''
Calderwell laughed quietly。
‘‘No； I don't think any one would take you
for a nursery governess； Arkwright； in spite of
the fact that you are still known to some of your
friends as ‘Mary Jane。' But you can sing a song；
man； which will promptly give you a through
ticket to their innermost sacred circle。 In fact；
to my certain knowledge； Seaver is already planning
a jamboree with you at the right hand of
the toastmaster。 There's your chance。 Once
in； stay inlong enough to get Henshaw
out。''
‘‘But； good heavens； Calderwell； it's impossible！
What can I do？'' demanded Arkwright；
savagely。 ‘‘I can't walk up to the man； take
him by the ear； and say： ‘Here； you； sirmarch
home！' Neither can I come the ‘I…am…holier…
than…thou' act； and hold up to him the mirror
of his transgressions。''
‘‘No； but you can get him out of it _some_ way。
You can find a wayfor Billy's sake。''
There was no answer； and； after a moment；
Calderwell went on more quietly。
‘‘I haven't seen Billy but two or three times
since I came back to Bostonbut I don't need
to； to know that she's breaking her heart over
something。 And of course that something is
Bertram。''
There was still no answer。 Arkwright got up
suddenly； and walked to the window。
‘‘You see； I'm helpless；'' resumed Calderwell。
‘‘I don't paint pictures； nor sing songs； nor write
stories； nor dance jigs for a livingand you
have to do one or another to be in with that set。
And it's got to be a Johnny…on…the…spot with
Bertram。 All is； something will have to be done
to get him out of the state of mind and body
he's in now； or''
Arkwright wheeled sharply。
‘‘When did you say this jamboree was going
to be？'' he demanded。
‘‘Next week； some time。 The date is not settled。
They were going to consult you。''
‘‘Hm…m；'' commented Arkwright。 And；
though his next remark was a complete change
of subject； Calderwell gave a contented sigh。
If； when the proposition was first made to him；
Arkwright was doubtful of his ability to be a
successful ‘‘Johnny…on…the…spot；'' he was even
more doubtful of it as the days passed； and he
was attempting to carry out the suggestion。
He had known that he was undertaking a most
difficult and delicate task； and he soon began to
fear that it was an impossible one； as well。 With
a dogged persistence； however； he adhered to his
purpose； ever on the alert to be more watchful；
more tactful； more efficient in emergencies。
Disagreeable as was the task； in a way； in
another way it was a great pleasure to him。 He
was glad of the opportunity to do anything for
Billy； and then； too； he was glad of something
absorbing enough to take his mind off his own
affairs。 He told himself； sometimes； that this
helping another man to fight his tiger skin was
assisting himself to fight his own。
Arkwright was trying very hard not to think
of Alice Greggory these days。 He had come back
hoping that he was in a measure ‘‘cured'' of his
‘‘folly；'' as he termed it； but the first look into
Alice Greggory's blue…gray eyes had taught him
the fallacy of that idea。 In that very first meeting
with Alice； he feared that he had revealed
his secret； for she was plainly so nervously distant
and ill at ease with him that he could but
construe her embarrassment and chilly dignity as
pity for him and a desire to show him that she
had nothing but friendship for him。 Since then
he had seen but little of her； partly because he
did not wish to see her； and partly because his
time was so fully occupied。 Then； too； in a round…
about way he had heard a rumor that Calderwell
was engaged to be married； and； though no feminine
name had been mentioned in connection
with the story； Arkwright had not hesitated
to supply in his own mind that of Alice Greggory。
Beginning with the ‘‘jamboree；'' which came
off quite in accordance with Calderwell's prophecies；
Arkwright spent the most of such time as
was not given to his professional duties in
deliberately cultivating the society of Bertram and
his friends。 To this extent he met with no difficulty；
for he found that M。 J。 Arkwright； the
new star in the operatic firmament； was obviously
a welcome comrade。 Beyond this it was not so
easy。 Arkwright wondered； indeed； sometimes；
if he were making any progress at all。 But still
he persevered。
He walked with Bertram； he talked with Bertram；
unobtrusively he contrived to be near Bertram
almost always； when they were together
with ‘‘the boys。'' Gradually he won from him
the story of what the surgeon had said to him；
and of how black the future looked in
consequence。 This established a new bond between
them； so potent that Arkwright ventured to test
it one day by telling Bertram the story of the
tiger skinthe first tiger skin in his uncle's
library years ago； and of how； since then； any
difficulty he had encountered he had tried to treat
as a tiger skin。 In telling the story he was careful
to draw no moral for his listener； and to preach
no sermon。 He told the tale； too； with all possible
whimsical lightness of touch； and immediately
at its conclusion he changed the subject。
But that he had not failed utterly in his design
was evidenced a few days later when Bertram
grimly declared that he guessed _his_ tiger skin
was a lively beast； all right。
The first time Arkwright went home with
Bertram； his presence was almost a necessity。
Bertram was not quite himself that night。 Billy
admitted them。 She had plainly been watching
and waiting。 Arkwright never forgot the look
on her face as her eyes met his。 There was a
curious mixture of terror； hurt pride； relief； and
shame； overtopped by a fierce loyalty which almost
seemed to say aloud the words： ‘‘Don't
you dare to blame him！''
Arkwright's heart ached with sympathy and
admiration at the proudly courageous way in
which Billy carried