em. There
had come rumors of "leaks" and he had kept them to himself. McCrea,
his boy's best friend in the regiment, had consulted him only ten days
back as to whether it were not wise to realize on a portion at least of
their holdings, and Graham, dreading a "bear" movement on the market,
had said, "Hold fast."

And now McCrea had turned back. He must go at once, he said, to the
telegraph office. So Graham, his sorrowing wife, and his silent boys
went on. She led him into their cheery quarters, and seated him in his
old arm-chair and came and nestled beside him.

"What is there to grieve about, dear?" she pleaded. "What does it
really matter to us? We have health, home, our boys, each other--quite
enough to live on--Why should it so distress you? Indeed, I almost
cried aloud, 'Is that all?' when you showed me the message. I feared so
much worse. Why, think, Graeme, in all the gay crowd that comes here
every day, is there a woman half as happy as I am? Is there one of them
really as rich as we are--we who have so many blessings?"

"It's for 'Bud' I'm thinking most now," was the mournful answer. "There
can be no Columbia for him. I've borrowed money to meet the
assessments, and the money's got to be paid. This isn't like having
one's house burned, or his ranch blown away, his herds scattered, by
the act of God. This is being robbed of the savings of years by
organized, legalized swindlers, men who claimed to be our friends. It's
that--and my helplessness--that hurts."

The boys had remained without, talking in low, grave tones, Bud's
boisterous spirits suddenly quenched. Presently the sound of their
murmuring died away. There was no answer when Mrs. Graham called. Going
to the door she looked anxiously about her. From up the roadway to the
north came the sound of merry voices and the shuffle of many feet--the
battalion hurrying down the broad stone steps of Grant Hall and forming
for the march back to camp. The young "first captain" called them to
attention and gave the commands that swung them into column of platoons
and striding away under the leafy arch to the open plain. Oh, with
what pride had she not listened, night after night, from September to
mid-June, to Geordie's ringing, masterful tones, _her_ Geordie,
foremost officer of the Corps! And now all that was ended with the
graduation to which he had so long looked forward, and now, when but
half an hour ago he had so rejoiced in his assignment to the regiment