e in Saint Andrew's to grow up into a happy boyhood, the pet and
plaything of the house. He was eleven now, with the fair face and golden
hair of his dead girl-mother, and brown eyes that had a boyish sparkle all
their own.

They looked up dubiously at Dan now,--"daring Dan," who for the last year
had been Freddy's especial chum; and to be long-legged, sandy-haired,
freckle-nosed Dan's chum was an honor indeed for a small boy of eleven.
Dan wore frayed collars and jackets much too small for him; his shoes were
stubby-toed and often patched; he made pocket money in various ways, by
"fagging" and odd jobbing for the big boys of the college. But he led the
classes and games of the Prep with equal success; and even now the Latin
class medal was swinging from the breast of his shabby jacket.

Dan had been a newsboy in very early youth; but, after a stormy and often
broken passage through the parochial school, he had won a scholarship at
Saint Andrew's over all competitors.

"An' ye'll be the fool to take it," Aunt Winnie had said when he brought
the news home to the little attic rooms where she did tailor's finishing,
and took care of Dan as well as a crippled old grandaunt could. "With all
them fine gentlemen's sons looking down on ye for a beggar!"

"Let them look," Dan had said philosophically. "Looks don't hurt, Aunt
Win. It's my chance and I'm going to take it."

And he was taking it bravely when poor Aunt Win's rheumatic knees broke
down utterly, and she had to go to the "Little Sisters," leaving Dan to
summer with the other "left overs" at Saint Andrew's.

"Swing up," he repeated, stretching a sturdy hand to Fred. "Don't be a
sissy. One foot on each of my shoulders, and catch on to the bar above my
head. That will steady you."

Freddy hesitated. It was rather a lofty height for one of his size.

"You can't hold me," he said. "I'm too heavy."

"Too heavy!" repeated Dan, laughing down on the slender, dapper little
figure at his feet. "Gee whilikins, I wouldn't even _feel_ you!"

This was too much for any eleven-year-old to stand. Freddy was not very
well. Brother Timothy had been dosing him for a week or more, and these
long hot summer days made his legs feel queer and his head dizzy. It was
rather hard sometimes to keep up with Dan, who was making the most of his
holiday, as he did of everything that came in his way. Freddy was
following him loyally, in spite of the creeps and chills that betrayed
malaria. Bu