Free Lo Michael! by Grace Livingston Hill Page A

he stood reverently looking up at the star, communing with it perhaps about the human Starr that had come back to him out of the shadows of the past.
    And she was a star. No one who saw her but acknowledged it. He marvelled as he recalled the change wrought in the face of the matron and because of her gentleness to the little girl forgave her all that she had not been to his motherless boyhood.
    Starr came down to dinner in a few minutes radiant in a little rosy frock of soft Eastern silk, girdled with a fringed scarf of the same and a knot of coral velvet in her hair. From the string of pearls about her white neck to the dainty point of her slipper she was exquisite and Michael watched her with open admiration; whereat the long lashes drooped shyly over the girl's rosy cheeks and she was mightily pleased.
    She sat at her father's side to the right of the president, with Michael across the table. Well he bore the scrutiny of Endicott's keen eyes which through all the conversation kept searching the intelligent face of the boy.
    The evening passed like a dream, and Michael lay awake again that night thinking of all the pleasure in anticipation for the next day. At last, at last he had some people who in a way he might call his own. They had cared to come and see him after all the years! His heart swelled with joy and gratitude.
    The guests attended chapel exercises with the students the next morning, and Michael saw with pride the eyes of his companions turn toward the beautiful young girl, and look at him almost with envy. The color mounted into his strong young face, but he sat quietly in his place and no one would have guessed to look at him, the tumult that was running riot in his veins. He felt it was the very happiest day of his life.
    After chapel the guests were shown about the college buildings and campus. The president and Endicott walked ahead, Michael behind with Starr, answering her interested questions.
    They had been through all the classrooms, the gymnasium, the dining hall, servants' quarters and dormitories. They had visited the athletic ground, the tennis courts, and gone down by the little lake, where Michael had taken them out for a short row. Returning they were met by one of the professors who suggested their going to hear some of the classes recite, and as Mr. Endicott seemed interested they turned their steps toward the recitation hall.
    “I think,” said Starr as they walked slowly across the campus together, “that you must be a very brave boy. To think of you saving my life that way when you were just a little fellow!”
    She looked up, her pretty face full of childish feeling.
    Michael looked down silently and smiled. He was wondering if any eyes were ever as beautiful as those before him. He had never had even a little girl look at him like that. The president's daughter was fat and a romp. She never took time to look at the boys. The few other girls he knew, daughters of the professors, were quiet and studious. They paid little attention to the boys.
    “I want to thank you for what you did,” went on Starr, “only I can't think of any words great enough to tell you how I feel about it. I wish there was something I could do to show you how I thank you?”
    She lifted her sweet eyes again to his. They were entering the large Hall of the college now.
    “This way,” said Michael guiding her toward the chapel door which had just swung to behind the two men.
    “Isn't there something you would like that I could do for you?” persisted Starr earnestly, following him into the empty chapel where Mr. Endicott and the president stood looking at a tablet on the wall by the further door.
    “Your father has done everything for me,” said Michael sunnily, with a characteristic sweep of his hand that seemed to include himself, his garments and his mental outfit. He turned upon her his blazing smile that spoke more eloquently than words could have done.
    “Yes, but that is papa,” said Starr half