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 in--long 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, sir--march 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 way--for 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 Boston--but I don't need to, to know that she's breaking her heart over something.