n not going with you to help
Hal when he was drowning, despise me for my mean prejudices, despise me
for--oh, pshaw! I ain't fit to even ask you to forgive me. I ain't fit
to even offer you my hand."

"Hold on! hold on!" smiled Shag. "There is nothing to despise in a chap
who is big enough to offer an apology. Here's my hand, Shorty. Will you
take it at last?"

And Shorty took it.

A few hours later, just before Shag stepped out on the platform to read
the address to His Excellency, he paid a flying visit to Hal, who,
feeling much better, in fact quite on the mend, was sitting up in bed
devouring toast and broth.

"Luck to you, old Shag," he said between mouthfuls.

"Oh, Hal, you've been all the world to me," was all he could reply.

"And you'll be all the world to my dad and mother when they hear what
you have done, fishing me out of the drink and saving my life." But
Shorty shouting up the hall interrupted them.

"Come on, Shag," he called; then, as he appeared in the doorway, he
said bravely, "I haven't been so happy for years; I've been a sneak and
now that I say it I feel better. Shag, there isn't a boy living who I
consider better fitted to represent this school than you. Do you believe
me?"

"I do believe you, and I thank you, Shorty, old chap," said Shag
happily, and linking arms they left Hal's room together, for cheers
outside were announcing the approach of Lord Mortimer--and the feud
was ended forever.

The King's Coin

I

Because the doctor had forbidden Jack Cornwall to read a single line
except by daylight, the boy was spending a series of most miserable
evenings. No books, no stories, no studies, for a severe cold had left
him with an inflammation of the eyes; and, just as he was careering with
all sorts of honors through the high school, he was ordered by the great
oculist to drop everything, leave school, and--"loaf."

Young Cornwall hated "loafing." His brain and body loved activity. He
would far sooner have taken a sound flogging than all the idle hours
that had been forced on him to endure. To-night, particularly, time hung
very heavy on his hands. He sat for a full hour, his eyes shaded from
the lamp, his hands locked round his knee, doing nothing, and finding
it most difficult. His father read the newspaper, his mother mended
stockings, his little brother pored frowningly over his algebra.
Presently Jack's nerves seemed to break. He sprang up impetuously, then,
controlling h