"Oh, we picked it up and carried it into the school-house. Why?"

"My grandfather wants to know."

"Well, you can tell him it isn't hurt much. It got tore a little bit
in one corner; and it had some dirt on it. But we cleaned her up, and
dried her out, and put her back in her place."

"Thank you for doing it."

"Oh, that's all right. But, say, Pen, I'm sorry for you."

"Why?"

"On account of what happened."

"Did I hurt Aleck much?"

A sudden fear of worse things had entered Pen's mind.

"No, not much. He limped home by himself."

"Then, what is it?"

Pen knew, well enough, what it was; but he could not do otherwise than
ask.

"Why, it's because of what you did to the flag. Everybody's talking
about it."

"Let 'em talk. I don't care."

But he did care, nevertheless. He went back home in a fever of
apprehension and anxiety. Suppose his grandfather should learn the
whole truth, as, sooner or later he surely would. What then? Pen
decided that it would be better to tell him now.

At eight o'clock, when he returned home, he found Colonel Butler still
seated in the library, busy with a book. He removed his cap and coat
in the hall, and went in. The colonel looked up inquiringly.

"The flag," reported Pen, "was picked up by the boys, and carried back
to the school-house. It was cleaned and dried, and put in its proper
place."

"Thank you, sir; that is all."

The colonel turned his attention again to his book.

Pen stood, for a moment, irresolute, before proceeding with his
confession. Then he began:

"Grandfather, I'm very sorry for what occurred, and especially--"

"I do not care to hear any more to-night. Further apologies may be
deferred to a more appropriate time."

Again the colonel resumed his reading.

The next day was Sunday; but, on account of the unattractive
appearance of his face, Pen was excused from attending either church
or Sunday-school. Monday was Washington's birthday, and a holiday, and
there was no school. So that Pen had two whole days in which to
recover from his wounds. But he did not so easily recover from his
depression. Nothing more had been said by Colonel Butler about the
battle, and Pen, on his part, did not dare again to broach the
subject. Yet every hour that went by was filled with apprehension, and
punctuated with false alarms. It was evident that the colonel had not
yet heard the full story, and it was just as evident that the portion
of it that he had hear