er
execution. He was too proud to run, too proud not to face the boys he
happened to meet. They turned aside their eyes from his furious glare.
But he met no members of his own House. They had the delicacy to leave
the coast clear. When he reached his room, he found Desmond alone.
Desmond said nervously--

"I asked Warde if we could have breakfast here this morning, instead of
going into Hall. I've got some ripping salmon."

Scaife had faced everything with a brazen indifference, but the sympathy
in his friend's voice overpowered him. He flung himself upon the sofa by
the window and wept, not as a boy weeps, but with the cruel, grinding
sobs of a man. He wept for his stained pride, for his vain-glory, not
because he had sinned and caused others to sin. The boy watching him,
seeing the hero self-abased, hearing his heartbreaking sobs, interpreted
very differently those sounds. Infinitely distressed, turning over and
over in his mind some soothing phrases, some word of comfort and
encouragement, Desmond waited till the first paroxysm had passed. What
he said then shall not be set down in cold print. You may be sure he
proved that friendship between two strong, vigorous boys is no frail
thread, but a golden chain which adversity strengthens and refines.
Scaife rose up with his heart softened, not by his own tears, but by the
tears he saw in Desmond's eyes.

"I'm all right now," he said. Then, with frowning brows, he added
thoughtfully, "I deserve what I got for being a fool. I ought to have
foreseen that such a swine as Beaumont-Greene would be sure to betray us
sooner or later. I shall be wiser next time."

"Next--time?" The dismay in Desmond's voice made Scaife smile.

"Don't worry, Caesar. No more bridge for me; but," he laughed harshly,
"the leopard can't change his spots, and he won't give up hunting
because he has fallen into a trap, and got out of it. Come, let's tackle
the salmon."

The winter term came to an end, and the School broke up. Upon the
evening of the last Sunday, Warde said a few words to John.

"I propose to make some changes in the house," he said abruptly. "Would
you like to share No. 7 with Desmond?"

No. 7 was the jolliest two-room at the Manor. It overlooked the gardens,
and was larger than some three-rooms. Then John remembered Scaife and
the Duffer.

"Desmond has been with Scaife ever since he came to the house, sir."

"True. But I'm going to give Scaife a room to himself. He's entit