k after book only to lay it
down again, and behaving generally like a fish out of water. Neil,
grateful for the other's sympathy, and secretly delighted at the healing
of the breach, could afford to be generous.

"I say, Paul, I'll be all right. Just give me the immortal Livy, will
you? Thanks. And you might put that tray out of the way somewhere and
shove the drop-light a bit nearer. That's better. I'll be all right now;
you run along."

"Run along where?" asked Paul.

"Well, I thought maybe you were going out or--somewhere."

Paul's face expressed astonishment. He took up a book and settled
himself firmly in the wicker rocking-chair.

"No," he said, "I'm not going anywhere."

Neil studied in silence a while, and Paul turned several pages of his
book. Then footsteps sounded on the stairs and Cowan's voice hailed Paul
from beyond the closed door.

"O Paul, are you coming along?"

Paul glanced irresolutely from the door to Neil's face, which was bent
calmly over his book. Then--"No," he called gruffly, "not to-night!"

CHAPTER XIII

SYDNEY STUDIES STRATEGY

Neil was holding a levee. Livingston shared the couch with him. Foster
reclined in Paul's armchair. Sydney Burr sat in the protesting wicker
rocker, his crutches beside him, and South, his countenance much
disfigured by strips of surgeon's plaster, grinned steadily from the
table, where he sat and swung his feet. Paul was up-stairs in Cowan's
room, for while he and Neil had quite made up their difference, and
while Paul spent much of his leisure time with his chum, yet he still
cultivated the society of the big sophomore at intervals. Neil, however,
believed he could discern a gradual lessening of Paul's regard for
Cowan, and was encouraged. He had grown to look upon his injury and the
idleness it enforced with some degree of cheerfulness since it had
brought about reconciliation between him and his roommate, and, as he
believed, rescued the latter to some extent from the influence of Cowan.

"Doc says the shoulder is 'doing nicely,' whatever that may mean," Neil
was saying, "and that I will likely be able to get back to light work
next week." The announcement didn't sound very joyful, for it was now
only the evening of the fourth day since the accident, and "next week"
seemed a long way off to him.

"It was hard luck, old man," said South.

"Your sympathy's very dear to me," answered Neil, "but it would seem
more genuine if you'd stop grinning f