just as good."

When the curtain was about to rise she told him to take her back to her
box, so that he could meet her friends and go on with them to supper;
but when they reached the rear of the house she halted.

"We can see this act," she said, "or--my car's in front of the
theatre--we might go to the park and take a turn or two or three. Which
would you prefer?"

"Don't make me laugh!" said Sam.

As they sat all together at supper with those of the box party, but
paying no attention to them whatsoever, Anita Flagg sighed contentedly.

"There's only one thing," she said to Sam, "that is making me unhappy;
and because it is such sad news I haven't told you. It is this: I am
leaving America. I am going to spend the winter in London. I sail next
Wednesday."

"My business is to gather news," said Sam, "but in all my life I never
gathered such good news as that."

"Good news!" exclaimed Anita.

"Because," explained Sam, "I am leaving, America--am spending the winter
in England. I am sailing on Wednesday. No; I also am unhappy; but that
is not what makes me unhappy."

"Tell me," begged Anita.

"Some day," said Sam.

The day he chose to tell her was the first day they were at sea--as they
leaned upon the rail, watching Fire Island disappear.

"This is my unhappiness," said Sam--and he pointed to a name on the
passenger list. It was: "The Earl of Deptford, and valet." "And because
he is on board!"

Anita Flagg gazed with interest at a pursuing sea-gull.

"He is not on board," she said. "He changed to another boat."

Sam felt that by a word from her a great weight might be lifted from his
soul. He looked at her appealingly--hungrily.

"Why did he change?" he begged.

Anita Flagg shook her head in wonder. She smiled at him with amused
despair.

"Is that all that is worrying you?" she said.

Chapter 2. THE GRAND CROSS OF THE CRESCENT

Of some college students it has been said that, in order to pass their
examinations, they will deceive and cheat their kind professors. This
may or may not be true. One only can shudder and pass hurriedly on. But
whatever others may have done, when young Peter Hallowell in his senior
year came up for those final examinations which, should he pass them
even by a nose, would gain him his degree, he did not cheat. He may have
been too honest, too confident, too lazy, but Peter did not cheat. It
was the professors who cheated.

At Stillwater College, on each subject on