men from college came down each day. I
had not known there were so many persons who cared. Braley was among
them, once--and he sat and twisted his hat and said nothing. Whether or
not his friendship is worth anything to me, I have made a friend of him.
Once or twice, since then, he has tried to speak of the trick which he
and Sayer attempted, but I have stopped him. There is no need of going
over _that_.

Only, a few days after I went to the hospital, there was a long and
flowery retraction published in the college newspaper, inviting all
freshmen "of whatever race or creed to enter the editorial competition,
with the assurance that the most democratic principles would prevail."

At any rate, when Frank Cohen ran in to see me, on his way home, a few
days later, I advised him to re-enter the contest. Frank, with a
freshman's capacity for hero worship, leaped to act on my advice.

"And hurry up back to college," he said, with a little catch in his
voice. "There are twenty other Jewish underclassmen who want the same
sort of counsel from you. You see--they didn't know they had a
leader--and they do need one!"

It is not part of the tale, perhaps, but I cannot help intruding the
fact that Frank was the first freshman to be elected to the editorial
board of the college paper--and that, in his senior year, he became its
managing editor.

* * * * *

My aunt came, too. I had been secretly expecting her--hoping, perhaps,
for no especial reason, that she would come.

She wept a little at the sight of my healing scar. It was a long while
since I had seen her, and it shocked me--she looked so worn. She clung
to my hand for several minutes before she would speak.

"I read about it," she sobbed. "It was in the papers--and they said the
nicest things of you.... But I didn't come sooner because--because I
didn't know whether you wanted--you wanted--"

"Yes, Aunt Selina, I am very glad to see you."

She drew a deep sigh. "It has been so long--and I am growing old. I'm
just a lonely old woman, boy. And there's no comfort in old age."

I looked at her. She had changed much, I thought. "But you had so many
friends," I remonstrated. "All those intellectual society folk!"

"I don't know--they don't seem to interest me any more. I'm growing old.
That's all--old and lonely. And they are such fools, every one of
them--almost as foolish as I am--and hypocrites, all."

Her hand went tighter about mine