him that he must look again and see if he
could possibly recognize his comrade in arms was too strong to be
resisted. Apparently the feeling was mutual, for when Pen did turn his
eyes in the direction of the other visitor, he found that the young
man had ceased writing, and was sitting erect in his chair and
looking squarely at him. It needed no second glance to convince him
that his companion was none other than Aleck Sands. For a moment there
was an awkward pause. It was apparent that the recognition was mutual,
but it was apparent also that in the shock of surprise neither boy
knew quite what to do. It was Aleck who made the first move. He rose,
crossed the room to where Pen was sitting, and held out his hand.

"Pen," he said, "are you willing to shake hands with me now? You know
I was dog enough once to refuse a like offer from you."

"I'm not only willing but glad to, if you want to let bygones be
bygones."

"I'll agree to that if you will agree to forgive me for what I've done
against you and against the flag."

"What you've done against the flag?"

Pen was staring at him in surprise. When had the burden of that guilt
been shifted?

"Yes, I," answered Aleck. "I did far more against the flag that day at
Chestnut Hill than you ever thought of doing. I haven't realized it
until lately, but now that I do know it, I'm trying in every way I
possibly can to make it right."

"Why, you didn't trample on it, nor speak of it disrespectfully, nor
refuse to apologize to it; it was I who did all that."

"I know, but I dogged you into it. If I myself had paid proper respect
to the flag you would never have got into that trouble. Pen, I never
did a more unpatriotic, contemptible thing in my life than I did when
I wrapped that flag around me and dared you to molest me. It was a
cowardly use to make of the Stars and Stripes. Moreover, I did it
deliberately, and you--you acted on the impulse of the moment. It was
I who committed the real fault, and it has been you who have suffered
for it."

"Well, I gave you a pretty good punching, didn't I?"

"Yes, but the punching you gave me was not a thousandth part of what I
deserved; and, if you think it would even matters up any, I'd be
perfectly willing to stand up to-night and let you knock me down a
dozen times. Since this war came on I've despised myself more than I
can tell you for my treatment of the flag that day, and for my
treatment of you ever since."

That he was in