d had disturbed him almost beyond precedent. He
was taciturn in speech, and severe and formal in manner. To misuse and
neglect the flag of his country was, indeed, no venial offense in his
eyes.

Pen had not been out all day Monday, save to go on one or two
unimportant errands for his aunt. Why he had not cared to go out was
not quite clear, even to himself. Ordinarily he would have sought his
schoolfellows, and would have exhibited his wounds, these silent and
substantial witnesses of his personal prowess, with "pardonable
pride." Nor did his schoolfellows come to seek him. That was strange
too. Why had they not dropped in, as was their custom, to talk over
the battle? It was almost dark of the second day, and not a single boy
had been to see him or inquire for him. It was more than strange; it
was ominous.

After the evening meal Colonel Butler went out; a somewhat unusual
occurrence, as, in his later years, he had become increasingly fond of
his books and papers, his wood-fire and his easy chair. But, on this
particular evening, there was to be a meeting of a certain patriotic
society of which he was an enthusiastic member, and he felt that he
must attend it. After he had gone Pen tried to study, but he could not
keep his thought on his work. Then he took up a stirring piece of
fiction and began to read: but the most exciting scenes depicted in it
floated hazily across his mind. His Aunt Millicent tried to engage him
in conversation, but he either could not or did not wish to talk. At
nine o'clock he said good-night to his aunt, and retired to his room.
At half past nine Colonel Butler returned home. His daughter went into
the hall and greeted him and helped him off with his coat, but he
scarcely spoke to her. When he came in under the brighter lights of
the library, she saw that his face was haggard, his jaws set, and his
eyes strangely bright.

"What is it, father?" she said. "Something has happened."

He did not reply to her question, but he asked:

"Has Penfield retired?"

"He went to his room a good half hour ago, father."

"I desire to see him."

"He may have gone to bed."

"I desire to see him under any circumstances. You will please
communicate my wish to him."

"But, father--"

"Did you hear me, daughter?"

"Father! What terrible thing has happened?"

"A thing so terrible that I desire confirmation of it from Penfield's
lips before I shall fully believe it. You will please call him."

She