the hall, and up-stairs to his room.

CHAPTER VI

It is little wonder that Pen passed a sleepless night, after the
interview with his grandfather. He realized now, perhaps better than
any one else, the seriousness of his offense. Knowing, so well as he
did, Colonel Butler's reverence for all things patriotic, he did not
wonder that he should be so deeply indignant. Pen, himself, felt that
the least he could do, under the circumstances, was to publicly
apologize for his conduct, bitter and humiliating as it would be to
make such an apology. And he was willing to apologize to any one, to
anything--save Alexander Sands. To this point of reparation he could
not bring himself. This was the problem with which he struggled
through the night hours. It was not a question, he told himself, over
and over again, of whether he should leave Bannerhall, with its ease
and luxury and choice traditions, and go to live on the little farm at
Cobb's Corners. It was a question of whether he was willing to yield
his self-respect and manhood to the point of humbling himself before
Alexander Sands. It was not until he heard the clock in the hall
strike three that he reached his decision.

And his decision was, to comply, in full, with his grandfather's
demand--and remain at Bannerhall.

At the breakfast table the next morning Colonel Butler was still
reticent and taciturn. He had passed an uncomfortable night and was in
no mood for conversation. He did not refer, in any way, to the matters
which had been discussed the evening before; and when Pen, with the
letter in his pocket, started for school, the situation was entirely
unchanged. But, somehow, in the freshness of the morning, under the
cheerful rays of an unclouded sun, the task that had been set for Pen
did not seem to him to be quite so difficult and repulsive as it had
seemed the night before. He even deigned to whistle as he went down
the path to the street. But he noticed, as he passed along through the
business section of the town, that people whom he knew looked at him
curiously, and that those who spoke to him did so with scant courtesy.
Across the street, from the corner of his eye, he saw one man call
another man's attention to him, and both men turned their heads, for a
moment, to watch him. A little farther along he caught sight of Elmer
Cuddeback, his bosom companion, a half block ahead, and he called out
to him:

"Hey! Elmer, wait a minute!"

But Elmer did not