spute; at the long stretch
of the study hall windows opposite; at the oriel of the chapel beyond. All
spoke to him of a life that had been like air and sunshine to a plant
stretching its roots and tendrils in the dark.

And he must leave it all! He must go back again to the old ways, the old
work! He was big enough now to drive a butcher's wagon, or clean fish and
stuff sausages at Pete Patterson's market store; or--or--there were other
things he could do that a fellow like him must do when he is "down and
out." And while he still stared from the window, the grim, dogged look
settling heavier upon his young face, Dan caught a footstep behind him,
and turned to face Father Regan.

"I've kept you waiting longer than I expected, Dan, but I had great news
for Freddy,--news that took some time to tell." The speaker sank into the
tall stiff-backed chair known to many a young sinner as the "judgment
seat." "Now" (the clear, keen eyes fixed themselves gravely on the boy) "I
want to have a talk with you. Things can not go on in this way any longer,
even in vacation time. I must say that, after the last year's good record,
I am disappointed in you, Dan,--sorely disappointed."

"I'm sorry, Father," was the respectful answer, but the grim, hard look on
the young face did not change. "I've made a lot of trouble, I know."

"You have," was the grave answer, "and trouble I did not expect from you.
Still, circumstances have been against you, I must confess. But this does
not alter the fact that you have broken strict rules that even in vacation
we can not relax,--broken them deliberately and recklessly. You are
evidently impatient of the restraint here at Saint Andrew's; so I have
concluded not to keep you here any longer, Dan."

"I'm not asking it, Father." Dan tried bravely to steady voice and lip.
"I'm ready to go whenever you say."

"To-morrow, then," continued Father Regan,--"I've made arrangements for
you to leave to-morrow at ten. Brother Francis will see that your trunk is
packed to-night."

"Yes, Father," said Dan, somewhat bewildered at the friendly tone in which
this sentence was delivered. "I'd like to see Mr. Raymond and Mr. Shipman
before I go, and thank them for all they've done for me; and Father Roach
and Father Walsh and all of them; and to say I'm sorry I made any
trouble."

"Good gracious," laughed Father Regan, "one would think you were on your
dying bed, boy!"

"I--I feel like it," blurted out Dan, no lon