such condition! See that clear eye, that velvety skin, that--Oh, I say!
pax! pax! peccavi!"

"There," said Ranald, putting him down from the billiard-table, "perhaps
you will learn when to be seen."

"Brute," murmured little Merrill, rubbing the sore place; "but ain't he
fit?" he added, delightedly. And fit he looked. Four years of hard work
and clean living had done for him everything that it lies in years to
do. They had made of the lank, raw, shanty lad a man, and such a man as
a sculptor would have loved to behold. Straight as a column he stood two
inches over six feet, but of such proportions that seeing him alone, one
would never have guessed his height. His head and neck rose above his
square shoulders with perfect symmetry and poise. His dark face, tanned
now to a bronze, with features clear-cut and strong, was lit by a pair
of dark brown eyes, honest, fearless, and glowing with a slumbering fire
that men would hesitate to stir to flame. The lines of his mouth told
of self-control, and the cut of his chin proclaimed a will of iron, and
altogether, he bore himself with an air of such quiet strength and cool
self-confidence that men never feared to follow where he led. Yet there
was a reserve about him that set him a little apart from men, and a kind
of shyness that saved him from any suspicion of self-assertion. In vain
he tried to escape from the crowd that gathered about him, and more
especially from the foot-ball men, who utterly adored him.

"You can't do anything for a fellow that doesn't drink," complained
Starry Hamilton, the big captain of the foot-ball team.

"Drink! a nice captain you are, Starry," said Ranald, "and Thanksgiving
so near."

"We haven't quite shut down yet," explained the captain.

"Then I suppose a cigar is permitted," replied Ranald, ordering the
steward to bring his best. In a few minutes he called for his mail, and
excusing himself, slipped into one of the private rooms. The manager of
the Raymond & St. Clair Company and prominent clubman, much sought after
in social circles, he was bound to find letters of importance awaiting
him, but hastily shuffling the bundle, he selected three, and put the
rest in his pocket.

"So she's back," he said to himself, lifting up one in a square
envelope, addressed in large, angular writing. He turned it over in his
hand, feasting his eyes upon it, as a boy holds a peach, prolonging the
blissful anticipation. Then he opened it slowly and read: